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esther-dot · 5 months

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Pride & Prejudice AUs

You Look Like A Movie, You Sound Like A Song 2k @jonsastan

She had met Jon Targaryen there. It was a complete accident and at first, Sansa thought, a complete misfortune. He was drenched from an impromptu swim in his pond, and she was flustered, not wanting him to think she was vying for his attention. But as she had attempted to make her hurried escape, he had found her and invited her parents to stroll with him around the gardens. He had offered her kindness, and thoughtfulness, he had talked with her parents, discussed the present state of politics with her father and chatted knowledgeably about gardens with her mother.

A Certain Step Toward Falling in Love 2k by @comma-splice

Jon Snow returns North after departing abruptly one year ago.

The Bennet Sisters - a P&P AU comic by @melinaillustrations

P&P Gifset by @sardoniyx, P&P Gifset by @dcbicki, P&P Gifset by deactivated

Persuasion AUs

Who Loves Longest, Who loves Best 1k by @ladysaruka

After refusing him years ago, Sansa sees her cousin once again.

Persuasion edits one, two , three by @glueck

Mansfield Park AUs

Half Agony, Half Hope 10k, incomplete by @noqueenbutthequeeninthenorth

After the death of his disgraced mother, Jon Snow is taken in by his uncle's family, the Starks of Winterfell. He grows up alongside his cousins, including the beautiful and kind-hearted Sansa, but knowing he can never truly be their equal, he fears he has little choice but to leave the place he's come to call home. corresponding moodboard

Catch Me If You Can 34k (P&P and Emma inspired too) by @ben-barnes-is-my-husband

Set in the countryside of Regency England, Jon Snow has been in love with Sansa Stark for as long as he can remember. He wants her as his wife, but Sansa is not sure she wants to be a wife at all, and she knows she doesn’t want to marry the pragmatic and boring Jon. She’d rather help Theon Greyjoy come out of his shell and play matchmaker. But then Jaime Lannister comes to town and Jon finds he has some serious competition for Sansa…

Moments Like This (So Few and Far Between) 3k by @lydiamartenism

Mama and Papa left the house to go pick up Jon, the son of her father’s oldest friend. Three weeks ago, the phone rang and their parent’s announced that Jon would be coming to live with them since his mother passed away and had no one else to take care of him.

Northanger Abbey AUs

The Lady in White 7k by @kissed-by-circe

Dragonstone Manor had looked like it had woken only a few days earlier, after a slumber of several years, if not decades, and Sansa had felt like the heroine of a gothic novel, a mysterious, naive girl with a dark past or a dark secret, arriving at the opening scene of the most dramatic story of all times. Or Sansa as Katherine Morland in a Jane Eyre Setting.

Sense & Sensibility AUs

In Such Jocund Company 2k @maybetwice

It would be no matter at all for Captain Snow to return to the north after seven months’ absence, had Sansa’s heart not changed entirely in that time. A remix of Colonel Brandon and Marianne Dashwood from Sense and Sensibility.

Emma & Clueless AUs

if i loved you less 2k by @ladystarks

Her father has, often and fondly, told Sansa that she and Mr. Snow bite at each other like wolves, but he hardly understood that their verbal sparring was as exhilarating as a sport well done, or a match coming together under Sansa’s skilled hands. corresponding artwork

Sansa: A NOVEL in Five Parts 15k by @imagineagreatadventure

Sansa Stark, handsome, clever, rich, hopes to establish herself as her town's foremost matchmaker. After seeing her governess Miss Shae married to the rich and clever Mr. Tyrion Lannister, she feels as though she deserves that title. Her dear friend and cousin, Jon Targaryen, heartily disagrees and is quite proven right when Sansa sets her sights on marrying off her newest and dearest friend Jeyne Poole to the vicar Mr. Baelish.

A Baldwin and a Betty 2k

Jon drives to the Valley to give Sansa a ride home.

Emma AU art by @dcvahkiin and Clueless art by wolvesofspring

Emma Gifset by @dcbicki

General Regency AUs

No Notion of Loving by Halves 2k @darkmagyk

The Stark cousin, Jon, goes home to discuss matters concerning the entail on Winterfell. In which Jon is a really good guy, and I flagrantly disregard how entails actually work.

Manners and Misunderstandings 114k, WIP by @x-winging-it

The Stark sisters have travelled all the way to London to begin their first season, leaving behind the familiar world of Winterfell Hall and a disappointed Jon Stark- with whom the eldest Miss Stark has been convinced to break off a connection. In London they join family friends the Baratheons and the fashionable young Tyrells in a world of romance and balls. Meanwhile Gendry Waters has been plucked out of the life he knew to become his ailing father's heir, Robb, Theon and later Rickon embark on military careers in the Napoleonic wars, and their aunt Lysa makes a foolish marriage. When tragedy hits the family, they must come together, learning how manners may hide monsters and the best people are often those misunderstood by society.

You Could Draw Me to the Gallows 2k by @azulaahai

After having eloped from home with and subsequently been abandoned by wealthy heir Joffrey Baratheon, Sansa Stark refuses to come home. Having caused a scandal that is sure to prevent her from ever marrying, she is adamant not to bring further shame to the family name by returning to Winterfell. Until, that is, a visitor comes to her - Jon Snow, an old family friend, determined to bring Sansa with him back north. He has a solution to offer her - a proposal with the potential to change both of their lives.

A Perilous Dance Indeed & fiercely, tenderly and eternally 27k by @amymel86

He should either look away or interrupt this improper little meeting, he knows. For some unfathomable reason, he does neither. The two look far too intimate for Jon’s liking, although he feels he should have come to expect it to be so. A romantic like Sansa – however proper she is – would simply adore overt flirtations and a secret tête-à-tête. Even from where he stands, Jon can see the way in which she has stars set in her eyes like precious cut stones. He only hopes the man for whom they shine is deserving of it. *** Cousin Jon is to inherit Winterfell Manor and its estate after the untimely death of his uncle leaves a widow and two daughters. Sansa is expectant of an imminent proposal from her dear beau, Harrold Hardyng and everything will be absolutely, stunningly, utterly fine.

Waiting for Your Slippered Feet 49k by @wintry-ritu

Lady Sansa Stark has always looked forward to her come-out season in London, the balls, the rides in Hyde Park, evenings at Vauxhall, the romance and wonder of it all. Never had she imagined that it would happen like this, with her parents gone and her younger siblings underfoot. Now, all Sansa wants is for it all to be over quickly so she can get back to Winterfell. She needs a kind, amiable man who will be brave enough to take on his wife's siblings. That should not be so hard to find in London, should it? And while she is most grateful for Jon Targaryen's help, why must her cousin be so distracting?

To Make You Love Me 16k incomplete and orphaned

When Ned Stark dies, he leaves behind his wife, two daughters, and his family’s estate at Winterfell. What follows is a series of unwanted marriage proposals, houseguests who far outstay their welcome, and Arya parading around in a comically large hat and an oil-paint mustache as she declares herself the new ‘Lord of Winterfell,’ in an attempt to dissuade her sister’s suitors. However, when Mr. Jon Snow — their distant cousin and Ned’s appointed heir to the estate — comes to call, an oil-paint mustache is hardly enough to deter him from courting Miss Sansa Stark. And she thinks, perhaps, that a man could marry her for love more than her claim, after all.

Mine for a Season 101k by @vivilove-jonsa

Colonel Jon Targaryen is a single man in possession of a good fortune who claims no interest in finding himself a wife. With his war wounds, he thinks no young lady would want him anyway for anything beyond the allure of his pocketbook. Fortunately and unbeknownst to him, Fate has chosen to find a wife for him and will even deliver her right to his doorstep. Taking on the responsibility of shepherding a young lady about for a Season in London is not at all what Jon had wished to do but he had accepted out of a sense of familial duty. However, once he meets Sansa again after only having met her years ago as a child, he may not consider it a duty so much as a torment.

a lady of winterfell 185k, WIP by @wandering-scavenger

She bit her lip and exhaled shakily, “If you are so sickened by the prospect of marrying me, we should be able to obtain an annulment easily enough with your father’s connections.” “I will do no such thing.” he snapped, refusing to look at her. Sansa had never felt more rejected than she did at that moment. Her past experiences of being humiliated at the hand of Joffrey did not feel as painful as this. Even so, she could not allow him to see the weakness in her, not now. “I will not be left out, Jon.” she said, tilting her chin up to look down at him. He grimaced. They were silent for longer than she cared to count, but each second that he did not speak chipped away at her resolve and her ability to withhold her tears. Jon did not want her, and she could not blame him. Who could ever want her? It should not have distressed her as much as it did. She was never his favourite sister, she who treated him as a stranger since she was old enough to understand what a bastard was. A tear slipped down to her face until she tasted the salt of it on her lips. “If we marry, we will remain so.” corresponding gifset

moth's wings 47k by @cellsshapedlikestars

Sansa was determined to convince her aunt to let Arya debut, which is how she finds herself in her current predicament. “Who is this secret gentleman who has asked for your hand?” Aunt Lysa asks, and Sansa knows from her tone that she does not believe. (She has every right not to believe, for it is not true.) And then Sansa does something very, very foolish. She says a name. “The Duke of Dragonstone!” Or, Sansa fakes an engagement so that Arya can debut and marry the man she loves. The only problem? Her fake fiance just so happens to be in the city when he was not supposed to be.

An Understanding 2k, WIP by @thewolvescalledmehome

At the start of Sansa Stark's third London Season, she decides it will be her last. She will secure a husband by the end of the final ball. Jon Snow is new to the London Season and high society. He never expected to inherit money or property from an unknown uncle. When they meet at a ball, Sansa gets an idea.

you're in my blood like holy wine 72k

Sansa finds it difficult to look at Jon’s face, with its weathered lines and cragginess. It is the face of the North and a face that northerners trust; the face of Sansa’s brothers and her father, who had been loved and respected by their tenants as their forefathers had been when they were kings. How can Sansa feel anything but resentment, looking into that face and knowing that all of her years of hard work will never earn her the respect that that profile engenders within seconds? But she does. It is a small, burning coal of something that must be smothered.

PRE CANON - WESTERN - FAIRYTALES - LITTLE WOMEN - HOLIDAY - SEASON 6 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES - THE GIRL IN GREY - FREE CITIES - FAIRYTALE PART II - POLITICAL MARRIAGE - SALTY TEENS - POST CANON

#jonsa #jonsa fic #regency au #pride and prejudice au #emma au #northanger abbey au #mansfield park au #persuasion au #dot fic list #marriage of convenience au #arranged marriage au

238 notes · View notes

itsgameofthronesimagines · 2 years

Note

Hello, can you write a story where Jaime seeks the reader for comfort and reassurance after losing his hand? Even after some time he still feels insecure about it? When getting intimate for example?

Fandom: Game of Thrones

Pairing: Jaime Lannister x Fem!Reader

Warnings: DNI unless 18+, It gets kinda dark before it gets good cause I got carried away (again). Mentions of SA, incest, manipulation, violence, heated makeout sessions, mentions of both male and female anatomy, selling women like livestock, female masturbation, oral, male recieving, fingering, p in v (wrap it before you tap it) etc.

Word Count: 5,588

Summary: Jaime and Y/n can’t keep their relationship a secret for long, and Jaime struggles with his new hand.

Taglist: @gruffle1 (I know you said you wanted to be tagged in all my works and I think a few have slipped through the cracks. I hope this is still okay though)

Author’s Note: I am so, so sorry for this long awaited request! It’s been at least two years and I know I needed my oldest request taken care of. So thank you for your patience, Nonny! I hope it’s worth the wait.

I made the reader Jon Arryn’s young, distant cousin, so that there’s reason for her to be a member of the King’s court and Queen Cersei’s lady-in-waiting. Also another sorry in advance if the story jumps around a bit.

(I do not consent to my works being reposted/copied)

~~~

Several, long months have come and gone since Jaime had attacked Ned Stark in the streets of King's Landing. He had run off to avoid capture and to rally with his father to save Tyrion, who was then in the clutches of Ned Stark's wife. He didn't have time to properly pack or say goodbye to his family. No one even knew where he had gone until Ned Stark was brought back to the Red Keep that same evening, his leg severely injured. When the Hand of the King spoke of Jaime's attack, Queen Cersei was quick to spin a tale about how Ned was the first to attack after stumbling out of one of Lord Baelish's brothels drunk. It didn't deter King Robert enough to send Ned away, but it did earn Cersei a bruise on her face.

Lady Y/n Arryn tended to the Queen's bruise that night, quietly listening to Cersei's drunk, angry rants about Jaime being accused of treason and running away. Dutifully, the young lady-in-waiting helped Cersei get ready for bed before slipping away the moment she was dismissed. Y/n retreated to her own quarters that night, sobbing silently to herself, worried sick for her secret lover. Every night, she prayed to the gods to forgive Jaime of his sins and bid him a safe return, but not long after Jaime left, King Robert died and Joffrey took the throne. His first decree was to arrest Ned Stark and hold his daughter Sansa captive for treason. Things began to quickly spiral. Not long after Lord Stark's arrest, word got back to King's Landing about Jaime's capture. In retaliation for his father being arrested, Robb Stark had gathered their banners and rose the entire North up against the crown, winning battle after battle against the Lannisters, including the battle that transpired before Jaime was taken prisoner.

Months had gone by and there was still no progress in rescuing Jaime. This agitated Tywin Lannister almost as much as it did Lady Y/n, but at least he could openly show his disdain if he so pleased. Y/n, on the other hand, had to suffer in silence, soothing her queen every night Jaime wasn't by her side. The envy festered deep in Y/n's gut whenever Cersei whispered her twin brother's name in her sleep. Lady Arryn could only wish she could blame it on the wine, but she was no fool. Jaime had once gone to her in confidence about his relationship with Cersei. How their mother once found them in bed together when they were very young and immediately put a stop to it. Cersei's feelings for him remerged when she married King Robert and was left unsatisfied in their marriage bed, but Jaime never returned those feelings.

At first, he said that what happened with his sister when they were children was a young and stupid mistake and he never loved her that way. Even later on in his life, he wasn't attracted to his sister and didn't want to soil his white cloak of honor for someone who clearly took advantage of him as a child. But then, slowly, Jaime admitted that if he was ever going to break his oath, he would only do so for Lady Y/n. She had caught his eye when the late Jon Arryn, once Hand of the King, assigned his cousin to be Queen Cersei's lady-in-waiting. Jaime, of course, never said such things out loud, but he knew from the start that Y/n was beautiful and that observation slowly turned into a need to be around her. It wasn't hard to put himself in her company since their duties to the King and Queen brought them together more often than not.

When Jaime finally spilled all of these sins to her late one night, Y/n had asked if he was truly willing to break his vows for her, even if it meant only ever meeting in secret. She was, after all, unmarried and still a maiden, her family hoping that one day she'll catch the eye of one of the high lords in the King's court. If word got out that an unmarried lady and a duly sworn Kingsguard were seeing each other in secret, it would be devastating for both of them. When Jaime quickly said he was willing to take the risk, Y/n followed that up with another question. Was he willing to risk her life if their secret meetings ever led to a child? She was no maester. She couldn't get her hands on any moon tea without being detected even if she tried. Was Jaime willing to let Y/n risk her life if anyone found out? If the Queen found out?

Jaime admittedly shuddered at that idea, knowing what Cersei was capable of. With that in mind, he vowed to Y/n that none of their secret meetings will lead to a child because he vowed to only ever love her from afar if it meant protecting her. Y/n's heart wept at the idea of being apart from him, knowing how he felt but being unable to act on it. That very first night, she kissed him with a promise on her lips. She promised Jaime to meet him in secret, but only so that he could hold her. Nothing more.

~~~

Years of their secret courting had gone by without a hitch. They met mostly at night when both the King and Queen were asleep in their respective rooms. At first, they only talked quietly in the dark until the early morning light, but then it led to unspoken kisses. The kisses soon led to touching, and over the years those touches began to grow bolder. As promised, Jaime never took Y/n's maidenhead, but that didn't stop them from other nocturnal activities. Oftentimes, he would sneak out of her room with the phantom touch of her mouth around his cock or his clean fingers would still feel warm from being inside of her.

It was blissful, and Jaime always found himself imprinting his love for her in every kiss and every touch. It was always said in secret, but it was always said with sincerity. Despite having to sneak around, it was the best years of the young lovers' lives. That is, until the day Jaime learned of Tyrion's capture and attacked Ned Stark, quickly leaving the city to join his father at Casterly Rock. That day was the last day Y/n ever saw her lover before everything went downhill. The days turned into weeks, then months, before slowly creeping up on a year. At that time, Y/n learned of a horrifying rumor. When Robert died and Joffrey was crowned King, both of Robert's brothers, Stannis and Renly, rallied to war for the Iron Throne, claiming that Joffrey was not their brother's trueborn son. Stannis claimed that Joffrey was the bastard son of incest, between Cersei and Jaime Lannister.

When Y/n heard of this, her blood ran cold and her stomach turned, threatening to release its contents. She didn't want to believe these rumors, but whenever she looked at Cersei's children, she could now see plenty of Jaime in them. Denial turned into anger, the young woman wondering if everything Jaime told her had been a lie. She wondered just how long he had been lying to her, and if he ever stopped loving Cersei to begin with.

Again, she could only react to this in her own time but kept herself stoic and dutiful whenever she was in the presence of the Queen. Despite how cruel Cersei was to her, Y/n wouldn't ever give up her knowledge of this rumor or her relationship with Jaime just out of spite. Cersei was still Queen Regent. She could do whatever she wanted to Y/n, even for no reason at all. So Y/n kept her mouth shut and continued to take the Queen's usual cruelty. With House Stark and now House Baratheon rallying against her son, Cersei was starting to grow stressed, which drove her to be crueler to her servants. But even then, Y/n didn't speak a word.

~~~

Many things happen to distract Y/n from her dark thoughts. Joffrey had Ned Stark executed under charges of treason, Tyrion was named Acting Hand of the King upon his return, Renly Baratheon was mysteriously murdered, and Stannis Baratheon tried laying a siege on the Red Keep from the Blackwater Bay. Before the night was over, Tywin Lannister and his remaining army came to the rescue, and was named Hand of the King for his heroism.

Before the year was up, Jaime had returned to King's Landing.

Y/n was walking up to the Queen's chambers, holding her skirts and carefully watching her feet so she wouldn't trip on the stairs. She nearly reached her destination when she finally looked up and noticed a poor, filthy, crippled old man standing in front of her. She opened her mouth to scream before his hand clamped over her mouth and shushed her. Taking a moment, Y/n recognized those eyes, her own widening in disbelief. His hair was long, matted, and discolored. His skin and clothes were stained in filth, not an inch of him were spared. His beard mostly covered his face and worst of all, he only had one hand, the arm missing said limb was held close to his chest.

Several moments had passed before Jaime carefully removed his hand from her mouth, trying to contain the relief from his eyes but to no avail. The astonishment and delight in Y/n's eyes, however, quickly turned dark and stoic. Jaime's hurt and confusion were evident when she stepped away from him with a cold look staring back at him, "Ser Jaime."

A beat skips by before a tight smile reached Jaime's lips, hiding under his beard, "My lady."

Y/n brushed passed him with just as cold of a shoulder, her eyes lowered in disgust, "The Queen would be thrilled to know that you are safe."

Jaime was too shocked to follow her, at first, before his legs finally moved and silently trailed after the lady-in-waiting to Cersei's chambers. After Y/n had closed the doors behind him, Jaime wouldn't see her again for several days.

She had claimed to be ill in this time, dismissing herself from serving the Queen until she felt better... or until she could come up with a plan to leave King's Landing. Ever since she learned of Joffrey's true parentage, Y/n has been trying to get a hold of her late cousin's wife in the Vale, but Lysa Arryn didn't appear rushed to respond to her. Y/n was hoping she could be dismissed from her duties and travel back home to the Eyrie, never wanting to speak of Jaime's affair with her or his betrayal ever again. With all of her letters being left unanswered, Y/n felt hopeless. She couldn't bear to stay in King's Landing anymore now that Jaime was back, but where was she to go if she couldn't return home?

One night, Y/n was getting ready for bed, dressed in her nightgown and undoing the braids in her hair so that it could be brushed. Her mind was far away until she heard the familiar sound of the secret entrance attached to her chambers being opened. Startled, she quickly turns away from her mirror and watched as Jaime climbed out of the hidden passage as if no time had passed between them. Freshly cleaned and shaven, Jaime looked as though he never left the Red Keep, apart from the cut hair and golden hand he now sported on his right arm. Instead of his armor, Jaime wore a white undershirt and pants, as if ready for bed. When he looked around, his eyes found Y/n's, and the two of them kept that gaze locked in silence, daring the other to move first.

After some time, Jaime sighed in surrender, looking away to close the secret door behind him. He had half expected the entrance to be sealed since it appeared as though Y/n was avoiding him, but he knew he needed to try and see her. He needed to know if she was avoiding him because of his new appearance, or if... she simply no longer loved him.

Turning back to her, Jaime was shocked to find Y/n standing up to greet him, only, she decided to skip the formalities and get right to the source of her anger, "Is it true? Is Joffrey yours? Are all three of them yours?"

The bombarding questions stunned Jaime, like lightning hitting him head-on. He couldn't move a muscle, horrified eyes scanning hers until the guilt and shame took over. Jaime swallowed down the bile coming up his throat before whispering, "... Yes."

Y/n was quick to react as she stumbled back to lean against her vanity for support, the mirror behind her catching the guilt of Jaime's reflection, watching her every movement, "You lied to me."

He found himself moving again, a hand out to her as he stepped forward, but she flinched. Jaime immediately froze in his steps, hurt shadowing his face as he slowly lowered his hand, his voice cracking under the weight of his sins and sorrows, "I'm so sorry. Cersei found out about us -years ago- and I begged her to spare you in exchange for... in exchange for me..."

Y/n didn't dare buy that until she knew everything. The whole truth and nothing but the truth, "How? How could she have known? We were so careful at the beginning, not even Lord Varys could've known."

Jaime blinked as he tried to find words to calm her worries, but in truth, he didn't even think to try and find out how Cersei figured him out, even after all these years, "I'm not sure. Maybe she just... knew. I am her twin after all."

Watching as Y/n turned her back to him, watching her reflection crumble in the mirror, Jaime felt his heart clench in agony as she demanded more answers, "How many times?"

"Just those three times the children were conceived. Cersei always planned it around the times Robert would come to her marriage bed. That's all, I swear."

The last few words struck a nerve, Jaime could tell by watching her shoulders tighten, as well as her voice, "You lied to me... for years. You let this continue... for years, without ever telling me the truth, even when you had plenty of opportunities to do so! And yet you can stand there and suddenly swear to me as if I can still trust your word? After everything has been a lie?"

Jaime's legs moved before his mind could, closing the distance and grabbing her shoulder with his one good hand. Y/n let out a small gasp of surprise but didn't dare scream in fear of someone bursting into her chambers. Her eyes wildly watched Jaime with worry, fearfully waiting for him to do something, but Jaime just stood before her, frantically searching for something in her eyes. Whatever he was looking for, he found it, and spoke ever so gently, his breath ghosting her lips in their confined space, "Everything I have done... every sin, every vow... every time Cersei took me into her bed, I did it all to protect you."

"And what would you have me do?" The smile she bore was thin and unhinged. Neither genuine nor kind as she glared up at him, "Thank you? Forgive you?"

"No. No, I know I can never ask that of you. I just thought... you deserved to know why I did it. Cersei would have killed you if I refused her."

"So you just never bothered telling me?"

Jaime raised his other hand to grab her other shoulder, only to let a deep ache in his limb remind him that he didn't have a right hand anymore. Jaime stared down at the offending golden hand, a thought festering in the back of his mind. For the first time since he had returned home, he realized that he would no longer get to hold Y/n with both hands, to run all of his fingers all throughout her skin and through her hair as he kissed her breathlessly. Y/n followed his gaze to also stare at his fake hand but made no move to acknowledge it as he finally found his words, "I was scared of losing you. It was selfish of me. I know that now. You had every right to know, this entire time. You had the right to choose whether or not you'd like to stay with me after what I did. I knew, deep down, either way, I'd lose you. So I kept quiet. I'm sorry."

"I suppose I can't blame you," she spoke bitterly, staring back up at Jaime through her eyelashes, "Why have one woman when you can have two?"

The accusation stung, and Jaime knew he deserved it. All the same, he was still a selfish man and he could not let his lover think this way a second longer. His hand rose to her face, caressing the skin of her jaw as he whispered, "I don't love her, Y/n. I never have. Every time she summoned me to her chambers... I obeyed because I was willing to do anything if it meant protecting you."

Y/n relents for a while before finally letting down her disgust and anger, leaning against the touch of his hand that she hasn't felt in a year. Her eyes were sad, distant as they bore a hole into his shirt, "Do you intend on seeing her again?"

Jaime's head lowers in shame, softly speaking under his breath, "I don't want you to die, Y/n."

Y/n rolls her lips, looking away as she rapidly blinks to hold back tears. She found it difficult to smile, despite trying, "Then perhaps it is better for everyone if I leave. Cersei can't hurt me if I wasn't here, and she will never be able to torment you again."

"I... I don't want that either."

"Then what do you want, Ser Jaime?"

He said it with confidence as if it was the easiest thing in the world to say, "I want to marry you."

She smiled, entertaining his dream before crushing it, "You can't, my love... you made a vow as a Kingsguard."

"I already broke those vows."

Y/n's hands reach up to rest against his chest, her fingers tapping lightly against his heart, "Technically your vows state that you cannot hold any lands or wife or father any sons. You didn't break any of those vows when you were with me."

"... But I broke those vows when I killed a King and fathered a Queen's children."

Her eyes meet up with his, "Then I suppose you're no longer a Kingsguard in the eyes of the gods."

"No... I suppose not," an idea struck him in full force, the whole revelation dawning as clear as day on his face. Y/n watched the whole thing unfold with curiosity as he spoke, smiling like an excited child, "There's another way... If you'll have me."

