#oberyn x oc
Text
Of Roses and Snakes
pairing: Oberyn Martell x OC!Female!Tyrell
summary: Ella Tyrell gets told what her family had decided against her will. Maybe it was not so bad after all
Word count: 2,5K
Warnings: Angst, fluff, hurt-comfort
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Ella grumbled annoyed as she rolled over in her bed, the sun had been hitting her face for several minutes by then but she had no energy to move until this moment when a banging on her disturbed her peace even more.
"What?!" She called out harshly. She lifted her head as the doors opened to see who had entered her room. She sighed when she saw Margaery walk into the room already all dressed up and ready to conquer the day and make the boy-king fall for her charm.
"Is it not too early, sissy?" Ella asked, sitting up with a pillow clutched to her chest. Margaery gave Ella and wavering smile, almost looking like a wince. The future queen sat down on the bed beside Ella and reached over to grab her hand, the expression on her face was some sort of apologetic which raised alarms in Ella's head.
"What is it?" Ella questioned curiously, she was not one to fear easily. She laughed in the king's face when he suggested wiping her when she expressed her disgust at the wine they had, apparently that insulted the taste of the mother king. Cersei smirked at Ella seeing her son defend her only for the smirk to be wiped off when Ella burst out laughing, smoothly she recovered and mentioned that she was not one for wine anyways but prefered ale in its stead, that satisfied Joffrey but Cersei hated her guts for that.
"The Queen mother has somehow convinced father of something, sissy" Margaery finally spoke, Ella was half relieved that she was not the only one holding the conversation between the two of them. However the other part of her wondered what queen Cersei had up her sleeve.
"What could possibly be so bad that you had to wake me so early?" Ella pushed her duvet off herself as she spoke. She sighed when her feet touched the cold tiles and she moved to the table a couple of feet away in her room. Her eyes squinted as she looked out of the window where the sun was rising, it had been for several minutes before Margaery had entered.
"It involves you" Margaery uttered looking down at her hands in her lap. Ella picked up her chalice, filled it with the disgusting wine they had in King's Landing, and took a huge gulp in preparation for whatever Margaery had to say. She did not fear wiping, no she feared Cersei using her cunning mind to hurt her, she knew she had the power to, it was no secret that Cersei was happy to abuse the power she had.
"What could she possibly have convinced the idiot?" Ella rolled her eyes. She filled her cup again but took a small sip this time. Margaery squirmed almost uncomfortable while the seconds ticked by, she was trying to form the words in her head, wondering how she could break the news to her sister, her unsuspecting sister.
"They plan on giving your hand away" Margaery's words were hurried Ella nearly understood nothing of them. The chalice in Ella's hands cluttered down on the floor in shock and the wine spilled all over the tiled floor. Margaery jumped at the sound of the metal piece hitting the floor.
"What?" Ella cried out in disbelief, she knew her father was dumb however she did not think him dumb enough to make such a decision without at the very least asking for her consent.
"Calm down, please, sissy" Margaery stood up from the bed and walked over to where Ella stood, making sure to not step on the wine and ruin her dress or shoes. One of her arms wrapped around her younger sister in comfort snapping Ella out of her shock.
"When did you find out?" Ella allowed Margaery to detour her towards an ottoman where the two of them sat down. Margaery trapped Ella's hands in between her own, trying to push her comfort through their touching organs.
"Just now, I came immediately after I found out however I could not hear well and do not know who they have in mind" Margaery sighed. She was heartbroken for her younger sister, the fact that they were born merely eleven moons apart led them to be the closest of friends and they rarely left each other's sides as children and adults. Margaery could only hope that the match would be less violent than her own and Ella would end up with a pleasant man.
"Thank you for warning me" Ella took a deep breath to calm her racing heart. "I should have known her silence never meant peace" Ella laughed at how ridiculous she sounded, Cersei and peace were polar opposites and could never meet.
"Should I expect you when we break our fast?" Margaery asked, her hand tightening over her sister's. Ella and Margaery always broke their fast together, whether it was at home at Highgarden, or whether it was family or merely the two of them alone.
"We shall see" Ella smiled at Margaery not wanting to worry her older sister, although neither really acted their age difference, many thought them to be twins.
Ella paused in the middle of her sentence to her sister when suddenly the sound of someone clinking their knife against their glass echoed around the room. Everyone who was invited for supper with the royal family paused, unsurprisingly Cersei wished the entire council and all the royalty that had traveled for Margaery and Joffrey's wedding to attend the supper. So everyone and anyone in court was in attendance and more.
"I would like to begin this supper by thanking you all for making the journey to travel this way whether it was long or short, and we welcome you with open arms and hearts. The king and I are very happy with your presence for his upcoming wedding to Lady Margaery Tyrell" Cersei's voice echoed throughout the room with false happiness, Margaery had told Ella all about what was conspiring between her and Cersei. Ella turned to watch Cersei with her eyes squinted suspicious of the Queen mother.
"I would like to use this opportunity to announce on behalf of Lord Mace-" Cersei turned to look at Ella's father who nodded with a stupid smile on his face which made Ella wince, how in the world did her father last so long she had no idea and she could not wait for her elder brother Willas to take over the Lordship of Highgarden and they be done with their father. "-that on the morrow two weddings shall take place in stead of one, both his daughters shall marry" Cersei's eyes slid over the crowd analyzing their shocked expressions.
Margaery reached over to grasp Ella's hand in shock, the two girls' eyes widened, they had expected a betrothal but not for her to be married the next day alongside her sister. Ella turned to look at her grandmother who was shaking her head in disappointment meaning she had no idea either. There was rarely anything that Olenna Tyrell did not know so this was near a miracle.
"Lady Ella Tyrell shall be wedded to Prince Oberyn Martell on the morrow" Cersei announced pointing at the handsome prince sitting near where Ella was sat with only her grandmother in between. Ella had met the prince before along with his paramour who seemed not to be in presence at the supper.
"What?" Margaery whispered horrified. Her eyes trailed to Joffrey who was grinning evilly. Ella's heart dropped, all her dreams of falling in love and finding a loyal and respectable man were thrown out of the window with one sentence from Cersei's lips. She was being given to a man known for how lustful he was, he took his paramour with him wherever he went, and he was literally residing at a brothel.
Ella swallowed thickly fighting every urge in her body not to drop the smile from her face, indifference hardly maintained on her face. Her hand was holding Margaery's in a death grip and the other one was engulfed in her grandmother's warm hands. Ella turned to smile at her grandmother as the people around them broke into applause and cheers.
Oberyn was way older than Ella was, he had eight children already all from different whores and paramours while she was barely into her tenth and fifth nameday. Ella allowed her eyes to finally trail to Oberyn at her grandmother's other side to find him already looking at her analyzing her, trying to read her. She gulped and nodded at him before turning back to Margaery not seeing his reaction.
Margaery attempted to give Ella a reassuring smile but failed when her eyes trailed to look at Oberyn who was siping his wine with a neutral look on his face
"Excuse me, grandmother, I feel tired and wish to retire for the night" Ella whispered to Olenna. Olenna gave her granddaughter a small smile and patted her arm as Ella pushed back her chair and stood up. Ella breathed deeply to calm her racing heart before plastering a sweet smile. She moved away from the table and weaved her way through several tables accepting congratulations with a polite smile and a squeaky-sounding "thank yous".
Once outside the hall Ella could not help but take a second deep breath. she leaned against the wall trying to regain her composure. The cold stone walls felt like heaven against her heated and sweaty skin, she was shocked no one mentioned how flustered and ill-looking she must have looked.
She had dreams that were thrown out faster than a horse dump would have been. She had dreams of touring all seven kingdoms and meeting as many families and people as possible during her journey. She dreamed of reading as many books as she could, filling a library of her own, and maybe even writing her own book or books but those dreams were just demolished by Cersei Lannister.
"I never expected marrying me would be such a dreadful thought" Ella jumped when a gruff voice spoke a couple of feet away. She turned to find Oberyn standing a couple of feet away from her watching her, studying her and trying to see her reactions, her intentions.
"Your Grace, it is not like that" Ella almost tripped over her skirt while trying to curtsy, her cheeks were turning from embarrassment. The prince of Dorne just caught her sulking over marrying him. Too many things wrong with this one interaction, first and most important was that the Ladies did not sulk.
"I would be honoured to be called our wife" Ella's mask fell back in place once the shock had worn off. Oberyn however looked annoyed but to the horror of Ella, she did not wish to offend him, she did not wish to have a miserable life more than it already was.
"Do not sugar coat the situation, we both know we are not the partners we wished to have" Oberyn walked over to where she was still standing and leaned back against the same wall she was leaning on before he interrupted her panicked thoughts.
"Your Grace?" Ella turned to face, her face showed just a little bit of how truly shocked she was.
"Ella I am way older than you, I am not an idiot to think you wished to marry a man my age" Oberyn crossed his arms, his eyes roaming all over her face much to her shock. She had expected that a man with his reputation would be delighted to marry a young thing like her, she was awaiting to see his eyes roam her body and see her figure and probably make comments like she's heard other men do to their betrothed including Joffrey.
"My Prince-" Oberyn cut her off by raising his hand rendering her silent. The move irritated her beyond measure but before she could voice that Oberyn opened his mouth and what came out of it shocked her.
"Call me Oberyn, only Oberyn"
Ella was baffled, she knew men loved their women either calling them by title or a nickname, they loved to boast, they were small-minded like that.
"Oberyn, I do not mean to offend you-" Ella sighed. Her eyes were fighting not to water, they stung and hurt and she was sure they were turning red as well. Her hands fisted her dress to keep her composure but it seemed her moment of silence to get her thoughts and words straight yet again was interrupted by the prince standing in front of her.
"I do not intend to cage you little rose, your place is not in a cage but a garden" Oberyn raised his hand to touch her cheek, his fingers were gentle but rough to the touch, calloused with decades of training. He may be known as a master of poisons but he was a warrior still and no less than any guard in the palace, Ella knew that, she had seen him train in passing.
"Just know that as my wife you will be free, free of this court and their expectations. I will not expect you at my beck and call for you are no servant. I will not expect you to welcome me into your bed whenever I please for you are no whore. I do not expect you to be bred and bear me children even sons for you are no breeding mare" Tears weld in Ella's eyes as Oberyn spoke. One of those traitorous tears rolled down her cheek but his thumb was already prepared to wipe it off.
"You say that now but then the court will pressure us-" Oberyn raised his other hand and placed his forefinger over her pouting red lips. He wished to kiss them, taste them, just a small taste but he forced control over himself.
"I will not listen to them, I am not some weak-minded Lord. I am a Prince of Dorne and I shall take you there with me after the wedding" Oberyn promised. Ella took a deep breath to control herself before speaking again.
"There are many things we need to speak of but no time, tomorrow I will become your wife whether we like it or not" Ella took his hand in her own and started to rub small circles over his knuckles, she felt like she should comfort him too, after decades he was being forced to settle for her when he had voiced time and time again that he wished not to marry.
"I promise to care for you, little Rose" Oberyn promised, raising their intertwined hands and kissing her knuckles gently. Ella could not help the blush that crept up her neck and on the apple of her cheeks turning them into what they were called, blood red apples. His lips were soft and his moustache scratched her hand but she found herself not minding it. Her mind even wondered if she would get any beard burns from it if she were to let him in her bed and she found herself not minding this match as much as she did earlier.
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Serie Masterlist / Masterlist
Résumé : "Et quand il posa son regard sur elle, il sut. Inévitablement, indéniablement, il sut. Comme il savait que le soleil se levait chaque matin, comme il savait que la lune brillait chaque et que le printemps succédait à l'hiver. Il sut, qu'il mourrait pour elle. Et quand elle le regarda, elle sut. Indubitablement, incontestablement. Jusqu'à ce que le soleil ne se lève plus sur leur monde, jusqu'à ce que les étoiles se meurent et que l'hiver soit éternel. Elle sut, qu'elle vivrait pour lui."
Mots : 3,5k
TW : Violence, angoisses, chasse.
Tags : Soulmate, enemy to lovers, second chance, smut.
Rating : Explicit / 18+
Partie 3
Inan sella sa monture, il passa une main sur la robe isabelle de la jument, tapotant son encolure. Elle avait eu beaucoup de mal à s’habituer à la chaleur, il sentait qu’elle commençait à peine à s’y adapter. Les écuyers l’avaient prévenu qu’il serait plus intéressant pour lui d’acquérir un cheval directement à Dorne, plutôt que de se borner à vouloir faire venir sa propre monture. Il se rendait compte à présent, quand il voyait les difficultés d’adaptation qu’avait eu l’animal, à quel point il avait été égoïste. Il était parvenu à se convaincre qu’il avait fait cela pour elle, pour ne pas la laisser seule, mais à présent il ne se voilait plus la face, il savait très bien qu’il l’avait fait pour lui. Cette jument était le seul être vivant à avec lequel il avait créé un lien depuis des années, et il ne s’était pas senti près à la laisser à port réal. Elle se serait sans doute épanouie de la même manière sans lui, il n’était pas dupe. Sa poitrine se serra, comment pouvait-il prétendre avoir de l’affection pour elle, quand il la contraignait à être à un endroit où elle ne désirait pas être dans le seul but d’être près de lui ? La jument cogna doucement sa tête contre son épaule, lui demandant une caresse. Il commença à gratter le front de l’animal quand il entendit Oberyn s'approcher. Sans un mot, Inan glissa son pied dans l'étrier et se hissa sur la selle. Ignorant les salutations du prince, il resta immobile jusqu'à ce que ce dernier ai fait de même. Il poussa sa jument à la suite de son étalon, se dirigeant vers la sortie du palais.
Il croisa le regard colérique de Ser Gulian, à qui il fit un clin d’œil provocateur. Il ne le supportait pas. Il faisait partie de la garde rapprochée du prince Oberyn, les deux semblaient proches. Inan n’avait que faire de ce que le prince faisait pendant ses temps libres et ses nuits, mais il ne supportait pas l’attitude de Gulian envers lui. Il n’avait pas demandé à devenir la nouvelle obsession du prince, si Gulian n’était pas capable de faire la part des choses c’était son problème, mais qu’il lui lâche le plastron. Il était de très mauvaise humeur ce matin, l’invitation d’Oberyn à aller chasser y était pour beaucoup, mais le regard de Gulian avait achevé la probabilité qu’il puisse recouvrer une humeur joyeuse.
- Tu es bien silencieux aujourd’hui.
Les mot d’Oberyn le sortirent de ses pensées et Inan poussa un soupir agacé, lui répondant du ton le plus plat qu’il pouvait utiliser.
- Je ne me rappelle pas avoir déjà fait preuve de lalomanie en votre présence.
- Effectivement, je ne te caractériserais pas de bavard, mais tu n’as pas émis un son depuis notre départ.
- Je préfère rester sur mes gardes.
- Ser Inan serait-il paranoïaque ? Je te répète que je souhaitais tester tes qualités de chasseur.
Inan fit ralentir sa monture pour ne plus être dans le champ de vision du prince. Sa motivation à se trouver en la présence d’Oberyn était proche de zéro. Son rôle à Dorne devait être de protéger la princesse, et depuis des semaines, il faisait tout, sauf protéger Myrcella. Il était bien entendu de plus en plus évident que la princesse n’avait pas besoin de protection au sein du palais, les Martell étaient de confiance, même s’ils avaient la famille Lannister en horreur, il était persuadé qu’ils ne s’en prendraient jamais à une enfant. Certes, il n'était pas utile pour lui d’être constamment présent auprès de Myrcella, mais il ne trouvait aucune utilité à être en présence d’Oberyn, à chasser de toutes les activités qu’ils auraient pu faire. Il posa pied et attacha sa jument à côté de la monture du prince. Oberyn le devança et s’enfonça dans une forêt de chêne vert et de caroubier, les semelles d’Inan firent crisser la terre rocailleuse. Il finit par s’avancer au même niveau qu’Oberyn, et fut ravie de constater que la discrétion que requière la chasse plongeait le prince dans un mutisme plus qu’appréciable. Son regard dériva malgré lui de l’air soucieux d’Oberyn jusqu’à ses lèvres qu’il détailla rapidement, avant de le laisser glisser sur l’ensemble de son visage. Était-il envisageable qu’il le trouve encore plus séduisant que lors de leur première rencontre ? Il n’aurait jamais pensé cela possible, à l’époque il l’avait déjà trouvé parfait, sous son air arrogant et ses mots tranchant.
