Pretend to love me for the night and I will make sure you are rewarded. 18+ / Multiple fandoms / Writer / Roleplay.
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Victim of war Princess Rhaenys and her Balerion 🐈⬛
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Rohan fam, I think it's important we all take a moment to admire this pretty horsey.
@konartiste @emmanuellececchi @from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras
I think we owe it to the fandom to pass this pic around.
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Lady Ashara Dayne "Even after all these years, Ser Barristan could still recall Ashara's smile, the sound of her laughter. He had only to close his eyes to see her, with her long dark hair tumbling about her shoulders and those haunting purple eyes."
One of my favorite characters! She's described as very beautiful, maybe the most beautiful woman in recorded history if I remember correctly? I imagine her with a more modern, 'picture perfect' kind of beauty.
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We need some holiday decorations. Make some holiday decorations. How long until someone notices there are cocks hanging in the windows?
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ASOIAF as historical paintings (7/∞) Young Elia Martell in the water gardens
A Young Girl by a Pool Herbert James Draper (1863-1920)
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Day III: Prince Doran Martell, the Bereaved Prince
“I was the oldest,” the prince said, “and yet I am the last. After Mors and Olyvar died in their cradles, I gave up hope of brothers. I was nine when Elia came, a squire in service at Salt Shore. When the raven arrived with word that my mother had been brought to bed a month too soon, I was old enough to understand that meant the child would not live. Even when Lord Gargalen told me that I had a sister, I assured him that she must shortly die. Yet she lived, by the Mother’s mercy. And a year later Oberyn arrived, squalling and kicking. I was a man grown when they were playing in these pools. Yet here I sit, and they are gone.”
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Martell Week: "The Night We Met"
Memories of Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand
In honour of @martellweek, here we go!
DAY 3: Favourite moment
"Oberyn wanted vengeance for Elia. Now the three of you want vengeance for him. I have four daughters, I remind you. Your sisters. My Elia is fourteen, almost a woman. Obella is twelve, on the brink of maidenhood. They worship you, as Dorea and Loreza worship them. If you should die, must El and Obella seek vengeance for you, then Dorea and Loree for them? Is that how it goes, round and round forever? I ask again, where does it end? I saw your father die. Here is his killer. Can I take a skull to bed with me, to give me comfort in the night? Will it make me laugh, write me songs, care for me when I am old and sick?"
-- AFFC
Relationships: past!Ellaria Sand x Oberyn Martell; Ellaria Sand x Loreza Sand
Word count: 1.5k
Warnings: coping with grief, angst, fluff, falling instantly in love, mentions to elia’s death
ao3 | masterlist
Oberyn, as the essence of vengeance give us a clear portrait of what so many characters (i.e Arya Stark, Lady Stoneheart) can turn their lives into once injustice reaches its door. Such a wholehearted moment where Ellaria mourns and only clings herself onto what is left for her of her love: memories and her daughters. Thinking about this, I wrote it inspired by the song "The Night We Met" by Lord Huron. Please, indulge yourselves.
Hellholt settled amongst the harsh dornish desert and sultry dunes of sand, quite near a river, though. The castle had its architecture projected to be more fresh, blow a breeze inside of it and thus, manage for the ones living there survive the scalding heat of the country. However, even with ancestral technology the castle had its days where the sun would invade everything and make its overwhelming presence, burning and melting all the things it could reach. Tonight would be one of these nights. Either way, Loreza cuddled and crawled towards her mother for a sorrowful embrace through quiet sobs from mother and daughter.
Little by little, the eight daughters of Oberyn were coping with his unfortunate death. Ellaria, his paramour, felt at a loss for words or actions. He was her one, true love. A strong and pure bond of a lifetime… and she lost him right in front of his eyes. Ever since the day Oberyn had his head crushed by the Mountain, the scene repeated itself in her mind and the exasperated sound yearned to leave her throat again and again and again, but nothing left her lips, not even a slight sigh. In an attempt to seek her own solace, she isolated herself in her own safe space: home.
The air inside Hellholt felt heavy, mirroring the weight on Ellaria’s heart. The loss of Oberyn, a man whose fiery spirit once echoed through the halls of the castle, left an indelible void. The mourning period stretched on, and each day seemed to blur into the next. Loreza found solace in the memories her mother told her, in the moments shared with Oberyn, but the pain of his absence was a constant ache. The girl of only seven years of age had so little time with her father and was already well aware at such young age about the horrors of grief.
Ellaria moved through the castle like a shadow, her laughter and energy diminished, if not vanished at all. The absence of her paramour presence was palpable. In the evenings, when the desert sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow on the sand, Hellholt became a fortress of memories and sorrow.
Ellaria, once a vibrant force within the castle, now moved with a quiet grace. She retreated to the chambers they once shared, surrounded by the remnants of Oberyn's essence—his books, his trinkets, and the lingering scent of his favourite perfumes. She found comfort in the familiar, even as the world outside seemed to lose its colour.
Loreza clung to Ellaria as a source of stability. The two shared a profound understanding of grief, and their silent embraces spoke volumes. As the night settled over Hellholt, Loreza's tears merged with the sorrowful whispers of the desert wind outside.
In the dimly lit chambers, Ellaria calmly embraced her daughter as she gently involved her small arms around her mother. Ellaria traced the contours of her face, as if trying to find traces of Oberyn in her features. Memories of their passionate moments flooded her mind, both a balm and a torment.