~~~

The very next morning, Jaime stood in front of the Hand of the King, his father, with a proposition and the confidence of a lion, "In the eyes of the gods, I was no longer a Kingsguard the moment I struck down the Mad King. And now that I can't fight with my sword hand, I am no longer of any use as a knight. My place isn't in King's Landing anymore... my place is in Casterly Rock."

Despite the stoic expression on his face, Tywin could not help the slight incline of his head, giving away his contained interest. Jaime smiled on the inside, knowing he had his father trapped with his bait, "Have Joffrey dismiss me and I will be your son and heir... under one condition."

"Name it."

"Arrange a marriage for me. Wed Lady Y/n to me."

A few moments pass before Tywin leans back in his seat and straightens his posture, overshadowing his son even when one sat and the other stood, "Why her?"

"House Arryn has been strangers to our house as of late. Jon Arryn is gone, Lysa Arryn is unwell, and her sickly son is heir to the Eyrie. Any strong relationship we could possibly have with them now lies with Y/n," those were the words his lover had him recite nearly all night long. Despite how much she loved him, even Y/n knew that he wasn't the smartest Lannister. Years from now, Jaime would recite this tale to his brother, and Tyrion will laugh with pride. Y/n may be a quiet individual, but she always had a way with words that always magnetized Jaime to her. With her advice, Jaime found the right words to reel his father into his proposal. But now, he spoke with his heart, "I've known her for years. She's been a friend of our family ever since she became Cersei's lady-in-waiting. She shares our desire to strengthen the family name and she's learned about Casterly Rock from listening to Cersei."

Approval is one of the very few emotions Tywin cared to possess, but he only bore it through his eyes. However, despite his inner excitement, he was no fool either, "And why should I agree to this proposition?"

"Because if you don't... I will tell everyone the truth."

"The truth?"

It was Jaime's turn to tilt his head as if fascinated by this questioning, "You don't know, do you? You never believed it. How is that possible?" Watching his father keep a hard gaze, unflinching, Jaime's eyes visibly show the realization, "What am I saying, of course, it's possible! How can someone so consumed by the idea of his family have any conception of what his actual family was doing? We were right there in front of you and you didn't see us. One look in the past twenty years, one real look at your own children and you would've known."

"Known what?" Tywin mutters, although keeps his expression neutral.

Jaime couldn't help the smirk on his face as he splashed his father with the cold, hard truth, "Everything they say is true about Cersei and me. Your legacy is a lie... until the day Y/n and I have children, of course."

Tywin's fists tighten around the arms of his chair but otherwise say nothing. Beaming with confidence, Jaime finally sat down across from him, as equals, "Our first son will be named after your father. And our first daughter..." Jaime conjures a sobering expression, carefully watching his father's eyes, "Will be named after Mother."

Another tilt of the old lion's head told Jaime he had him intrigued. Mentioning his mother always worked with his father, after all. Tywin let out a long breath through his nose but doesn't visibly admit his defeat otherwise. He grits out the terms and conditions through his teeth, "Just so we are clear... you will revoke your rights and vows as a Kingsguard. You will take back my name and bear my father's house colors. You will take Lady Y/n Arryn as your wife and father for each and every one of her children, squandering any disgusting rumors that have spread about you and your sister."

Jaime entertains his father with a rise of his eyebrows, "Of course."

"You will become Lord of Casterly Rock after my passing and your firstborn son will be named your heir, as will your second son should anything happen to the first, and so on and so forth. Any daughters you have will be given to properly matched suitors so that the Lannister legacy also lives on through other houses."

Jaime's good hand tightens, inwardly disgusted by his father already trying to sell off any granddaughter he might have when they don't even exist. He speaks with a tight voice in response, "Y/n and I will find suitable men for our daughters. Men who will care for them as needed and love whatever children our daughters give them."

"Your first son will be named Tytos II and your first daughter will be named Joanna II."

"Yes, yes," Jaime agrees while standing up, but makes sure to look Tywin in the eye with a small smile and the last laugh, "And our second son will be named Tyrion II."

~~~

Tywin kept his word -begrudgingly- and convinced Joffrey to release Jaime from his vows the very next day. Everyone at court was there as Joffrey stood in front of his throne and decided to throw in a few mocking comments about Jaime's incompetent hand while he was at it, but Jaime took the insults in stride and bowed for good measure. It may have bothered him to hear the quiet laughter all around him, but at the moment, he didn't care. He got what he wanted out of the laughing stock. Once Joffrey dismissed him, Tywin named Jaime his heir and then announced the union between Lord Jaime Lannister and Lady Y/n Arryn. Small surprised gasps filled the throne room, but otherwise, it was a moment of celebration. Y/n had crossed the room to stand beside Jaime when she was announced and even bowed before the King and his Hand in gratitude.

To say Cersei was enraged was an understatement. She tried breaking into her former lady-in-waiting's chambers, only to find a couple of guards posted in front of Y/n's room. Cersei then tried to summon Jaime to her, only to find Tywin at her door moments later. Her father forbade her from interacting with her brother and his betrothed until they left for Casterly Rock and then proceeded to demand she marry Loras Tyrell sooner than later so that these disgusting rumors could be left behind them. She had gone strangely mute and compliant after that, only speaking when spoken to and pouting as if she was a punished child. But Lord Tywin was no fool. If Cersei ever obeyed him, it usually meant she was plotting behind everyone's back. The Hand of the King planned Jaime's wedding to take place in the Sept, but then made no plans to throw a feast or following party. A simple wedding with no room for error... or poisoned wine.

Jaime and Y/n were married within a fortnight, exchanging new vows between each other and sealing those vows with a kiss for all in attendance to see. When they regrettably parted and turned to face their guests, Y/n held Jaime's golden hand while waving to the crowd and a part of Jaime felt reassured by that smallest gesture, despite not being able to feel her hand in his. Tywin didn't hesitate to send them both on their way to Casterly Rock, barely waiting for them to pack and leave that very same day. Jaime didn't speak a word against it, knowing how paranoid his father had become now that his grandchildren weren't legitimate and his legacy was in shambles. Lord Tywin would do anything for the family, even if it meant saving it from a jealous queen.

For a wedding gift, Tyrion Lannister gave his brother and his new sister-in-law a large, extravagant wagon to travel in on their way to the Westerlands. Within the wagon were red and gold cloths nearly lining up all the walls and floor, even the curtains. Underneath a seat was a secret, dry compartment filled with many expensive wine bottles, and in one corner lay a pile of pillows, cushions, and blankets. The Imp winked at his brother when watching Jaime's reaction, "You have a long journey ahead of you. I wanted you and your bride to be... comfortable. After all, we can't have you wait to consummate your marriage until you make it Casterly Rock, now can we?"

Despite the crude joke, Jaime laughed and hugged his little brother, partially sad because he was going to miss him. Tyrion held onto Jaime for a long time and then kissed Y/n's hand, "Until next time... Lady Lannister."

Y/n positively beamed under her new title. With short goodbyes to the rest of the farewell party, Jaime and Y/n leave in their new wagon with several of Tywin's best personal guards riding on horses alongside them. Once King's Landing fully disappeared behind them, Jaime opened the first bottle of wine and poured out two glasses. The newlyweds drank quietly, just enjoying each other's company, the worst being far behind them. After a time, Jaime stood at his full height, the ceiling of the wagon being large enough to do so, and held out his good hand to Y/n, "Might I have a dance, my lady?"

"You may, my lord," she took his hand and stood up with a wide, fond smile. As they stumbled and danced inside the moving carriage, neither said a word apart from laughing if they lurched forward when the wagon hit a bump or they tripped over one another's foot. With Jaime holding Y/n's hand with his good one and pulling her body tight to him with his golden one, he had felt more at peace than he ever did before he killed the Mad King. However, he starts to feel the loss of his limb again when he couldn't feel the warmth of Y/n's back against his missing fingers and palm, and earlier at their wedding, when he couldn't feel her hand in his.

"I want to hold you..." He found himself whispering in her ear.

She laughs under her breath, not grasping the distress in his voice quite yet as she leaned her head against his chest, "You are holding me."

"No, I-- I want to be able to hold you with both hands. That's all I ever wanted."

Y/n pulled her head away to stare up at her husband, recognizing the shame and humiliation shadowing his usual proud and golden features. His eyes tried to look away, but she raised her hand to cup his cheek gently, forcing him to keep their gaze locked. After a moment, Y/n smiled, "We can make that hand good for other things, Jaime."

"Like what?"

A twinkle in her eye causes Jaime's entire body to stiffen, his eyes carefully watching the way her lips moved as she smirked, "Like... how about I take that golden hand of yours and you watch me get myself off with it."

Despite his appearance, Jaime is old enough to be the father of a teenage king, and at this moment he felt his age catch up to him with how fast his heart was beating. He damn near thought he was going to have a heart attack and whatever showed on his face brought his new wife to laugh at him in his last moments. The sound alone could've brought Jaime to his knees if he wasn't holding Y/n for support. After her laughter died down, she lifted her hand to cup the back of his neck and pulled him down, greedily kissing him like he was the very oxygen she needed to breathe. Jaime's brain finally caught up with him and he kissed her back with equally fervent heat, taking his good hand to gently hold her face. With his eyes closed, he could feel his wife's hand wandering, leaving trails of burning need in her wake. Eventually, her fingers meet at the clasp of Jaime's gold hand and stay there, waiting.

Jaime opened his eyes to meet hers, finally realizing what she was doing. For a moment, he looked as though he wanted to refuse, to step away from Y/n and exclaim that she deserved someone who could love her with both hands. Someone who could protect her with both hands, someone... who could hold any future children with both hands. Jaime wanted that for her, more than anything, but with the way she was looking up at him through half-lidded eyes, lashes kissing her skin when she slowly blinked, Jaime couldn't resist. He forces down all the negativity in his head and nods to her.

Y/n swiftly tilts up to kiss his mouth with reassurance before looking back down at her hands, carefully taking off the prosthetic hand. After some fiddling, the hand slides off and Y/n takes it, using both hands to hold it. Jaime watches with slight amazement, taking a moment to notice how large the prosthetic looked compared to Y/n's own. Horses outside trotting alongside the wagon draw Jaime back to reality, looking back up to inspect his wife's face. Her face was flushed and her breaths were irregular as she reached out to gently push Jaime back towards the pile of quilts and cushions.

"Lie back, husband," chills ran down Jaime's back from the way Y/n's voice lowered, "And watch me."

Jaime obeyed, only watching her facial features as she lay down beside him, her skirts lifted as she used the gold hand to circle and rub her clit. He watched her lips as soft moans and sighs left them, the way her eyes struggled to stay open when she hit a certain spot. He watched her chest rising and falling as she neared completion, her beautiful sounds rising in volume with her whole body beginning to shake in anticipation. When the last moan she released sounded like his name, Jaime felt his loss of control drain from his body. Without a care in the world, he grabbed his gold hand from her and tossed it aside, ravishing his wife's lips with his own as his one hand hurried to untie his breeches and prep his erection to full mass. He had forgotten why he felt ashamed in the first place as he slowly, finally, entered her, with her fingers finding perch in his hair, gasping up at the ceiling of the wagon. Y/n shamelessly moaned his name, begging him for more in between gasps and confessions.

Now, for the first time, in all the years they've loved one another, there was no need to keep that love quiet.

For hands of gold are always cold But a woman’s hands are warm

~~~

A/N: Wow, I... I really strayed off the path, didn’t I? The actual request didn’t even come in until the last part... I gotta stop doing that.

Comment, like, and reblog!

#jaime lannister imagine #jaime lannister x reader #jaime lannister #jaime lannister fic #got #got imagine #got imagines #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones imagines #asoiaf #asoiaf imagine #a song of ice and fire

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catofoldstones · 3 days

Note

The thing about arya fans' argument that arya comes before sansa in the line of succession because robb disinherited her because of her forced marriage is the underlying misogyny and victim blaming of it, and their assumption that grrm thinks the same. We don't have jon [you know the actual person robb chose over sansa, and i think its time we start talking that the will specifically was about sansa and jon and that shit means something narratively] asserting that winterfell belongs to sansa despite everything and him not falling to the bait of stannis calling her a lannister, to just assume that according to grrm what robb did was OK. If people actually think grrm wants to show robb was right and girls truly are not important and thus his disinheritance of his sister's rights will be upheld, then they need their heads checked. Its not like he showed us that jaehaerys's sexism was what led to death of the dragons and downfall of targaryens even though grrm considers him a good ruler. Ultimately, catelyn will be validated when brienne saves either sansa or arya with oathkeeper and sansa will become lady of winterfell/qitn DESPITE robb's will. He [and arya fans] can suck it.

Hi soulmate anon,

Before we start, I have to let you know that one our previous posts was screenshotted and circulated in the arya stans circles because “we’re spreading our agenda on a neutral public platform” or something along those lines. Idk if you’ve seen that or not but I had to let you know before we go off kicking another hornet’s nest lol.

Anyway, that out of the way, to the Arya stans who are so hellbent upon removing Sansa from the Stark succession, Robb declared Jon as his heir, pushing Sansa further down the line (not disinheriting her jesus fuck) because through her Tyrion may lay claim to Winterfell, landing it in the hands of the Lannisters, exactly what Robb and Cat are trying to prevent. Robb didn’t “disinherit” Arya because he thought she was dead. Hope that helps.

WAIT!

the will being specifically about Jon and Sansa and that we need to start thinking about that narratively

SCREAM

Okay, I have now moved on (I have not). Though please feel free to talk about this more, I wanna know more. Guess I’ll now have to add jonsa tag to this answer hehe :P

I mean Robb did come from a place of “authority over the female members of his family” here with the will and that’s exactly the kind of thing we have to side eye. Taking it at face value and uncritically thinking about it is not a fair way to engage with the text I feel. You’re right when Jon himself reiterates Sansa’s claim over Winterfell, we are supposed to think twice whether Robb’s action was equitable or not. Stannis calls Sansa “Lady Lannister” to coax Jon into staking a claim over Winterfell so that Stannis gets a good reason to march to Winterfell and attack the Boltons (which he will anyway, but Jon’s, a member of the Stark family, support would mean political backing and reason). If we fall in the trap that Stannis thinks Sansa is now a Lannister, and therefore she is now a Lannister with no claim to Winterfell, then we’ve lost the plot and are coming from the same misogynistic hypocrisy (he wants Shireen on the throne if he dies but calls Sansa a Lannister, how does that work old man?) that destroys Westeros (your Jaehaerys example). And are no different from a crusty medieval era middle aged man btw.

It’s so fucking funny when the readers start emulating the same sexism that the author wants them to critique, and then start calling themselves feminists because they’re supporting a woman’s rights! Which woman’s rights besties? Because the one that clearly has them, you’re actively against her staking her claim. Wait till they read the books with their eyes open and realise that Arya comes at the end of the heirs to winterfell list, despite Sansa getting “disinherited” lmao. And I love Robb, he’s just a boy trying to do his best, but he truly made mistakes, especially with not listening to Catelyn. We also cannot deny the undercurrent of misogyny and chauvinism that Robb demonstrated with the will. Re Sansa’s rights and Jon’s decision to be with the Nights Watch. I will patiently wait for Catelyn to be validated and Sansa to be the Lady/QiTN not only because that subverts reader’s expectations and Westerosi patriarchal standards but because I want to see Sansa antis have a grand old meltdown.

#soulmate anon #asoiaf #anti arya stans #pro sansa stark #sansa stark #jon snow #robb stark #jonsa #anon your mind #anon asks t #long post don’t look

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rise-my-angel · 2 years

Text

A Poisonous Truth (Part Two)

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Female Reader x Ellaria Sand

Length: 23.5k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, smut, oral (f recieving), p in v, m/f/f, graphic descriptions of violence, mentions of past assault/rape, canon character death, canon divergence, sex work/prostitution

Note: Follows more book canon than it does show canon, if you can spot every reference or easter egg you get a free smooch, final part to A Poisonous Truth (Part One)

Quiet and calm are not the right words to use when describing the capitol. King’s Landing is a city filled with life and noise at every corner. From the slums of flea bottom to the shining Red Keep there was hardly a moment one could have to themselves. Yet somehow, the noise had slowly started to disappear. From horrified whispers of a murdered King, it slowed and simmered down to a quick shush as a trial for the accused approached.

The intrigue of the young Joffery falling where he stood from a poison snuck into his drink sent talk all over the streets, giving the poor and curious something to solve, soon gave way to an almost quiet fascination as the accused was named.

Tyrion Lannister, a man known just as much for his mind and prowess, as he was known for the anger and humiliation thrown onto him from his own family. Locked away in the cells as his own family conjured up ways to outwit him, if not in evidence, than simply in numbers against him. The more who spoke against him, the harder it was for the truth to be heard. The truth though, wasn’t what the presiding judge was looking for. The truth was never the goal Tywin Lannister was working towards.

In that strange silence, you found yourself looking behind you once too often. You couldn’t be sure if it was the feeling of being watched, or if it was just your own growing paranoia of being found out. Eyes could be on you everywhere, and it was only a matter of time until someone made the plunge to act on it. Whatever Lord Baelish had planned for you seemed to not matter anymore, or at least not from what you could tell. He leaves the city right after the murder of the king, and soon after that Sansa Stark also disappears? How these events connected you weren’t sure, but you had a feeling you were being kept here until it was time for you to be put to use, rather than just abandoned in the city to fend for yourself.

You weren’t though, not yet at least. Oberyn Martell and his paramour Ellaria Sand served as the only things keeping you grounded, two people who cared about your own well being for the time they spent there. Somehow they carved a way into your heart, filling you with a comforting warmth you’d hardly ever known, but carving that hole means that when they leave, you will be left open and wounded. You wanted to separate your anxieties from your feelings about them, but it hung in the air whenever you were alone. More than one morning you spent alone in the streets before most other people woke up, hoping you could get it all out before returning to the couple and just enjoying your time with them.

If both of them noticed it, Oberyn seemed to be the one it bothered the most. Already up before you this morning, he watched you from his perch near a small table, guiding you over before getting the chance to get ready for the day. He was tempting, his dark brown eyes shone so bright as took you in, not greedily, but almost akin to admiring. Placing your hands on the back of a chair, you raised your eyebrows at him, “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you up so early, if you don’t mind me saying.”

He smiled as he tugs the chair close to his own, watching you move around to join him. “Maybe I wouldn’t be awake so early, if I weren’t busy watching you sneak out every morning before the suns even up.” Casually tossing a berry into his mouth, not an accusation, but something he wanted an explanation for. “The past few mornings, you sneak out thinking no one’s noticed with that solemn, unnerved look on your face.”

Your face falls, eyes closing shut as you take a deep breathe, some of the tension leaving with your exhale. “It’s hard to shake. This...feeling that people are watching me, not knowing who knows or doesn’t and what they want to do with that information. It’s scary.”

Oberyn leans in just slightly, your bodies close enough that his gentle almost whisper can be felt on your skin. “Which part scares you, being watched or not knowing what they want?” Your head shakes. Really, it’s neither.

What’s scary is the after, after someone finds a use for you. How much worse will it be? “What scares me is not knowing which fate is worse. What will happen to me when Baelish, Tywin, one of the people here decides I’m useful to them, or if nothing could be worse than what I’ve already ran from.”

Oberyn’s large hand cups the side of your face, as your own hand flies up to cover his with no hesitation. You could feel the slight stroke of his thumb against your skin, so you moved to lean into his hand more, your hold going from covering his, to gently gripping his wrist, willing him to not go anywhere. “I don’t- how much do you actually know about me? From...before..”

There was a flash of concern, almost bordering on anger in his eyes, before the itensity was blinked away. “I know they mistreated you. Beat you.” Your own eyes widen in surprise, “at least I know your brother did. It’s rare though, for a boy to be that cruel without learning it from his father. I also know that most people described you as quiet but seemed frightened of something. Fair to assume those things are in the same.”