- Tu sais que je vois, quand tu me dévisages ?
Inan s’arrêta de marcher un instant, puis rattrapa les quelques pas qui le séparaient du prince. Il resta silencieux, ne préférant pas répondre, ses mâchoires s’étaient contractées sans même qu’il ne s’en aperçoive. Le phrase que le prince venait de prononcer raisonna encore un instant dans son esprit, scellant la douleur déjà présente dans sa poitrine. Il mordit l’intérieur de sa joue.
Oberyn lui fit bientôt signe de s'accroupir. Un koudou était en train de paître paresseusement non loin d’eux. Une femelle. Oberyn arma sa lance et la projeta vers l'animal. Elle s’enfonça proprement en pleine poitrine et la bête s’effondra sans un bruit. Inan le suivit en silence et le regarda ôter la lame de la chair de l’animal. Tandis qu’Oberyn nettoyait la lame de sa lance, Inan glissa ses doigts contre l’encolure du koudou. Il détestait la chasse, il n’y avait jamais rien vu de noble. Il ne comprenait pas l’intérêt de d’acculer une bête innocente, de l’effrayer, la blesser pour qu’un seigneur puisse se targuer de l’avoir abattu. Il sentit l’épaule d’Oberyn frôler la sienne. Il s’était accroupi à son tour, posant sa paume sur la tête de l’animal. Il l’observa tandis qu’il glissait également sa main sur l’encolure du koudou, murmurant des remerciements à l’animal. Il sentit la main d’Oberyn frôler, puis se poser sur la sienne. Ils se redressèrent en même temps.Vous ne lui avez laissé aucune chance.
Les mots d’Inan franchirent ses lèvres avec douceur, son regard s’attardant sur les yeux d’onyx d’Oberyn.
-Peut-être aurait-elle dû se montrer plus prudent ? Je ne suis pas du genre à hésiter.
Oberyn s’approcha un peu plus d’Inan, il sentait presque la chaleur de son corps, son parfum d’oud et de myrrhe.
-Plutôt du genre à tuer une bête innocente.
Il sentit le prince faire mine de glisser ses doigts dans son dos, s’approchant encore un peu plus de lui.
-Seulement si cela est une nécessité.
Inan perdit un instant son regard dans celui d’Oberyn, dans cette lueur malicieuse qui n’avait de cesse de faire vibrer son cœur.
-Quelle nécessité y avait-il aujourd’hui ?
Il ne lui répondit pas, se contentant de s’approcher un peu plus de lui. Pourquoi est-ce qu’il ne bougeait pas ? Pourquoi est-ce qu’il le laisser s’approcher encore ? Il n’était pas certain de vouloir obtenir une réponse à cette question. Et tandis qu’il perdait son regard dans le sien, Inan entendit un bruit discret dans les fourrés, se situant derrière le prince, il vit quelque chose se mouvoir près du sol.
- Oberyn !
Inan le poussa fortement sur le côté tous en sortant son épée de son fourreau et plaça la paume de sa main en appuie entre son sternum et le pommeau, son autre main agrippant fermement la garde. Le lion était déjà sur lui et il le laissa s'empaler lourdement sur l'arme. Il le poussa sur le côté, se dégageant. Il se redressa brusquement et attrapa Oberyn par les épaules, l'air paniqué.
- Est ce que vous allez bien ? Vous n'êtes pas blessé ?
Oberyn se mit à sourire et glissa sa main contre le bras d’Inan, il l'attira fortement à lui en tirant sur son plastron, son visage proche du sien, son regard malicieux posé sur ses lèvres, un sourire narquois déformant les siennes.
- Tu viens de te jeter sous un lion et tu me demandes si je vais bien ?
Inan s'écarta brusquement, faisait un pas en arrière, il reprit son souffle.
- Je suis désolé, c'était inapproprié.
- Tu viens de me sauver la vie.
Inan redressa la tête, toujours haletant.
- Non, je pense que je vous ai épargné une blessure mais vous l'auriez rapidement abattu ou mit en fuite.
Oberyn affichait toujours un sourire satisfait, il fit un pas en avant, ses mains derrières son dos.
- Tu viens de tuer un lion pour me sauver, d'aucun y verrait une métaphore... Intéressante.
Inan fit un nouveau pas en arrière, les sourcils froncés, il leva les yeux au ciel.
- Je ne vois nulle métaphore, seulement un homme imprudent qui s'est laissé prendre par surprise.
Plus Oberyn approchait, plus Inan reculait, si bien que son dos rencontra rapidement l’écorce raiche d’un caroubier, et il osait traiter le prince d’imprudent.
-Ai je l'air d'être imprudent ?
- Oui. Ne pas se méfier d'un lion sur son propre terrain de chasse est imprudent.
- Mais tu gardais mes arrières, n'est-ce pas ?
Oberyn glissa sa main contre l’écorce de l’arbre, la positionnant au-dessus de la tête d’Inan, se penchant légèrement en avant. Inan dû fournir un effort conscient pour déglutir et reprendre son souffle avant de répondre.
- Vous ne me connaissait pas, j'aurais très bien pu laisser le lion vous dévorer. Personne n'aurait su que je l'avais vu.
- Mais tu ne l'as pas fait. Tu n'as pas hésité un seul instant, tu as mis ta vie en danger pour moi, et ne me dis pas qu'il s'agit d'un réflexe de chevalier. Mais je répète ma question, ai-je l'air d'être imprudent ?
Inan sentit son corps se figer et soudainement les liens se firent dans son esprit, il chercha le regard d’Oberyn.
- Vous saviez qu'il était là ? Le lion ?
- Ai je l'air d'être du genre à me laisser prendre par surprise par un lion, sur mes terres ?
Oberyn s’approcha une nouvelle fois, et Inan fronça les sourcils.
- Mais pourquoi...
- Il y a quelque chose qui me perturbe chez toi, Inan. Je trouverais quoi, je te le garantis. Tu m'es hostile, et pourtant aujourd'hui tu as risqué ta vie pour la mienne sans aucune hésitation. Je vais être honnête, je m'attendais à ce que tu le laisses m'attaquer.
Inan sentit la morsure caractéristique de la colère lui bruler le visage.
- Alors pourquoi avoir pris le risque !
- Pourquoi est-ce que cela te met en colère ?
Le fait qu’Oberyn le verbalise permit à Inan de prendre conscience du sentiment qui enflait en lui. Il n’était pas en colère, il était en rage. Il en voulait à Oberyn de s’être mit en danger. Il s’était inquiété pour lui, il n’était pas en colère. Il avait peur.
- Vous êtes dément. Vous venez de vous mettre en danger seulement pour savoir si vous pouviez me faire confiance !
- Tu l'as dis-toi même, je l'aurais maitrisé.
Inan croisa les bras, verrouillant son regard à celui d’Oberyn.
- Pas sans risque.
- Le risque... N'est-ce pas ce qui rend la vie excitante.
- La vie n'est excitante que si l'on est vivant pour en profiter.
Oberyn se mit à rire, ce rire chantant qui lui était caractéristique, celui qui faisait trembler Inan jusque dans ses os. Il glissa le dos de ses doigts contre la joue d’Inan avant de s’éloigner.
- Les autres ont raisons, ce que tu peux être coincé.
Il était dangereux, et chaotique. Il prenait des risques inconsidérés. Inan ne pû s’empêcher de ressentir une pointe d’admiration grandir dans sa poitrine, mais l’inquiétude prit rapidement le dessus.
-Tu n’as pas répondu, pourquoi est-ce que cela te met en colère ?
-Je trouve simplement cela idiot. Si vous permettez, je vais attacher le koudou à ma jument.
-Je t’en prie, attache-la à mon étalon.
Inan passa les portes de la muraille du palais vieux sur sa jument, trainant le corps du jeune lion derrière lui. Il n’était pas ravi d’être celui qui ramenait un lion mort dans l’enceinte de Lancehélion, et vu le regard que lui portait Myrcella, elle non plus.
Un festin eu lieu ce soir-là, et Inan se sentit rapidement dépassé par les évènements. Des gens le célébraient pour sa force et sa bravoure, pour avoir protégé le prince Oberyn, et d’autres été clairement heureux d’être en présence d’un Ouestien ayant tué un lion. Oberyn avait raison, et il n’était pas le seul à y voir une métaphore intéressante. Il souffla lourdement avant de se diriger vers la sortie, mais fut bloqué par Oberyn qui appuya son épaule de manière nonchalante sur l’encadrement de la porte, un verre de vin à la main.
-Tu pars déjà ?
-Je ne suis pas friand des soirées animées.
-Qu’est-ce que tu dirais d’une soirée un peu plus privée, dans ce cas ?
-Je ne suis pas certain de comprendre où vous voulez en venir.
-Tu sais où se trouve mes appartements, vas-y, je t’y rejoindrais.
Oberyn ne lui laissa pas le loisir de répondre, il s’était déjà éclipsé pour reprendre le cours de sa soirée. S’il pensait qu’il allait se diriger vers ses appartements, il se fourvoyait lourdement. Inan se rendit jusqu’à la tours soleil, et monta les marches. Quand il arriva à l’étage des appartements princier il hésita. Il arrêta de réfléchir et s’élança vers la porte. A l’instant où il l’ouvrit il regretta son geste. Il allait sortir de la pièce quand une voix le stoppa.
-Alors c’est toi que je dois remercier pour le retour de mon amour en pleine santé ?
Ellaria Sand se trouvait dans un fauteuil, il ne l’avait pas vu au premier abord. Inan n’allait pas mentir, elle était impressionnante. Elle dégageait un charisme et une assurance inégalable, quelque chose le mettait mal à l’aise, il n’arrivait pas à mettre le doigt dessus.
-Il semblerait.
Il finit par entrer pour de bon dans la pièce. La sensation était étrange, il ne se sentait absolument pas à sa place, ce lieu était le leur, il n’avait rien à y faire.
-Oberyn t’a demandé de venir ici, n’est-ce pas ?
-Il semblerait.
-Pourquoi as-tu accepté ?
-Tu as bien vu, j’allais repartir.
-Il m’a dit que tu avais tendance à ne pas répondre aux questions !
Ellaria l’invita à s’assoir. Sa position souple sur son fauteuil, ses pieds nus sous son corps détendu et sa robe diaphane contrastait avec le dos droit, le corps rigide et vêtu d’une armure d’Inan. L’instant était lunaire, il devrait être en compagnie d’Oberyn dans sa suite, ce qui déjà était irréaliste, et il se retrouvait dans une chambre, seul avec Ellaria. Elle lui tandis un verre de vin. Il en bu une gorgée en silence.
-Je crois que tu lui plais.
Inan s’étouffa presque dans sa gorgée de vin et la regarda, les yeux écarquillés.
-Je te demande pardon ?
-Oh tu m’as très bien comprise. Cela dit, cela ne me déplait pas, j’avoue que l’idée de partager notre lit avec un bouclier lige me plait bien.
Inan sentit un frisson glacial et désagréable lui parcourir le dos, la sensation d’être dos au mur, en cage. Ses muscles se raidirent et sa bouche sembla sèche soudainement, son cœur battant plus vite dans sa poitrine. Il posa son verre de vin sur la table et se redressa. Ellaria posa sa main sur la sienne.
-Je te taquine. Je te promets que ce n’est pas un piège dans ce genre. A moins que tu en ai envie ?
-Je ne suis pas là pour ça.
-Alors pourquoi es-tu là ?
-Parce qu’il m’a demandé de venir.
-Et tu ne t’es pas posé la question de savoir ce qu’il voulait en te demandant ça ?
-Peut-être aurais-je dû, en effet.
Inan se rassit et reprit une gorgée de vin.
-Depuis combien de temps, es-tu chevalier ?
Il la regarda longuement et soupira.
-17 ans.
-Cela a toujours été une vocation ? J’avoue que je ne comprendrais jamais comment on peut renoncer si facilement à sa liberté.
Inan regarda sa coupe de vin un instant, puis se resservit. Il fit tourner le liquide grenat dans son verre.
-Non, cela n’a pas toujours été une vocation. J’avoue ne pas avoir eu d’autre choix.
-Et que voulais tu faire ?
Inan redressa son visage et plongea ses yeux dans ceux d’Ellaria. Une douceur étrange émanait d’elle. Quelque chose de familier, quelque chose qui lui intimait qu’il pouvait lui faire confiance.
-Être libre.
-Et pourtant tu portes une armure.
Il ne s’était pas aperçu, d’à quel point le métal lui comprimait la poitrine avant qu’elle ne le lui dise. Par moment il se sentait nu sans elle, et par moment, il se sentait prit au piège, à l’étroit. Il n’avait qu’une envie, c’était de l’arracher. Il se redressa et détacha son plastron, qu’il posa prêt de son fauteuil, avec son épée et ses jambières. Il inspira profondément et se rassit, glissant une jambe sous son corps.
-Comment un homme qui désire à ce point être libre finit par passer sa vie à obéir aux ordres ?
-C’est un mystère auquel vous n’aurait pas de réponse ce soir, je le crains.
Un bruit de bois fit sursauter Inan, la porte s’ouvrit soudainement.
-Je vois que tu t’es mis à l’aise.
La voix d’Oberyn le fit frissonner, son cœur s’affola une nouvelle fois, accompagné d’un sentiment de malaise. Inan se redressa brusquement, faisant mine de ramasser son armure.
-Je devrais vous laisser.
-N’attendais-tu pas après lui ?
Il se retourna vers Ellaria et la dévisagea. Ils n’étaient pas ensemble pour rien ces deux-là. Il soupira et s’assit.
-De quoi parliez-vous ?
-De liberté.
Oberyn se mit à rire et attrapa un verre de vin sur son passage, qu’il remplit jusqu’au bord. Il embrassa Ellaria avec passion et sa laissa tomber sur un des fauteuils, glissant sa main dans une coupe de fruit.
-Intéressant, je serais curieux de savoir ce qu’un homme pour qui le risque rend la vie dangereuse pense de la liberté.
Inan perdit une nouvelle fois son regard dans son verre.
-Disons qu’enfant je pensais qu’être un homme m’aiderait à me libérer de mes chaines, il s’est avéré que j’ai troqué des chaines contre d’autres. Ce que je pense de la liberté, c’est qu’elle n’est qu’illusion.
Oberyn le regarda un instant, semblant perdu dans ses pensées. La remarque qu’il fit se voulait sarcastique, mais la lueur dans son regard montrait quelque chose de différent.
-Inan, tu as ce don si précieux de rendre chaque instant un peu plus monotone.
-Je le trouve intéressant, personnellement.
Ellaria ne détachait pas son regard du sien, il la regarda un instant et soupira avant de se redresser pour sortir de la chambre.
Inan était sur le chemin du retour quand il sursauta en croisa Septa Églantine. Comment pouvait-on être aussi effrayante ? Se déplaçait-elle dans les murs pour apparaitre subitement de cette manière ? Et surtout depuis combien de temps attendait-elle ?
-Ser Inan. Puis je vous parler ?
-Septa Aubépine. Ne devriez-vous pas être couché à cette heure ? Vous comptez me suivre quoi que je réponde, je vous en prie, ne vous privez pas.
-Églantine ! S’indigna la vielle femme comme à chaque fois. Je trouve votre comportement indécent. Vous êtes bien trop proche des dorniens !