“Mother,” Loreza muttered.
“Yes, sweetling.” Ellaria replied.
“Tell me about the day you met papa again.” Loreza asked, drawing invisible patterns with her fingers over her mother’s belly.
Ellaria beamed, gently caressing her daughter's black curls. “Of course.” A sad smile rose on her face.
It was a bright night in Sunspear when I accompanied my father on a journey to pay our condolences to House Martell in honour of your aunt, late Princess Elia. Your father missed her dearly and his eyes were never seen so lost. Her body was brought back to Dorne a long time after her assassination and your uncle, Prince Doran, invited the lords of Dorne for her funeral, once she was a beloved princess as I told you once. I never met her in person, but I know she was perfect for all that your lord father has told me of her. I was grieving too. My mother had died not so long ago after the princess’ death. But on the night I met your father, his eyes lingered on mine and stared at me for what felt like an eternity. Oberyn was rather impulsive as a man, but that night he was quiet as the grass that hides a serpent. And then, I decided to be bald. That night, heat consumed me as much as consumed us tonight and I could not find any sleep, so I walked towards his chambers in the middle of the night and knocked on his door. His eyes sparkled with a puzzled and amused expression for my action, but he remained silent. We just looked into each other’s eyes. Then I just spoke.
“I know how it feels to lose a loved one.”
Loreza listened to everything and changed her expression at any nuance of her mother’s story. Her tears had drowned as her mother spoke so softly about her father and even allowed herself to smile whenever it came to remember the memory of her maidenhood.
Then, your father replied. “Come in, my lady.” And I entered his private quarters for the first time, but quickly remembered to correct him.
“I am no lady. I am a bastard.” And I said it proudly, as I always taught you and your sisters. He smiled at me for the first time and poured me a glass of wine.
“Bastards are born from passion.” Your father told me. “I have four of them with me. The second one reminds me of Elia the most.”
“Your fame is well known throughout the Seven Kingdoms, my Prince.” I replied, gazing at his brown eyes.
“You may call me Oberyn.” Your father calmly said. But after this, he went back sad again and I just sat by his side and held his hand while he stared at the floor. I was so instantly drowned into his beauty I paid no mind to speak anything, I just wanted to be near my Oberyn.
Suddenly, he looked into my eyes and questioned me. “Who did you lose?” I believe he thought I made that up to get near him. His peek examined me with profound depth.
And I promptly responded to him. “My mother, not so long ago.”
His fingers entangled on mine and I felt a rush, my eyes burned and my heart beat in exhilaration, a feeling you will feel once you reach your maidenhood, sweet girl. I was already in love. “Then I pay you my condolences.” That is just what he said.
“Grief is a relentless companion, one that we must navigate through the storm. Losing someone we love changes us, shapes us into beings capable of enduring the harshest of winds.” The wine in my hand tasted bittersweet, a reflection of the shared sorrows that had brought us together. “But the sun one day will shine on us again, Prince Oberyn.”
For a moment, the weight of grief seemed to lift as I sat there, hand in hand with my Prince of Dorne. The vulnerability he displayed, the raw honesty in his eyes, created a connection that transcended titles and societal norms. And there, he was no longer a prince and I was no longer a bastard. It was only him and I. We were two souls seeking solace in the midst of heartache.
“Thank you.” Your father told me earnestly and a shadow casted over his eyes, following for a soft tear falling from his eyes. It was the first and last time I saw your father cry and I did what felt most logical… I kissed his cheek exactly where his tear fell apart. I remember it all like a vivid dream, right in front of my face. Oberyn instantly kissed my lips with no shame or any feeling a grown person should feel, but only tenderness and comfort. Ever since, Oberyn pleaded for me to stay with him and Sunspear and never let me go. Not so long after, your sister Elia was born. And then Dorea, Obella and lastly you, Loreza.
Loreza’s eyes fluttered with a comforting expression, leaving a soft tear fall from her eyes.
I grew up thinking I could never love someone nor be loved with such devotion and there he was, loving me since our first kiss. I felt that love, my little snake. For I loved him right then too. And I hope that you and your sisters experience this type of love too. That is why I yearn for peace. I wish no mourn for any of you… just pure love.
With this, Loreza tried to merge her body into Ellaria, wiping her tears on her mother’s nightgown. “I miss him, mama.”
“I know, sweetling. I miss him too.” Ellaria said, quietly sobbing. “But now it is past time for you to sleep, love. I already told you a bedtime story, so close your eyes and get some rest.”
Loreza nodded and tried to reach her pillow close to Ellaria, but before she would close her eyes, the little girl turned to her mother and spoke. “Do you think I will dream of papa tonight?”
Ellaria sighed and caressed her daughter's brown curls, with a broken smile. “That is all I could hope for.”
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A lot of irritating verbal confrontations can quickly be ended by asking if they want to fight about it.
However do not use this tactic if you are not prepared to actually fight the one person who will agree.
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I acquired this taxidermy pufferfish years ago while travelling. When the children were young, they decided it looked better with googly eyes. This is why children are awesome.
“Behold! The pufferfish. Capable of killing thirty adult men! You know what he needs? Googly eyes.”
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Anne Michaels, from "Infinite Gradation," originally published in October 2017
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After being out late last night having fun and out again all day today being a productive adult it’s time to fall asleep on the couch earlier than a toddler like the dad I truly am.
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