Your grip slipped down onto the table with a thud, Oberyn though only slinked his hand back to rake it through your hair gently. “How could you have known that? No one knows tha-”

His interruption was the same feeling as being thrown into a vat of ice cold water. A chill ran down your spine and buzzed all the way into your fingertips. “The same way I recognized you just weeks ago. I’ve seen you before. Years ago though, you were visiting Dorne,”

Eyes flickering back and forth as you scoured your mind for his image, but nothing came up. You surely would have remembered meeting the man known as The Red Viper during your teenage years. “But, I never saw- you weren’t,”

A soft, almost sad smile formed on his face, as he moved his hand away from you to gather a small bundle of berries onto a plate and sliding it over to you. “I don’t expect you would have. It was your last day, your people getting ready to make the journey home. I’ve always made a point to visit my brother often. Coming to Sunspear is difficult for him now, so I arrived at the Water Gardens just in time to see you.” His gaze turning downward, brows furrowed as the gentle features of his face tightened and clenched. “You were with your brother. Right in your face he was practically spitting on you. You barley saying a word as he tugged your coat right off your shoulders,”

Finally he found your eyes again, face contorted into barley masked anger but his eyes swam with a sadness. “You were covered in bruises. My nephews even commented how warmly you were dressed the entire time, but that was why. Your chest, up and down your arms were marks and bruises. I would have stepped in, but your Uncle showed up and all but threw him out into the courtyard. Doran told me he suspiciously kept you by his side, but the way you clung to him when he showed up?” Oberyns hand picked up the one still flat on the table, flipping it up so his fingers could trace the lines in your palm. “He purposely kept you around him so the others in your family couldn’t hurt you.”

Tears built up in your eyes, threatening to fall at any moment, so Oberyn joined his other hand to keep yours engulfed in his large warm ones, holding just as tight as his gaze on your eyes was. It had almost been long enough that you forgot. The North was cold, it let you hide every mark on you without any question, but that visit to Dorne was warm. The sun beaming onto you in a way that you never got to experience, it upset you that you had to continue wearing the same heavy long clothing just to cover for the actions of your family. Of your father and brother mostly. For the most part, your mother ignored you. Allowing the men of the house to punish you for crimes unknown. “That’s why you knew who I was?”

Oberyn nodded, his chin raising as squinting eyes watch behind you, no doubt looking at the awakening Ellaria, as the sounds of shuffling sheets filled the silence in between. “You were young then, but not much has changed.”

Patter of feet preceded arms slinking across your chest, long black curls falling into your vision. “Not quite the same I imagine, now you are older, much more beautiful.” Her lips giving a teasing bite to your ear before finding her own seat, Oberyn sneaking a kiss as she passed him by. “He mentioned you,” head nodded to the side, “him and Doran, after word of your passing floated down. You two talked for quite a while afterwards, didn’t you?”

He nodded in agreement. “Doran was suspicious, they said you simply fell ill and passed quickly but,” taking a breathe, and exhaling the remaining hostile memories, “You don’t see a girl with bruises like that and expect us to accept that you died naturally. We both knew you had either somehow run, or we were being lied to about how it happened. Seeing you that day, I was relieved to find out it was the former.”

Steel eyes sat harsh on a spot of nothing in front of you, memories replaying in your mind as you could feel the blood boil in your body. “Not for a lack of trying.”

You knew Oberyn wanted more, but it was too early. You couldn’t handle this right now. Ellaria might try to pry something from you later, but Oberyn needed to focus. A lucrative position on the small council, and a trial approaching rapidly should take up his attention. So you change the subject. Telling Ellaria of a strip of market you could take her to. Allowing yourself to loosen up at the playful grins and warm wandering eyes she generously gives, and trying to will Oberyn not to do this right now.

You knew something was brewing, but you didn’t know what or when it would heat too far so just maybe you wanted to pretend. Act as if there was no issue. Oberyn was the more intense of the pair, he would get out of you what he intended to in time, but for now, you watched him relax like you. Enjoying the peace before a day, that for him, was another cog in his future. Just gathering pieces for a machine that, to you, was yet unknown.

For a while, that peace did come. The sun bearing down over the city, still somewhat clouded by the darker cramped streets, but there did seem to be more life then in the days past. Ellaria standing tall and beautiful by your side, her arm linked with yours as you passed through the streets, her making comments about where certain vendors got their products and how egregious their selling point was. “How are you so comfortable wherever you go? You always seem to just be at ease.”

Her smile lit up her face as she tugged your body in closer to hers. “Most people are the same no matter where you go. Of course the further north you go, the more rigid and strict the Lords and highborns get, but I’ve always found the normal people to be the same. People who have no stake in the bigger picture, so they all just want to enjoy life.”

Her hair tickling the side of your face as she leans to the side more, muttering into your ear much quieter, “Besides, I really couldn’t care less about what people in power think of me. I enjoy my life, how many of them can say the same?”

It was a wish you had yourself, to look at your life and say you are happy with how it’s turned out but that was not what the Gods had in store for you. Born on fire, and now you lay trapped in a city determined to make you burn from it. “I know the feeling.” Ellaria turned to look at you but your eyes trained forward, “The last time I felt anywhere near happy was just after I left. On my own, travelling in cold woods and staying hidden, but it was just me. Anything that happened to me, was now on me. No one else. Regardless of what led me there.”

Jolting back you see Ellaria stopped, her gentle hands cradling the sides of your face, “And how about right this moment?”

Oh she had set a trap and you were willingly about to step right on it. It was hard to deny her, like she radiated temptation, but one that felt like the only temptation she was offering was relief, so you took her bait. “I’m sure I could find a way to make it better.”

Leaning in to meet her lips, you could feel a smile on her fighting against her movement. Tender lips caressing yours, only to lean in for more as you pull away. A playful glare directed towards you as you smirk, tugging her back to link arm in arm and continue your path. A few more stares than beforehand only this time you could count on them meaning nothing to smallfolk. A beautiful foreigner kissing a common whore in the streets, not exactly gossip to chew on.

No, the only watchful eye this time was from an approaching figure. Tall with a shaved head, studious eyes taking in everything as if they all spoke some kind of secret. A whisper more accurately, a man with such mystique only he could hold such a title.

Ellaria smiled brightly at him as he found himself in front of you, both of you giving small versions of a curtsy, more of a slight bend down though, neither of you rather bothered with perfect formality. You weren’t sure if who you played as should know him, but the role meant nothing. If Lord Baelish knew who you were, then Lord Varys certainly isn’t fooled. So you settled, “My Lord.”

The slithery voice was unlike how Baelish’s was. With the later, it was one drenched in slime and mistrust. Lord Varys was more smooth, like every word was spoken carefully with distinct meaning. He nodded to you first, “My Lady,” before turning to Ellaria. “And of course you must be-”

“Ellaria Sand. If I’m not mistaken, you must be Lord Varys.”

Seemingly humble, he brushes it off. “Please, just Varys. I’m not actually Lord of any House.”

Ellaria herself had a gaze that seemed to match his own, watching like a raven as she puts whatever pieces of information she’s gathered together. “I’m also no Lady, and yet we call each other as such anyways.” Vary’s eyes seemed to raise just slightly, impressed or surprised it was difficult to read. He was a hard man to read, no doubt an image carefully carved out intentionally.

Curious eyes on hers as well, “Yes. We do. So wonderful to meet you, Prince Oberyn has spoken very highly of you, and I can see why.” Uniform but polite until suddenly Varys turns to your attention, calling you by the name you hide behind, as if you’ve ever met each other in the city. “If you wouldn’t mind, I was hoping we could have a word in private.”

Heart pounding while your body turned to stone, he has no reason to speak to who you are here. No, you know it’s her he wants to speak to. The one you hide. But you deflect, “Flattered my Lord, but I’m not quite sure my services are up to your kind of requirements.”

Just a smile. No, he wasn’t fooled one bit. “I assure you it will only take a moment, if that is alright with your companion here of course.”

Her grip on your arm tightened, looking at you for doubt, a reason to pull you away from this uncertainty. It was like a cord winding your heart watching Ellaria look to you for any distress, but Lord Varys was smarter then a simple ambush. No, whatever games he played were long and twisted with many others. Blinking slowly at her, your face relaxing just slightly, and she understood. “Of course. Take your time, we are in no rush.”

Despite the raging fire inside you, losing her touch felt cold and empty. Moving to stand beside him you turned to Ellaria once more, “Please, continue on without me. I know where to find you anyways.” Her doubtful face only had to agree. Between your secrets and Oberyns inner turmoil in this city, you wanted her to at least enjoy herself. To keep her Oberyn as far away from your danger as possible, leave them unscathed.

So you parted ways, Ellaria taking her time to look upon the stalls of the street as you know she was watching you walk away. Lord Varys leading you to a nicer part of the streets, in view doors leading to small but much cleaner and well kept buildings than what you’re used too in the city. “I hope you’ll forgive the sudden invitation. The current state of affairs keeps me quite busy I’m afraid. Very little time to attend to other matters.”

Lord Varys gestured for you to climb the steps up a quiet and modest looking building. “I can only imagine.” The inside was a tinge of dark, shutters kept closed only allowing a bit of light to trickle in from the cracks. Fabric, wool, needles lay about on shelves and machines with a small section cleared with two seats. It appeared to be a tailor of sorts, but the people long gone and little sign of life.

You found a spot in the middle of the main room, limbs tingling from the tension coursing through you while Lord Varys gestured for you to have a seat. His back turned as he seemed to grab something you couldn’t see, “Normally meetings aren’t in such dingy quarters, but inviting you all the way to the Red Keep didn’t seem like the place to help make you feel comfortable to talk.”

As he spoke you slowly begun to sit, posture rigid and afraid to make any sudden movements too quick or too loud. Forcing a tight smile on your lips, “Just never had the opportunity is all.”

He continued to stand, his face as impassive as ever. “I didn’t think you would have. A dangerous place for someone hiding away to venture over too. With as many Lords visiting the city as there are, you wouldn’t want to take any chances of being recognized by the wrong person.”

Finally he moved to sit across from you, but you remained like a statue. “I’m not sure why you’d think that my Lord. I’m just a common-”

Interrupting you with words freezing your entire body over. “The face of a dead highborn lady walking about the Red Keep is sure to gather attention by at least some. And the walls have ears, and it travels fast.” Your hands laying in your lap curled into themselves, digging nails into the skin of your palm with a sharp sting. Head shaking in denial, Lord Varys only tilted his head slightly. “There’s no need to play coy, my Lady. You can be assured whatever Lord Baelish knows, always crawls it’s way back to me.”

Air constricted in your lungs, twisting them until there were only scraps remaining. You could keep lying, you could run, anything to escape this but there was nothing you could do. He knew and if you didn’t play along what would he do to you then? So you sat. Inwardly preying to the Old Gods, hoping they could hear you all the way here.

“Presuming you have no idea what he wanted you for, it must be quite nerve wracking to be plopped into one if his brothels and left to fend for yourself. Having to fake your way through the days as you wait to see what it is he intends to use you for.”

Eyes flickering down and skating back and forth between meaningless spots on the wooden surface. Each warm and comforting moment between you and the Dornish couple you’ve grown so attached to slips away from your fingertips. The bubble you’ve created ready to burst and leaving you feeling stupid for ever getting lost in a fantasy too good for you. “If I’m supposed to be dead,” finally looking up to meet him in the eye. “What could he possibly want with me? What do you want with me?”

There was a silence, Lord Varys simply watching you with his ever running mind trying to figure you out. “Lord Baelish and Lord Tywin have similar goals in mind, though for very different reasons. To them, the strongest way to secure an ally, is marriage. Lord Tywin no doubt looking for ways to strength his delicate hold on the North, and Lord Baelish ensuring a partnership by offering a bride as leverage.” You knew where this was headed, and your body shook in retaliation. There was only one option that would be of any significance. “Whoever produces the still living daughter of House Slate gets the upper hand, holds more influence over them. House Bolton may be in charge of the North currently, but the more Houses they unify, the more allies rally behind the crown.”

Nails dug deeper, peeling the skin back as you pressed harder. Your body giving you only enough air to breathe out any words. “But Lord Bolton..I thought he..”

Lord Varys nodded casually, but there was a twinge of sympathy in his eyes. “Lord Roose Bolton did marry yes, one of the trade offs to get the Frey’s willing to help betray Robb Stark. But if the whispers I’ve been told come to pass, his son, Ramsey, will be in need of a highborn wife to produce him an heir should his father choose to legitimize his birth right.”

It was cold, the fire burned inside of you but everything felt cold. You shook and felt it take all life and faith out of you. You never met Ramsey Snow, but you knew of him. The things he’s done, the kind of horror he really is. Death would be better than anything a lifetime of marriage to Ramsey could give you. Minutes passed, maybe hours, the world felt like it was taken right under your feet. This was why you were here. Little Finger gets you in his clutches, then hides you away until Ramsey is declared a Bolton, then sold off to him in the name of strengthening the North. A North only made as such now under the cruelty of a Lannister.

“I on the other hand, see very little benefit in that arrangement. All this time hiding, only to be thrown into a fate worse than the one you ran from. No, what I propose is much different. Something in the opposite direction of your former home.” Leaning back in his seat, the hint of pained sympathy seems to lighten to a much more scheming pleasantry. “I hear Dorne is rather lovely this time of year.”

Rather then give your cards away, you just challenged him. “What use could I possibly be for you in Dorne?”

A smile fell across Vary’s face, a small but knowing one that told you you were only going to get a tiny section of this story. Standing up, he slowly walked to grab something out of an ornate locked box nearby. “Things in the realm are changing, and when the tides turn, I don’t intend to stand by and just wait for the results to fall in my lap. Loyal allies are more important than the one with the biggest army, and you have already found an ally in Dorne haven’t you?”

Facing you but still standing further away, you tilted your head with a confused squint prompting him to elaborate. “Prince Oberyn spoke very fond of you. Not that he gave anything away, but enough that we both knew the other knows the truth. Whatever kind of relationship you’ve developed with him is enough he is willing and determined to protect you.”

Evening your breathing out, that much more comforting feeling once again pumped through your veins. “You want him to take me to Dorne? Why?” As your lungs puffed back out, the air circulated easier, letting your voice come out steady, firm but calm.

Stepping up to the table, Varys held something close, tucked under the drape of his robes. “When the time comes, Prince Doran will need to choose where his allegiances lie, and what lives beyond the Narrow Seas offers his Kingdom much more than the Houses of Westeros can provide.”

The Master of Games rather than Whispers, he was allocating his pieces right where he needs them and he knows how to win. But you only had one play, one card to throw onto the table that may get you some kind of an answer. “Does that thing involve three living dragons?” Varys appeared taken back just an inch. Eyes raising in curiosity. “Because history has proven that dragons mean very little to the Dornish people.”

His steps brought him slowly around the table closer to you. “As does the promise of Targaryean rule. The people of Dorne have a complicated history with most of the major rulers in Westeros, but there are different kinds of dragons, ones not currently tormenting the skies of Essos that could be of great help to them.”

Abruptly you stood, walking needlessly into the empty space trying to understand. Spinning to look at him you gave him an honest look. “You don’t need me for this. You’re talking about- this is bigger than me, I’m not any of these people what good would some rumoured dead Northern girl be? My family isn’t strong, I’m not a fighter, I’m not influential, I’m not some Targaryean dragon rider, you don’t need me for this.”

Vary’s eyes squinted slightly. Just slightly. Coming to stand in front of you, he holds a hand out asking for your own. He held yours in both of his, and just as he spoke, you felt something weighted and metal drop into your palm. “Prince Oberyn will have certain arrangements made by the time the trial is over. I have no doubt he will adamantly involve you in those plans, and I have no conflict of interest in letting that plan go smoothly.”

Pulling his hands away he looked you directly in the eyes, speaking a silent command. One you understood. Putting both your hands clasped together, the unknown object sat unseen in your palms in front of you. “What is it about me that does anything that you couldn’t do yourself? You want me in Dorne, why me? Why do you want me specifically? Why the interest in me at all?”

Now in your personal space, he lowers his voice, leaning down to keep the words to yourself. “We have more in common then you know, Lady Slate.” His voice almost in a pointed exaggerated tone at your real title, “Think on it. Think very carefully about what I’ve told you today. I’d hate to see your use go to waste at the hands of a cruel Bolton boy instead of a Prince.”

Then, he was gone. Leaving you alone in this empty space, head spinning and twirling until it forced your eyes shut just to steady. Inhaling and exhaling deeply for a matter of minutes. Finally you opened your cupped palms, tilted just enough hoping any watching eyes wouldn’t see what it was given to you.

A metal sigil. The very top of the circular metal with some kind of hook as if this were apart of something else at one point. The colours seemed somewhat faded but the image itself stood on it’s own regardless. A dragon, a black dragon with 3 heads against a paint that was just clean enough to recognize as blood red. This wasn’t- this wasn’t what it was supposed to be. Like someone took the Targaryean sigil but messed it up. Why did Lord Varys have something like this? More frustratingly, why did he give this to you? What did this have to do with any of this?

You snapped your head up, looking around to find no onlookers or watchful eyes. Quickly, you tugged the small metal into the fabric of your dress, hidden away from anyone but you. As you stepped out the door, the streets looked just as they always did. Not even a glance towards you as you stepped out onto the pathway.

Walking back to the brothel, you felt conflicted. Trying desperately to uncover the mysteries just presented to you, and the other, the quiet but angry little voice calling you stupid for even dreaming that you meant anything to Oberyn and Ellaria to bring you with them. Neither ever indicated any real desire to have you in their life beyond these few weeks, no one ever wanted that.

Still though, maybe you at least had a chance of leaving this city. That, you could live with. You’re unsure if you should mention this conversation to either of them. Ellaria wouldn’t push, but Oberyn would. If Varys was telling the truth, then Oberyn has more going on than telling you, but you couldn’t think about that. Let him do this trial, let him sit on the small council. Oberyn had bigger plans than bringing you to his home, and you weren’t going to be a distraction to that.

You didn’t leave the room the day of the trial. You couldn’t go anywhere near the Red Keep anyways, so it hardly mattered. You had been tense every since your conversation with Varys. Dragons in the east, allying with Dorne, and somehow you were supposed to be right in the middle of that. You weren’t sure what you were going to do if Oberyn left you behind. Previously you tried not to think about it but now you had a tangible nightmare awaiting you if you just waited your turn.

The fear and intimidating man that is Roose Bolton was the one you knew. Friends with your father but just as cruel as each other. Gods, if you could choose your horrible fate you’d probably just marry him, be demanded to provide him with an heir and be ignored. Marrying Ramsey was another fate entirely. No one who heard of him had to meet him to know if his reputation was true. Everyone said the same things, abuse, torture, a giddiness towards killing, and a forceful attitude towards whatever girl he could claim.

You would rather die on your own terms then that. Let Oberyn and Ellaria be your last memories. Shutting your eyes, you could almost feel their touch again. Hear the teasing laughter in their voice from last night, constantly poking and prodding at you every time you fell back into a performance.

Ellaria lay spread out on the sheets, her body out on display as she was pulled partially back into an equally undressed Oberyn. Her head thrown back in a moan only to stutter and shift into laughter when Oberyn would point out you were losing focus. Her cunt yours for the taking. Some moments you were drowning in her, addicted to her taste, needing to hear her sounds and hips squirm with each lick of her folds or caress to her clit.

Other times you fell back into being in bed with a man demanding you and another girl fuck for his pleasure. How all was expected was to show off dramatically, let them get off to the sight of over exaggerated movements and unnecessarily loud whines. Oberyn’s deep voice would ring in your ears, “Focus, little one. If you’re not enjoying yourself, neither is she. You’re not here to impress me, taste her and just do what feels right.”

Your mouth just an inch away from her, the brush of your hair tickled her inner thighs as you nodded, one of your hands splayed up to cover part of her stomach and hip, holding her down. Just as you leaned back into her, Ellaria’s breathy voice speaks up. “If he wanted a show, he could just step outside and toss a coin at the first pair of brainless girls that walk by.”

You had to rest your forehead on her mound, shaking her hips slightly as you silently laughed. Oberyn shifting down to pull her into his chest more, groping her chest with greed as Ellaria laughed herself. Fingertips from your other hand tap alongside her leg, “You did pay for a whore afterall, performing is supposed to be my skill.”

Whatever rebuttal she had at the tip of her tongue was lost when yours licked back into her. Her orgasm hit her quickly as you drank everything it offered. Just as quick she was pulled up her back now against Oberyn’s chest, his cock sliding into her with a steady pace, a dance they’ve done a thousand.

Her head was thrown back into his shoulder, as Oberyn finds your own eyes, kneeling up with your palms resting down in front of you, almost unsure if to interrupt them with your own presence. His pace slows down as he stares into your own eyes, “Think I forgot about you?”

Ellaria barley lifts her head, titled into his neck with an arm wrapped behind her grasping at his hair, her eyes just peek enough to spot yours. Her other hand beckons you up to her and raises her head up as she clasps your hand in her.

Oberyn slows more and grasps Ellaria’s hips firmly as she tugs you into her. Pulling you into her chest she slides up and grasps at your hair, hovering her lips over yours. “If you really want to show off,” her other hand moves back to her front and slinks down your own body, her grip on your hair yanks slightly to turn both of your heads just a tad to look back at Oberyn. “How about I show him just what he’s missing out on, here?” Raking her gaze up and down yourself.

Oberyn all but growls out Ellaria’s name in warning, but you both smirk at the other. Her capturing your lips as both of your hands roam each other. Oberyn’s cock soaked deep in Ellaria’s cunt being the only attention given to him.

She teases him endlessly with you. She knows he’s holding off on fucking you properly. Neither of you are quite sure why, but all he does is push you right to the edge, tip you just over it, and let Ellaria be the one to pull you down with her instead.

Oberyn’s hands hug her hips and ass back into his own as he fucks her, and your own fingers reaching down to rub her clit in tandem. Your pace matching his before Ellaria’s body falls back briefly into his. His cock slowly sliding in and out, a kiss on the side of her head, as you pull her back up to gently press your own lips against hers.

Glossy eyes returning to normal, her and Oberyn once more lean the sides of their heads into each other, both looking at you in question. His mouth in biting range to her ear, but the husk of his voice whispers loud, “Show her how grateful we are, wouldn’t you my love?”

Turning in for a proper kiss she smirks into his as they part, “My pleasure.”

Your body hovering over hers, Ellaria’s fingers dip into your own cunt, soaked just from pleasuring her. Rare to find a woman working in places like this so naturally aroused by giving, though perhaps it was just something her and Oberyn got to experience alone. If she had final say, Ellaria would make it so it stays that way.

For now though, her fingers pump in and out of you as Oberyn fucks his final pounds into her. Your head was down taking in the coiling orgasm building up, but Oberyns hand nudged under your chin up to look at him.

Brown eyes with a penetrating gaze, your eyes on his face, the grit of his teeth, jaw clenched tight, and nostrils flared as he fucks his cum up into his paramour. His hand under your chin the entire time, until you slip out from it as Ellaria brings you to your own end.

One hand steady on Ellaria’s waist, while the other reaching out blindly, tightly holding onto Oberyn’s arm as your orgasm sparks and sets ablaze. A sharp loud gasp with your head tilted back hardly noticing her fingers leaving you empty. Taking both hands you smooth the wild hair flung about your head before placing both palms down, once again knees on the bed as you come down.

Briefly you notice Ellaria’s hands cup your cheeks just long enough to sneak a kiss, “You were right, you perform quite well no matter what, lover.” You both chuckle somewhat breathlessly as you swat at her hands, turning just long enough to see her slip a beautiful deep yellow robe as she heads towards the jug of water.

Strong arms slide across your shoulder and one around your stomach, tugging you into Oberyn’s side. Your back against his chest, his chin resting atop your head, but unlike the sensual loving embrace he just had Ellaria in, this one felt almost calming. Purposely calming, keeping you tight against him as your heart pounding quiets. Quietly muttering your name, he moves the arm on your shoulder to reach up and stroke the side of your cheek with his thumb. “You don’t have to tell me what Lord Varys spoke to you about even though I can see it’s bothering you.”