-Et ? Ne sommes-nous pas ici pour des raisons diplomatiques ?
-Vous êtes ici pour surveiller la princesse. Je ne pense pas que vous acoquiner avec le prince Oberyn, qui se trouve être ouvertement hostile la maison Lannister vous aide dans cette mission. Ni de rentrer ostensiblement de la chasse avec un lion mort à vos côtés !
-Effectivement, c’est indigne de ma position de chevalier, je ne savais pas qu’il était dans vos prérogative de Septa de me rappeler le cadre de mon poste.
-Et que dira le roi Joffrey, quand il apprendra que vous avez tué un lion et vous en êtes réjoui entouré de Dorniens ? Il n’est pas très indulgent en ce qui concerne les traitres !
Inan lui sourit et maintint son regard.
-Je ne sais pas, que dira-t-il, quand il apprendra que sa jeune sœur passe son temps à se promener dans le palais et ses jardins en compagnie de son promit plutôt que de suivre vos préceptes ?
-Vous n’oseriez pas !
-Non, bien sûr que non. Je sais m’occuper de ce qui m’incombe, et je sais qu’il en est de même pour vous. Sur ce, bonne nuit, Septa Aubépine.
Chapitre 4 : La bête qui sommeille
#pedro pascal#oberyn fanfiction#oberyn martell#oberyn nymeros martell#oberyn x oc#fanfiction#prince oberyn#game of thrones#got
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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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An Unlikely Pairing | Part One
Oberyn Martell x Redwyne!OC
Synopsis: Prince Oberyn Martell did not want to marry the bride Doran picked for him. Lady Rhea Redwyne needed her plan to succeed or Doran would have her head.
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By gods, did Oberyn not want to be standing here, awaiting the ship carrying his bride-to-be. He had laughed at Doran three moons ago, with Ellaria nestled on his lap, as Doran mentioned having found a suitable bride for him. He had almost hit his brother upon learning that Doran had made a pact with Lord Orys Redwyne of the Arbour for his only daughter to marry Oberyn. He detested the idea of marrying a mainland Noblewoman unfamiliar with Dornish ways.
He still was, but the small amount of information he had learned about through Obara on his betrothed soothed him.
Lady Rhea Redwyne, known throughout the Reach as the Mother of Beasts, never seen without her beloved Myrrish Tigress and massive bearcat. Lady Rhea Redwyne, co-captain of her own warship, named the Serpent and rivalled the ships of the Iron Fleet.
At least his new bride wasn’t a snivelling flower. Or worse yet, Cersei Lannister.
As the ships came closer, Oberyn was at least able to see why Doran arranged for him to marry Lady Redwyne. The Redwyne fleet was the largest in Westeros, boasting two hundred warships, and over a thousand merchant ships. And, the Redwyne’s controlled the trade of Arbour wine, a wine Ellaria loved.
After what seemed like years, the Serpent docked in front of the greeting party consisting of Prince Doran and his wife Mellario, and their children Arianne and Quentyn. Ellaria and his children through her were not in attendance, as Doran banned them from making an appearance at the greeting, but Obara, Tyene, and Nymeria stood behind Oberyn, and he was thankful that three of his daughters were there at the very least.
The dock lowered, and Oberyn got a first look at his soon-to-be-wife.
She was pretty, and noticeably younger than Oberyn, though thankfully not young enough to be a maiden. Her auburn hair was darker than other shades he had seen, though glowed more orange in the bright Dornish light. It was left down, allowing for her soft curls to fall kindly to her hips, though the sides of her hair were twisted and pulled back to keep her hair from obscuring her face. Her pale eyes glistened in the light, though she was too far away for him to determine the colour.
She was dressed in a beautiful and eye-catching dress of blue-grey silk and an armour-like bodice. The tan leather bodice covered her neck completely and jutted out as pauldrons over her shoulders, underneath which sheer silk sleeves hugged her arm and loosely ended at her fingers. The leather was stopped just above her breasts, which were sculpted by intricate metal linings, covered with blue and gold embroidery that covered the entire bodice and cauldron, extending down onto the full skirts of sheer silk.
To the sharp gasp of his brother, Oberyn was pleased to see at her heels, were the famed tigress and bearcat. Oberyn had no care for the people behind her, watching Lady Redwyne intensely. As she came no more than a metre from Oberyn, she stopped, and gave the Dornish party an elegant curtsy, the silks of her dress moving like waves around her. Oberyn did not hesitate to respond with a bow of his own, the rest of the Dornish party following suit.
He cherished in the realization of the crowd that Lady Redwyne approached the party first, and not her father who stood behind her and that she approached Oberyn and not the Ruler of Dorne.
“Pleasure to meet you all, I am Lady Rhea of House Redwyne. I bring with me my companions Nymeria and Visenya,” She gestured to her tigress and bearcat. “My father, Lord Orys Redwyne of the Arbour, my mother: Lady Meera Redwyne of the Arbour, my younger brother Lord Paxter Redwyne, and my ship the Serpent, along with ten merchant vessels of House Redwyne.”
“It is all my pleasure to see you again, Lady Redwyne.” Doran interrupted, cutting in. “May I introduce your betrothed, my brother Prince Oberyn of House Martell? With me is my lady-wife Princess Mellario and our children, Princess Arianne and Prince Quentyn.”
Oberyn never stopped looking at Lady Redwyne and was pleased that she never stopped looking at him. Now that she was closer, he could see that her eyes were an icy grey colour, lined softly with light brown kohl. His gaze cooled as she finally turned to look at Prince Doran, her upper lip upturning slightly as she finally addressed the man behind both of their predicaments.
“Thank you, Prince Doran, for this arrangement. I hate to end our chat here, but my mother does not do well on the sea. Would my party be able to rest in our rooms before dinner tonight?”
“Why yes of course. Oberyn, please show your betrothed her temporary quarters while I show Lord and Lady Redwyne their chambers.”
Oberyn nearly scoffed at his brother, but nonetheless held out his hand to Lady Redwyne who tentatively took it, allowing him to lead her into her chambers within the Tower of Sun.
~
In the six days since Lady Redwyne’s arrival in Dorne, Oberyn had not seen or spoken to his betrothed. It was not as if he was seeking her out, but he found it strange. The only confirmation that she was alive was Nymeria having informed Oberyn that she had been keeping Rhea and her beasts' company, which was at the point that Oberyn learned that Lady Redwyne had brought not only her tigress, Nymeria, and her bearcat, Visenya, but a spotted genet named Lobelia, and two twin mangrove pit vipers named Iris and Wisteria.
But alas, today was the dreaded day. Oberyn stood underneath an orange tree, a Septon he did not care for standing next to him as he waited for Lady Redwyne to enter the grove. It was apparently her coaxing that allowed them to get married at the Water Gardens and not a Sept near Sunspear. He was still unsure how she pulled that off and was quite impressed.
“Who comes before the Seven this day?”
“Rhea of House Redwyne and Reed, a woman grown, true born and noble, I have come here to be wed.”
And that is when he turned, finally taking in her appearance.
Her hair was intricately braided up and out of her face, forming a bun at the crown of her head, secured by a gold hairpiece of a band with twelve thin spikes jutting out, emulating the sun’s rays. Her eyes were once again lined with light brown kohl, and her plump lips were painted slightly with a peach gloss. It was her dress however, that was wowing the crowds. Simplistic yet clearly delicately made just for her, it was quite revealing in the silver semi-sheer panels that made up the sleeveless dress that hugged her curves tightly, the panels slowly transitioning into panels of feather-like Qartheen silk, pinned to the skirt with delicate silver embroidery. The top of the dress was a high neckline of sheer white fabric and white grid-like seams, covering her delicate neck and covering her shoulders in yet another pauldron-like detail.
“Who comes to claim her?”
“Oberyn Nymeros, of House Martell, Prince of Dorne.” He called as he drank in her appearance as she stood next to her father a few meters from him and the Septon.
“Who gives her?”
“Orys of House Redwyne, Lord of the Arbour, gives this woman.”
And with that, she was passed to him, her soft hand sliding carefully into his outstretched one, and she came up next to him. His eyes briefly glanced at the silk cloak she donned, a pale burgundy that somehow didn’t clash with the white of her dress and the overall colour of the Water Garden grotto.
“You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection.
He carefully slipped the silk cloak from her body, folding it and passing it to Doran who handed him a sunny yellow cloak with a golden serpent upon it, which Oberyn gently slipped onto her before taking her left hand.
“We stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife: one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.”
Oberyn swallowed harshly at the feeling of the ribbon binding their hands.
It should be Ellaria with whom he was binding hands with, not her.
“In the sight of the Seven, I nearby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger - hear now their vows.”
Robotically, their voices come out, emotionless at the state of their circumstances.
“I am yours and you are mine, from this day, until the end of my days.”
“Let it be known that they are one hears, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder. I proclaim thee man and wife.”
Oberyn was incredibly thankful for the removal of the ribbon and silently turned to face his lady-wife. They paused before Rhea leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.
“This was not my idea, I have much to tell you once we are alone.” She whispered.
Oberyn hid his surprise by kissing her on the cheek as well as he grasped her hand once more and turned towards the crowd observing the ceremony.
All they had to do was get through this blasted dinner without pissing off Doran and then they could share their thoughts in private.
Thankfully for the both of them, the feast went much quicker, Doran having ended it so that the newlyweds could have significant time to bed, something which made Rhea grimace behind her napkin. She returned to quarters and slipped into the nightgown gifted to her by her cousin, Alerie Tyrell. It was skimpier than what she had worn before, but she did not mind for she already found many of her dresses too warm for the Dornish climate.
It was made of hand-dyed Qartheen silk, a pale blue colour Rhea favoured, falling shapelessly from her shoulders and hips as the material hugged her breasts. The neckline reached down to her navel, giving a teasing glimpse of her perky breasts, only interrupted by a crisscrossing embroidered band that lined the edges of the bodice and its cutouts, including the ones above her waist and on her hips, giving teasing amounts of skin.
It would be a while before she could wear dresses as showy as these once more, but hopefully, it would be worth it.
“My Prince?” She called, as she entered his personal chambers.
“Lady Redwyne.”
It would be a lie to say that Oberyn was not handsome, but even his looks couldn’t sway her from her mission tonight. He was dressed in sun-gold breeches and an open robe that showed off his chest.
He approached her, beginning to shed his robe, but stopped when he met her hand, pressed flat against his chest.
“May we sit and discuss what I mentioned?” Rhea asked, “And please, Prince Oberyn, refer to me as Rhea. We may as well act the part of a married couple now.”
“Very well, care for some wine?”
“I will pass at the moment.”
Oberyn lounged in the chair, looking over at his sensuously dressed bride and wondering what she needed to speak with him about.
“I am with child already.”
That was certainly not what he expected.
“Oh? Who is the father?”
“Prince Doran.”
Oberyn coughed on his wine, looking at Rhea incredulously.
“My brother fathered a bastard.”
“Yes. I only agreed because it was the only way to cover my pregnancy. I am just over a moon already, so it is still believable that you are the father of my true-born child.” Rhea said, “There is no need for us to bed, I only ask that you keep my secret and be a father to your niece or nephew as you have fathered your daughters.”
“You take no offence in my daughters and my paramour?”
“Your daughters are lovely. I take no offence to bastards, for they are treated far too poorly outside of Dorne.”
“And my paramour? Will you resent me for continuing to love and dote on my beloved Ellaria?”
Rhea's cheeks flushed, and Oberyn grinned.
“Or are you perhaps also entranced by my Ellaria’s beauty and wit?”
Rhea looked guilty and terrified for all but a moment before Oberyn gently set his hand down atop hers.
“I trust you have heard the rumours that I bedded Knights of Reach?”
“Yes.”
“Unlike the stuck-up cunt lords of the rest of Westeros, I care not for only bedding women. I bed both because it pleases me. Doran and I have the agreement that I am free to do as I will so long as I father one true-born child with you, as you are already with Doran’s child, I will not force you to bed me, nor will I prevent you from seeking the comforts of others. I only ask, does Doran know you are with child?”
“He does not know he even coupled me.” Rhea snapped, her glare turning sour.
Oberyn’s jaw tightened, “Tell me what happened, so that I may prevent it from happening once more.”
“He came a moon and a half ago to finalize the marriage pact. I was exiting my quarters for a moonlight stroll and Doran, completely in his cups stumbled upon me and mistook me for his Lady Wife. He dragged me into his quarters and took me to his bed, despite my refusal and attempts to leave. He coupled me until he rolled over and fell asleep, at which I removed the bloodied sheet and returned to my chamber.”
“You did not take moon tea to stop it?”
“I cannot take moon tea, for one of the flowers within it is deadly to me.” Rhea admitted sadly, “I had every intention of stopping our betrothal, but I knew that soon I would show and my slim options for suitors would shrink and that I would likely be exiled for my crimes against my father and the Seven. I pretended to be madly in love with you to keep myself and my unborn child safe.”
Oberyn’s eyes watered as Rhea spoke honestly, her voice trembling as she told him everything.
He had no room to be mad at her now, only a boiling rage at what his brother had done to Rhea and Oberyn himself.
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A royal encounter - Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader x Oberyn Martell
Summary: Daemon had a great idea to bring a breath of fresh air into your marriage. But his plans were thwarted.
Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader x Oberyn Martell
Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; oral f receiving, fingering (f in v and f in a), p in v sex, p in a sex
Author’s note:
To celebrate the one year anniversary of my very first posted story, I've decided to finally post the Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader x Oberyn Martell story.... I hope you like it!
And… Thanks for reading my stories for a year! 🖤 I am very happy that you still want to read my stories!
English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:
Word count: 3.3 k
Other stories of mine
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You cling to the railing with your hands. Daemon's hands dig into your hips almost unpleasantly, the marks of his fingernails will be visible for a long time. His thrusts slowly subside and his breath comes heavily. A warm breeze envelops you, here on the balcony of your old chambers.
You have sought a little excitement, escaping the boring ball that has lured many lords and ladies to King's Landing. That's how Daemon came to practically push you into your old chambers for a bit of excitement.
You are both still breathing heavily as Daemon slowly pulls out of you. His soft laugh rings out as he gently kisses your nose.
But then this gentle moment is interrupted as someone applauds you and a clap is heard.
For a second Daemon's gaze meets yours before he looks over his shoulder and sees Prince Oberyn Martell standing in the middle of the chambers.
He grins, "Perhaps I should have tried harder to seduce a Targaryen princess after all," Prince Oberyn says cheekily. In one movement Daemon pulls his trousers completely up and spins around, his eyes narrowing.
"Oh, is the Prince of Dorne trying to make a pass at my wife?" hisses Daemon.
A gasp escapes you and you try to hide your naked body behind Daemon's. Your gaze wanders, searching for your dress, which Daemon had torn off you just moments before.
As Prince Oberyn chuckles, "No... But now that I've seen how much fun you've had, I wish I'd had it too," he says to him.
Daemon's gaze falls slightly over his shoulder, seeing you trying to cover your body. He sees you reaching for your dress, which is lying on the floor.
He looks back at Oberyn and his mood suddenly seems more relaxed.
He starts to button up his shirt, "I think we were just looking for a little excitement here," Daemon replies.
"But..," Daemon adds suddenly, "if you want to join us, I could certainly be persuaded."
You are pulling up your dress and frowning when you hear his words, "Daemon? Did you just invite Prince Oberyn to a threesome?" you ask him a little shocked.
Daemon hears your words, but before he can say anything back, Oberyn intervenes.
"A threesome?" asks Prince Oberyn with a grin, "I would have thought you were a jealous husband rather than an adventurous one...". Oberyn's words echo through the chambers and your eyes fall on Daemon again.
You know he can be jealous, but this time something else is reflected in his eyes.
Daemon chuckles softly, "We could have a good time in these old chambers here," he says mischievously, "It might make everything a little more exciting."
Daemon turns slightly, looking you straight in the eye, "What do you think? Is the Prince of Dorne a threat to our marriage?" he asks you gently. His thumb gently strokes your cheek.
You are not easily embarrassed, but this idea makes you blush. You bite your lip lightly, the pulsing between your legs reignited. Prince Oberyn was a handsome man. No less handsome than your husband, but in total contrast.
"No... he's not a threat. I only love you..." you say softly to Daemon.
Your gaze drifts to Prince Oberyn and his mischievous grin jumps out at you. He begins to unbutton his shirt and his lightly tanned chest is revealed. It is a stark contrast to your fair skin. Gently he brushes his shirt off his shoulders, revealing muscles that are rather small compared to Daemon's – he is defined but slender in stature. You step forward and stand next to Daemon.
But Daemon's gaze follows Oberyn's actions as he unbuttons his shirt, looking at his wife. He sees pure lust in Oberyn's eyes, the brown of his eyes barely discernible – his pupils dilated with lust.
Daemon notices how handsome Oberyn is and feels an excitement welling up inside him.
Oberyn's gaze falls on Daemon's face and notices Daemon trying to hide his excitement, but he sees his eyes fixed on the scene before him. A smile spreads across Oberyn's face. Oberyn walks towards you and slowly kneels on the ground in front of you.
You gasp briefly as his gaze goes up to you and he smiles at you. His hands reach for your dress and slowly begin to lift it.
The blush on your face continues to spread to your cleavage. Never has another man been about to touch you like this.
As Oberyn's voice brings you back to reality, "The blush is much more visible on your pale skin, Princess," he murmurs, "No need to be nervous, you'll enjoy it"
You bite your lip, even though you don't want to be nervous, you feel it flood through you.
You feel Daemon behind you, his hands on your shoulder. His thumbs glide gently over the crook of your neck. However unfamiliar this situation may be, Daemon's touch soothes you.
"Well?" asks Oberyn suddenly, "Do you want me to have her?"
Your eyes slide from Oberyn's to Daemon's purple eyes. Slightly peeking over your shoulder, your lips meet, "I want you both, Daemon..." you whisper against his lips.
Oberyn chuckles lightly as he lifts your dress further. You're not wearing any undergarments and as Oberyn pushes your dress up to your hips, your light pubic hair is revealed.
"Mmm, the silver hair of the Targaryens..." he murmurs, pressing his face into it. A smile crosses his face, the smile of an artist when he sees the masterpiece he has created.
You gasp as Oberyn presses his face into your pubic area. You exhale heavily, watching Oberyn enjoy the warmth of your private parts.
Daemon watches Oberyn and a slight, excited growl forms in his chest. Your previous words, "I want you both," also add to his arousal. Daemon's lips gently touch your neck as his hands begin to slide your dress down from your shoulders.
Prince Oberyn lets his tongue slide slowly through your womanhood. His fingers gently pull apart your folds so he can fully enjoy you.
You moan as you feel Oberyn's tongue find your bundle of nerves and gently circle it.
A "mmhmm" sounds from Oberyn as he pushes his face further into you. Your breath quickens as you feel Daemon lightly bite the soft skin of your neck and Oberyn circles his tongue faster. Your moans echo through the chambers.
When Oberyn suddenly lets go of your warm core and you whimper in disappointment. Your eyes fall on Oberyn, who looks up at you. His lips are glistening with your juice. Slowly he stands up and begins to open his trousers. Meanwhile Daemon lets your dress fall to the floor. His hands slide to your breasts, massaging them lightly. His thumbs and fingers grip your nipples, teasing them lightly. His lips continue to caress your neck as another moan leaves your lips.
You are now standing naked in front of them both. And your teeth don't want to release your lip. As Oberyn takes one of your hands and leads you away from Daemon. You take a step and slip out of your dress, which is lying at your feet. Slowly he leads you to the bed.
You climb onto the bed and Oberyn, who is naked himself, lies down beside you and begins to caress your body with his fingers. You see how Oberyn's hot length is already aroused and unlike Daemon's, a dark ring surrounds his size. You can't resist, you run your fingers through the hair. Oberyn grins at you and now he lightly bites his lip.
Your eyes fall on Daemon and you watch as his gaze is fixed on you. A shiver runs down your spine as you see his gaze follow Oberyn's fingers on your skin. Daemon begins to undress, his eyes never leaving you. First his shirt falls, revealing his muscular torso. The scars from all the battles won litter his pale skin. Your arousal rises immensely.
As Daemon undresses from the waist down and his arousal immediately springs free, you moan. The way Daemon stands in front of you and Oberyn's fingers find their way between your thighs is too exciting.
Daemon's attention is on you, the love of his life, and the tanned man next to you, caressing you on the bed and sliding his fingers through your wetness. Daemon comes towards you with long strides, gently sliding himself onto the bed with you. His fingers find your hips, reach into your curves as he begins to play around your nipple with his tongue. You moan again as his teeth begin to nibble lightly.
Daemon's lips slowly glide up your neck. A game of kisses and light bites until he encloses your lips. You breath into his mouth as Oberyn slides his hand to your bottom and turns you to Daemon. You lie on your side, your hand glides over Daemon's chest to his neck while your tongues dance wildly around each other. Oberyn brushes your silver hair aside and begins to kiss your neck softly.
His fingers slide down your thigh, until his hand reaches the curves of your bottom and grips firmly. You whimper into Daemon's mouth. Oberyn releases your butt cheek and lets his fingers slide between your thighs. You whimper again as he covers his finger with your wetness and slides it to your butt hole. He applies light pressure and your whimpering repeats itself.
His fingers are slick with your wetness, easing the way as they tease the sensitive spot. He wants to push you further, to see how far you're willing to go. Experimentally, he stroked his fingers against your hole.
Oberyn's breath hitches as your hips begin to move slightly. A soft sound comes from you and your bottom presses lightly against his finger, your slight gasp sending a wave of satisfaction through him. He pressed a little harder, his finger slowly sliding into your tight, forbidden entrance.
The feeling of you around his finger, it all fueled his desire, igniting a primal need within him. He let out a low grunt in response, his own pleasure intertwining with yours.
He could feel his own cock hardening almost painfully, aching for the intense pleasure that only you could provide at the moment. The sound of your whimpering, your vulnerability and need, only served to heighten his own desire to please you.
Daemon's fingers mirror Oberyn's movements as his fingers slide between your legs. His attention is on your clit at first until he slides them inside you. You hear him growl softly as he feels the walls of your cunt already clenching around his fingers.
Daemon looks at you with slightly parted lips, enjoying the sight of ecstasy on your face. "You always take my fingers so well inside of you," Daemon mumbles a little breathlessly, "just like my tongue... My cock"
You whimper again and your fingers grab his biceps.
Daemon growls again and his gaze falls on Oberyn, who grunts slightly as he slides his fingers into your butthole.
"The princess is so tight," Oberyn murmurs and Daemon feels a tingle inside him as he hears the words. You gasp and bite your lip lightly as Oberyn's fingers thrust deeper, his warm breath on your neck.
Daemon lets his lips meet yours again, both of you breathing heavily, his fingers thrusting faster into you, completely wet with your juices. He starts to insert another finger into you and you moan almost desperately. The sensation of your wetness coating his fingers only fueled his desire further, knowing that you are becoming more and more receptive to his touch. He elicits a long whine from you as he curls his digits against your sensitive walls.
You feel the fingers thrusting into you. But this time it's so much more than usual. Daemon's fingers keep rubbing over the rough part of your wet walls, making you whimper, while Oberyn's fingers keep stretching your tight hole, awakening the feeling inside you that you need to feel so much more.
You moan out loud and before you've fully realised it, you feel Daemon's fingers pull out of you and slide his hot length through your wet folds. You whimper slightly each time he grazes your sensitive pearl. You moan even louder as he presses lightly against your entrance and you whimper again at the thought of how perfectly he will fill you.
"I think the princess will be perfectly filled tonight," Oberyn whispers, followed by a slight chuckle, as if he can read your mind. His lips still pressed against your neck as his fingers continue to explore your depths.
Daemon thrusts hard into you and your walls give way to his size. Daemon grunts loudly as he's back in his warm, soft home. His large hand slides to the back of your thigh, but you are distracted by the penetrating thrusts. He grabs your thigh and guides your leg closer to his body, placing your knee on his hip so he can penetrate you deeper.
He thrusts forward again and again, conjuring up the sweetest whimpering noises from you.
When you suddenly feel Oberyn's fingers leave your tight hole, you almost feel an emptiness inside you that needs to be filled. But then you feel his cock sliding along between your thighs from behind. Again and again he rubs it through your wet folds, soaking it with your wetness, while Daemon continues to thrust into your cunt.
Oberyn's cock throbbed with desire while his lips are still pressed against your neck. His breathing becomes heavier and you feel the warmth on the soft skin of your neck as he positions himself at your tight entrance.
You're slightly distracted by Daemon's thrusts and grunts, but you feel Oberyn begin to press the tip of his cock against your butt hole. You cry out slightly, but it ends in a long moan.
With a deep, primal grunt, he presses the tip of his cock against the entrance, feeling the resistance and tightness that awaits him. The whimpers and moans escaping your lips only fuelled his desire, his own need becoming unbearable.
But your butthole quickly gives way. Still slightly stretched by Oberyn's fingers, it almost greedily envelops the tip of his cock. You hear Oberyn moaning in your ear, breathing heavily.
"Gods... Princess... I haven't even been all the way inside you yet and you already feel so divinely tight," Oberyn murmurs breathlessly – you can only whimper.
Oberyn follows Daemon's rhythm and every time Daemon pushes your pelvis backwards, Oberyn takes the opportunity. Your bottom is pushed towards Oberyn again and again and each time he thrusts a little harder to meet your movements.
You feel yourself getting restless and your hand suddenly reaches for Oberyn's bottom. Your hand grips his small, firm bottom and squeezes gently. Oberyn continues to thrust slowly but firmly and you are caught up in the feeling of wanting to feel him deeper, but the slight pain forces you to take it slowly. But your hand starts to push him closer to you as a mix of whimpers and moans leave you. Oberyn stretches you further and further and your eyes roll into the back of your head.
With one final, powerful thrust, Oberyn conquers your tight hole and moans loudly. You cry out briefly, but the pain quickly subsides and gives way to pure pleasure. You realise how completely filled you are. Daemon and Oberyn are now thrusting in unison and you are trapped in their grips – and you don't want it to end.
You put your head back and Oberyn immediately turns his attention back to your neck. He bites in lightly as he thrusts into your tight hole.
"Gods... Gods... fuck..." leaves his lips again and again.
With a primal instinct, he grabs your hips and slides closer to you. His thrusts now go deeper. He savours your tightness and the pleasure he brings you. The sound of your soft cries and moans fill the air as Daemon and Oberyn thrust into you, driving them both even further into a state of primal lust.
Daemon's hand is still on your thigh, lifting it slightly as he thrusts into your cunt. Oberyn's fingers grip your hips tighter as his thrusts penetrate you from behind.
Daemon grunts to himself, feeling the unusual resistance on his cock every time Oberyn thrusts into you and it turns him on. He thrusts harder and feels your cunt literally pulsating. His hand slides from your thigh to your breast, gripping it tightly as his lips slam onto yours. A wild kiss, accompanied by whimpers and moans, unfolds between you.
Your foot slides to the back of his thigh, wanting to pull him closer, needing to feel him deeper.
Daemon breathes heavily and grunts as your kiss ends. His eyes are fixated on the sight of you taking Oberyn's cock up your ass as he continues to fuck your cunt. The combination of your actions, the raw lust emanating from you, elicits a primal moan from deep within him.
With each thrust, he feels the lust building inside him and the need for release becomes almost unbearable. But he wants to savour this moment, savour your pleasure, revel in the intoxicating connection you share. Daemon's hand lets go of your breast and slides to your leg again.
His grip is firm and so are his thrusts, which become more intense and violent. The sound of your moans and the beginning trembling of your thighs only fuel his desire and bring him even closer to the edge.
You feel that you are about to come. The sensation of being filled in both holes is almost too much and you feel the familiar pressure spreading through your abdomen.
"Yes... Come on my cock," Daemon grunts, " Show me how good it feels for you to be filled like this," he grunts as his cock starts to twitch dangerously as well. Oberyn starts grunting behind you. He can feel your whole abdomen literally start to clench. His hand slides from your hip to your warm core. You look down, breathing heavily, and see Daemon thrusting into you and Oberyn's fingers begin to rub your clit. You are a moaning mess. The pressure inside you becomes almost unbearable.
"Be an obedient wife... come while our cocks fill you," Oberyn grunts in your ear as his fingers rub faster.
You only whimper, followed by a loud moan.
"I'm going to fill you up, princess... My seed will fill this tight hole," Oberyn grunts further, thrusting deeper.
And then you come, your cunt clenches around Daemon's cock, milking him and driving him over the edge with you. He growls and grunts loudly, pumping his cum deep into your cunt with deep thrusts.
Oberyn follows shortly after you and dresses your dark walls in white. He bites the back of your neck and immerses himself in the sensation. The grips on your body are firm, the feeling wonderful.
You whimper softly as the grunting around you slowly dies down. There is a smell of sweat and sex in the air. Heavy breathing echoes off the walls. Your light whimpers come to a climax as the two of them slowly pull out of you. Exhausted, you let yourself sink against Daemon's chest while Oberyn lies on his back, breathing heavily. His hand rests on your bum, stroking it gently.
"Maybe I should visit King's Landing more often after all..." mumbles Oberyn as he looks up at the ceiling.
Your eyes are closed, but instead of a reply, you hear a slight chuckle from Daemon.
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little lion
pairing: Oberyn Martell x OFC
word count: 394
tags/warnings: alcohol consumption, i think that’s it?
a/n: @catchallfangirl gave me the prompt “finally, something we can agree on”, oberyn and thirty minutes to write. this is the result :)
follow @janaispunknotifs for fic updates and find my full masterlist here!
dividers by @plum98 <3
She sips her wine, tuning out her father who is rambling on about uniting houses and how much good it would do for the people of the realm.
It’s not about the realm, let alone the people living in it. She knows it, he knows it, everybody in the room knows it. It’s about power. It’s about the iron throne and ensuring who will sit on it.
The man two tables over from hers catches her wandering gaze and raises his own cup in a quiet toast. As he drinks, he winks at her. She hates the blush creeping up on her cheeks, hates the fact that he can see it, even in the candlelight, if the smug look on his handsome features is any indication. She hates his dark eyes, the glinting of the golden chain around his neck, the way it accentuates the panes of his strong chest, his golden skin, visible through his robe.
She needs some air.
Quietly excusing herself, she rises to her feet and leaves the hall, climbing stairs until she reaches one of the higher floors where the thick stony walls open into big windows, overlooking the city below them.
Lights are twinkling in the darkness of the night, until the city gives way to the ocean, moonlight reflecting off of its surface.
She feels his presence before she hears his quiet steps behind her.
“Prince Oberyn.”
“Hello, little lion.”
Goosebumps form on her neck. He’s closer than she anticipated, she can almost feel his breath on her skin. His voice is low, gravely behind her, his accent wrapping around the pet name. The stupid pet name that he won’t stop using and that sounds way too good from his lips.
“I told you not to call me that.”
He tuts gently, twirling one of the long blonde curls of her hair between his fingers, before giving it a light tug.
“Why did you leave?”
“I was bored.”
It might not be the whole truth, but it’s not necessarily a lie, either. He chuckles, still playing with her hair.
“Finally, something we can agree on.”
She turns her head towards him, eyes searching his. He’s much too close. He gently trails one finger over her cheekbone.