Soon Ellaria moves back to sit on the edge of the bed, her feet dangling downward to the floor as opposed to the tangled mess yours and Oberyns splayed out to the side were. “We just need to know one thing, sweet girl.” Ellaria’s deep eyes shining with vaguely concealed worry as she debated how to say what they both were thinking. “Are you in danger? Being here?”

No doubt Oberyn could feel your body tense, his head tucking itself into the crux of your neck leaving scattered kisses in his wake. The deep rumblings of his voice vibrating through your spine. “If you don’t feel safe you need to tell us. You’ve been trapped here under the eyes of very powerful and dangerous men, I know better than anyone how few options you have to leave. So I need a yes or no.”

No, you shook no. Unsure if there was even a way to explain things without just spilling the words you are sure Lord Varys told to you in confidence. A risky meeting in the middle of the city just to keep the walls from listening. But they wanted to know. They needed to know. If Little Finger didn’t come back for his plan North, then it would only be a matter of time before Lord Tywin figured out where you were hiding.

Constricting tighter around your body, Oberyn’s nose brushed against your cheek before the hand on your jaw turned you up into an aggressive kiss. Harsh and needy, but short. Not much was said about it the rest of the night, unsure if it was no one knowing how to say what they were thinking, or if for now, no one just wanted too.

It was new being with them in such a way. They were intense, and demanding, but so deeply loving. Treating you with as much respect and admiration as they have for the other.

Keeping you trapped between their bodies as you all slept, only to be woken by gentle rubs to your clit from Oberyn behind you, slowly, quiet so keep the beauty in front of you both undisturbed. Your naked body pressed back against him entirely, as he kisses you, his tongue against yours as he makes you cum, keeping you quiet. They were a dream you were too scared to wake up from.

Which is why you stood. Hands tightly holding the metal sigil as you stared out the window. The view barely different from the one in your tiny, now unwelcoming room. Like they were never here, but the sting of their memories holding onto you like a leech.

You had to close you eyes tight, so tight colours danced in your vision as you desperately tried to will the tears away instead of falling. Knuckles white from how rough your grip on the sigil was. You would never find people like Oberyn and Ellaria again, and your only prospects were to hope Varys had any reason to be telling you the truth, or to brace yourself for a life of unspeakable torment at the hands of a monster.

It hurt to know Oberyn was right. You had little escape from here alone. How many spies scattered across the city, how many people did they report to, how guarded were any of the places one could sneak out from?

Embarrassed, that's how it felt. Janus, your dear uncle who taught you how to run, how to live, how to survive, wasted it all. You lasted maybe one year before being discovered and dragged to King’s Landing like a prisoner. Stashed away under lock and key until you were ready to once again be forced elsewhere to a place you knew would not help you.

Options had run out. You needed Varys to be right. Being left alone in this city, a tiger trapped in a cage only to be poked and laughed at by your hunters, was a death sentence. One that you would enact yourself if need be.

Oberyn and Ellaria may care now, but if they leave, it would only be a matter of time before they forgot you anyways. A pathetic runaway working as a whore unable to protect herself.

You could still see his face, your Uncle, he panic and distress as he told you to go. The faint sounds of your father yelling inside your home just off in the distance, the closer sound of your older brother barking orders at the boy in the courtyard to start helping. The feeling of your uncles rough, calloused hands cupping your cheeks as he pressed a final kiss to your forehead before watching you go. The urgency in his movements as he pulled you from your bed in the dead of night didn’t make sense until you watched what he was protecting you from.

The shame you would bring upon him if the next time he saw you, was as a prisoner sold off to the family that betrayed the ones you were supposed to have fought for. You had no shame hiding out in a brothel when you reached the Riverlands. You were exhausted, no money, and in territory a war was still raging on. At least in there you had shelter, food, and living in a place your family had no reason to travel to.

Had you been more vigilant, you might have noticed whispers turning into constant talk and chatter throughout the building surrounding the days events, but you were tuned out. Finding privacy to drown everything out in a tub. The water boiled far too hot didn’t phase you, just like increasing volume of gossip in the other rooms didn’t phase you.

Just like that the boiling silence was interrupted by one of the younger girls wandering in. Jumping back slightly with a hand to her chest in a gasp, she muttered out apologies. “I didn’t realize anyone was in here, just needed a minute to myself you know?” Giving a breathy little giggle, new enough to not quite recognize that your face currently screamed anything but please sit down and talk to me. Even though that’s exactly what she did. Perched on the edge of the stone rambling about how crazy this trial thing is, how she snuck out early in the morning just so she could try and get in to watch.

You distracted yourself from the mindless chatter by running the smooth cloth over your skin once more as if you were still busy washing. “I can’t believe she would do such a thing, I always thought she was so pretty too!”

You jerked your head up, brows furrowing as your ears tuned back in. “Wait, who did what?”

The girl rolled her eyes in jest, “Lady Sansa, weren’t you listening?” Flickering her hand over the water to splash at you, she pulled away with a hiss, shaking the stark heat off her fingers. You only felt more confused. “Have you not heard what everyone is saying? Asking the imp to kill the King because he didn’t want to marry her anymore! I mean why else would she run, right?”

Oh you’re sure you could think of an endless list of reasons that would drive a teenage girl kept prisoner in the city, to want to escape the first chance she got. If you didn’t believe Tyrion Lannister poisoned Joffery you were even more certain that Sansa Stark had even less to do with it. Besides, she didn’t run away, she was flown off by a certain conniving mockingbird. “Is it,” You paused to take a breathe, reforming your words, be as moderate as possible. “What did the judges decide?”

Her eyes went wide hands dramatically splaying on her chest over her heart, “It was insane, the judges didn’t even reach a verdict. The imp went on this tirade saying he wished he did it, that he was glad to watch and that he should have let that Baratheon take the city. He demanded a trial by combat now.”

It was rare now. The two parties fight to the death and whoever lives, the Gods have declared innocent. You had never seen it used, or even heard it really. Most men were either condemned to death it they wanted a trial, but most just confessed and were banished to The Wall. Though this time, the defendant was Tyrion Lannister. Clearly a brave man if what you’ve been just told is true, but not a skilled fighter by any means. “Do we know who’s fighting in their places? I’m sure Lady Cersei has a list of knights willing to fight for her,”

“Oh yeah, her champion is The Mountain.”

The blood drained from your face, racing down to you’re heart and forcing it’s painful thud against your chest. The girls words fading away as the dread raised. You knew why she chose him, a man known for nothing but sheer size, strength and unusually cruel brutality. A vile thing whose only purpose was to cause others pain.

It got caught in your mouth, your words sitting in the back of your throat, festering until it almost felt like you would be sick. Not many men would take on The Mountain in a fight to the death, even less men who cared even a bit about Tyrion Lannisters innocence. No this was worse. Was cruelty of the Seven mocking you, or the Old Gods just leaving your faith behind entirely. But you knew there was only one answer to your question, even if she didn’t know that.

“And Lord Tyrion?” She flipped her long hair back raising her eyebrows in question. “Wh-Who is to be Lord Tyrions champion?”

She said she didn’t really know, that it must have been decided outside the trial. But you didn’t need to figure it out. The Mountain was about to return to King’s Landing to engage in a trial by combat, a legal Crown mandated fight to the death where only the gods could determine a mans guilt. And there was only one man who was determined to make Gregor Clegane face the guilt for his crimes.

The girl left sometime in your lost silence. You didn’t hear or notice. Suddenly, you were overwhelmed with a sickening, paralyzing dread.

By the time you emerged clothed and dry, you knew for sure people were watching you this time. Quiet whispers between men and curious stares from the girls. Passing through the main chamber, a conversation between Olyvar and another suddenly stopped. A stare you couldn’t identify from the blond. Was it sympathy or was it distrust? Was this about Oberyn, or was this about Varys. Olyvar reported directly to Lord Baelish, so how much did he know about what was to be your fate?

Was he ever your friend, or was he just trying to find a way to keep you here willingly, by offering kindness. Either way he sat behind the desk staring as you stood paused in the middle of the room, watching back. If you were going to leave here, on your own terms, he was your first obstacle. Losing you would be to lose Lord Baelish’s trust, and to spies like him that was not an option, not when you knew too much.

Your chest rising with a deep breathe, and a slow blink as your head and feet returned to their destination.

You opened the door quietly, hearing more hushed tones than what would normally be heard in this room you found so much joy. If it was true, no doubt they had talked about it together, they mean so much to each other, and now, death or justice is his only choice. Only one, was easily given.

Your steps felt small and meek, but with one ping against the floor, the two dark haired heads flipped your way. Ellaria’s hands resting comfortably against his chest, while Oberyns rested against her arm and waist. Their eyes both shined with concern, but their tones drastically differed.

Oberyn’s were dark and pensive while Ellaria’s were solemn and understanding. Neither one enticing enough to beckon you over. Whispering something unheard to his lover, Oberyn nudged her to you as he stepped away with his back facing you.

Your eyes were trapped on his back to you as she approached you. Not until the palm of her hand gently pulling your gaze to her own. With a stuttering breath, so quiet you almost couldn’t hear it yourself you asked, “Is it...he’s really going to do this?” The solemn eyes turned almost a shade warmer as she nodded. She understood him more, but she also understood you. Your own eyes shut, head dropping. Jaw clenched, you didn’t trust your own words.

Feeling this way seemed wrong, he was a fighter. A fighter with such skill, whispers of his feats reached from the warm sun of Dorne to the grey dreary North. If this were anything but what it was, you wouldn’t feel such a gloom over you.

“Sweet girl,” her other soft palm found your cheek as well, as your own hands reached to hold onto her wrist, looking up at her. “I know. Trust me, I know. But this isn’t some young impulsive kid jumping into the light just because he’s cocky. This means so much more-”

Just like that you dropped her wrists and stepped back. You stepped back and she tried to step forward, and once again you stepped back. Blinking away how obvious you were, your head shook and a tight lipped smile forced it’s way onto your face. “No, no, it’s alright Ellaria. I understand entirely.” You refused to look over to the other side of the room, to see if brown eyes were waiting to catch yours. “How long?”

Ellaria blinked too, you weren’t alone in keeping yourself together, she was simply practised. “A day maybe. However long it takes the Mountain to return to the city.”

Don’t do this, keep yourself painted like metal. Steady voice steady face. “I will do what I can to help prepare.” Walking past her, you could feel the soft material of her dress brush your arms. Eyes shut, shaking your head just enough to force the tears back in.

The night was quiet. Your persona was up as high and pretending as it ever had been. There was no trace of your genuine self that evening. Ellaria was a bit easier, no matter the outcome she would still be here. She would leave but you could remember her and pray for her safety and journey, knowing just maybe, you were still close enough to the Old Gods that they could hear you over the Seven and appease just one ask from you.

You hardly looked at Oberyn like you were real. Cordial, getting him what he wanted and answering any question he posed out of simple want or jest. Any point being made to reach out to this mask was met with short answers, a stock answer you gave to any men coming through that would just throw coin your way regardless of your feeling. You think he looked at you a lot that evening, never being able to shake the unwavering intensity seemingly on your person.

The day you accepted this offer, saying yes to this beautiful interesting couple who had you talking and laughing without any facade, letting your company be theirs. Worrying at the time if this would be a mistake and it was. Oberyn had found an opportunity to do what is right, and that’s all that mattered. You didn’t matter, and you didn’t want to matter anymore. Not again.

They spent much time in quiet hushes together as the sun finally feel dark, many times finding you in their words. And for the first time in the weeks you’ve spent together, you watched them find each others arms in bed, and sleep take them away from the insanity this day had brought, but didn’t join them.

The moon was high and bright that night, a blue glow sprinkled over every surface, but did nothing to lull you to sleep. Your side rested against a wall as you looked out into the streets. Dead or not, the outcome wouldn’t affect these people, they would go about their lives and nothing would change. Many for sure, would come to watch, root and cheer for the charming Dornish Prince with a skilled fighting reputation unlike any other, and most of them would feel very little after his death.

You couldn’t do this again, you couldn’t handle it. You could see his face looking through the glass of the stained window. His voice ringing in your ears, begging you to never return, telling you that you meant the world to him, that he loved you and this needed to happen to keep you safe. Your body tensing, limbs curling in on themselves and your body failing you wanting to collapse as you saw the blood.

The only one who ever cared about you, and all you could see was the blood spurting from his mouth, and the blades ripping through the warm chest your smaller self often found the only comfort to exist to you. He was the only one, and now that you’ve found another, you could see it happening again.

Gregor Clegane was formidable and mercilessly sadistic. One mistake, one simple slip that he could take advantage of, and it was over. Countless men over the years found that out, and now, his opponent was a man who seeks justice from someone unwilling to believe in such a thing.

You got no sleep that night, nor would you the next. When the sun comes up the day after tomorrow, there is no certainty that you will be able to look behind your position, and see the chest so warm it matches the Dorne sun. His handsome face, soft all over all framed by an angular nose that you will never forget the feeling of as it runs down your own before his lips follow.

Maybe you will find it, but there was the blood. And his face covered in it before you turned and ran. And it became harder to stay positive. You’d leave before sunrise.

Ellaria wasn’t the bargaining chip presented to you, Oberyn was. If Oberyn dies, than there is no escape coming to help. You have to find a way to try.

Your night was spent awake, eyes on the glow of the moonlit streets, sat on the still just at the windows base. Fabric and metal. You knew what you wanted, and you needed to be awake to get them without the watchful eyes of the cities birds. And you needed to get them in and yourself back out out of the view of a close fair haired little bird, whom chirps it’s findings to a conniving mockingbird, and before a powerful lion finds you first.

Leaving out in the morning was easy, no one was awake and whomever might be was used to the sound of people sneaking out in the early hours. Eager to return home before other knights and noblemen see where they’ve spent the night.

The tailor shop was still empty, part of you could only wonder where the owners went too, and if leaving their shop and home abandoned was a coincidence, or a way to ensure an empty space with no chance to wandering in dwellers for secret talks.

You had riffled through the trunks, shapeless and muted rags clearly meant to be cut up and remade into something else were yours for the taking. As well as the dye. A dark coloured dye, almost black meant to stain the material before final alterations would be set. It was close to the kind of look you once had, but hid after finding refuse in an inn.

At least if this worked, you could let your hair grow from it’s roots without staining so heavily to drain the dark colour out of it in the dead of night.

Metal was more difficult. Blacksmiths would have what you wanted, but you had not the coin or the thieving abilities to secure one for yourself. Scraps though, were perhaps something more your level anyways. Most shops had one alleyway to dump wasted product, sometimes it was cleaned up by another, and sometimes they just waited for the poorest of the slums to come and scour for anything of need.

You could see from your vantage point, there likely was metal there so you started to walk. You were good at watching your back, empty streets or uncaring eyes left you invisible to go about your way. Nothing you could detect noticed you.

Nothing that is, until your vision spun and your back slammed into the wall of the very alley you ventured into. A hard sting vibrated through your spine, but the back of your head only felt a cushion that cradled its frame. An accented voice greeted your startled figure. “I’m not sure if I should be offended that you think I’m that easy to sneak away from.”

Oberyn stood close in front of you, the hand he used to cushion your head slides to find a home matching his other, palms against the brick on either side of you caging you in as his tall broad frame covers your vision. There was a fond smirk on his face as his eyes twinkled with amusement, but it was hard to focus on how he looked at you.

Your own face fell from startled, to relieved, all the way down to upset. That beautiful smile on such a beautiful man, you felt guilt for how detached you were trying to become. “I didn’t think, I’m sorry-”

Shushing you quietly, Oberyn moved in closer to you, a hand on your hip and the other raking through your hair until it found a home on your jaw and neck. “Perhaps we should talk somewhere less, suggestive.”

His smirk grew wide and mischievous as you followed to see an older man watching with a curious but lewd demeanour. Two people pressed up against the other, one pushed against a wall with the other having his hands over you. Before you could agree, the second your head looked away, Oberyns lips captured yours. Almost pulling you up to your toes as he leans to tower over you before his tongue making a salacious performance to explore your mouth before pulling away with a nibble.

For the first time in over a day, you finally gave him not just a smile but a laugh as well. “A girl might think you’re trying to give the man a show.” Shameless as he is, Oberyn’s hands pulled both sides of your hips into his own before snaking one back to hold your lower back up. His tongue being replaced with a bite filled aggression before barley separating your lips as he turns you both to walk away.

Oberyn giving the man a wink as they passed, and you couldn’t tell what made you giggle more, that or the jaw dropped face of the man you couldn’t tell was aroused or offended by the gesture. His hand never left the small of your back as he led you to a path you knew would find it’s way to the water. “I don’t want you to feel the need to run and hide from me. What this is that you’re feeling is understandable, but I want you to just be open with me what you’re feeling this way.”

There was hardly much in the way of sun as you both reached the small opening of water, a tiny channel that opened wide into the sea, but what little sunlight reached you both reflected radiantly on his skin. The yellow fabric draped over his body did nothing to hide as you were dressed to, but did everything to overwhelm you with his beauty. A robe with rich yellows and hints of a deeper orange made it hard to ever look away from him. It made you miss him too.

For a while, you both stood there, splashes against the rocks and his hand on your back still. But it was too much. “Tomorrow you fight. As Tyrions champion.” The tears almost started to collect in the backs of your eyes as you whispered to him.

His hand pulled you in closer to his side. “I am. Somebody should. He’s innocent, and that deserves to be defended.” Oberyn knew he didn’t need to elaborate. You were smart, you saw less than he heard yet you still came to the better conclusion than the court.

“And because the Mountain is Cersei’s champion.”

His eyes narrowed as he looked up into the brightening sky, chin held high and not a shred of doubt in his body. “What I want for my sister, for her children, is justice. That’s not easy in a place like this, and I’m not fooled into thinking I can just force it to happen because I want it too. These proud golden lions only stand tall for as long as there are many of them. Their time will come, it’s not just me who has made sure of that.”

Oberyns free hand grasped the closest of yours, thumb swiping on and over the skin as his eyes traced the lines before once again finding home in the waters. “Gregor Clegane needs no justice. He doesn’t deserve it and he will never give it. There’s very little chance for him to ever atone for his crimes, and if no one will do it than I will.”

Body turning to you, you stepped around to look at him the same, his hand now back on your hip and holding yours out between both your bodies. “I’m defending an innocent man because it’s right. But this is also a chance we may never get again. To face the man with their blood on his hands and hear from his mouth that he did it. That he murdered her children. Elia’s children, and raped her with their own blood on his body before murdering her as well. I want to hear him tell me he did it, so he dies knowing he never actually got away with it.”

You nodded to him, “And you? What do we get if you die? Ellaria, your daughters, your family. Leaving them behind will be just as painful as the kind you feel now.”

His fingers bring your chin up closer to his. “It’s not my honour I’m fighting for. It’s for my sisters memory and that, sweet girl, is something they understand. I love them dearly, but they also know the pain Elia left behind, they feel it too, and it’s not something they want to let go either. I have to do this, and it’s something they understand.”

While you gave a single nod, your eyes mapped out his, the ferce love within them. “But this isn’t just about me is it? This fear, it’s more than just what happens tomorrow. Right?”

This time, the tears found their way to the surface. Not falling but enough that they were impossible to miss. Oberyn’s hands bringing you into a chaste kiss, keeping you against him but leaving you to speak.

“My Uncle was the only person who ever cared. About me or for me. The rest of my family happy to leave me locked away until they needed someone to take their frustrations out on.” Oberyn’s eyes flashed a danger you had yet to see shone your way, and the tears wanted more.

Turning your body you leaned back into his chest that moved with you. His arms wrapping around your frame as you both watched the water. Your falling tears matching the clarity of the colour. “You were right. There’s no point hiding it. You saw the bruises I tried to hide, and those were only the ones my brother could make alone. My father was more inclined to hurt me where others could see it. I never knew why. I still don’t. My mother could barley look at me, like something about my existence shamed her, but whatever that was made my father despise me. Janus, my uncle, was the only one who tried to protect me.”

A faint smile crossed your face, tears still falling but with a lighter reprieve. “He taught me anything he could afford to. How to defend myself enough to find a way to run, how to hide, brought me whenever he was travelling elsewhere to make sure I learned as much about the world as I needed to. I just never realized it wasn’t just out of kindness. It was out of necessity.”

Your hands gripped Oberyns arms around your front. “It was pitch black out the night he dragged me out of bed. He pulled me into his own room, and told me to put everything on that he had laid out, and that when I was done, I needed to climb out. There was a branching tree that you could reach, and start to climb down on, so I did as I was told as he left the room entirely. I didn’t understand why until I was already making my way down. I could see in my window, the door flying open, and shadows of men, men I knew, men my father trusted. And I could see them stabbing into the bed thinking I was still there.”

Oberyn tugged your body against him tighter, a terse anger stewing through his person, but he let you speak. “Everyone was looking for me, Janus put me on a horse, and told me once I got closer to the borders I needed to abandon it, sell it, but get it away from me. He told me I could never come back. That he couldn’t tell me why, but he told me never to let my father find me, and not to trust any of the Northern houses. That whatever side I thought they were on was wrong, and I couldn’t trust them.”

“Two boys found him first, older boys, sons of my fathers guards who would do anything to impress the Lord of the House. They tried to grab and drag me off the horse, but he knocked them away so I could take off. And they re payed that kindness by shoving a knife through his throat. The last memory I have of the only person who ever cared about my life is watching him spew blood from his mouth before collapsing to the ground.”

You spun in his arms, both your eyes painfully watching the others closely. “I understand why you have to do this. I do, and I want you to do what you need to for her. But I also need you to just know why that’s...difficult to accept. I’m not trying to stop you. I don’t want to stop you. But watching the same thing happen to you..I can’t-”

Your body trembling in his arms, eyes red as he tucks you into his chest completely. “What did Lord Varys tell you? You’ve been terrified ever since then.”

Your voice was muffled, but he heard you perfectly. “Lord Baelish stashed me here, so he can marry me off once Roose Bolton’s bastard is given full title. If Lord Tywin doesn’t find me first, than my new home lies in the hands of Ramsey Snow and you can’t begin to imagine the vile cruelty he commits.”

You could feel Oberyns hand moving, as if shifting your dress around to find something, but he didn’t grab you. He shuffled a bit out of sight before tipping his head back to kiss you, only separating to press his forehead against yours. “You have a home. Not may, or will. You have one. No matter what happens to me you have one. You have Ellaria. You’re not just precious to her, you’re precious to me and my death won’t change that.”

There was more to his words that you understood, but later. The walls only have ears in Kings Landing if birds are around, and what he means won’t be heard in the close confines of a bed between two lovers.

This was enough for now for you. You had your own plans, Oberyn has his, you just weren’t sure if any of them matched yours. But he was precious to you as well. They both were, you just had to trust that.

“Come, Ellaria and I want your company for breakfast. We’ve had fifteen years to spend with each other, we prefer your fresh face to look at.” His hands tapped at your hips before turning to move away. Your hands finally reach into the hidden pocket of your dress, and you saw metal. Metal tucked in a plain sheath up to a handle accented in tones of yellow, the very hilt, a sigil of a sun striked by an arrow.