“We shall leave the talking to your father and my brother. Let me walk you to your chambers, little lion.”
thank you for reading! if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending an ask. interaction is what keeps writers going <3
#janas fics#oberyn martell#prince oberyn#oberyn martell drabble#game of thrones#oberyn martell fanfiction#oberyn martell x ofc#oberyn martell x oc#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedrostories
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The Last Embrace
Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Lannister! OC
Summary: Lorelle, Tywin Lannister's youngest daughter, forms an unexpected alliance with Oberyn Martell after defeating him in a duel. Their love blossoms, but tragedy strikes when jealousy leads to everything falling apart.
Warnings: death, cursing, angst
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In the heart of the Westerlands, Tywin Lannister welcomed his youngest daughter into the world, a fierce and spirited girl named Lorelle. From the beginning, her fiery nature clashed with the traditional expectations of a lady born into such a prestigious family.
As Lorelle grew, her independent spirit grew with her, driving her further away from learning of noble etiquette. She abandoned needlework for the training yard, where she observed the art of swordsmanship. Tywin, torn between pride and concern, could only watch as her interest differed from other young noble ladies. Word of Lorelle's exceptional skill with sword spread through the Seven Kingdoms, reaching the ears of Oberyn Martell, the Red Viper of Dorne. Although he despised the Lannisters for what happened to his beloved sister Elia, he was curious if the rumours were true.
The first encounter between the two was marked by a clash of swords, or in this case - a spear and a sword. Each duel became a battleground for dominance, a fierce dance where neither was willing to yield.Oberyn's disdain for the Westerlands and its houses fueled the fire of their rivalry. In his eyes Lorelle was not just an opponent but a symbol of everything he despised about the realm.
Despite their hatered for each other, they decided to combine forces to travel together through Essos.The tension between them kept both nobles balanced on the egde.Yet, amidst the clashes, moments of understanding and mutual respect began to emerge.It wasn't until a decisive duel where Lorelle emerged triumphant that Oberyn's disdain began to shift. As he lay defeated, he finally acknowledge her skill. The dislike eventually evolved into a strange alliance, a bond forged on the edge of blades and the heat of their conflicting personalities.
During their tumultuous journey, Lorelle and Oberyn faced numerous challenges, each encounter adding layers to their complex relationship.One day, as they were riding through Pentos, a group of men attacked them. They were strong and quick. It was obvious that they’ve been trained to steal and kill. Thankfully, Oberyn's quick thinking and combat finesse saved Lorelle from an ambush, blurring the lines between adversary and ally. The tension that once defined their interactions slowly transformed into something more.
When Oberyn knelt before her, proposing a marriage with sincerity in his eyes, the tension reached its zenith. Tywin, recognizing the potential for an alliance, reluctantly agreed to their union. Lorelle became the Princess of Dorne, thrust into a political landscape that mirrored the complexities of her relationship with Oberyn.Yet, tragedy struck their already fragile union.
Ellaria Sand, fueled by jealousy and resentment, plotted against Lorelle. In a venomous act of betrayal, she poisoned the Princess of Dorne. As Lorelle's life slipped away, Oberyn's grief transformed into a burning desire for revenge, reigniting the tension between them in a different, more profound way. In a fit of righteous fury, Oberyn confronted Ellaria. The clash was brutal, mirroring the intensity of his battles with Lorelle.
In the end, justice was served, but the cost was high. Oberyn stood still after delivering avenging the woman he loved, a shattered man, his heart torn between the love he discovered and the unresolved tension that lingered between him and the memory of Lorelle.
In the aftermath, the halls of Sunspear echoed with a haunting silence. Oberyn, having avenged Lorelle, found himself with conflicting emotions. The memory of their fierce clashes lingered, intertwined with the love he discovered and the unresolved tension that defined their relationship.
As Princess of Dorne, Lorelle's absence left a void in the court. The alliances formed through her marriage hung in delicate balance. Oberyn, once fueled by a desire for revenge, now faced the aftermath of his actions. The people of Dorne witnessed a Red Viper who had lost his venom, a man torn between the love he found and the ghosts of his tumultuous past. The court of Sunspear whispered of Lorelle's legacy – a fiery princess who defied conventions, a skilled swordswoman who left a mark on the pages of history. Yet, the tragedy that befell her cast a shadow over the realm, a stark reminder of the fragility of alliances and the cost of vengeance.
Oberyn, haunted by the memories of Lorelle, retreated into solitude. The tension that once fueled their clashes now manifested as an internal struggle within him. The flames of revenge had consumed him, and in their wake, he was left with the ashes of regret.In the quiet corridors of Sunspear, Oberyn's gaze lingered on the places where he and Lorelle had faced both adversaries and each other. The sword that once clashed with hers now rested, a silent witness to the battles fought and the love lost.As the years passed, Dorne found itself in a delicate dance of politics and intrigue.
The memory of Lorelle became both a symbol of defiance and a cautionary tale. Oberyn, a once vibrant force, moved through the shadows of the court, a man forever marked by the flames that burned between him and the Princess of Dorne. And so, the tale of Lorelle and Oberyn became a legend – a story of love, rivalry, and the high cost of vengeance that echoed through the corridors of Sunspear, leaving behind a legacy as enduring as the ancient stones of the castle.
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A/N: This is a shorter story, but I hope you'll enjoy it just like the other ones.
#oberyn martell#prince oberyn#oberyn martell x reader#game of thrones#a song of ice and fire#house martell#house lannister#jaime lannister#cersei lannister#tyrion lannister#tywin lannister#lannister oc#game of thrones fanfiction#oberyn martell fanfiction#jaime lannister x reader#cersei lannister x reader#tyrion lannister x reader#tywin lannister x reader#joffrey baratheon#tommen baratheon#myrcella baratheon#robb stark#ned stark#sansa stark#arya stark#iron throne
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The Viper’s Bride - ch 1
Oberyn Martell x female reader x Ellaria Sand x OC
Co-written with @absurdthirst
The second Prince of Dorne has lived under the illusion that he would not be forced to wed for his entire life. He has enough lovers and illegitimate children to make him a legend across Westeros, and the love of his soulmate Ellaria Sand to content him. But a contract between his brother and a lord from the north will catapult him into a match that may prove to be as complicated as it is intriguing. Especially when he learns that you already have a soulmate of your own.
Rating: E for Explicit! 18+
Word Count: 9.9k
Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: terrible parents, age gap 10+ years, arranged marriage, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol* A slap! Mentions of menstruation, fleeting mention of a suicidal thought, threats of violence, bathing, so much foreplay, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, fingering (anal), MM coupling, MMF threesome, anal sex, oral sex (f giving and receiving), FF coupling, technically this is an orgy.
Summary: Upon receiving news of your arranged betrothal, both you and Prince Oberyn of Dorne make your ways to the Red Keep for King Joffrey’s impending nuptials. However, his arrival to the city is significantly more playful than yours.
Notes: Welcome to soulmate story number seven! This summer we are getting hot and heavy in Westeros with everybody’s favourite promiscuous prince. Buckle up, my darlings, because this one gets spicy right off the bat 👑💖
Oberyn frowns slightly as the oil slicked hands of the servant press into the arches and joints of Doran’s feet, making his older brother hiss in pain. It must be a harsh day for him, his wheeled chair a near constant as it is now too painful for him to walk even short distances. A far cry from the hale and hearty brother he had grown up with as the youngest of the Martell princes. He knows the oil is warmed, the scent of eucalyptus and mint filling the air as it is worked into the skin, hopefully providing some relief. “I can come back, brother. Let you rest.”
“This is important.” Doran insists, not dismissing either man from his presence. His own discomfort is a stark reminder of the sacrifices that must be made for the throne of Dorne. “You know the Baratheon boy is to marry.” The fact that King Joffrey’s mother is a Lannister makes him an unsavory topic between the Martell brothers, even as Marcella Baratheon plays in the water gardens a mere thirty yards away.
Stiffening instantaneously for a moment before he forces his body to relax, Oberyn despised the mention of anything to do with the Lannisters, including that bastard on the throne. Everyone knows the rumors and with the golden mane of the boy and the tales of evils he has done, he’s inclined to believe it. “Gods be praised.” He murmurs sarcastically, reaching for the carafe of wine and the spare goblet that had obviously been left in anticipation of his visit with the elder prince. “What poor girl is marrying that…king?”
“Margaery Tyrell.” The elder prince huffs derisively before leveling his younger brother with a serious gaze. “You are to attend the wedding in my stead.”
Rolling his eyes, Oberyn sighs heavily. It will be two weeks of hard traveling to reach King’s Landing. All for a wedding he does not wish to attend. “I will extend the Martell family’s feelings.”
"You will be gracious and accommodating." Doran warns, knowing that the Martell family's true feelings are not appropriate in any way to be expressed at a wedding. "There will be some other business for you to attend to in King's Landing which is far more important."
“Yes, there is that wonderful brothel down in Flea Bottom.” Oberyn muses, grinning at the idea of bringing Ellaria there. The last time he had come, it had been two years before he had met her.
"Oberyn." His brother's voice has a warning tone to it. "I beg you not to waste your time in brothels on this trip no matter how enjoyable a pastime it may be. There is someone you need to meet."
He snorts and shakes his head. “I have no interest in meeting boring nobles with their equally boring wives.” He tells him. “I’ll be with Ellaria anyway.”
"No, you won't." Doran jerks away from his servant in frustration and turns to fully face Oberyn. "I will not have that woman jeopardize the contract I have signed when the ink is barely dry. Leave her home, Oberyn. She will be here with open legs when you return."
Oberyn’s brow arches up dramatically. Doran has never had issue with Ellaria, even counting her as a confidant in his absence. She is the mother of four of his children and a member of the family despite there being no vows between them. His soulmate. “What contract?” He growls.
"Leave." He hisses at the young man who was tending to him and he backs off immediately, taking the pot of oil back into the interior of the palace as fast as his feet can carry him. "It was time, Oberyn," he intones seriously. "Far past time, but I have let you have your freedom as long as I was able."
“Let me have my freedom?” His hackles rise and his eyes narrow. “I have my freedom because I wish it.” He reminds his brother. “I am not the head of the Martells like you, and you have your heir.”
"I have one heir." Doran bristles, but the raised tension between the brothers is his own fault. A product of the tension and pain he was already feeling today. "If anything should happen to Trystane, it will be you on the throne. And though I have great love for my nieces, none of them can be a princess."
“Our house will endure like it always has.” Oberyn snorts, dismissing Doran’s concern. “If the time comes, I will marry Ellaria and claim my Sand Snakes as legitimate.” He takes a long sip of his wine, humming at the delightfully floral note.
"The chance for that has passed." It is Doran's turn to be dismissive, sitting back again in his wheeled chair and adjusting a cushion under his arm. "Your objections to marriage have been noted, brother, but it is time to make a respectable husband of you. Ellaria will understand. She is an intelligent woman, and I'm sure would not abandon you as your mistress." Oberyn prefers the term paramour, and though it is accurate now, it will be more complicated once things are settled.
“Brother, what have you done?” Oberyn demands, slamming his goblet down onto the table.
"You know exactly what I have done." There is no chance, in his mind, that Oberyn has not deduced that a marriage contract has been signed, but Doran still sighs heavily. "She is the only daughter of a noble family. The father let her go without a match for some time while her brothers all married, but her portrait is beautiful and he assures me that she is accomplished." Reaching for the wine glass that Oberyn has rejected, Doran takes a gulp rather than a sip. "And she has no marks, blessedly."
“The agreement was my soulmate or no one.” Oberyn hisses, his gaze turning withering. “I will not marry some cow faced northerner.”
"Every place is northern to Dorne," Doran waves one hand dismissively and sets the wine glass back down on the table between them. "The contract is signed, Oberyn. You will not make a liar or a fool of your brother by denying it, and I am not going to try to force you to spend time with the girl or even like her. But you will marry her and produce a legitimate heir." The contract is full of terms to be adhered to, and the fairly enormous size of the girl's dowry includes access to trade routes that will greatly benefit the people of Dorne. There is no downside to this arrangement in Doran's mind, aside from having to have this discussion with his brother.
Oberyn’s lips press together in a firm line and his chair scrapes back as he stands. “Then you fuck the girl.” He hisses. “For I will not be gracing her bed.” Turning on his heel, the prince storms away before he loses his infamous temper.
Doran breathes a sigh, reaching for the goblet again to drown his frustrations in the wine that his maester has instructed him to avoid when he is in pain. "Fuck it," he grumbles harshly. Oberyn is going to make his life a living hell anyway, he may as well be drunk for it.
******
“Marriage!” Oberyn scoffs angrily, pacing in front of the lounge where his paramour is currently sprawled. “As if I am some fresh-faced maiden. How dare he sign a contract on my behalf!”
"I smell Mellario behind it," Ellaria admits, watching him pace back and forth like a caged beast. Oberyn had come careening back into his chamber like a sandstorm and now he was seething. "Doran has never had issue with your arrangement before now, and suddenly he is concerned about heirs? I would not be surprised if her change has come."
“Or he cannot get his cock to rise.” Oberyn winces at the idea of his own cock not working, but with his brother’s declining health, he would not rule it out. “I will not do it.” He decides. “We will leave for Braavos if he decides to push the issue.”
"My love," Ellaria sits up, shaking her head. "If you leave here, I would follow. You know this. But you would still have four daughters you would not be able to see and we both know that would break your heart." His children are the most important thing in the world to Oberyn – everyone knows this – and Doran would certainly use them as a punishment for insubordination. "Exile is no choice, Oberyn. Even self-imposed."
Pausing mid-stride, his robes swish around his legs as he turns to stare at the woman who had been with him and by his side for nearly twenty years. “You would have me entertain this idea?” He demands, surprised she would consider this.
“I would not have you be less of a man than you are.” For all her complexities, Ellaria Sand is not the temptress or the snake that some make her out to be. Her genuine love for Oberyn is rooted in as much respect as it is passion, and their four daughters currently have a father that they can look up to as a good and wise man. “What is the worst this girl could be?” She poses the question carefully as he shifts his weight anxiously in front of her, and she folds her hands in her lap. “Ugly? That is not her fault. The sun and good company can make anyone more beautiful. Cruel? Doran has already said you do not have to spend much time with her. Or perhaps childish? Spoiled? Then you treat her like a child and send her to her chamber without a treat if she misbehaves.” There is anger in his face, which Ellaria hates to see, but she tries to be encouraging. Motherhood has taught her that encouragement can be a balm on almost any wound. “So you would be married. What does that signify? Nothing in so far as you and I are concerned. You are still my soulmate, my love. And the father of my children. She cannot change that.”
“You are my sun.” Oberyn reaches down and takes his lover’s hand to draw her to her feet. Pulling her against his body, his broad hand covers the small scar on her side, a knife wound that he had earned in the fighting pits. “My world.” He promises, leaning in and pressing his lips to hers in a passionate kiss, trying to rid himself of the idea of tying himself to another. Ellaria is his soulmate, which is why he had said that he would only marry the woman who bears his marks.
"And no one will ever change that." She vows just as solemnly, giving herself over to the kiss without restraint. There are parts of his world that she does not stray into, or they would have fought with Doran for the right to marry years ago. The elder Martell brother may not mind her as Prince Oberyn's paramour, but she is not what he would envision for a princess of Dorne, nor does Ellaria particularly want such a title. For Oberyn she might have borne the duty of it all, but he never asked that of her and she was grateful. Now, whoever this girl is that is being thrust into their life will bear that burden instead. Ellaria does not envy her the responsibility.
******
“My love, you must calm yourself.” Within the walls of your chambers, Raeden Stone knows that the two of you are safe. Your maid will not interrupt unless necessary and she is sworn to protect your happiness and well-being above everything else, including your parents. “Stop.” Striding across the room, the sword at his side clanks as he grabs your hands filled with dresses, and takes them from you. “We cannot flee under the cover of darkness like we are thieves escaping the sword.” He knows that if he is caught, he will be killed or sent to the Wall as well.
"I won't do it." The very idea is offensive, leaving the taste of burnt crumbs in your mouth and the feeling of insects crawling on your skin, so that even with Raeden clutching your hand all you can think of is being rid of the horrible sensation. This whole horrible situation. Your eyes are already red from tears, their dried tracks left on your cheeks and down your neck, yet still more threaten to spill over as he holds you still. "I won't marry a stranger and move halfway across the world. I won't leave you behind!"
“You will not need to leave me.” Setting the clothes down on the trunk that is meant to be packed for your journey to King’s Landing and then to Dorne, he cups your cheeks. “I will pledge to accompany you.” He promises, his dark eyes boring into yours. His heart aches but he had known this day would eventually come. “I will ride into all seven hells if need be to stay beside you.”
"Why can we not just tell them?" Your smaller hands wrap around his long fingers, holding tight to him as though he might disappear if you let go. "To marry my soulmate should not be such a shocking thing to do, surely?" Having gone over and over it in their time together, you know why. Status. For a young noble woman to marry a bastard of no consequence, soulmate or otherwise, would be unacceptable in any part of Westeros.
“I have no name to offer you, other than Stone.” Raeden reminds you, aware of his station. He had only become a trusted member of your guard when he had risked his life for you nearly three winters ago. No one knew of the shared marks on your skin. No one could know. “No coin, no land, no future.”
"I could be your future." The argument is an old one. Aged and worn like the stones in your floor. The fact that you would abandon your station and your family for him is moot now that your father has sold you. "Three brothers married wealthy wives and yet I am the sacrificial lamb to be offered up to the lecherous second prince of Dorne." The stories of the man's temperament and deeds preceded him, of course. Lusty and vengeful, the second son of House Martell was to be feared never spoken of above a whisper in polite company. And now you have to marry him?
“I have heard he is handsome.” Despite his own heart aching at the thought of another touching you, he has to make this seem like a good thing. “They say he will treat any in his bed respectfully.”
"He could be the most handsome man in all of Dorne and he would still not be as handsome as you." Soulful eyes the color of chestnut shells, plush lips, and a perpetually mischievous smile when he’s pleased, there is no one more handsome than Ser Raeden Stone. Firm muscles and an impressive strength make him as formidable on the battlefield as they do in the bedroom - a fact which you have kept mum about for years now. Raeden's broad frame and towering height envelope you fully when you wrap your arms around his waist and bury your face in his chest to muffle a sob. "I will never lay with him. Or love him. Not as long as I live."
“You will be his wife.” He swallows as he says those words. “You will bear his children, love or not. And I will protect you.” It will be his own special kind of hell, watching you grow with a child that is not his, marry a man who is not him. “You must not tell him, love.”
"How can you be so calm?" You demand, looking up at him with fear and hurt swimming in your eyes. "My father is sentencing me to stand at the side of another man and you...my love, I cannot believe you are accepting of this?"
“I have no choice but to accept it.” His voice hardens slightly. “If we try to run away together, we will be caught. I will be killed or sent to the Wall.” It rankles, but he had known that one day you would be married off. “I cannot protect you if I am dead or taken the oath.” He growls, shaking his head and leaning in to press his forehead against yours. “I cannot risk leaving you alone.”
"Only cruel gods would have given us to each other as soulmates without ever intending to allow our love." It is an unfairness of life that you have lamented more than once, but right now it feels as though a dagger has been plunged through your heart and twisted violently.
“The gods know of our love.” Raeden knows it, sighing softly. “We are together and we will still be together.” He kisses you softly. “I spend more nights in your bed than my own. It will be the same in Dorne.”
"I will not allow it to be any other way." Despite the fear of the unknown, the thing that you can cling to is the strength of your feelings for Raeden Stone. Since the day he arrived rather triumphantly in your life, he has been a constant and welcome presence and you will not allow any power to steal your soulmate from your side. "No prince from Dorne will ever keep you from my arms."
“There is my girl.” Raeden smiles, happy that you are calm again and he presses closer to you. “Now…do you wish that I take your mind off your worries?” He coos softly.
“I always wish for you.” Though time is precious now, as you leave for King’s Landing in just three days and the road is no place for a romantic interlude. Raeden will not even be allowed to ride in your carriage during the journey. His place as your guard demands that he protect you, not indulge in you. Although he is fully capable of doing both.
The grin that you have said melts you flashes across his face and he pulls back so he can remove his belt and sword. “Then let me make you forget about Dorne, forget about marriage and only think of me.”
******
The painstaking journey feels ludicrous, and your weary mother certainly has not made it any easier with her complaining. The decision for your parents to accompany you was entirely your father’s and even then it was only so that he could brag to his small group of friends that he attended the king’s wedding. If this were only about delivering you to your groom, he would have sent you with your guard and your maid and thought no further on it. As it is, you have spent every day sitting beside your mother’s lady’s maid in the cramped and uncomfortable carriage praying that you might get even ten minutes alone with Raeden before the end of the day. It has hardly happened, and you have found yourself near tears rather constantly. Ignorant man that your father is, he imagines you so delirious with joy that you are weeping for your good fortune. The truth could not be further away.
“Do not fret.” Your mother assures you softly. “We have long had daughters marry in Dorne or Dornish brides sent to us.” She reminds you. “While most will look their noses down at a Dornish man, we know he will treat you well.”
“I still do not see why this marriage is even necessary.” And since no one has offered you any sort of explanation, you’re inclined to just ask. “My brothers married wealthy women. We do not need the favour of House Martell. So I am forced to wonder again why I am being offered to them in sacrifice.”
“Change is coming to Westeros.” Your mother leans in, her words quiet and fervent. “Dorne is the last kingdom that still has royalty. You will not just be a lady, you will a princess.”
"I do not want to be a princess." You inform her flatly, ignoring the way her lady's laid looks aghast at your ingratitude. "My own maid had more freedom than I do. At least someone asked her if she wanted to be shipped south like chattel. And she was even able to say no!" Though Clarey had served you since you came of age, your own maid had been able to marry her soulmate and had recently discovered she was with child. Your father had considered himself quite magnanimous for not breaking up that family to send her to Dorne with you.
“You would have your father break his contract with Dorne?” Your mother asks, appalled at the mere idea. “You were born into a noble house. You have grown up knowing your father would arrange a marriage for you. Most are married at seventeen.” She clicks her tongue in disappointment that you are forever ungrateful for the time your father had allowed you to remain unwed. If you only knew the rumors that had swirled.
"If you always planned to marry me against my will then I wonder that you waited so long." Staring out of the carriage window, you can see Raeden up ahead, face drawn in concentration as he keeps constant vigilance over the route you are traveling. "Why not have signed me away to the Starks when I was born?" The bitterness in your voice is obvious. "Then I would have been a queen."
“You will watch your sharp tongue, or you shall be sent to your room without dinner.” Your mother hisses, sitting back and shaking her head. “Your father wanted to hold out hope for a soulmate.”
"I am not a child, as you so love to point out when it is convenient to you." The threat of no dinner is nothing when you have no appetite to begin with. It would be a blessing not to be stared at over a meager meal. "And you can hardly send me to my room when I haven't one. We will not even arrive in King's Landing before first light tomorrow."
Your mother’s hand strikes out, slapping your cheek with a sharp crack. “You will not shame your father and house.” She hisses. “I have long begged your father to marry you off, to stop giving into your childish notions, but no more. You will marry Oberyn Martell.”
If the impulse to cup your own cheek was present, you don’t give in to it, not wanting to show the satisfaction of acknowledging that she has caused you pain of any kind. At the moment all you can really think is that it is good Raeden did not witness your mother striking you, or he may have given himself away with his reaction. “At least in Dorne I will never again be forced to breathe the same odious air you have exhaled.” No one in all of Westeros could ever have mistaken your mother for your ally if they saw you interact in private – it is only her sickly sweet countenance in public that made others think that she had babied or favoured you in any way. More than once in your life you’ve wondered how such a hateful woman could even grow a babe let alone birth four of them.
“You will learn your place soon enough.” She promises you. “You are a woman, not a man.” Her disappointment in you pours off of her in waves. “Be thankful your father did not choose a fat, aging lord.”
“Fat and aging means he would die faster.” At least antagonizing your mother is passing the time, you decide, staring straight ahead at the pompous boil of a woman who has lorded herself over you for the last twenty-five years. “I think I would do very well as a widow.”
“I wonder if your bravery would falter learning that your guard will not be staying with you.” The sly, evil menace in your mother’s voice is clear.
“Of course he will.” Brazen confidence is the tone which drowns out your panicked fear, and you tell yourself not to look outside and give yourself away. That could ruin everything in less than one heartbeat. “He swore to Father to protect me and Father accepted.” If something had changed, surely Raeden would have told you.
“Hmmmm.” Her smile is acidic, her fingers twisting around her handkerchief. “You think you are soooo clever. That I did not know.”
“Honestly?” Honestly you really did not think for a second that anyone besides your former maid knew anything, but you swallow down the boiling acid in your throat and keep your chin poised to stare your own mother down. “I do not know what you could possibly mean.”
“I birthed you.” She snorts, a very unladylike sound. “You think I do not know when my daughter had decided to spread her legs and become a Stone’s whore?”
Of course the thing that bothers her most is that Raeden is a bastard – Stone, as they are named in the Vale – and not an actual concern of safety or care. “I can assure you, that is not the case.” Though saying it would be a waste of breath, nothing you have done with Raeden could mark you as a whore. Just a woman very much in love with her soulmate.
“At least you just bled.” She scoffs. “Not carrying a bastard in your belly.” She leans in, her eyes flashing with malice. “Behave. Or I will allow your father into my bed for the night and he will do as I say. Including making sure your precious Raeden rides home to the Vale with his lord, your father.” She threatens.
Though you have serious doubts that your mother’s cunt is magical enough to control your father’s thoughts, it isn’t a chance you’re willing to take. If Raeden is ordered to return to the Vale and you are forced to ride for Dorne without him, you are more likely to see the bottom of the seas than your marriage bed. “My Lord Father loves me and wishes to protect me,” is all you say in response.
“Your Lord Father will do what makes me happy.” She promises you with a self-assured smirk. “Especially now that I have convinced him to marry you off.”
“It was you?” You should not be so shocked. Her hatred for you has been obvious from the time you were a child and had never seemed to waver. Your father, on the other hand? Doting and indulgent, always picking flowers for you and bringing you books instead of suitors. Your brothers are strong men with discipline instilled in them. You had been allowed to read and dream and sing and ride at your leisure. Of course his sudden change of heart was down to your bitter, angry mother.
“Who else?” She sneers. “Your father would be content to keep you around until you are nothing but a spinster. You are already past your prime. Luckily enough, the Prince of Dorne already has eight bastards.”
The way her utter dismissal of you makes your blood boil is beyond explanation, but as you squeeze your hands together in the pockets of your robe, only one precious thought floats to the surface. “My only solace is that if I should ever see you again after this week, Mother, you shall have to curtsy to the person you despise most in the world.”
“I will not.” She hisses, glaring at you. “I will never bow to a little whore like you.”
“Oh, but you will.” A victory, even a small one, is enough to grasp at as you square your shoulders again. “When I am Princess of Dorne it will be required of everyone save King Joffrey himself. You included.”
“Bitch.” She hisses, glaring at you. “I should have drowned you the moment you slipped from my womb.”
“A regret you will live with forever.” If Knocking her from her wicked confidence is the best you can do in this conversation, you will not take that for granted, for your mother has always been a formidable enemy. “Now leave me to read, Mother. Lest you earn yourself another wrinkle and find your hair a shade greater than it was when we left home.”
“I will be overjoyed to not see your face every day.” She spits, hating that you don’t seem cowed by her threats. “Dorne will be eye opening for you. And everything you deserve:”
“As you say, Mother.” Without another word, you take the small book of histories from your reticule and open it to the place where you left off last night, too distracted by Raeden’s handsome face to give any more thought to words. False confidence is a thing you learned very well in the face of your mother’s vitriol, and apparently on this one occasion it has actually yielded a victory. You may still be terrified of your future in Dorne, but she never needs to know that.
******
“This city still smells like shit.” Two weeks of travel has left Oberyn irritable, grumbling as he pulls his horse up to the gates of the city. “Let us go find comfort and a bath.” He tells Ellaria, unable to stay in the carriage and deciding to ride ahead of the contingent of troops Doran had sent with him.
“At the brothel, my love?” She smirks at the suggestion, far less uncomfortable from travel than he is. “A bath, fresh food, and a good fuck will restore your mood.”
“Of course.” Oberyn scoffs. “I will not accept chambers in that keep.” He hates even being here and seeing it. Wanting to burn it down, considering his sister, niece and nephew died in that keep.
“Nor should you.” As a prince he should have the most resplendent rooms available, but they both know what would happen if Oberyn ever set foot in the Red Keep beyond the wedding in two days. “We will visit this Littlefinger you have spoken of?”
“I had sent word that we were arriving.” He chuckles, smirking at Ellaria because she knows him so well. “Tell me you don’t want a hot bath and an even hotter cunt?”
“If I am honest, I am ravenous for a cunt to bury my tongue in.” There is never any judgment between them, or jealousy, and Ellaria sighs indulgently at the idea of a slick cunt and perky tits to indulge in. “Will you share with me, lover?”
“Always.” Oberyn waggles his brows. “We will pick out a whore together.”
“A favorite pastime.” Ellaria laughs softly. She has not spoken a word about Oberyn’s intended bride since they left Dorne and she won’t until it’s necessary. His mood is volatile here in the northern capital and she does not relish his moments of anger.
“Silk sheets.” Oberyn groans, not willing to admit that he is weary of travel, but he needs to recover. Especially if he is to be meeting this bride. He had decided that the poor girl deserves to be told in person that he will have nothing to do with her.
“Silk sheets. Roasted meats. Wine. Berries and nuts fresh from their trees.” She giggles when his hand slips inside her dress to caress her skin. “And a pert ass for you to bury yourself in.”
“We could get two. A man and a woman.” He reasons, smirking at the idea. “Perhaps we will have Littlefinger line them all up for us to choose from.”
“As many as you like, my love.” After all, it is not as if the coffers of Dorne lack for funds. They have brought a fortune with them under Doran’s insistence that Oberyn shower his intended with gifts – and a second fortune to pay for the bills his natural extravagance will no doubt incur. “We will have whatever you desire. And when you have had your fill we will rest and then begin all over again.”
“Wine.” Oberyn decides, frowning despite thinking of nicer things as the two of them enter the walls of King’s Landing. “I will need a lot of wine.”
Their destination is not far, but the duo of Oberyn Martell and Ellaria Sand attract attention by virtue of their combined beauty and the onlookers who cluster to gaze at them make their journey last longer. Oberyn sends their driver off with the carriage to find stables nearby and Ellaria wraps her arms around him when he returns to her side in the steps of the building. “Do you hear the false moans, my prince?” She pouts in sympathy for the unsatisfied women inside as they cross the threshold together. “We will make them scream so they never forget us.”
Oberyn smirks, holding her hand with no shame. He does not hide Ellaria, she is his paramour. Much more than that, although that is something that is kept between the two of them, private at her insistence so she does not become a liability to him. “We will, my love. Every whore in this brothel will pout when you leave.”
“Very pretty pouts, I hope.” Ellaria loves a very pretty pout when the time is right. To be begged to come back to bed. To have a lover cry her name with such passion that their heart aches for more. She saunters into the brothel beside Oberyn with her head high and looks around as the prettily dressed woman at the entrance fawns over Oberyn. Everyone fawns over Oberyn, that is of little interest to her.
Oberyn eyes the cunts and tits on display, lifting a brow when he sees earrings through one woman’s nipples. “I see we are in the right place.” He smirks, watching as Littlefinger rushes over to the pair.