While your heart pounded at what you were likely to do with it, you also felt a burst in your heart, he cared about you yes, but he also understood you. This wasn’t a blade you’ve seen him use, this is one he carried out this morning specifically, because he understands what kind of watchful eyes you will have to get past.

Staring at the hilt must have been longer then you noticed, Oberyn called your name, a whisper of your real name , seemingly almost unwilling to play this charade anymore. You reached out to accept the large hand waiting for you, he reached up and just slightly pressed his lips against the back of your hand, before keeping his arm and hands on you for most of the walk.

Any early risers only seeing what they thought a lewd, promiscuous foreigner indulging in some common whore. No suspicious gossip was passed around this time.

As the sky grew darker, the more tense you had begun to feel. Preparations for the fight tomorrow held much of the evening. You and Ellaria watching Oberyn sharpening the tipped blade of a long spear, making a point not to touch whatever he was handling. Ellaria certainly knew better, and her distance helped you know better as well. She was draped across your back and shoulders as you both sat together on the bed, her head leaned into your ear. “It’s more than just the blade he’s preparing, sweet girl.” Her hand moving to pull some of your hair back behind you, lips finding a place where the strands just lay. Your shoulders didn’t relax anymore, your pulse ringed in your ears instead.

Watching the blade, looking to where you had stashed not just the dagger but everything to hide yourself come morning. Oberyn had made it clear what was needed to be done. “There won’t be many guards watching the docks, but you have to be able to board our ship without being seen by them. And I don’t think you will be able to just sneak on without them clearly spotting you.” His eyes had trained themselves onto the dagger as you tucked it under clothes, your hands hovering in the air before clenching into a fists and finally dropping back down. The message was clear. Get rid of them.

Oberyns eyes had continuously flickered back to you. It was a lot to ask of you what he was, but it was clear you weren’t going to be allowed to just walk out of the city unscathed and unseen and the impending combat did little to ease your nerves. You couldn’t go, you couldn’t accompany the pair because the sheer amount of eyes that could and would recognize you, the long hair and soft dress, it would bring up too many questions as to why you of all whores were allowed to join them.

Oberyn had stood at this point, making his way over to you as you clearly lost yourself in thought. Crouching down to meet your eye level, his hand grasped your jaw as he said your name. “You can do this, you just have to believe in yourself, okay?”

Your eyes slipped shut as your head dropped even in his hold, “It’s not me I’m worried about.” Grasping the wrist near your head tightly. “If something happens, I won’t even know until-”

Oberyns eyes were almost harsh, a tightness to his face that carried throughout his body. “You doubt my ability, little one? You don’t think I’m capable?” His voice however held a tint of lightness to it, almost a tease. He watched you shake your head, finally looking up to his eyes, trouble brewing behind them, like too many things overpowering your anxiety. “I trust you, all you need to do in return is trust me. We both can do this.” His other hand joined to cup the other side of your face.

Ellaria’s hands slid the straps of your dress slowly downwards. “What do you need, sweet girl?” You didn’t respond. You almost couldn’t think of how to say it. What you needed, was to know that this was all real between you. The intensity, the feelings, the intimacy, you wanted it to all be genuine and you needed to feel it.

Oberyn however, read you perfectly fine. His hands slid from your face as he stood before the foot of the bed, undoing hips robes before you. “Take it off.”

Your own eyes transfixed at seeing more and more of his skin reveal itself to you, Ellaria took it upon herself to bunch up your skirt and pull it all up and over your head. Oberyns eyes tearing over your bare form as he shucked off his pants. His cock on display, deep in colour as the blood flowing through it begged for you to give it attention. But he didn’t touch it, or even approach you. His hand pulled you up to face him, as you could feel his cock brush your stomach.

Once again his hands trailed over the sides of your face, this time caressing softly, both your eyes shut as his nose trailed along yours before finding your lips with his. A gentle kiss making you tremble, before he pulled away and turned you to face Ellaria. Already having ridden herself of her own clothing, she didn’t stand to join you. She watched and waited for you to listen to orders. Oberyns large hands perched on your hips as his entire body pressed against your back. “Those beautiful lips of hers just beg to be kissed don’t they?” When you nod he slightly pushes you up onto the bed once more.

Crawling on top of her, you pressed you lips against hers. Quickly though, the soft caress turned demanding. Ellaria moving you how she wanted, the taste of her tongue only found as she slips it into your mouth. One of her hands had grabbed you by the waist as now the other slip up your stomach, between the valley of your breasts and held your neck, finally tilting your head back dramatically.

Retching a gasp from you as Oberyn now kneeled on the bed behind you, taking over her work. His lips biting and nipping at yours, his tongue demanding you grant him whatever he desires. Your breasts felt Ellaria’s hands over them, before she started rubbing her thumbs over your nipples. Giving tiny tugs and pulls in tandem with Oberyn biting your lips.

A line of spit following just slightly as his lips pulled away from your gasping mouth and trailed down you neck. His bites no less sharp, your gasps turning more into moans the deeper he marked it up and down. The burn from his facial hair reddening whatever his mouth left untouched, as Ellaria gave your breasts the same treatment.

Bruises would form against both places, slight marks of teeth against each as they overwhelmed you. Oberyns deep voice pulling your senses back, “Tell us who you belong to.” Hearing his words but not really understanding them, Oberyn repeated himself but only a moan was given in return. One of his hands around your body held your neck tight, just enough breathe allowed to pass through. “Who do you belong to?”

A breathy rasp passed your lips, “You. I belong to yo-” But that was apparently, not the right answer. At once the pairs mouths left your skin, but their hands held you firmly in place.

Oberyns forehead rested against yours. “No one.” You could feel his thumb trailing back and forth against the skin of your hip. “From this moment on, you belong to no one.” Giving you reprieve, Ellaria switched to rake through the strands of hair that framed your chest as Oberyn yanked you further into his chest as Ellaria followed. Your head now back against his shoulder. “No matter what happens tomorrow, you leave this building and never return. You get on that ship. No one in Dorne will hurt you. I will make sure of that regardless what may happen to me.”

As you reached up behind you to grasp onto Oberyns neck the other gripped the hand on your hip. Lifting your head enough so your cheek found his, your eyes craning up to see into his beautiful brown ones. “I may belong to no one, but I am yours.” Your eyes looking to Ellaria’s sultry ones, “Both of yours.”

The two of them seemed to speak in more silent tongues. Eyes watching the other as she nodded. Moving to match Oberyns kneeled stance, he pushed you against the front of her own chest, his back still against yours as he does so.

Ellaria kissed you as Oberyns fingers danced on your skin lower and lower. You gasped into her mouth as one of his hands slapped against the one of the cheeks of your ass his nails carving crescent moons into it, as his other cupped your mound. His hands holding your pelvis in place as two of his fingers trailed the slick gathering between your legs.

Stroking back and forth as your gasps and whines of need made Ellaria smirk into your mouth. You almost vibrated with burning need, but the heat only consumed you more as his two thick fingers plunged into your entrance.

The hand digging into your ass moved to rub your clit with every thrust of his fingers. Fucking into your warmth slowly, but deep to the knuckle every time as he finds that perfect angle that turns your gasps into moans once more. Ellaria cupped the back of your hair, a comforting hold as Oberyn buries his face into the other side of your neck, kissing the skin below your ear as he picks up the pace which his fingers fuck you.

His breathing heavy on your skin as you feel his thick cock resting against the middle of your ass. Your hips pushing back just slightly, Oberyn hisses into your ear as he greets your hips by pushing forward more. The fingers on your clit fall to his palm now rubbing against you harshly.

The burning coiling pleasure between your legs built and built. Had it been minutes, seconds, hours? You couldn’t feel anything but his thick fingers pushing a third into you, your desperate gasps mixed with Oberyn demanding in your ear. “Give it to me. Cum for me, and you can have me. All of me.”

The wetness from between your legs was loud with every push of his fingers, it should embarrass you. The lewd sound should bring a flustered shame to you but it doesn’t, it just makes you want to take what he’s offering. Ellaria kisses your cheek when your hands grab her waist needing something to hold. “Will you let him fuck you, my love? Fuck you like all men and women wish he fucked them like?” Rasping out yes’s, one after another. “Then cum.”

The coiling wrapped too tightly, and it snapped at it’s peak. Your orgasm flooded your body, squished between two bodies as the pleasure coursed through your veins.

Whoever was kissing your neck you couldn’t tell, your eyes shut and breathing too hard to pay attention. Oberyn yanking your hips up into the air between them higher, he gripped the base of his cock and gently slides it between your legs. Your pussy wet and soaking his cock as it dragged through the folds.

Oberyns arms wrapped around your stomach as he teased, an embrace much like ones you had seen him and Ellaria wrap each other up in countless times. He called your name, “We are yours as well. Both of us. We get through tomorrow, and even if I don’t we still are each others, all of us.” Oberyn own head rested against Ellaria’s, her hand on his face as well. The two kissed before he once again grips his cock.

Braced on her shoulders, Ellaria’s finger trailed down to your clit, resting just atop it with the weight of a feather. Their foreheads resting together as they both watched him tease his tip into you. Prodding in and out, soaking itself with your wetness before his embrace was holding you by the waist. “Please,”

That was all he needed. Oberyn thrusted his cock deep into your cunt, soaked and squelching from the sheer amount of slick, but your moans danced with each other enough to hide it.

Ellaria teased at your clit, pressing hard, rubbing circles with each fuck up into you, or simply stroking like a touch against your cheek. Oberyns cock fucked you with little mercy, he thrust deep and rough, knocking your breathe out of you too quick to regain it whenever he slid almost right back out.

“So fucking tight,” his lips almost bit against your ear as he spoke through gritted teeth. “So many men throwing gold for a chance with you, and not one of them fucked you right.” You couldn’t choose between having your hands on him or Ellaria, so she moved up so close you could feel her breathe on your own cheek. Oberyns voice was rough like he fucked, words penetrating and forced out between groans. “Beautiful girl, cunt made just for me.”

Sweat covered your bodies. Oberyns cock now pounding you with shallow thrusts, but fast. Your breasts trying to bounce with his fast fucking, but pressed too much against Ellaria’s own body. Her lips pressing anywhere they can get as she touches herself just as she touches your clit.

You mindlessly begged, for what you did not know, but you begged regardless. Moans and gasps pitched higher and higher as once again the coil wrapped around. Oberyn slowed just enough, now dragging his thick cock along your walls as he pulled out more and more and slowly back up as you clenched around him. “That’s it. Good girl.”

The burning core threatening to once again push you over the edge, but you wanted to take not just you. Reaching down blindly to join Ellaria’s own hand against her clit, she moved hers to let you take over. Oberyns cock taking over your mind, Ellaria’s lips taking over your own, her tongue finding yours as you both moan into each other.

You both cum at the same time, your fingers harmonizing with the others touch., As your head leaned back against Oberyns shoulder, one of his own reached up and grasped Ellaria’s hair, yanking her head up to watch her own orgasm take over. While your touch against her clit slid down, overwhelmed by the persistent dragging of cock inside you, Ellaria relaxed more into the bed. Holding Oberyns hand and pressing her lips to it before returning it to your own body.

Oberyn wasn’t done with you though. Pulling you from Ellaria entirely, he forced your back entirely against his chest. Each fuck into you now so close he could feel your ass move with every thrust. The shallow pace returned, fucking you fast as your orgasm was given no chance to fall back down.

Only enough strength to reach an arm behind his bed, Oberyn tucked his face into the side of your head. “Again, cum for me again, sweet girl.” His teeth gritted and hissed into your cheek, nose pressed against your skin. “You want me to fill you up?”

“Yes, yes, Oberyn. Gods please,” Oberyns own fingers found your clit and almost tugged and pulled. A contrast of Ellaria’s smooth touch. His cock filling your cunt as the warmth spread through your body.

“Be a good girl, cum for me one more time.” His own moans interrupting his own words as he spoke, “Let me feel you clench around my cock, then I’ll fill you.” He groaned your name as his lips kissed the skin he could reach and his fingers against your clit rough. “I want to fuck you full of me, see it dripping out of this warm, “a rough thrust, “tight” rougher more, “cunt.”

The slap of skin echoed throughout, loud and penetrating like the cock hurling you back to your peak. Both arms now reached back behind his head, as one of his own held onto your breast. Tight and large, as his other remained on your clit as he fucked. “Fuck, fuck, close, sweet girl- thats it,”

Your orgasm had barley even left before it flooded back to you. The pleasure like a storm overtaking your body, your eyes shut so tight you could see colours through the black. Oberyns cock didn’t let up as he continued to slide in and out of you. Thighs below shaking, and not that you felt it at the time, but tears falling down your face as you begged his name.

Oberyn’s hands now gripped tight as he came. His cock thrusting slow and deep inside of you, as you felt his warm cum full you like he promised. Name muffled against your skin as he tucked into your shoulder and neck, filling your cunt with his seed.

Ellaria was near you, her body close and gentle touches soothing you and her lover.

You took longer to come down then Oberyn. His cock still rooted deep inside you as the world around you returned. Ellaria’s lips brushed yours, and her nose nudged against your own before Oberyns fingers tipped your chin to look at him. His brown eyes wide, deep and almost soothing, an intimate desire unlike ever before. For a while he just kissed you, letting his cock soften before slipping out.

His heart beat against your back, and yours beat into Ellaria’s own. There was little sleep to be found that night. It overcame the pair, a more calm confidence towards his fight the next day, but you couldn’t.

Your body drying with sweat and cum staining you, as you slipped from their slumbering holds. You didn’t dress. Not in those. Not in the things given to you for this life you were about to run from.

No once it was early enough you moved. Your hair had grown long, preferred by both Northern and Crownsland men, and it was dyed lighter. Shades lighter then your natural to throw people off, but now you needed to throw off those whom needed to be fooled already. Much of it was cut off. The obscene length now reasonable and short enough to make those double guess you. Then you grabbed the fabric dye. You drenched your hair in dye, a dark colour stained into your hair turning it into a deep blue.

The sun was rising now. The memory of the night before hopefully enough to feed the fire inside of you. Their touch, their lips, the still soreness and ghost of his thick cock remained inside you.

Hopefully, it was enough.

The buzz in the city was almost unbearable. One of the most infamous trials in decades resulting in a true trial by combat, both Champions incredibly skilled and renowned fighters. It would have been refreshing to see much of the excitement was over getting to watch The Red Viper in action for their own eyes, but it was also strange. Tyrion was the one seen as guilty, and much of those who are rooting for Prince Oberyn, were the same people shocked and horrified by Tyrions outburst against them at his trial.

He truly was something else, but he was there for a reason. He was a showman for the people to hide his intentions for another. Whispers of strange questions during the trial that made the audience laugh at it’s embarrassment, but you also knew who he was asking them too. That making people giggle at such lewd questions would make it harder for those with scrutinizing eyes to see him seeking the truth for himself in someone else’s silence.

You had little doubt what today would hold, at least to begin with. Gregor Clegane was large with immense brute strength, but he was also a monstrous and unpopular man. Oberyn Martell was quick, smooth in his movements, unexpected in his strategies, and he was also charming with an overwhelmingly handsome appearance that would tempt a crowd. Most of them didn’t know. They didn’t know the harshness behind his eyes, nor the pain he was determined to force upon the larger man.

Showing off his ego was simply a distraction. Watch him, not what he’s doing.

Walking out the door was easier then never coming back in. You hid yourself away, oversized dark clothes with a hooded robe to hide. Strips of your dress torn and wrapped tight to cover feminine features too obvious and bulk what seemed to dainty. The dye was burning and harsh. Liquids used to colour a fabric being drenched into your hair, the dark colour striking against your skin and would be distraction enough. Cutting it was the easy part. Hair grown down from months into more than a year living in brothels, long hair that looked luxurious like the long hair of a high born girl sliced through. Now sitting just above your now tightly hidden tits, less easy to spot or grab.

Both Ellaria and Oberyn knew you wouldn’t be there to see them off. Oberyn making clear to her where she should be able to find you, were he not there. You would be there, if you could summon the courage to do what was going to be necessary, you would make it. But they also didn’t know how you looked as you snuck quietly into the streets.

Plotting your path, you felt angry with every step. Rage consuming you for how such drastic events needed to take place just to give your life any agency, rage for the pain and horror leading to Oberyn doing what he was about to do. And what that action very well may cost him.

You remember thinking this city was disgusting when you arrived, but now you knew it was disgusting for something so much deeper. This was a city filled with those only interested in what they could gain for themselves. What was right, what as honest wasn’t anything these people cared for, people like you, the lives that could be lost for the sake of a families hatred for one of their own. None of that mattered.

And now as you stood, the water shining bright in the distance, and the quiet splash against the rocks and wood the only sound nearby. One ship was all you cared for now. Not a crew in sight, the threat of a kingsguard the only protection needed for just a transportation ship. You could see two, one older man with hard lines framing a dour face, the other younger and more fresh. Looking at his duty in front of him as if he was the last stand between him and, what? The fish below? You couldn’t tell how young he was, but it was more then yourself. Likely a squire for knights growing up and finally getting his chance to do what he saw them as. That was the easy one.

You knelt on the ground watching, breathing heavily with bare hands curled into the dirt. Most of the men you’ve known in your life would see no struggle with what you were going to do, but you grew up in a cage. Locked away for so long, now only needing the bravery to bite back keeping you from flying through that opening.

There was mostly silence between the two men until the younger one let out a dramatic sigh. “Of all the days to guard a Royal ship, I get the one where I’ll miss the Prince’s fight.”

The older mans eyes rolled to the side. “You complaining?”

Fresh face snapping his neck to the side, “No! No it is an honour, it’s my responsibility and I am forever grateful for it, I just-”

Snappy and annoyed he man croaks out “It’s a duty that’s it. We stand here, we watch empty fucking ships just because they belong to some back water Dornes.”

Fresh face fidgeted back and forth, “I- aren’t they called Dornish...sir?” The older man gave a slow moving glare his way, this was a talkative boy and he wanted no part in it. He just stared and glared making the boy fidget more. “Do you think, would it be permitted...Just some privacy so I can,” Gesturing uncomfortably towards his crotch, “I know we are not supposed to leave our posts, but I can’t with someone-”

“Seven hells, just go and piss already.”

Fresh face had only recently taken up his vows, hoping to make his father proud, normally paired with more experienced Kingsguard. It was supposed to be a learning experience, but for the most part he had hardly seen any action or people around here. If these were the traders docks it might have more to see, but this was a stepping stone perhaps? Test his patience for little action and then he will be trusted with more!

The gravel crunching under his heavy boots he felt much lighter. “Sir, I was wondering if-” His companion wasn’t there. Where a tall heavier set man with deep frown lines stood was empty space. Whipping his head back and forth to spot if he had walked anywhere, he could see the gravel just beyond a wall discoloured strangely.

He gulped and shaking hands tried to find a firm grip on his sword but the just hovered over it trembling all the while. The discolour became drenched in a flowing red, stemming up from strayed about feet. Feet and up with a body laying along with it all, his partner laying down into the path of the curving shore. Blood red seeping from just beyond the surface and an image of is partners head laying just too far below the shore. His own hands matching that of Fresh face’s trembling ones only his were reaching out to him.

One step, two steps closer he begin to hold his hand out when a heavy pressure fell onto his back, enough to lurch him forward but still on two feet, but followed was sharp. A sharp sting against his neck, his eyes straining down to see the blade of a dagger digging into his skin, and a shrouded figure against his back as if jumped onto him. “W- What do you wan-”

The blade pressed more with a shush, the voice higher then he expected. Raspy in whispers against his ear. “You see your friend there?” He nodded just once. “The cut on his neck is too deep for him to move anymore. He’s drowning in there. I didn’t need to go that far.” The head turned closer into his as the raspy voice felt more angry. “But I did to show you how far I’m willing to go if you don’t cooperate. Are you going to cooperate?” Scared and shaking he still nodded his head yes, voice too caught in his throat to speak. “I need a way onto that ship without your guards stopping me. How do I do that?”

Fresh face stammered in place, breaths wheezing and nervous sweat pouring from the teens head. He couldn’t feel the heart pounding against his back, too busy frozen in fear until they pressed the blade deep enough to cut just the slightest bit of skin. “Think fast.”

“N- no no, it’s, its just us-Me! Me it’s just me now for most th-the afternoon. There’s a fight-a tria-” A hand not holding a blade leaned in to grip his jaw in warning. “There’s a change in the evening, only crew shows up during the day. If it’s only guards your worried about it has to be done before evening.”

The shrouded figure pushed their head over to the man, his hands now flat on the ground, still.

“Move him.”

He stammered, trying to look back but the blade kept him forward. “He’s out in the open. Move him.” Fresh face nodded and waited to be let go, but wasn’t. The figure just gestured to the body, so slowly he moved. He was strong but it took effort to pull a stiff now dead man off into an unseen corner alley. Finally dumped off the voice rasped again. “I come back later are you going to be the only one here?”

Just as he nodded, the body seemed to move off his back in time for arms to wrap around his head and neck. Maybe if he weren’t so new he would have figured a way to defend himself, but again he only did this to impress his father, not because he was tough. His vision darkened until he slumped against the ground.

Your hand gripped the dagger now with drying blood so tight your knuckles stung. This was it. You couldn’t go back now, the path was laid out for you and now you took it.

A few moments were spent looking at your actions, until you tore your gaze from the open skin covered in blood on the older man, to the younger one now unconscious. Tearing your eyes around you quickly came to your senses and moved. Tearing fabric from the golden cloak on his back, you grimaced as you pulled his mouth open, putting one bunch in before wrapping another strip tight around his mouth entirely, and bound his hands together.

Empty crates, thrown in a dark alley instead of cleaning them up got pulled over and down from their tossed spots, and laid haphazardly over the men.

From the outside it was dark and off in an inconvenient corner. If you walked in, you could see it, but from here it just looked a tad more of a mess then before. It would have to do. Now there was one location you needed to go to. On foot, this far on the seas edge, it would take a while. Longer to make sure no one either saw you, or noticed you.

You said you wouldn’t go. You promised. But you couldn’t end it like this. If you were really to leave this place with such a shattered heart, you wanted to see him one more time. Regardless of what that would mean. So you walked.

The combat arena was a ways off, and you knew it was only a short while before it started. If you were going to see him one last time now would be it. Maybe you should have more faith in his ability, but you also had faith in your Uncle, in Janus. And all his abilities left him with was a mouthful of blood.

You could hear the crowd first. Cheering, yelling and gasps all around. Approaching all you could see was the back of the area holding the crowd. Trying to make yourself as plain looking as possible, the hood of the robe now up, covering your hair and keeping a shadow on part of your face. For once, your heart pounded, not out of fear from being caught, but for what you were walking in on.

There were sectioned areas beyond the arena for each side of the fight, you could see Ellaria standing tall. Her face was too far to see but you could read her regardless. Still like she was stuck in place, and her body taught with unease.

Tyrion Lannister stood not to far from her. Far shorter then anyone else, but still a man. Just a man. Looking somewhat like you actually, trapped somewhere you had no control over. No matter the outcome, he would have to find a way out too. You hope it won’t involve bloodshed like you, but in this place, that seemed to be the only real solution.

Finally, your side steps came across the outskirt just enough to see movement. Movement, and yelling. You knew his voice, and you finally found footing. Maybe too out in the open, too close to where Lord Tywin could see you, but it didn’t matter.