“Prince Oberyn.” Though he does not ever bow deeply, he does bow, eyes tracking over to Ellaria with an oily smile. “My lady. What an honour to be graced with your presence. What can we provide for you this morning?”
“My lady?” Ellaria scoffs, making Oberyn smirk and squeeze her hand. “We will be needing accommodations for the duration of our stay in King’s Landing.” Most brothels do not rent rooms and he is sure that Littlefinger’s establishment is no different but Oberyn has learned that his title and the gold of his coin makes things possible when they previously weren’t. “For now, until it is ready, we need baths and whores to join us.”
“The duration of your stay?” The man does not bother to hide his surprise, but smiles broadly like the showman that he is. “I will send someone to ready your accommodations,” he promises, hand on heart. “Our baths are this way,” Littlefinger motions deeper into the building. “Do you have a preference for who should join you or shall I send you a variety to choose from?” There is enough gold dripping from the Prince of Dorne that Littlefinger will unfold the world of pleasure at his feet if that is what he wishes, without worry for his ability to pay what is owed.
“Your choicest men and women.” Oberyn looks over to Ellaria for her approval. “Clean.” He insists, although Littlefinger’s whores are always of a higher caliber than most. “We will send the others away once we have chosen.”
“Leyth.” Littlefinger waves to a tall, buxom girl with orange curls down to her waist. “Tend to the prince and his lady for me,” he instructs her, obviously trusting that she can do the job. “Anything they need, you will acquire for as long as they are here, do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.” The girl called Leyth nods and smooths her thin skirt, looking between the beautiful prince and his stunning lady. “I will be happy to serve them.”
“Good.” The chuckle that bubbles out of Littlefinger is full of approval. “Take them to the baths and then fetch them food and wine.” He smiles at Oberyn, a thing dripping with false charm. “I will send you a selection of company to choose from.”
“Berries.” Oberyn adds, the need for fresh fruit after weeks on the road is great. Ellaria chuckles, well aware of his fondness for snacking, especially when he is fucking.
“Berries.” Leyth bats her eyelashes prettily as she leads the pair down the hall. “Do you prefer sweet things, your Grace?”
“Hmmmm.” He doesn’t answer one way or the other, although his gaze is sliding up and down her form and he reaches out to caress her ass through the sheer robe she is wearing.
She hums right back at him, playful but bidding, and slows her pace slightly to let him touch as they turn the corner to the bathing room. The deep bath in the floor sits full and waiting for paying customers, beautifully tiled with trays of soap and sponges for gently scrubbing skin. The oiled waters smell of flower petals, and two baths are even littered with the things. Leyth walks toward the bath of floral water with a sultry smile and a swing in her hips. “I will wash you with my own hands if that is your wish, after I fetch you food to break your fast.”
“What do you say my love?” Oberyn asks Ellaria. “Leyth and whoever catches our eyes?” He would love to see his paramour’s thighs spread for the orange haired beauty. “Or would you prefer to choose the woman?”
“You are lovely, Leyth.” Ellaria praises, already having decided that she likes this woman’s spirit as well as her figure. “We will see who else catches our eye when they arrive.”
“Show me your tits.” Oberyn commands the woman. Eager to see if they are as perky as they seem or if it is an illusion of the gown she is wearing.
Obedience is necessary to work for Littlefinger, but Leyth is lucky to have been given to this couple she finds so attractive. She slips the ties from her shoulders and lets her silken dress fall to the stone floor with pride. Her body is well worth selling and has given her a good living, so she proudly bares her large tits and curved waist to this prince when he demands it.
“Very nice.” Oberyn groans with a smirk. “They will look lovely bouncing when you ride my cock.” He predicts. “We can undress ourselves.” He promises, turning to Ellaria and pushing aside her own gown so he can cup her bare breast, tweaking an already hard nipple.
Ellaria moans happily when the girl excuses herself to fetch their food, and drops the traveling robe she was wearing to the ground immediately. “Lover…” she sighs, her body arching to seek Oberyn’s touch instinctively. “You were right about this place.”
“Of course I am right.” He teases playfully, leaning in and dragging his nose along her throat. “Now, we need to wash so we can be ready to play when the whores are brought in. I want to feed you fruit while a tongue is buried in your cunt.”
“Leyth is a beauty.” Ellaria disrobes easily and quickly, leaving her things scattered as she steps into the bath built deep into the floor. It is warm and smells sweet, like summer in the Water Gardens. “Pale, but I like her freckles.” She looks up at Oberyn with admiration as he shrugs off his own robes. “I like your freckles better, though.” Especially the one on the inside of his right thigh, high on his muscled leg where she can kiss it before swallowing his cock.
“Just like her tits are gorgeous, but yours have suckled four of my children.” His cock twitches and he kicks off his boots, throwing the loose, pale yellow shirt off and reaching for his leather breeches.
“Hers are bigger than mine.” Ellaria chuckles at the way he loves tits. “Enjoy them, lover. I know I shall.”
“You always do.” He chuckles, thanking the gods that his soulmate is just as adventurous as he is. “Maybe she will be the only one we choose for now.”
“Perhaps.” Sighing as she lays back in the water, Ellaria tilts her head and soaks her hair, enjoying the way she feels cleaner already. “Perhaps we will develop a taste for sun-red hair while we are here.”
“Whatever we develop a taste for, we will indulge in.” Oberyn does not mind sharing her, doesn’t get jealous because she is his sun and world. No one could break their bond.
“Come to me, lover.” She beckons him with both hands, pouting for him prettily. Now that travel is behind them, Oberyn is already cheerier and it lightens her heart. “Soak with me. It has been weeks since we had a bath.”
“With pleasure.” Stripped down, Oberyn strides over to the bath and starts to descend the stairs to join her in the deep tub.
Ellaria moves to him immediately, arms welcoming him home and lips finding his with a deeply satisfied moan. Her legs are around his waist as quickly as his hands find her ass, and his growing cock twitches against her soft skin.
Oberyn turns around, letting his paramour cling to him as he drops down onto the seat under the water. “I love you.” He murmurs quietly against his lips.
“As I love you.” Since the day they first spoke the words to each other they have not wavered, and Ellaria runs her hands across Oberyn’s skin reverently. “My warrior.”
“My sun.” Oberyn squeezes her ass and rocks her onto his hardening cock. “My world.” The passion between the pair has not wavered over the years, growing stronger in a way that could only be because of their soulmate bond.
“Oberyn.” No matter how many times she takes him, the stretch of his cock inside her takes her breath away. Her hands find his shoulders to cling to him as they find their pace, with his grip guiding her as she begins to bounce on his length in earnest.
“Too soon, my love?” He teases, knowing she is far more than adequately wet. She is dripping.
“Never.” She shakes her head before throwing it back, letting her moan ring out through the echoey chamber. “Never. I am always yours.”
Multi-tasking is a gift that Oberyn has. Results of a wandering spirit and a restless mind. It was one of the reasons he had joined the maesters and eventually left after forging eight links. He reaches for the perfumed soap and a rag to wash his lover.
They are fully enraptured with each other when Leyth returns, and she sets the tray down beside them before seeing about pouring two goblets of wine. It’s rare to have pairs of lovers visit the establishment but not unheard of, and she smiles indulgently, watching the passion they share for a moment before making herself known. “I can do that for you, your Grace,” she offers, knowing her employer will be upset if she neglects them.
Even with Ellaria impaled on his cock, Oberyn tears his mouth away from her lips and looks over at the woman. “Join us and bring the wine.” He orders. “Are the others coming?”
“They are right here.” Leyth slips into the water easily, taking the sponge from him and resumes the work of bathing his lady without missing a beat. Four women and two men all of varying ages and looks pour into the room behind her clad in next to nothing looking apprehensive.
“Do not be shy.” Oberyn turns Ellaria’s head and groans when she clenches down around him. “Any who wish to not join us may leave now.” He does not want someone who is timid.
The most tired looking of the women takes the youngest girl by the hand and leads her from the room with a respectful nod of her head, and one of the men bows before stepping out behind them. "Leaving us with five supple bodies to learn," Ellaria groans appreciatively. Between Oberyn's cock and Leyth's hands massaging her back as she washes her, this is surely already one of the seven heavens. One of the girls is the first to step forward, beautiful dark skin on display and bright eyes full of mischief as she easily discards her meager dress and slips into the water right away. She has heard legends of the second prince of Dorne and intends to find out for herself if they are true.
“Eager.” Oberyn chuckles and beckons her forward. “I like that.” His eyes slide past her towards the remaining man, tall and broad. His tawny skin clear and it’s obvious that his cock is starting to harden as he watches. “You—” he motions towards him. “Do you suck cock or like cock in your ass?”
"I like whatever you like, my lord." After all, is that not what he is here for? Being a man with a voracious appetite for pleasure makes him an asset in a place like this.
Oberyn growls, eyeing his cock tenting the loose trousers he is wearing. “Strip and join us if you are going to.”
Spacious as it is, there is not enough room for everyone in the bath, and the last remaining girl lays down bare on the edge after everyone has climbed in and patiently plays with herself while she waits her turn. There is plenty to feast her eyes on until one of them decides to bury their face in her pussy.
Twitching inside his lover, he kisses her gently and pulls her off his cock. “Go play, my love.” He urges her, knowing she wants to do more than just be touched.
"We may learn to enjoy King's Landing after all." Ellaria laughs, happily letting hands explore her skin. Leyth and the man gravitate toward Oberyn, and she is happy to drown herself in a sea of pussy until she is drunk on the sound of women's pleasure.
When he is close enough, Oberyn reaches down and cups the man’s cock firmly. “What is your name?” He demands, squeezing him gently and jerking him slowly.
"Cal, my lord." His eyelids flutter slightly at the firm touch, eager for more. "Or whatever you want it to be."
“Cal….” He smirks and presses his thumb against the head of the man’s cock. “Have you ever been fucked by a Prince?”
The way Cal shudders and his breath hitches is reverent, and he shakes his head as he tries to remember to breathe. "No, your Grace. But I would like to be."
He turns to Leyth, jerking his chin up. “Kiss me.” he orders, stretching his neck out and lets go of the man’s cock so he can slide his hand around him to press between the cheeks of his ass.
The room fills with moans as Leyth eagerly complies, licking into the prince's mouth with surety. She knows her skill and she hopes to impress, even pressing closer to him to wrap her own hand around his cock.
Oberyn hisses, his tongue sliding against hers happily as he finds Cal’s puckered hole quickly and starts to rub around the opening.Hands are everywhere as Cal lowers his head to lay kisses along the taut muscles of the prince's neck, one hand caressing his skin and the other groping for Leyth's breast to squeeze the supple flesh and play with her nipple. They are paired together often, when clients wish for a show, so he knows her body as well as any instrument.
“You are lovers.” Oberyn groans, pushing a finger inside the man’s quivering hole. On the other side of the bath, Ellaria and the ebony skinned beauty are tangled together in a passionate embrace.
"Sometimes." Leyth agrees, leaning over to give Cal a kiss without missing a single stroke of the prince's cock.
The sounds of heavy breathing and pleasure are filling the bathing room and he can feel the way Cal’s body squeezes his finger as he pumps it into him to stretch him out. “So do you want his cock or his tongue while I fuck him?”
"If I have his cock, I will feel every time you fuck into him." She moans at the idea, chest heaving with just the thought. "You will be driving us both wild with pleasure."
He chuckles and nods, pulling his fingers out of the other man. “Then get on your knees and let him slide inside your cunt.”
Kneeling on the bench where he had been sitting, Leyth presents herself easily for both men to appreciate and sighs out loud when the familiar stretch of Cal's cock presses inside of her wet heat. She knows that Cal is truly the one getting spoiled today and hopes the prince lives up to every rumour for his sake.
Oberyn can’t help but reach out and slap her ass and groans when her generous skin jiggles. “I will fuck you after I have had my fill of your lover.”
"He is insatiable," Ellaria offers, chuckling deeply before burying her face in the cunt nearest her talented mouth. Oberyn is not the only one with an endless appetite. It is one of the reasons that they have so much fun together.
“It has been two weeks.” He huffs, rolling his eyes. There hadn’t been any place to stop and fuck while on the road. He was pent up.
"No one here will complain, my lord." Cal promises, burying himself again in Leyth's cunt and groaning at her heat. "The stories of you are legend, and most of us are eager to know if they are true."
“They are true.” Ellaria pulls his tongue out of the cunt to purr her vote of confidence.
“Thank you, my love.” Oberyn chuckles and reaches for the oils that are kept on the edge of the bath for things such as this.
"Then we will add our praise to the stories that already exist." Soon Leyth will be able to do nothing but take the thrusts from the two men above her, but for now she meets each movement with a roll of her plush hips.
"We are yours for as long as you wish to stay." It is only half of a promise from Cal himself, having been instructed by Littlefinger himself to give Prince Oberyn whatever he wants, but at least now Cal can make the vow with pleasure.
Oberyn has no doubt that these people have been told to do whatever he or his paramour likes but he will only take what he deems right. “Only if I bring you both pleasure.”
"I cannot imagine you have trouble giving pleasure." Cal moans, bending over Leyth's back to present himself to the prince for the taking.
Coating his cock in enough oil to wash his entrance, the water in the bath sloshes as he shuffles closer and takes himself in hand. Pressing closer and pushing the head of his cock against the other man’s hole and slowly rolls his hips forward to break him open.
Cal curses, eyes rolling back into his head as the prince's girth fills him, and in turn pushes his cock further into Leyth's fluttering pussy. The bathing room may as well be their own private party in this moment, because of the large handful of people indulging in each other no one notices Littlefinger lurking by the doorway. True pleasure is rare in a whorehouse, so this is sure to be a lucrative visit for the proprietor.
Oberyn lets out a lusty groan when his hips are flush against the other man’s ass. “You do not flinch away.” He praises, wrapping his long arms around the man so he can cup Leyth’s generous breasts while he waits for the man’s muscles to relax around him.
“Pleasure is a gift.” Cal’s body shudders as he takes Oberyn fully, the stretch of him making the man pant and reach back to grasp the prince’s hip. “You have a very large gift, my lord.”
Oberyn chuckles quietly, pleased with Cal’s words and leans in to nibble on his ear. Enjoying the way he shudders again. “Let me show you what I can do with that gift.”
******
The Red Keep looms above you when you finally step out of your carriage, trying with all your might to block out your mother’s voice muttering indignities that your party was not greeted by a royal retinue at the city line. What utter nonsense. Your house is ancient and wealthy, yes, but certainly not royal and there is no reason for the royal Baratheons or Lannisters to pay you any heed. At least, outside the carriage, you can finally be more than a foot and a half away from your mother again.
“Alright, pumpkin?” Your father beams down at you before swinging off of his horse.
“Of course, Papa.” Of course not is the truth, but after days of spitting venom you are too tired to put up much of a fight. Besides, now that you know this is your mother’s doing, it is hard to be upset with your father for simply being a fool.
Your father beams at you as he steps beside you and offers you his arm. Not having an opportunity to talk much on the road, he wants to assure you. “I understand you are nervous because you have not been to Dorne, but your grandmother and her mother are from Dorne.” He reminds you. “And there is family in Braavos and across the Narrow Sea.” The long tradition of finding love outside the Vale is common, your father finding the free-spirited prince to be a far worthier match for you than some sniveling little lord grasping for favor. The idea that his daughter will be princess is also a factor.
“I shall visit them all at my earliest ability.” The idea of traveling to see family you have never met sounds infinitely preferable to spending even a minute in the presence of the prince you never agreed to wed, and for a moment you almost relax at the idea.
“I doubt your husband will allow anything other than you spitting out his heirs for the next few years.” Your mother scoffs. “You will be visiting his bed.”
“That is not for you to know or to decide.” You tell her, though the fact that she may be right makes you sick to your stomach. Two steps behind the three of you, Raeden could not have missed the comment but you cannot exactly turn to look at him.