The large hulk of a man already struggling on the ground trying to push up only to be pierced back down by Oberyns spear. Blood spurting from the wound. The crowd yells in awe as if this was a game still. As if with a spear to the chest Oberyn Martell hadn’t yelled about this man murdering his sisters children.

The Mountain struggled to move, seemed to sputter flecks of blood, with slight gasps. A slice also on his leg bled. Such a beast unable to get up and power through despite widespread talk of being an unstoppable force. What hulking men like The Mountain don’t realize though, is that venom from a Viper is sneaky and cruel. When a Viper bites you, it doesn’t gash and bleed over the floor, it seeps into your blood and strangles you from within. Crawls throughout your body and leaves it’s essence wherever your blood takes it.

Oberyn had told you, posion is more useful when you can’t see it. That doesn’t have to be a weapon just on it’s own, and he also told you some men deserve a slow creeping agony.

The Mountain kept struggling to keep grounded, but Oberyn paced. His spear keeping a home in his chest dripping the wound with a searing fire. It wasn’t enough though. A burning horrid rage had built, and grasped the metal of the rail in front of you, grip tight as red filled more then just The Mountains insides. It filled Oberyn Martell’s eyes with a different kind of agony. One far more angry.

“You can’t die yet, you haven’t confessed.” He yanked the spear from his chest, blood dripping from the end of it.

Don’t do this. Don’t put everything you’ve worked towards fall apart now, you thought. But he kept going. Demanding the mumbling dying monster on the ground say it. “Say her name. Elia Martell. You raped her, you killed her children.”

Your lungs constricted and your hands shook regardless of how tight you held on. Oberyn turned to the man who created this rage. Tywin Lannister sat in the judging seats watching with a his own masked rage. “Who gave you the order?”

Oberyn pointing directly to Tywin. He had no desire to hide the crimes of the elder Lannister. “Who gave you the order?”

He yelled he demanded. “You raped her!”

There was a stark silence in the audience, this was no longer a trial, this was revenge.

“You murdered her!”

Blood rushed so loudly in your veins it felt like you could pass out.

“You killed her children!”

The Viper, hissing and snapping as it overtook the man. Oberyn letting his rage fill him, but there was movement amongst the Mountains. Twitches and flickers of movement as the man found a sense of reality once more. “Say it!”

The Mountain had a mouth once more. “Elia Martell.”

Your entire body jerked, mouth dropping open with a silenced gasp of horror. Oberyn was too close, too close and too blinded by the red of the Viper to see it before the Mountain knocked him to the ground. His disgusting bloody figure covered over as Oberyn grasped at him.

“I killed her children, then I raped her.”

You couldn’t see, you couldn’t see beyond the coldness in your body shaking you from your core, as the Mountain tried to find a grasp on Oberyns skull. Brute strength, Mountains are strong creatures of nature.

Oberyn was too shadowed by a monster to see, all to make out was part of his torso and head, enough to see the arm of that side grasping. “Then I smashed her head in like this!”

It was too late. Blood now was your own vision. The only man who cared in your entire life had died with blood spurting from his mouth as all you could do was turn to watch from atop your escaping horse. That blood has haunted you ever since. You saw the blood every night. You didn’t sleep beacuse of that blood.

Oberyn was there. He decided for himself that you meant something. Not just for some grand scheme for power that had so far tossed you around, no. You meant something to him, something that felt stronger and unique from the love you held for your Uncle. Your love towards Oberyn was a love that felt like future. Was that how he saw you? Felt for you? You didn’t know. All you could see was the blood.

Gasps of horror filled the arena, but not screams. Just blood. But not from the Prince of Dorne.

The Mountain remained hovered in his position but empty was the space below him. Blood dripping from his neck, just like what you forced on the man you killed. Sputtering and unable to control his body.

Above him, stood not a Viper blinded by rage, but a man. One you knew. Oberyn stood over him chest heaving his entire body with each movement, his teeth clenched and eyes still. But he was there. You could only see an arm and flashes of his body on the ground, but he stood, his face without massacre, his skull sat atop his head.

And a blade in is hand. A dagger, metal seared with fresh blood, his hand gripping the hilt yellows draping around it, and if you were to guess, a sun pierced by an arrow at the hilt. Only his, was soaked in a vipers cruel venom.

The Mountain hovered as he strained to gasp before falling in a collapse that echoed throughout. Oberyn approached and kicked with force to flop the man onto his back. The man not moving.

Oberyn had no eyes for glory. He looked at one man and one man only. Tywin Lannister sat in his seat, a face desperate to erupt, but could do nothing now. Slow steps forward Oberyn walked close to where the crowd around him sat.

“The Gods made their judgment.” Oberyn’s voice a grasping husky tone, unblinking at the man before him now. “They’ve seen the truth in your son.” His head turned to look at the bleeding lump on the ground. “Gregor Clegane however,” He turned back to Tywin, Oberyns chin high and spitting words back at him. “Your men, you, on the other hand. Your crimes have been judged guilty. And the Mountain has paid for his sins with his life.”

The two stared at one another. Tywin, finally, knew what it felt like to be trapped with no choice. So he spoke. Tywin stood up, and directed his eyes towards his son. The man he so desperately tried against. They looked one another in the eyes, and finally, presiding judge, Lord Tywin Lannister made the final verdict.

“The Gods have made their will known. Tyrion Lannister, in the name of King Tommen of the House Baratheon, First of His Name, you are hereby, declared innocent.”

The crowd was silent at first, and just as quickly, it erupted. The entire crowd on it’s feet, an overwhelming volume of cheering. A city once so ready to side against a man now cheered. Was it for him, or was it for the show? You didn’t know.

Your body loosened, the trembling and cold slowed down and turned to a warmer relief. Tears built up in your eyes and for now you let them. You had to go. The city was here, and your path still lay empty. You were told to get on the ship, and it was ready, you just had to get there.

It was faint, still a distance between you, but it felt like that first day in the brothel, peeking at the doors threshold watching Oberyn Martell risen up against the blood of a Lannister. The Mountain was just the same. A man so willing to commit monstrous crimes for the Lions that he was simply as one of them.

Oberyn and you looked at each other before he made his way to Ellaria. Body more relaxed, and a softer gaze towards you. He gave a single nod, and so did you. You yearned to stay, to revel in the moment and be with them, but you couldn’t.

Your window of opportunity was closing. Tearing your eyes away from him you turned away. Blood pumping in your ears you saw them everywhere, cloaks of gold everywhere. You don’t know how he knew today was the day you didn’t know, but the Kingsguard now knew your face, some of them too well.

And no amount of fake flattery and fake pleasure would make any of these men disobey an order from the Hand of the King. Your hood stayed up, and your head down enough to maybe get by. Crowds of people swarming the streets of Kings Landing and gold was everywhere. You needed the backstreets. Pacing down the stone path there was dim alley across from you that led away from most general population, it was risky but you knew exactly how to sneak your way down to the docks from there.

Dim and damp, water dripping from overhangs forming puddles below your feet. Each step was far, your toes hitting down first followed by the slow descent of the rest of your foot, not wanting to draw noise to yourself. The Street of Silk has it’s typical bustle of people, so you hung by the entrance of the alley, stretching your neck out so only a peek of your face could be really seen.

The faint carving of a mocking bird sat on the stone wall just within your view and so did the gold. Two Kingsguard stood atop the main step one with arms crossed and the other leaning back letting the other speak as his hand remained on his sword hilt. Olyvar stood at the open entrance seemingly reasoning with their demands, demands you suspect were to come in and search for me.

His head shook and a hand gestured to the other end of he street in frustration. The two glanced over before conferring quietly with each other. As Olyvar shook his head in dismay, his sight strayed far enough to catch yours.

Legs suddenly itching to move, one hand perched onto the walls edge as if to push off. His chin lifting higher as his eyes squinted, debating his allegiance when it was too late. The Kingsguard looking to see what caught his eye more then their interrogation, and there you were.

So you ran, and they followed. You had one advantage of being smaller, your lack of armour making it easy to slide between people but the crowd begun to part as yelling orders to stop were thrown down the way. The clang of metal closing in and thuds of running overpowering the sound of your panting.

People were being shoved just to get out of your way, chattering and protesting drawing more attention to you. Turning quick and trying to make it to a side street, you could see a stand of pomegranates just before the opening. Knocking it over a sea of bright fruit rolled down just distractedly enough that you slid into the alley. Throwing your body you crouched behind a series of crates.

You could hear the metal boots clanging as they passed by one end, but the voices of more on the other side came into earshot. Just beyond the other side of the street, there was enough leverage that if you got a running start you may be able to hop over a small wall.

There wasn’t much more time you could spend in the streets until kingsguard finally made their way to the docks before you did, and there was too long of a stretch between the entrance and inside the ship to go unseen if they were already there. Slowly pulling the robe off, it left you hopefully able to run a bit faster, but you risked being seen by the men now standing in the area asking if someone matching your general description has been around. You needed them to think you were still hiding in the area not making a break for the sea.

But, as it turns out, just maybe Varys hadn’t lied about helping you escape. A small child, dirty and unkempt had been sitting near where you were crouched, searching for valuables in the crates. As you glanced at him, he looked up at you. Your head tilted to the side, eyes widened in warning as you slowly brought a finger up to your lips.

The child though, narrowed his eyes at you in thought, before getting up. The child was so small that even fully on his two feet he barley reached the top of your head lower to the ground. Pulling something out of the pocket of his pants, he handed you a small roll of parchment.

He watched you look at it long enough to see the wax holding it sealed. Red wax, with a three headed dragon in the middle of it. Red wax as its background not black. The metal. It was the same as the metal Varys had slipped you.

You shot your head up to look shocked at the child, who just nodded yes. Copying you he put a finger up to his lips before nodding over to the opening of the alley. As you both approached, the kid made a dash. Knocking himself into the Kingsguard, and grabbing a pouch no doubt filled with gold. The running off in the opposite direction towards the city centre. Both men shouted at him and took off to catch what they assumed was just a terrible desperate little thief.

That sneaky bald headed spider. Truly was always watching.

So you took off running once more. It was easy from there. The poorer the area you passed the less you were to run into someone for you. You skid to a stop, pressing your hands against a wall corner and looked towards the docks.

The ship in question did indeed have crew milling about the area. You glanced to the barley visible entrance where your crimes lay, and to their previous station. You kept your body low, casual as you didn’t look at those you passed. Hoping someone on board did know what you were doing there.

Close in your view now as a man perched right on the edge of the ship over the dock, familiar black curls on his head raised enough to see brown eyes looking at you quickly up and down your person as understanding floated into them.

Moving just enough to meet where you were, you took a step forward as well before distinct questioning voices approached. Both you and the man seeing the golden cloaks you had come to so terribly despise. There was little time for you to think, the man had reached out his arm and pulled you up to the open sides.

It was just enough to give you the space to fling your legs over the side. With little grace you simple let yourself drop, your hands taking the weight of the fall onto your side. The slam still knocked your head against the wooden deck. Sliding one stinging hand to grasp part of your head as your ears rung.

Voices sounding like they were underwater , or you were. There were three and they were all close enough to shake yourself out of how dizzy you felt. Back leaning against the side, kneels pulled up to your chest as you forced slow breaths instead of the frenzied one your pounding heart demanded. One hand had the handle of the dagger with an unnecessarily tight grip.

An accent voice said something that you could really only make words out from the fog inside your head. “Thief” and “flea” something something “took off”.

You’re body finally sunk from its tension as you heard one patronizing voice interrupt the other. “We ask that you report any more incidents from this...thief... at once if any should occur. This is a private matter of the Crown.”

The ringing dimmed to a stop finally. “Whatever his Lordship commands.” Now that was much more patronizing, but it made you smirk. Picturing the guards no doubt leaving with insulted faces.

With a thud, your head tapped against its resting place behind you, eyes shutting as you let all the air out. Hand having yet to let go of the dagger as your curled fingers creaked from the tightness of your grip. It almost felt like a trick, a trap set now ready to sail you off and lock you away for use elsewhere. Nothing about what you had done and seen today felt real.

Opening your eyes as you exhaled audibly once more, you looked up to find the same man, features you now see more clearly as quite Rhoynish. Your steel gaze followed his body squatting down to your level. A soft smile on his face. “Lady Slate. My name is Yandry, Acting Captain of this vessel. I’ve looked forward to your arrival.”

You almost felt frozen, unsure of what you were supposed to do. Your hope went as far as getting to the ship, but your mind was mostly plagued with what if you got caught instead. Preparing as if you wouldn’t possibly get this far.

Yandry seemed to catch on to your hesitation. “You have been through a lot, my lady. But I promise you, you’re safe aboard here.” His gaze looked down to your hand and you lurched your body away from him. Putting his palm out slowly, “No harm will come to you here, I won’t ask for you to give that up. But I will ask that you come with me, get you somewhere less out in the open. At least while we remain in the capitol.”

Finally you nodded. Hand letting go of the dagger, you tell him your name. “No need for formalities. Dead women can’t hold titles afterall.” And finally put your hand in his.

Yandry smiles, “Let’s get you off the floor shall we?” Pulling you up you put a hand bracing on the banister to steady your other half. Walking down the length of the open deck, he introduced names as he passed by, each man polite and welcoming. “We have an unused cabin you can rest in.”

You raised your eyebrows in question. “Ellaria was adamant you be allowed to have your own space if you so choose. Doesn’t want you to feel trapped in with her and Prince Oberyn should you need some privacy.”

You nodded as he slowed his pace slightly, just before steps downwards into the expansive ship. “The Prince, would you-” He looked away and his hand meaningless gestured into the air trying to come up with the right words. “The fight, do you know if he,” trailing himself off as if not wanting to curse the outcome by simply speaking its possibility.

You nodded this time more firmly. Not so much a smile, but a bit more brightness on your face. “He did.” Yandrys shoulders relaxed as you restarted your path, “I’m not sure who’s more angry. Lady Cersei for picking the losing Champion, or Lord Tywin for being outsmarted by him.”

Nudging you in through the hall doors before him, he chuckled. “Pissing off Lannisters isn’t exactly something he is unfamiliar with.”

Leading you into a small cabin, he stood by the door to give you space to investigate. “It’s smaller than Prince Oberyn and Ellaria’s quarters, but it’s comfortable enough.” He watched as your back stayed facing towards him.

Looking around the room, once again. Like it was fake. Or a trick. Like this would wash away and you would be somewhere trapped once more, maybe worse. But you weren’t, at least not now. You spun quickly to face him, “I-” there was too much to ask, and not enough words in your mouth to say them. “Thank you.”

Yandry took the difficulty making eye contact and the whispered thanks as his cue to go. If the Prince had indeed won the trial by combat, then he would be undoubtedly demanding they leave sooner rather then later. “Until we set sail, I suggest trying to stay out of sight on the main deck. Those Kingsguard do like to hover. But anything you need, just find any of us and ask.”

Watching you nod once more, he quietly shut the door behind him. Leaving you in the silence, only the faint sounds of splashing rocks on the shore and loud jabber from the crew muffling into the walls.

Slowly you raised the dagger out of it’s hold, tenderly grasping it in your fingers as you looked at the blade. Blood now dried and stained over the metal, now shot up and splashed in your face once more. This time the blood wasn’t the distant image of a man bleeding out as you ran off on horse. No this time was different.

The blood infecting the water just above a drowning man, the splatter as it fell all over the ground with a single slash. Blood splattering up and spraying through the air as the spear was both plunged and pulled from the Mountains chest. And the blood pouring onto the ground as the Mountain lost consciousness.

But you weren’t a Viper. You weren’t anything anymore. Just a girl who sliced a mans neck open.

Burning your hand you tossed the dagger onto the table in front of you. The clank as it landed and laying unceremoniously amongst the other amenities. It was nothing to the state of this room, but the blood still haunted you.

Your heart pounded harder and harder, strength losing you as you stumbled back into the edge of the bed behind. You didn’t even make it, you just stopped fighting it, and slid onto the ground in front of it. If this were a trap, then you would simply wake back up in it’s nightmare. Maybe you should. Maybe this fantasy was all in your head.

It was hard to tell, you felt a dense fog forming in your head, and before you knew it, the need to sleep begun to pull you under it’s spell you before you could spiral any further. You were exhausted, eyes dipping shut. The faint yelling of Oberyn demanding him to “say her name” “Elia Martell” echoing through your mind. Maybe you imagined that too.

If you did, it didn’t matter. Sleep overtook you before it could linger any longer.

Your dreams were scattered, images of blood taken by your hands morphed into a monstrous void, memory of Oberyn kicking over the Mountain shifted into a nightmare of watching his skull crushed beneath his opponents hands, an echo of Ellaria’s screams before fading once more. The sea of faces and touches of men in brothels seared your skin as the dreams passed you by, watchful eyes and whispers surrounding you. The scene playing in front of you, your father, the bruises, the degradation, the horror, the swords plunging into an empty bed and the spear through your Uncle’s body. You slipped between it all as the voices faded in and out. Some sounded familiar, some sounded even closer then others, but it all swirled around you until you felt like you had fallen backward. Careening into the void once more before the lurch of your heart brought you back.

The cabin. Now splayed out differently then you remembered, you slowly lifted your head to see instead of the floor you fell against, you were laid out gently on the bed, a thin sheet over top you. Sitting up, the sheet pooled in your lap, letting you see your clothes had been changed and the blood and grime on your body cleaned.

The ship seemed to sway with a natural flow as the sound of water muffled through the walls. Slowly you slipped out of the bed and stood up. The room looked about the same, only with some food and water left for you on the table. Throat dry you easily swallowed down the water, but you eyes were not on the food, but of the dagger laid neatly on the table as well. The blood on the dagger now dried, staining the metal with your crime. Alongside it were the only 2 belongings you had now. The small note with the strange wax seal, untouched for you to read still, and the metal sigil. The same crest painted across it, and still leaving you wondering just how little of this world’s plans you may never know.

The note and metal sigil found a place in the neatly cropped pants placed on you in your sleep, but your hands hovered over the dagger. Trembling as you picked it up, the decorative handle shining brightly against the blade covered in filth. The blood in your eyes no longer a reminder of your own loss, but now of your actions.

It was a good few minutes you stood, hands gently holding each end of the blade before you looked up again. There was a slight view of the bright sun against blue water from the small windows looking out, beckoning you to come see it.

Tucking the dagger away on you, you slowly made your way to push open the door. Crew was scattered about doing their duties, some greeting you with a polite hello, others simply nodding before turning their attention back to their duties.

The steps up to the deck felt almost too bright. The sun once so hard to see from the inner depths of the brothels and dim streets now fell unhindered on the deck above. The blue in the sky unobstructed by any cloud, it was by all accounts beautiful. Each step you took up the sunshine seemed to get too bright, like it penetrated right through your eyes and tried to blind you.

The air once you reached the deck was crisp, fresh and clean as the ship sailed on the open water. The sound of the waves filled your ears with a clarity you’ve never before experienced. Trapped within walls and surrounded by woods and forests or dirty streets, the water now sounded so loud. The clean air smelling so different, as if it let you breathe easier.

Crew were more about on the deck, talking and shouting, some of which you recognized but none of these Dornish crew were the ones you wanted to see. Near the back of the ship, you found yourself stepping towards the barrister. Land nowhere near in sight, not a hint of Kings Landing, so why did you not feel better?

Why did you still see the blood? You hadn’t even realized it before it was in your hands once more, but you began to pull the dagger out. Eyes on the vast open water shooting down to the metal. Fingertips just barley holding onto each far end, but the blood staining the blade held firm. It stained the blade dirty, as if mocking you. It screamed at you. You cannot just cleanse your own sins by cleaning it, maybe you shouldn’t. Maybe you deserve the reminder.

You couldn’t be sure how long it was you stood there, blade in your hands and eyes trained on the blood just as much as your mind saw the blood in your memory. The sip of water from earlier had long since left you parched but you felt unable to move. Let your throat ache and burn raw.

Small parts of your brain begged to know where Oberyn and Ellaria were. Maybe they weren’t on this ship, maybe they wanted to travel home away from you, or hadn’t even left Kings Landing, celebrating Oberyns victory over the cruel man with blood on his hands. It was hard to focus on them though, not while you stared at the blade.

Your breathing quickened as you stood for longer, heart pumping blood furiously as your dreams flashed in front of you as real as they felt then. Your eyes stung with unshed tears as your fingers gripped tighter. Were you trembling or was your vision just shaky from tension?

You wanted to drop it, throw it into the sea, break it apart or let it finish your sins by washing you away too, but none of that happened. In fact, the trembling stopped.

A large, warm hand gripped the top of yours on the dagger handle, and a body hovered over you from behind. The hand prying your fingers out of the daggers grasp and it slipped it away from you, tucking it somewhere you couldn’t see.

The hands spun you around to face their owner. Oberyn’s eyes reflected so beautifully in the sunlight, the brown now stark and full of colour like the rest of him. His face watching the tears in your eyes desperate to let go, the shake in your hands tremble in your entire body. One hand tilted your chin up to look him in the eye as your hands tried to find a home on his chest, but the tremble turned to a shake.

The images were too real, and the blood you shed felt too present. All at once you felt yourself falling, onto to be caught in Oberyns arms. Your face now tucked into his chest, protected from the world as his lips found the top of your head, whispers of calm nothings falling onto deaf ears as the tears fell.

It was almost too much. What was done was too much right then, and it all spilt over as you cried into his arms. Mutterings of your name came through the noise, but he demanded nothing.

You don’t know the last time true tears came out like this, and you don’t know how long they fell, but Oberyn stayed firmly with you in his grasp until they had finally stopped. Your watery red eyes looking up into his handsome face as one of your own hands cupped his cheek. And in a chaste kiss, a kiss much more for long lovers then for whores, his lips found yours.

This time as you stood at the ships end, looking out in the water, Oberyns arms were around your front, at least one on you at all times. He had made a quiet request to a passing crewman as his thumbs were stroking away the scattered tears still on your face before you had found yourselves standing as such.

Now one such hand was toying with the shorter strands of hair now sitting loose and free. Chuckling at the odd colour now firmly dyed in it, “Not exactly what I remember your hair looking like all those years ago, but I like this far better then the absurdly long light hair you tried to hide under.”

Your own fingers came to toy with the end of the strands his own held, “I thought I should just wash it out, but I don’t know. The blue could be interesting.”

“Not a very Westerosi colour, that’s for certain.” Both you and Oberyn smiled at the approaching voice. Ellaria was almost more beautiful now then in the drab capitol. Her and Oberyn matched in pastels that let their skin breathe in the open air, and her face lit up just as much as the sun.

Oberyns hands slipped from your body as you and Ellaria fell into each others embrace. Her lips wasting no time finding yours, and you returned just as much. Both of you pulling apart only when your smiles made the kiss impossible to continue.

Her arms around you as you walked back over to Oberyn, him pulling you back into his chest once more as Ellaria hugged into his side, with her touch still on you. “We could pass you off as Tyroshi, a beautiful girl from Tyrosh travelled all the way to Dorne to explore the world and fell in love with more than just the city.”

You could feel Oberyns chest vibrate in chuckles, his own deeper voice much closer to your ear, “Doran and I have discussed a few options, for now though that may not be such a bad idea.” His head tilted so he could lean into Ellaria’s, pressing his lips against her hair. “Keeping your identity to just a few of us, until we figure out the safest way to protect you without having to hide you.”

You sagged slightly in his hold, the very concept loomed over your existence. Ellaria was quick to elaborate though, “Not like that, sweet girl. With us, in Dorne you are free to be yourself, he and Doran just need to make sure you are also safe to those outside of our own borders.”

Doran was the one you had met when you were younger. You remember him being kind and welcoming, but also distant and stoic. In many ways he was a lot like the reputation most Northerners get, quiet and guarded many but he was also warm to those he loves. If he and Oberyn had discussed what to do about telling people your real identity, then he must be willing to welcome you into his home. At least into Dorne.

Your home though, you hadn’t really had one before. Not one that felt like what home is supposed too. “And when I’m in Dorne, where...where am I to stay? Where would I go?”

There was a pause, long enough to get you to turn and look at the pair. Ellaria had a hand on her mouth covering her laughter as she looked at Oberyns offended but confused face. He leaned into you, his eyes narrowing almost playfully. “I’m not sure I made it quite clear little girl, but you,” he yanked you in close by your hips, his nose bumping yours as you fell into his personal space. “Are staying with us, with me and Ellaria. In our home. Your home.” His nose rubbed against yours as his hands now caressed the skin under your shirt just slightly. “I told you, the only thing I wanted from you was you heart. And there's nowhere I’d rather keep that, then with me where it belongs.”

Reaching out blindly you felt Ellaria’s smooth hand find your fingers, and pulled her closer, her hands wrapping around your stomach behind you, and you moved to cup the sides of Oberyns face. “I don’t know what the future holds for me, or what it wants from me, but just promise me I have a place with you at the end of it all.”

Oberyn cupped your face to match, pulling you up to look at his eyes, your name rolling gently off of his tongue. “Your home is with us, no matter what. I promise.”

As his lips found yours, tongue teasing and tracing yours, Ellaria’s hands traced along your torso, her own lips gently pressing against the side of your neck. Your head growing light with the need to breathe, you only could just pull from Oberyns mouth trying to mould yours to stay with his. He leaned in and bit at your bottom lip, tugging at it and watching it bounce back into place as you giggled at his greed.

Dorne would fade into view eventually, as would plans begin to form once more. The world around you three raged regardless of these moments together and it will demand your attention one way or another. The note, the sigil both sat on your person to one day be called upon, but that’s not what mattered now. Not this moment you spent in the arms of two people finally giving you love. For now, your morning was spent looking out into a bright blue water with the sun lighting the sky brighter then you’ve ever known.

Your fate was unknown, but in the arms of Oberyn Martell, you knew he wouldn’t let go of those he loves without a fight.

#oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell imagine #oberyn martell x female reader #Oberyn Martell x reader x Ellaria Sand #Oberyn Martell x female reader x Ellaria Sand #Oberyn Martell x you x Ellaria Sand #game of thrones fanfiction #a song of ice and fire fanfiction #oberyn martell fanfiction

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alaynerhinestone · 1 month

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SIGHING the age difference between margaery and sansa is p big for teenagers! margaery is closer to jon and robb's age than sansa's. margaery and her family actively pursued an interest in elevating her to queen from at least the first book if not longer, tywin was actively trying to arrange a marriage between cersei and rhaegar before the maggy scene, which takes place when cersei was younger than sansa is at the beginning of the series. ned and catelyn had barely discussed sansa's options before joffrey shows up; they might have thought of it later or they might have chosen someone else. the wealthy southern houses are ambitious, but starks rarely send their daughters south to marry. sansa has talent and big dreams, and cat would at least think to take that into account. likely cat was expecting to marry her into another great house, but we know cat wanted her kids to be happy?? and be children?? for as long as they can. she was surprised and a little upset that robb was wearing live steel, even tho he's nearly an adult by westerosi standards and competent enough to manage winterfell when she understandably neglects her duties while bran is in his coma.

this is not a bad thing!! this is reasonable!! and cat did teach sansa how to be a lady the same way ned taught robb and jon to be a lord, through example and demonstration. all highborn girls have lessons with a septa, not least to occupy them while the boys are practicing hitting each other with swords. sansa and arya were also given lessons with maester luwin, which is a significant advantage that not all highborn girls get. and honestly this solid foundation gave sansa and arya the tools they needed to survive thus far!!

catelyn was expecting sansa (and arya!) to continue her education at court, under the supervision of ned and with the help of septa mordane. and cersei did try to educate her in her own terrible way––catelyn could not have known how incompetent cersei was (honestly cersei had robert killed in an incredibly sophisticated way that would still be hard to prove in real court, she is a lot more together in the first book). ned resolved to end the betrothal as soon as he saw what joffrey was like, he definitely believed revealing joffrey's parentage would make this easy.

margaery came to king's landing with an army at her back, knowing there was a possibility, however slim, of the lannisters rejecting an alliance. she knew she was entering a city her family had been starving out for months!! she brought food!!! she was prepared. she knew exactly what she was getting into!! loras had almost definitely been feeding the tyrells information about the court for years, if only so they'd know what was going on lol.

the tyrells are absolutely the lannisters' foils, I think that's pretty clear? margaery is the political powerhouse cersei wants to be, and she has the support and respect cersei craves. loras is the new Best Tourney Knight who mostly lives up to the ideals jaime strives for without really trying, and his relationship actually is unfairly discriminated against instead of just creepy (affectionate). willas is the scholarly heir trusted absolutely, like his claim is so rock solid he is just left with the castle, and he has a more 'socially acceptable' disability (in tyrion's mind especially!). like they are both engaged to sansa even. and olenna is who tywin thinks he is, except she also has the power of being a reasonable adult who would prefer that people (not joffrey) didn't get hurt. then garlan is just a good guy, all the lannisters wish they had a garlan

for the record, also, sansa tried to 'talk up' joffrey because she was terrified. she does not like anything about joffrey at this point and is desperately trying to think of things to say that won't get her killed?? what olenna and margaery do so well, and what is indicative of their strength as politicians and the power of being nice to people, is put sansa at ease enough that she's willing to tell them the truth. like yes sansa was fully deluding herself at one point, accepting joffrey's apology for lady's death, but she starts to hate him as soon as he has ned arrested (and their household killed??). how many of us can say we have not gone a little delusional over a crush in middle school regardless of what our parents taught us. lmao.

cat and ned may not have prepared sansa to be queen but they are the reason alayne is still kind, and that is why she inspires the kind of loyalty littlefinger can't, which will prove to be her greatest weapon.

#sansa stark #margaery tyrell #cersei lannister

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gendrie · 11 months

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They thought they were hunting her, she knew with all the strange sharp certainty of dreams, but they were wrong. She was hunting them. She was no little girl in the dream; she was a wolf, huge and powerful, and when she emerged from beneath the trees in front of them and bared her teeth in a low rumbling growl, she could smell the rank stench of fear from horse and man alike. (Arya, ASOS)

little red riding hood is, of course, the classic fairy tale of a girl traveling through the woods on the way to see her grandmother while pursued by a wolf. the plot is simplistic, but the symbolism is loaded. its deeply concerned with power dynamics; between girls and beasts in particular. the tale has been told countless times and has just as many interpretations: its erotic, its a puberty rite, a cautionary tale on stranger danger or carnal desire and so on. some have chosen to reinterpret the tale through a feminist lens too.

Many fans might appreciate that Arya was the name chosen for the alpha female. It's no surprise that Martin has been fascinated with wolves since childhood. The Stark's direwolves are central to the plot of both the books and the show.

"Well, they're mythic. I think even as a kid I responded to the werewolf legends and the wolves in the wood and, you know, Little Red Riding Hood and all of that," says Martin, who claims his choice for the Stark's direwolf banner came from a gut feeling rather than an attempt at symbolism. - GRRM [x]

this story originated during the middle ages in france during a period where wolves were viewed with hatred and fear as is fairly typical of an agrarian society. until recently, the wolf has always been the villain. the girl’s role in this tale is where there’s variability. in the traditional oral folklore of little red riding hood the girl outwits the wolf and escapes. this changed later with the two most well known written versions of the tale, by charles perrault and the brothers grimm, where the girl is devoured or saved by a man, respectively. mercy reads a lot like a twist on ‘little red riding hood’ more in line with the original and i think that tale’s themes could continue be applicable to arya’s forthcoming arc.

Another interesting thing he mentioned: he mentioned the coming of age of Arya in Braavos in the context of how a writer had to discipline himself to write only as many chapters as were necessary to serve the story, saying that what Arya was dealing with in Braavos could make a worthy young adult novel in its own right. - GRRM [x]

grrm considers arya’s storyline in braavos to be a coming of age. this is intended to be the part of her arc where arya journey’s from girl to (very) young woman. which, yeah, is ridiculous, as arya is barely 12. he couldn’t get the 5 year gap to work so that’s what we’re left with. personally? ive accepted that. there was already an insane precedent anyway. sansa was a month shy of 13 when married to tyrion. dany was also 13 when she married drogo. both of their stories involve sexual desires - both theirs and those of the men around them. jeyne p. as “arya stark” has been forcibly married as well. that was a major plotline in adwd. i do not see arya becoming a child bride nor having sex so in that regard it will be tamer, but with mercy sexuality has been introduced to arya’s story in earnest.

The smell of blood was heavy in her nostrils… or was that her nightmare, lingering? She had dreamed of wolves again, of running through some dark pine forest with a great pack at her hells, hard on the scent of prey. (Arya, TWOW)

arya’s twow arc opens on a familiar note; her waking from a wolf dream. whether awake or asleep blood, wolves, and the forest are all constant imagery for her. she rarely has a chapter that doesn’t feature all three. these are also significant symbols in little red riding hood. forests are a liminal space in fairy tales, a representation of the subconscious, a place outside the rules of society. this is arya’s realm even while she’s across the narrow sea in a city. every night her mind wanders back to the woods where she is not stuck in the vulnerable body of a little girl but a strong, swift, fierce she-wolf. arya is an interesting character as she is both the girl AND the wolf. the wolf is a standard fairy tale villain - a male figure both ravenous and deceitful: little red riding hood, the three little pigs, the boy who cried wolf. the big bad wolf conjures an image of terror.

"Some will tell you that they are demons. They say the pack is led by a monstrous she-wolf, a stalking shadow grim and grey and huge. They will tell you that she has been known to bring aurochs down all by herself, that no trap nor snare can hold her, that she fears neither steel nor fire, slays any wolf that tries to mount her, and devours no other flesh but man." (Brienne, AFFC)

asoiaf plays with that, historically european, villanization of wolves while also offering another side to this animal. the direwolf is the sigil of house stark and in many ways that family is the heart of the story. several of the viewpoints characters, arya included, share their souls with wolves. they are, in spirit, the feared werewolves of european folklore. within asoiaf the wolf is monstrous, savage, feared and sociable, protective, intelligent.

The sound of horses turned her head. Men. They were coming from downwind, so she had not smelled them, but now they were almost here. Men on horses, with flapping black and yellow and pink wings and long shiny claws in hand. Some of her younger brothers bared their teeth to defend the food they'd found, but she snapped at them until they scattered. That was the way of the wild. Deer and hares and crows fled before wolves, and wolves fled from men. She abandoned the cold white prize in the mud where she had dragged it, and ran, and felt no shame. (Arya, ASOS)

nymeria’s (and by extension arya’s) pack is one of the best examples of that dichotomy. by the people of the riverlands they are a greatly feared thing. septon meribald’s words paint a dark picture, but its mostly an exaggeration. we see through arya’s eyes that is it not typical for the wolves to seek out humans. it’s the opposite. they actually flee before them. nymeria leads her pack away from people. unless they are posing a threat to arya or just happen to be caught up among the sheep. they aren’t monster. they’re animals.

"Meanwhile, this daughter of his has been fetching and pouring, a fat little thing, eighteen or so—" "Thirteen, more like," Raff the Sweetling drawled. (Arya, ACOK)

in little red riding hood the wolf is, generally, interpreted as a sexual predator. it represents a man’s “animalistic instincts” which he tries to conceal with a disguise to get a young girl in bed. raff is definitely a predator. he did not just kill lommy, but participated in the gang rape of a child and many more. as a reminder in mercy, he comments upon how gregor clegane would give his victims to his men to further assault. the mountain and his men consistently commit the worst war crimes of the series. in this text raff isnt a wolf he’s a “rat”. arya has seen his crimes because she was once at the mercy of him and his fellow soldiers. but not anymore. now raff the sweetling will be at her mercy. in a subversion of the tale it is arya, the wolf girl, who goes after the predator.

Am I too young for him? she wondered. Too plain? Too skinny? She hoped he wasn’t the sort of man who liked big breasts on a girl. Bobono had been right about her chest. It would be best if I could take him back to my place, have him all to myself. But will he come with me?

these are definitely not the sort of innocent internal thoughts we’d typically associate with a young girl. arya has been exposed to a lot. she has spent time in brothels where she sees girls and women entertaining men so she has some knowledge of seduction. she’s also been a witness to a great deal of sexual violence from a very young age. raff is (one of many) responsible for the loss of arya’s innocence. as she prepares to entice him her language takes on a very sexualized tone despite her violent intent.

He’ll want me or he won’t, she thought, so let the play begin.

She could not give it up. She wanted him so bad.

Mercy looked down at her feet, so shy. “Izembaro said to please the lords,” she whispered. “If there is anything you want, anything at all… “ “I’m Lord Rafford, sweetling, and I know just what I want. Hike up those skirts now, and lean back against that wall.”

all these lines use “want” to express desire. in raff’s case for sex and in arya’s for blood. mercy as a chapter is full of sexuality references. to an extent that is still.....somewhat shocking. arya herself makes references to oral sex, erections, and orgasms. rape is also prominent in mercy. arya plays a rape victim in the ‘bloody hand’ and many interpretations of little red riding hood view the wolf’s actions towards the girl as rape.

“Not here. Someone might see. My room’s not far, but hurry. I have to be back before the second act, or I’ll miss my rape.” [Raff] grinned. “No fear o’ that, girl.”

to a man like raff there is no difference between sex and rape. he is every bit the villain in a fairy tale.

He grabbed her wrist. "I'll do the teaching. Time for your first lesson." He pulled her hard against him and kissed her on the lips, forcing his tongue into her mouth. It was all wet and slimy, like an eel. Mercy licked it with her own tongue, then broke away from him, breathless.

arya is still innocent in many ways, like little red riding hood, she is a girl who has yet to have her first period let alone feel actual desire or have sexual experiences. raff threatens to “teach” arya before aggressively forcing a kiss on her. nothing in mercy is an expression of arya’s own sexuality. she just uses the idea of it as a lure. to her it’s a “play” where arya is pretending to be an older girl, copying the things she has seen around her.

“Mummers are the next best thing to whores.” “Might be, but this one is a child.” “I am not,” lied Mercy. “I’m a maiden now.”

arya can play the shy maiden. she is, however, a very dangerous girl. raff is mistaken in thinking he’s the big bad wolf. in the charles perrault version of little red riding hood the girl removes her cloak and clothes before climbing into bed where the the wolf devours her. unlike the later grimm version there is no man with an axe to save the girl. in similar fashion raff attempts to get arya out of her clothes.

“You’re not going anywhere.” He pulled her roughly to him. “Get those rags off, and I’ll show you how old I am, girl.”

the performance comes to an end after she incapacitates and kills raff. he does not get her out of her clothes nor does he eat her all up like in the fairy tale. arya turns the tables on this tale revealing she is the wolf. here a little girl and a fierce wolf exist in a singular character. those archetypes tend to be stuck at polar opposite ends in fiction as they to represent totally different, presumably contradictory, ideals. the wolf is evil and deeply associated with wilderness and the devil. he is hungry, violent, and sexual. in a “civilized” christian society these concepts make people uneasy especially when they’re present in girls. girls are supposed to remain pure and clean. they are not supposed to hunger for food or blood or sex. the wolf is a warning for young girls against those hungers that will corrupt them. the message is clear: be good, be obedient, be chaste.

The priest lowered his cowl. Beneath he had no face; only a yellowed skull with a few scraps of skin still clinging to the cheeks, and a white worm wriggling from one empty eye socket. "Kiss me, child," he croaked, in a voice as dry and husky as a death rattle. Does he think to scare me? Arya kissed him where his nose should be and plucked the grave worm from his eye to eat it, but it melted like a shadow in her hand. The yellow skull was melting too, and the kindliest old man that she had ever seen was smiling down at her. "No one has ever tried to eat my worm before," he said. "Are you hungry, child?" Yes, she thought, but not for food. (Arya, AFFC)

but girls hungers aren’t truly unnatural they’re just shamed excessively compared to boys. arya is a character who hungers a lot. starvation is a frequent issue in her chapters as she navigates a war-torn countryside. arya has also faced one injustice after another and hungers for justice, revenge - however you want to frame it.

The biggest toms would seldom win, she noticed; oft as not, the prize went to some smaller, quicker animal, thin and mean and hungry. Like me, she told herself. (Arya, AFFC)

arya never viewed herself as innocent or good either. that’s the default for young girls, typically, but arya has been made to feel that she is bad. for that she does feel insecure and ashamed and guilty. at the same time arya fully embraces her wolf side where she finds comfort and strength. her skinchanging abilities provide an internal world where animalistic desire is all that matters and there is no fear or shame. the wolf is a source of power for arya. with cats arya finds empowerment too. her deep connection to nature has given her an outlet for all those dark feelings and actions that the fairy tales warn girls to avoid at all costs.

"The girl is as wild as that filthy animal of hers," Cersei Lannister said.

"She has not said a word since they brought you back. She is a fierce little thing, my lord. I have never seen such anger in a girl." (Eddard, AGOT)

arya is often remembered for her messy hair and being covered in dirt. she strays off the path into the woods, gets covered in mud, talks to strangers. her nature is sociable, outspoken, and fierce. her anger, so frowned upon in girls, is noted more than once. this aspect of her character defies the ideals of girlhood purity that are enforced by society and stories like little red riding hood.

“Or would you sooner be a courtesan, and have songs sung of your beauty? Speak the word, and we will send you to the Black Pearl or the Daughter of the Dusk. You will sleep on rose petals and wear silken skirts that rustle when you walk, and great lords will beggar themselves for your maiden's blood.” (Arya, AFFC)

sexuality is a major theme in little red riding hood and i expect this trend to continue in arya’s arc beyond mercy. it seems likely bellegere otherys, one of braavos’ most famous courtesans, will mentor her at some point. arya has seen a lot of blood, but her own moonblood is another matter entirely. her flowering will likely introduce her own sexuality to some extent. and since arya is less concerned with social convention and its notions of being a “good girl” there is really nothing holding her back.

#asoiaf nonsense #arya stark #been sitting on this on for awhile #bc its clearly a controversial topic #but idt this is too bad #no worse than the material itself at least

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themotherofblood · 2 years

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Caught Up in a Moment

Tywin Lannister x Reader

Tears of Gold Au

A/N: now if somebody had truly protected Sansa in the books/show

tw: Mentions of blood, animal death and suicidal ideation. Smut! breeding kink vibes, unprotected p in v (wrap before you tap lovelies), quickie

Yet another fitting, another horde of dressmakers had invaded the Red keep, this time both you and Tywin were the subjects of this torture. The dressmakers laid fabrics on his shoulders to choose from as he mostly replied in grunts and glares, you could barely breathe in the corset they had put you in, to fit the metal armoured corset out front. One thing your good daughter had major influence over, was how the ladies dressed in King’s Landing. Though you would go along with it, just so the dressmakers give her good reports, only to change it near last minute. You took a deep breath of relief as you ladies undid the outlandishly tight corset, you were sure that had you worn it any longer. It would have bruised you.

You were let out earlier than your husband, to your surprise. You sons had laid out in the sun, out in the varenda with pillows and sheets on the ground. Around them were different coloured berries that now their nurses were mushing into seperate bowls as per your order. The boys loved their about to be sister by law, and their lady “Sasa” loved them very much too. While she was child herself, you’d hoped that having her own children would give her more comfort, or perhaps a reason to find light in the situation she was imposed to. It would be rather daft to think she’d be elated at the union, Tyrion wasn’t a horrible person, a little explicit at times but a good man nonetheless.

A sheet of thick paper laid prepped on the ground as the handmaiden tried her best from letting the little lords rip at the paper, you watched as they garbled nonsense at one another, other than a few words they could already say. Like mama, papa, Sasa, Jams, Eci, and Tion. Both boys would turn one in three fortnights, and you looked at them as how so much time had already passed. Both boys positively lit up as they saw their mother approach them, Jamie stood up with the help of the handmaiden and slowly waddled over to you in wonky steps.

“Ah my love, mama missed you.” You kissed each of his pink cheeks making him giggle, walking over to lower yourself on the sheets, “Mhmm, the berries are yummy huh?” You asked Tyeon as he had already dipped is hand into the mushed pigmented fruit and began licking his hands. “We have a mission today. We are going to make a gift forLady Sansa’s wedding.”

Both boys looked at you like puppies trying to decipher what you said, Tyeon immediately picked it up by garbling out “Sasa!” Before screeching out a high pitched giggle and Jamie mumbled “Gif.” Under his breath as he played with your hair.

Tywin had taught you this, his experience in raising children was one up yours. He had strictly instructed the staff to not communicate with the children in a cooed voice, instead speak to them as if they understood every word. This worked perfectly to their merit as both boys quickly began picking up common words. While the mother in you couldn’t help but coo at them as you put them to bed, most days you spoke to them as normally as you could.

The handmaidens and you spent the next while, dipping your sons hands into the berry mush and making imprints of pigment with their hands, while originally this was to be done with the finest paint that money could buy, you weren’t sure if the raw minerals would be safe in their sensitive skin, instead you opted for berries. Even lion managed to get a few paw prints in, to which he spent a good while, licking at his paws to clean out the sour taste from his toe beans. You made a few thumb prints of your own, next to the tiny palm prints of your sons. By the end of it, the paper was covered in palm prints but you weren’t quite done, your sons held an admirable amount of concentration through this endeavour and yet both of them were covered in berry juice, same as the skirts of your gown and your chest.

“Dada.” Tyeon smiled with his half grown smile, Tywin was stood resting against the posts that held the varenda’s arch ways. He walked over to where the lot of you were sat, the maid stood up to bow at him while he waved her away.

He lifted Tyeon onto his lap as he sat down, “Quite the mess you’ve made huh?.” He asks as Tyeon pressed a sticky palm onto his father’s cheek. He caressed the little boys head before handing him to the maid.

“Have them bathed please.” You told the maid before kissing the top of Jamie’s head. “Get you all clean?” You asked him, hoping he would mimic one of the words and so he did, “keen.”

“I suppose I could use a basin of warm water and a new dress.” You said while inspecting the purple and red mess that coated your dress and neck, you placed four rocks on the corners of the parchment so it could dry in the heat of the sun. While Tywin inspected what it is that his sons and lady wife had attempted to make, you saw the confusion in his face an elaborated.

“The hands are petals, I’m going to paint the rest when it has dried.”

A basin of warm water was placed in your room, before the maid stood stead for anything else that you might require.

“Leave us.” And on cue, every staff personnel poured out your quarters, leaving you and your husband alone. The second the door shut, you were onto him. Legs on either side of his lap as you straddled him, your hands on his face as your lips met, frantic and needy. You had begun trying again, your moon cycle had held a perfect cycle again, since the birth of your boys eleven moons ago.