Raeden keeps his gaze down, your mother’s words in his mind as he tries to decide if he had made the right choice. Perhaps he should have run away with you. He’s noticed the captain of your father’s guard eyeing him so he had tried to be as impassive as possible. His heart aches at the idea of you in the Prince’s bed, despite the rumors of his prowess and propensity for men and women, something that he shamefully shares with the Prince of Dorne. He had fought his attraction to the other men around him. Not even sharing it with you.
“My lord. My ladies.” A steward in the hallway bows to you dutifully and opens his mouth to welcome you to the Red Keep, but a swish of skirts and a silky smooth voice cuts him off from behind. “Lollard, I will greet my guests,” she instructs, sounding nearly severe before her voice pitches up to something delighted and seemingly terribly excited. “I was so pleased to see your banner approach that I could not help myself.” The woman declares, and you cannot tell if she means it or not. “Lady Margaery Tyrell,” she introduces herself with a broad smile. “It was I who sent your invitation. Welcome to King’s Landing, and to the Red Keep.”
“You are even more beautiful than your portrait, Lady Margaery,” your mother gushes, simpering to the woman who appeared to be several years younger than even you. “And how thoughtful of you to include our House in your nuptial feast. We are honoured.”
“It is I who am honoured.” She steps toward you with a smile. “To have the future princess of Dorne amongst my guests, and of course the ancient connection between our Houses makes us loving cousins, does it not?” The marriage of a Tyrell daughter into your House was four generations ago, but Margaery has never been one to overlook a string that might be pulled in her favour. At least not after her grandmother pointed it out.
Future princess of Dorne. Raeden’s fists clench at his sides as he tries to ignore the fury in his heart at that simple phrase. You will be a princess, and the gap between your stations will be more vast than before.
“We are flattered by such a personal welcome.” Beside you, your father is talking and patting your hand on his arm, but you barely hear him. Each time another person calls you princess or refers to the man who bought you, you feel closer and closer to being sick all over the floor. Or perhaps sinking in a wasting depression. If both are possible simultaneously, that may be the answer.
“Forgive me.” When you find your voice it almost cracks, but you put one hand to your stomach delicately. “I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Lady Margaery, but I am afraid I feel quite ill from weeks of travel. Would it be possible to be escorted to our chamber so that I might be well enough for a turn around the gardens later?” An ally – any ally – may be worth grasping, and you enjoy the way this young woman made your mother frown by not paying attention to her. For right now, though, you would do anything to be alone so that Raeden could visit you.
“Forgive me.” Margaery bows her head respectfully and gives a small, sincere smile. “My manners have forsaken me.” She gestures towards the keep. “Allow me to show you personally to your rooms. A light repast has been laid out for your pleasure as well.”
“How very kind of you,” you murmur, knowing you won’t touch a thing. The reality of your situation has stolen your normally healthy appetite.
Clever blue eyes catch the subtle grimace when she mentions food and yet she doesn’t comment on it. Sensing that you will have much to talk about, Margaery had invited you to stay in the keep as her guest after learning of your betrothal to Oberyn Martell. “This way.” She smiles and motions towards the left corridor.
Though you might not be fond of the games of society, you were raised in them, and you have sense enough that when the future queen offers you her arm you take it. That is how the first glimpse many guests to court ever have of you is strolling arm-in-arm with the woman who will become queen in two days time. It does not matter that you just met. It does not matter that she is chattering away politely while you simply smile your polite smile and nod. The future queen of the Seven Kingdoms and the future princess of Dorne paint a very pretty picture on their way through the halls of the Red Keep with your family trailing behind. If you weren’t so desperate to be alone with Raeden again and attempt to forget all this is happening, you might more fully enjoy the way your mother is green with envy.
______
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#Pedro Pascal#Pedro Pascal character fanfiction#Pedro Pascal fanfic#Oberyn Martell#Oberyn Martell x you#Oberyn Martell x reader#Oberyn Martell x female reader#Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand#reader x m!OC#male OC#female reader#male original character#Game of Thrones#soulmate au#arranged marriage
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lost and led by stars — the titles of alyssa snow
"I’ve been given many titles throughout my life. Bastard, Lady, Princess. I have no desire to add Queen amongst them."
—Alyssa Martell, 302 AD
(inspo)
taglist ✨: @dragonsbone @lorettastwilight @dio-nysvs @julianblackthcrns @arrthurpendragon @endless-lilach @drbobbimorse @luucypevensie @the-witching-ash @megdonnellys @emilykaldwen @ocappreciationtag
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#fyeahgameofthronesocs#fyeahgotocs#ocappreciation#asoiaf oc#ochub#allaboutocs#alyssa snow#got oc#game of thrones oc#oberyn martell x oc#oberyn martell x ellaria sand x oc#fic: lost and only led by stars#that is grey wind in the last gif he survives the red wedding for reasons and alyssa adopts him in her north arc I love that gif so much#this set literally took months lmao#honestly it was the quotes that were the trickest but I'm so pleased with them now#finally posting this so joey stops yelling at me (affectionate)#but seriously thank you dear friend for all the help!#rei edits
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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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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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Oberynxafab!OC / mature
Résumé : "Et quand il posa son regard sur elle, il sut. Inévitablement, indéniablement, il sut. Comme il savait que le soleil se levait chaque matin, comme il savait que la lune brillait chaque et que le printemps succédait à l'hiver. Il sut, qu'il mourrait pour elle. Et quand elle le regarda, elle sut. Indubitablement, incontestablement. Jusqu'à ce que le soleil ne se lève plus sur leur monde, jusqu'à ce que les étoiles se meurent et que l'hiver soit éternel. Elle sut, qu'elle vivrait pour lui."
Mots : Env. 60 000
TW : Violence, sang, angoisses, fausse couche, v*ol, mort, smut, oral sex, deuil, torture, trahison, rupture.
Tags : Soulmate, enemy to lovers, second chance, smut.
Rating : Explicit / 18+
L’honnêteté Dornienne
Appelle-moi Oberyn
L’ordre appelle le chaos
La bête qui sommeille
Songes
Qu’est-ce que tu désir ?
Tintements
Orgueil
Mourir pour toi
Trahison
The Wistfull Princess
The Red Vyper
Nymor
Briser nos deux cœurs
Emporter mon âme
Enfer
Les amants maudits
Celle qu’il avait trouvé sans jamais l’avoir cherché
Amour crucifié
L’héritière des sept couronnes
Deuil
Purgatoire
Jusqu’à ce que notre mon disparaisse
Chapitre Bonus : Sororité
Chapitre Bonus : Je ne suis personne
Chapitre Bonus : Une marque noire sur son âme
#oberyn martell#prince oberyn#oberyn nymeros martell#oberyn x oc#oberyn fanfiction#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#master list#fanfiction
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SYNERGY | INTRO
Oberyn Martell x OC (Elara)
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.
A/N: And thus it begins..
In the frigid embrace of dawn's shadows, Elara's alarm, a shrill harbinger of monotony, tears through the cocoon of night. With the weariness of a thousand routines clinging to her, she reluctantly extracts herself from the dwindling warmth of her bed, limbs protesting against the relentless pull of another day. The bathroom, a witness to her perpetual metamorphosis, becomes the stage for her despondent ballet.
Her movements, mechanical and detached, guide her through the motions. Dark red strands cascade like forgotten aspirations as she prepares to face a world painted in grayscale. In the muted glow, a delicate layer of makeup becomes a futile attempt to conceal the exhaustion etched beneath her eyes. The closet, a repository of uninspired choices, relinquishes dark jeans, a nondescript grey t-shirt, and the obligatory leather jacket—a uniform of resignation. A baseball cap crowns her ensemble, a feeble shield against the relentless onslaught of the outside world.
This ritual, once a dance with promise, has devolved into a monotonous symphony played out too many times. Breakfast is reduced to the perfunctory gulp of a Red Bull, a liquid lifeline in a world devoid of vibrancy. Beyond the walls of her apartment, a dismal scene unfolds—the rain, a relentless torrent of forgotten dreams, drenching the world in melancholy.
The allure of a real job and the excitement of office life, once promising, have given way to a withered existence. In the field of sales, her days are a mechanical march through time, compliments falling on deaf ears, and a forced smile unable to breach the depths of her weary eyes. The conclusion of each day is a scripted routine—home, eat, bed—a haunting cycle that repeats like a tired echo.
Turning a desolate corner, she steps into an alley, undeniably shady but undoubtedly quicker. Her gaze scans forward, revealing a figure stationed at the alley's end. Confidence radiates from his stance, sharp features implying strength concealed in shadow. A fleeting glance is all he spares before disappearing, intentionally evading further observation. Just a few steps more, and a cloudiness descends upon her mind—an all-too-familiar precursor to the moment one realizes they're slipping into sleep.
In the heart of the alley, where shadows intertwine with the echoes of her wearied footsteps, she surrenders. Her body succumbs to the inexorable embrace of unconsciousness.
At the desolate terminus of the alley, Oberyn stood, a sinister silhouette against the muted backdrop of shadows. The time had come for Elara, chosen by the scouts days ago, to be collected. As the right hand of the cell's leader in this city, Oberyn held a position of authority, a harbinger of ominous forces operating in the clandestine corners of the urban labyrinth.
Beside him, Lucian, a newcomer shrouded in uncertainty but wanting to prove himself, was present for a purpose—to ensure the subject's procurement unfolded according to plan. The alley, chosen strategically for its familiarity to Elara, became the stage for their sinister operation. Oberyn, making sure Lucian did what he was told, stood ready for damage control, a necessity when handling delicate matters like these.
Elara's form materialized at the entrance of the alley, an unwitting player in a meticulously orchestrated scheme. Oberyn recognized the calculated precision—they had anticipated her routine, exploiting the predictable path she took to work. Now, it was imperative to distance himself, and let Lucian do his thing and execute the extraction. In the realm of clandestine operations, every moment spent not in control was a risk, and Oberyn aimed to minimize those risks.
As the shadows tightened their grip, Elara moved further into the alley, unknowingly stepping into the carefully woven web of their plans. It was a successful day, a dark triumph for the cell that operated with ominous precision in the unseen recesses of the city's underbelly. The whispers of the alley, the echoes of their intentions, heralded the completion of another clandestine chapter, leaving behind only a sense of foreboding in the air.
MAIN MASTERLIST
SYNERGY MASTERLIST
CHAPTER 1
#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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For You - A Collection of Requests Benefitting Palestine
Commissions made to donate to the Palestinian Children's Relief Fund.*
Commissions for the main event are closed. If you are interested in purchasing a Commission for Palestine outside of this event, DM me.
Stitches - Joel Miller x Female Reader from Lavender (QZ Era)
Days in the Sun - Oberyn Martell x Female Reader
Lost & Found - Din Djarin x Curvy!Female Reader
Celestial - Din Djarin x Original Female Character
Cinema - Javi Gutierrez x Curvy!Female Reader
*Event Terms: Commissioners could choose to donate between $15 and $50 via Ko-Fi for one fic of 1-2k words to be written by April 1, 2024. Payment due after completion of the fic. Donation with a match by the author to be paid to PCRF on April 2, 2024 in honor of Pedro Pascal's birthday ❤️ Commissioners had the option to choose to keep a fic private and all fics may not be shared here.
#fanfic#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x oc#lavender#smut fic#oberyn martell x ofc#oberyn martell x you#oberyn martell x reader
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Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon Masterlists
[General Masterlist with list of boys I can write one-shots with here]
[my works are also avaiable on Ao3: Samiere and on wattpad: _Saelin
Also on fanfiction net: Samiere]
MASTERLIST Silver Princess || House of the Dragon (fanfiction)(Daemon Targaryen x OC x Aemond Targaryen)
King Viserys Targaryen and Queen Aemma Arryn are expecting another child - possibly a new heir to the Iron Throne. After all, after the birth of two princesses, it must finally be time for a prince, right?
On this occasion, a tournament is organized in King's Landing, which also attracts the king's brother - Daemon Targaryen to the capital.
Unfortunately, the day of the tournament will set in motion a series of events that over the years will eventually lead to Dance of Dragons and something even worse, besides splitting House of the Dragon into three camps…
2. MASTERLIST Dawn of the North || Robb Stark (fanfiction)(Robb Stark x OC)
As the War of the Five Kings rages in Westeros, in the far north beyond the Wall, young princess of a forgotten kingdom will finally have the opportunity to break free from her father's watchful eye and try to live her own life.
When there are reports of Daenerys Targaryen, who is already making plans to claim the throne of the Seven Kingdoms, Amalthea's father asks her to find her cousin. However, there is more to this request than a desire to reunite the family.
However, before that happens, after leaving the fairy-tale kingdom of Acalida, Amalthea travels south, where after so many years of peaceful life, she collides with the brutal reality of the Seven Kingdoms. As soon as the voice of her heart speaks to her, she will have to pull herself together and show the other part of her character - reasonable, objective, cunning… And sometimes a bit mad and merciless to fit in a world full of intrigue and not lose her life.
And as a Queen from unknown lands… She will have to earn respect and trust of others.
3. MASTERLIST Born in Flames || Game of Thrones (fanfiction)(OC x ?😏)
The young former Princess Visenya, and now Maegelle Targaryen, after the death of King Robert I Baratheon can finally come to King's Landing without fear of death at the hands of Robert, who has vowed to kill any Targaryen he can.
Exactly, "any Targaryen he can"…
He hasn't been able to touch Maegelle since Tywin Lannister took her to Casterly Rock and she was under his care for the next seventeen years, raised to be against her real family. Even her changed name is to make her realize who she should be.
But will she listen to it? After all, she had spent her entire life with the murderers of her family…
#robb stark#daemon targaryen#aemond targaryen#robb stark x oc#aemond targaryen x oc#daemon targaryen x oc#game of thrones#got#house of the dragon#hotd#daemon targaryen fanfiction#aemond targaryen fanfiction#robb stark fanfiction#arthur dayne#ser arthur dayne#game of thrones fanfiction#house of the dragon fanfiction#daenerys targaryen#jaime lannister#tywin lannister#cersei lannister#oberyn martell#gra o tron#ród smoka#stannis baratheon#asoiaf fanfic#asoiaf#a song of ice and fire#game of thrones fanfic#ao3
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━━ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐉𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐀 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑
tag list 🧚🏻♂️ : @zoyazenik @prosemoireia @dio-nysvs @kiara-carrera @fleetwoodmcs @daisyjohvson @aaudace @jessiemieli @chlobenet @iron-parkr @elmunson @luucypevensie @princes-jasmine @julianblackthcrns @darkwolf76 @megdonnellys @edshopper @bravelittleflower @lepetitchoux @fiercefray @misshiraeth98 @itsjustgracy @fragilestorm @notanannoyingfangirl @phoebestarks @ichorwithwine @darkling-er @purpleyearning @lovehermioneforever @stanshollaand @eddiemunscns @hiddenqveendom @foxesandmagic @nik2blog @daughter-of-melpomene @impales @arrthurpendragon @dyhlanobrien @fakedatings @princessmadelines @stachedocs @toilandtroubled @eddysocs
[ want to be added/removed? click here! ]
#fyeahgameofthronesocs#fyeahgotocs#ocappreciation#asoiaf oc#ochub#allaboutocs#josana lannister#a dance of lions#robb stark x oc#game of thrones oc#GoT oc#otp: the young wolf and his lioness#brotp: a taste for revenge#my ocs#there was supposed to be WAY more gifs to this set but i will actually pull my hair out if i have to make any more hyper-realistic gifs#why do i do this to myself???? why just why????#also as much as i love oberyn... josana and him are just fwb#OH and peep sarra in the red wedding gif lol i needed to include my girl in the saddest part#anyways im super proud of this and i most likely will never do it again#also special thanks to rei and emily for all the help and keeping me sane while i made this
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