This time the act of procreation was different, with the conceiving of your sons, it was a subconscious duty that always remained at the back of yours and Tywin’s minds. It was duty to be fulfilled, your end of the bargain. For Tywin this time, it was appreciation, it was the view, the prospect of it. He wanted see you swell, and truly admire it, this part of him that wanted to keep you full of him was primal, animalistic and also a problem. Tywin Lannister had a reputation to uphold, which was hard to achieve when you would prance into a room, looking absolutely devour-able and salacious and all he wanted to do was bury his cock, balls deep within you and fill his seed to the brim within the warmth of your walls.

Every moment of time was used in efforts to see you full, baths together would end up with you bent over the edge, a hand on your mouth to silence your brazen moans as he fucked you on the small council table. Late nights when he would return from his day of work, only to rouse you with your cunt full of his cock. Any moment he could steal you away, he would to use your sweet little pussy and leave it full to its brim.

You had detached your lips from Tywin, getting up to walk to your room, hands working on the front bodice of your gown to undo it. Your husband followed close behind, pawing at your small clothes and then removing them off you. You rested your palms against the table, where a basin of warm water awaited you, to clean the sticky berry residue on you. Tywin beat you to it, taking the wash cloth and dipping it into the water, before pulling you to him, your back flush against his clothed chest. He ran the cloth on your chest, all the while finding himself occupied in marking your neck like the true multitasker that he was. You began to grow frustrated, however your husband was done soon enough.

You bent over the table, presenting your sweet little cunt to him, as he shook his head in amusement. His hand quickly undid his trousers and let his cock spring free from his breeches. He shamelessly took in the view in front of him, his eyes raking down your back to your pussy before resting the tip of his cock in your folds. Teasing his cock within your wetness as he slid his cock over your clit, circling it at the swollen flesh before pushing in, making you and him groan in unison. He spent no time in letting you adjust, his fingers held your hips as he drew himself back and pushed back in before setting a determined pace of full and hard strokes into you.

“This what you wanted wife?” He grunted

“Yes, yes!” Your breathless whimpers and whines filled the room as you clutched onto the table harder, as your head fell, pressed to the table in pleasure. You felt Tywin’s hand snake upward to lift your body up, his fingers digging into you jaw as his forehead fell on your shoulder. This was war for him, and he’s never lost one that he waged in his life

“Give me another babe.” He grunted in your ear, reaching forward to play with your now swollen clit. The pressure within you grew, his cock hammering within you as he whispered obscene things in your ears. You cried out as that ever so familiar tingle spread through your body, clenching around your husband’s cock as he fucked you through your peak

“Fuck.” He panted out, his rhythm faltering as his orgasm hit him, his arms tightening its hold on you as his body spasms, his seed spurts within you yet again, to the brim just as he promised.

➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖

“Ah these are perfect!” You commended the dressmaker, admiring the fine blue tinted leather. You paid the man his gold before folding away the fineries, taking them along with you to visit Sansa. You felt terrible for not being around for quite a while, motherhood had you consumed in responsibilities and your desires in other, because if you weren’t mothering, you were fucking your husband.

The knight stationed by her quarters announced your arrival to Sansa before you entered, you immediately engulfed the girl in a hug, radiating all your comfort within you to her. As her wedding neared the more people were afraid that she’d run, making Sansa spend most her days in her chambers.

“I’ve missed you.” She whispered, her voice meek and sullen

“And I, you.” You reassured as you pulled back, it is only then you found a familiar face stood at the corner of the room. Shae. You tried not to react but Sansa cleared your confusion.

“She is my new handmaiden.” She clarified, with the certainty she said it, you were sure she had no idea who Shae was.

“Ah, well good. She can help dress you.” You said walking past her to lay down her present on the bed.

“Riding clothes?” She looked at you confused as her hands ran over the fine leather.

“You and I, the Kingswood and cake. Doesn’t that sound like a party?” You nudged her shoulder with yours.

“But, the queen-“

“You are not to step out the capitol.” You mocked Cersei’s words. “Being queen regent, especially with another on the way; gives her only so much power. Being the Hand’s wife, gives me more.” You smirked at her.

“Go on change! I bet you’d look fearsome in it.”

You had taken four of your household guard and Fredrick, you watched a small joy spread through Sansa as she saw the brown stallion you procured for her, you had taken the same route as the one Tywin took you down, you watched as Sansa took in the scenery, she looked content for a moment, feeling the chilly air through her hair and the earthen smell of the woods unlike the shit and perfume that coated Kings Landing. The green of the trees made the red of her hair strike out further as your trotted deeper into the woods, until you reached the clearing. The two of you set down the blanket and few snacks that you’d brought along with you, the whole while laughing about how the brown stallion had taken a liking to Starlight. You two spoke of all the things you’d missed at court, about the dresses Sansa had made for her and the ones being made for you, and yet a more serious issue lingered on her lips. Which she eventually voiced.

“Were you afraid of your wedding night?” Sansa asked hesitantly

“In truth, I was. Yes.” You did not want to lie to her anymore than the people around her already were. “Lord Tywin was kind about it though, as any well raised lord should be.” You reassured her,

“Di- did it hurt?” She finally asked what she really wanted to.

“For a bit, though it fel- felt good after a while.” You blushed and Sansa’s eyes widened. She’d changed the topic after that.

“Could you walk me down the aisle?” She asked

“I could ask.” This wasn’t a promise you could make since the wedding was to take place at the sept, and their rules were rather strict.

“I always envisioned that it would be my father, my mother would dress me in ivory and all my brothers would be there.” Her lip began to quiver the more she talked, you placed a comforting hand on her back, rubbing it up and down to console her.

“It isn’t much but, I will be there with you. The whole time.” You gave her a sympathetic smile.

“Promise?” She whispered

“Promise.” You tucked a loose hair behind her ear. “Now, would you like to learn how to shoot?”

➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖

You sighed, dropping your quiver of arrows and your bow next to the door of your quarters, as you walked in, you stopped cold at Cersei sitting at your husband’s desk while he wrote his letters.

“Surprised you came back.” Cersei sneered

“And… why wouldn’t I have?” You questioned her, choosing to ignore her tone.

“You took Sansa beyond the capitol! What if she ran!” Cersei’s voice raised as your looked at her unamused.

“I suppose there is an explanation coming?” Tywin spoke up, leaning back into his chair.

“She is miserable, locked in her room of most days. A little kindness would hurt-“

“What if she ran!” Cersei cut you off.

“She wouldn’t have.”

“You do not know the first-“ This time you decided to cut your good daughter off.

“She wouldn’t have run. Sansa Stark is no good to us, if she throws herself from a balcony.” You huffed out an annoyed breath.

“Just like your mother.” She sneered before pushing her chair to get up.

You saw red at the way she mentioned your mother, there was much of what Cersei concocted that you had tolerated in the past year and a half, her harmful words, attempts to humiliate you, turn your husband against you but this is where you drew the line. Just as she was about to brush past you, you grabbed onto her forearm, your bloodied gloved fingers digging into her porcelain skin. She whipped her face at you, angered as she tried to pull her arm.

“Watch how you speak of my mother, you won’t be queen for long.” You dug your fingers in even harder as you levelled her up. She turned her head back to look at her father to defend her, but Tywin was intentionally focused on his correspondence. You pushed her arm away, freeing her from your hold as her eyes raged in furry before storming out of your quarters. You let out an annoyed breath, looking back to where your husband sat, who was now looking at you.

“She is right, Sansa Stark is a political ward, she would have run given the chance.” Tywin’s voice was stern. “But I understand what you did was necessary, I hope you took guards or we are about to have a much lengthier conversation.” He raised a brow at you.

“I took four, and said political ward is about to be your daughter by law. It would be unbecoming of me as a mother to not protect her, should I pray for a daughter for us some day.” You explained your positioning.

“What did you bring?” He asked, changing the subject as he eyes your blood stained gloves.

“Rabbits, would have tried for something bigger but Sansa was overcome.” You pulled your gloves off, walking to the basin to rinse your hands. “Had them sent to the kitchens for supper.”

“What’s with all the letters again?” You had taken note of all the correspondences again, he hadn’t received or answered these many since the battle of the Blackwater.

“Scullion crew of some sort, the brotherhood. It’s maddeness at Riverrun.” He explained while wiping the ink off his hands. Clearly looking forward to the supper as he walked towards you.

“I’d like to see you hunt someday.” He said, leading you to the hearth. That’s when something that you and Sansa were talking about, hit you.

“There was something I had been thinking of earlier, husband.” A smile spread on your lips as you thought more about it.

“Go on.” He narrowed his eyes at you.

“You were a knight once.” You smile grew further.

“I was. Yes.” He raised his brows, curious about where you were going with this.

“I wonder if Ser Tywin Lannister was as grim and broody as Tywin Lannister, The Great Lion, Lord of Castley Rock, Warden of West, Hand of the King and Saviour of King’s Landing.” You jested climbing onto his lap as you ran through all his titles. “Am I missing a title?” You giggled, making him scowl at your antics.

“Oh wait I am.” You cleared your throat before continuing “Sheild of Lannisport and Protector of the Realm.” You listed as if you were announcing his arrival to the court. “I wonder if sleeping with Ser Tywin Lannister would be different.”

His hands reached up to hold your face, pushing your stray hairs away from your face. “You are getting braver, aren’t you? His voice held a thrilling threat to it. “Behave, and tonight I just might show you how sleeping with Ser Tywin Lannister would feel like.”

Ah, toying with your husband was never a dull affair

next chapter

#Spotify #tywin lannister x reader #desiblr #tywin lannister #house lannister #tywin lannister smut #got x reader #tywin x reader #got x you #ruiewrites #game of thrones #tears of gold au

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lemonhemlock · 4 months

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It’s interesting how Dany is the most iconic ASOIAF character, but Jonerys is the only popular ship involving her. Sansa is passed around like a blunt, Jonerys, Jonsas and Jonyras (?) are constantly at each other's throats, even Jaime has people fighting over who should he end up with!

yeah, the tyrion/dany shippers need to step up and gain some ground :P

in all seriousness, i think it's because they both expect dany to achieve the highest rung in westerosi society (i.e. queendom) AND there's no erasing jon from the narrative without some great injustice, since he has been presented very much as a boy hero. so a natural and more acceptable resolution to that conflict would be to marry them instead of having dany kill him, which would prove hugely unpopular and hard to justify even for targstans.

i'm v curious whether grrm ever planned for these two characters to have romantic undertones. if he did, i'm sure he would do it better than the show, where it was absolutely goofy, but i don't think it will be endgame

#ask #anon #anti jonerys

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dontbotherwiththepronunciation · 2 months

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i know fandom is often A Force For Evil (lol), but i was curious if there was "a character that fandom has helped you appreciate". theon was actually that character for me, and fandom in general has honestly helped me appreciate the layers/shades of grey of a lot of asoiaf characters. hope you have a great day!

When it comes to POV characters, I think Arya could be a good example of that.

Not that I disliked Arya in the past but in the last year she was a lot more in my mind than she used to be, and no longer purely because of Jeyne Poole. Her arc became a lot more interesting once I started paying attention and I admit that since she becoming my father's favourite character among Tyrion and Asha also helped a lot. I think I used to fall for the trap that she was more tomboyish and "not like other girls" (ew to everyone who refers to any woman or girl as such. That concept is just as misogynistic as slut-shaming, and just like with slut-shaming the only person who can truly determine if someone is a nlog/slut is the potential nlog/slut. fuck off) than she actually is and that her characterisation was more sombre and grim. A few mutuals pointing out quirks of her, like the biting of her lip, the constant use of "stupid" as her not-truly-meant insult, her love for flowers, her ability to find community in most places while still feeling alone, and her treatment of common people (particularly when it comes to sex workers), have made me fallen in love a bit with her. I certainly have a lot of protest songs and nueva canción music on my Arya playlist now.Talking about Sansa, Dany and Arya in public feels like walking through a landmine infested field so I am especially grateful to @/nymerias-heart, @/llutik, and my father, who have made it so enjoyable to discuss the character. And I also really like reading @/laurelleural's meta and thoughts.

When it comes to non-POV characters I've also experienced this with a lot of female characters, most prominently Jeyne P & W, Kyra, Penny and Val but that's because of fandom finding them all unworthy, so that's a more bittersweet sort of fascination.

#also show yourself you are kind to me and I want to say thank you and know more of your th€on journey/hj #speaking #Arya Stark #asoiaf

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wexpyke · 1 year

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Tell us your ships for our girl Sansa!

hi anon! well, first and foremost i’ll say that i don’t like to ship Sansa with any of the older men that she often gets shipped with (i.e. Petyr, Sandor, and Tyrion). but i have been a big fan of Harry the Heir/Sansa ever since the Alayne TWOW preview chapter dropped!

Harry started out disliking her but by the end of the chapter she seems to have him wrapped around her finger already. and her “i’ll be all the spice you need” line? iconic. i really hope that Harry will be the sweet, adoring husband that she deserves. (do i think that’s likely? not really, but a girl can dream.)

i also like Jeyne P./Sansa and Margaery/Sansa! i’m really hoping she’ll get to reunite with one or even both of them in TWOW or ADOS. i think she harbours warm feelings for them both and i think she would be very cute together with either of them. Sansa taking care of Jeyne P. post-Ramsay? i would love to see it. Margaery being Sansa’s consort if/when she’s QitN? i would love to see that, also. just to name two examples, haha.

personally Daenerys/Sansa does nothing for me, because i don’t like Daenerys. now that GoT has been over for a few years and there’s been some distance between the show and book depictions of Daenerys, i should probably reread them to see if i feel better about Daenerys. there’s just something about Emilia Clarke that i really dislike and i don’t know what it is. she’s just one of those people i can’t stand for no particular reason, lmao.

i will say, though, that if i were reading, for example, a throbb fic that also features Daenerys/Sansa, i wouldn’t stop reading. i also don’t have anything against anyone who does ship any of the things that i don’t ship. we’re all playing with the same fictional toys, you know? i’ll let people enjoy what they want to enjoy.

oh, i just remembered i read a lovely Quentyn/Sansa epistolary fic a little while ago, which made me like them, too. i think they would be very sweet together. other than that, i can’t think of any Sansa ships atm, though as long as they treat her well (and they’re not over a decade older than her), i’ll probably root for them.

thank you for this question 🥰

#anonymous #ask box #sansa stark #a song of ice and fire #.txt

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smokedanced · 2 years

Text

* knowing your partner well can potentially make writing a lot easier. repost, don’t reblog.

name : havu. pronouns : they/them & ey/em. preference of communication : discord (my handle is on my rules page). if you aren’t willing to use discord, i will communicate through tumblr ims, but i struggle a lot with focus there as the chatbox is tiny and typing long messages directly there (as opposed to copy paste to notepad) is near impossible. as long as you fill out my interest tracker that’s enough communication for me if you’re not up for ooc chats! name of muse(s) : i was going to just link my muse navi but... why should i not list all 24? charlie bradbury, clara oswald, claude narcisse, dean winchester, ella finnegan, eloise bridgerton, ever hayes, garrus vakarian, hannibal lecter, hugo “hurley” reyes, iris hunt, jeremy bradshaw, jillian marks, juliet burke, kenna de poitiers, mary stuart, paul randolph, river song, sansa stark, the tardis, the tenth doctor, tyrion lannister, will graham, wren shepard. on solo blogs: castiel & the thirteenth doctor. experience / how long ( months / years ? ) : since circa 2006 = 16 years? on tumblr since 2013 = 9 years.

best experience : i don’t want to really put experiences or people above/below each other in how much i appreciate them. best experiences tend to be when either muses, muns, or both really click and we end up building extensive storylines together and our muse dynamics end up mattering a lot! but i gotta honorary mention orion @starfalled who i love dearly, and lured into tumblr rp, and all our late night talks about our muses, especially our castiel & francis (shh i know i play cas on a solo blog and not here) wordlbuilding; and lexi @anderwhohn / @vortexparadox / @immortaljackal / @starkastichotmess who’s become a close friend through tumblr. everyone else i talk ooc with, especially the people to whom i’ve mentioned that i feel comfortable/relaxed around, as that doesn’t... happen often with my level of awkwardness and social struggle. but honestly just everyone with whom i interact ic with is a good experience one way or another!

rp pet peeves / deal breakers : :: deal breaker: fandom anti/”purity culture” rhetoric/behaviour, harrassing other people, policing what kind of fictional content other people can write/enjoy. :: deal breaker: bigoted behaviour and/or beliefs. :: deal breaker: time limits on reply speed. you’re valid if you need replies within a timeframe! but seeing as i struggle with executive dysfunction, i can’t oblige. :: pet peeve: people assuming i’m not interested in a thread/dynamic if i reply slower than to other things. i don’t engage in interactions i’m not enjoying. it annoys me to no end when people accuse others of lying of their interest or think they know my mind better than i know it myself... again, i have severe executive dysfunction. just because i want to write a thing doesn’t mean i can. just because i can write something doesn’t mean i can write another thing. it’s not an excuse for “i just don’t want to so i’ll say i can’t”. i actually can’t. my nervous system is built differently than yours. it physically makes it hard to initiate action. i don’t like it when people decide they know my limitations better than i know them, neither do i like being accused of lying. i don’t fake interest. i don’t have the energy for that! :: pet peeve: excessively purple prose (poetic prose is neat though!), english isn’t my first language, it’s hard to comprehend. multiple spaced text (double is fine, 3+ and i. start. reading. it. like. this.) autoplay on blogs. red font against dark background is the only thing that makes my eyes hurt.

plots or memes : i prefer plotting... even though i struggle to extensively plot prior to writing :P i prefer to plot at least to the extent of tossing around a few ideas ooc. i’m glad to wing it too, though. and as for first interactions i probably actually prefer memes? to get an idea how our muses vibe and how our writing styles vibe. but for long term writing, i prefer to plot at least a little bit. it’s not necessary though! and i know that i suck at it half the time anyway.

long or short replies : entirely depends on the thread. i have a preference for 2-3 paragraphs, but i will do novella, i will do one-liners... i think it should be normalised that during a single thread, the reply length can vary from novella to single para and that’s ok. that’s just a natural flow of narration? if you’re setting scene or backstory it’s heftier! if you’re writing an action sequence it probably should be shorter for that part! fuck matching length.

best time to write : when i feel up to forcing myself. yes, i have to force myself most of the time, and no, that doesn’t mean i don’t want to write. once again, i have severe executive dysfunction. i have to force myself to do things i want to do every day. that is legit just my life. if i didn’t force myself to start something, i’d never do anything fun. me needing to force it doesn’t mean i don’t have fun with it.

are you like your muse(s) : i can relate to at least some things with most if not all of them, i would think, but no, none of them are like me enough to say that they are... like me? eloise or the doctor are prob the closest but they also are super far from being like me.

tagged by: stole it from @innerwar tagging: steal it! tag me!

#; mun

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hilarychuff · 2 years

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so would it be repetitive if i ask you to do asoiaf too haha? do twilight tho 👀

ok i'll do both just for you 😉

asoiaf

otp: ya also jonsa to absolutely no one's surprise

favourite canon pairing: hmmmm tbh i don't really read much outside of my lil sphere. i love nedcat but wouldn't really engage in nedcat fanfic. i love sam/gilly but wouldn't really read for them. honestly maybe cersei/jaime bc i have read stuff with them in it and they're so fascinating to me but not in an i'm-rooting-for-them kind of way. i'm sort of similarly invested in dany/daario too. OH. robb/jeyne is very sweet to me.

worst pairing ever: sansa/tyrion. like honestly considering that sansa is my blorbo i can sort of ship her with anyone and to a degree i absolutely do but a lot of those needs to exist within certain parameters (like an au that sort of resets/reevaluates power dyanimcs) but i haven't really found a fic that has been able to compensate for that with these two in a way that feels meaningful to me. then again i also haven't gone looking!!! but ya probs them.

guilty pleasure pairing: you know i also love me some dany/sansa under the right circumstances, especially when it is toxic and complicated and messy, and even better when jon is also in the mix. dany/jon doesn't really do it for me at all but when you make it a love triangle with SANSA in the middle i am like ok tell me more!!!!! i'm listening!!!!!!!

a pairing you want to see more: honestly i know marg is also a teenage girl but i have always kind of felt that tyrion/margaery would be a way better pairing than tyrion/sansa, especially show/fanon margaery considering why don't ACTUALLY know that much about canon marg's personality. tyrion still gets to date a hot girly who is smart and clever which is what everyone who likes him wants for him but now she is actually ambitious (as opposed to just wanting to have autonomy) and could appreciate his cunning/schemes/what he could bring to the table for her. also she clearly has fewer problems getting with a lannister!!!

that pairing everyone likes but you’re like “lol no”: hmmm idk about everyone likes but i have seen enough people do ned/cersei and i just don't think it's for me. like i see what ned could bring to the table for cersei in terms of a worthy husband and i haven't engaged much with this ship so maybe i'm just missing it but to me it seems like the vibes would be like???? ned making cersei good through the power of his love??? and maybe we should just let a woman be evil 😤

favorite non-romantic pair: sansa and arya i think probably!!!!!! the stark sisters are something that is so important to me and i love getting to write scenes for them

twilight

otp: hmmm i think i gotta go with edward/bella for this one. honestly i think i was kind of sold on jacob in new moon until he kissed bella and she punched him in the face and then everyone was like "ha ha yay jacob shot his shot" and i was like EXCUSE ME???? that said back in like middle school i'm p sure i did think all the bella/edward soulmate pining stuff (the SILENCE when he LEAVES) was desperately romantic

favourite canon pairing: that said..... rosalie/emmett supremacy. rosalie is a queen. she deserves everything!!!!!

worst pairing ever: cannot express enough how completely uninvested i am in alice/jasper. he is both a) uninteresting to me and b) a confederate soldier who seemingly has never really reckoned with that!!! alice/bella much more interesting frankly. alice/ANGELA much more interesting frankly!!!!! wait i forgot about jacob/renesmee. it's jacob/renesmee.

guilty pleasure pairing: hmmmm. maybe rosalie/bella. can you imagine???????????? i can. :) bella stop talking about how hot rosalie is all of the time maybe!!!! that said i kind of also love rosalie as a bella hater lmfao so that makes it complicated for sure. but imagine bella in bella-edward levels of despair over her love for rosalie and rosalie kind of like.... i hate u but u ARE delicious. i also hate that i think that. and yet.... delicious. idk there's something here.

a pairing you want to see more: SOMEONE WHO IS WORTHY OF LEAH!!!!!! she deserves to have a girlfriend. maybe angela. maybe one of jacob's older sisters. no men allowed, thanks. she's a lesbian TO ME!!!!

that pairing everyone likes but you’re like “lol no”: it's not that i don't like carlisle/esme it's just that i am also BORED by them. maybe if they got more in canon i would care more. also i wouldn't really say this is a ship that everyone "likes" but while i can get behind an ot3 for edward/bella/jacob i am really not interestined in edward/jacob on their own

favorite non-romantic pair: seth and jacob!!! seth and bella!! seth and leah!!!! seth is baby. he too deserves the world. maybe a boyfriend. both clearwaters are gay, no further questions, your honor.

#ask games

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