#Oberyn Martell Lives

[ajthemenace]

Terms & Conditions Apply - Chapter One

Summary: A "Fifty Shades of Grey" type of take on Oberyn Martell. After he buys tech firm Logistica for its assets, the wealthy, powerful and brilliant Oscar Martin takes interest in Cara Kavanaugh, the programmer whose code he wants to use. Although she feels physical attraction to to Oscar, his reputation for being a playboy, a womanizer, and a bit of a snake prevent her from forming any attachment to her new boss. Despite his flirtations, she resists him for months until one night the tension and chemistry between them boils over and the two find themselves unable to keep their hands off each other. Trying not to fall for him, Cara discovers Oscar has more dark things looming in his past, including a dangerous rivalry with fellow tech magnate, Tyson LaGrieve; a wife that died under strange circumstances, and other secrets Cara can't imagine.

Notes: This reimagines Oberyn in a realworld setting, as a powerful tech mogul. When I started writing this, I wanted to explore the dom/sub and BDSM aspects of 50 shades but I chickened out, so it's really just a spicy romance with very light dom/sub under tones. The FMC is autistic coded.

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x OFMC

Warnings: Extreme dipictions of violence, sex and sexual activities, alcohol use, and discussions of violence, sexual violence, murder, etc. Please read responsibly.

Chapter One: The Prince and The Programmer

Oscar Martin .  The world knew the name.  He was synonymous with innovation and technology, but he was just as synonymous with words like affair and scandal. And he was standing less than 20 feet from me.   I watched as he moved through the office.  His company, MarTech, had just purchased the company I worked for, Logistica. The news had broken a few days before, but now it was official. Logistica was a small analytics and algorithm development firm that had some piece of tech or information he wanted.  That was how he did business; he wanted something, he bought it.  The tech and financial papers called him the Prince of Tech , due to his youth and good looks, but he had a reputation for being a viper in the boardroom… and in the bedroom, if the tabloids were to be believed.

He was handsome; tall and slender, about 38 or so, with dark hair, and a neatly trimmed beard and mustache.  He moved through the office gracefully, looking around at everything with curious brown eyes.  Those eyes swept over my team in our cubicles, barely registering us as people.  To the likes of him, I suppose we weren’t.  We were peasants.  Cogs in the machine. Not worth bothering with.

But then he paused, and his gaze settled on me. 

I looked away, embarrassed.  But when I looked back, he was smiling at me.  It was a small smile of amusement, but it was definitely there.  He gave me a small wink, so tiny and fast I wasn’t sure if I saw it at all.

Then he turned and followed the group into the conference room. My face felt hot, and I realized I was probably blushing.

“Cara, are you okay?” Lisa Sonnet, my cubemate and colleague asked as she returned from the bathroom.

“Yeah, just feeling a little warm all of the sudden.” I said softly.  Lisa glanced through the glass wall into the conference room at Oscar Martin.

“I can see why, that man is… Oof .”  She said, sitting back down next to me.  “Too bad he only dates super duper models.”

“Super duper models?”

“Like, only the most famous models,”  she said.  “Your Stephanie Allisons and your Nadias and your Tula Faracosis.”  She went on, sitting down.  “The best of the best, with perfectly symmetrical little faces, and tiny perky boobies.”  She continued, gesturing to her own pendulous breasts.  Lisa was in her late 50s and had four kids.  She frequently bemoaned that she used to have a much better body, but her kids had sucked it out of her.

I said nothing. I couldn’t imagine wanting to be involved with a man who was just as frequently on TMZ as he was on CNN.  It sounded exhausting.

“I heard he only dates women until they are 23 and then he dumps them.”  Another team member, Jackie Woller said.  She must have overhead us.  She rolled her chair to the edge of her cube and peeked around the corner at us.  “At the stroke of midnight on your 23rd birthday, he kicks you out of bed unceremoniously.”  she said in a mock ominous, slightly spooky voice.

“That’s Leonardo DiCaprio.”  I said, feeling myself smile a little bit.  I glanced back at the conference room.  Was it my imagination, or was Oscar Martin looking at me?  I ducked my head, counted to 10, and then looked up again.

He was definitely looking at me.  He was leaning back in the chair in the conference room, not paying attention to whomever was speaking.  One of the lawyers, I thought absently.  Our eyes met. He smiled again, and this time, he lifted his fingers in a slight wave.

“Hi,”  He mouthed.

I ducked down behind the wall of the cubicle.

“What’s wrong?”  Lisa said, hearing the ruckus.  Then she looked up. “Oh.”

“What?”

“Oscar Martin is looking over there,”  she said.  “He’s… kinda laughing to himself?”  She said slowly.

“He waved at me.”  I said.  “I’m mortified.”

“We should all stop staring and get back to work before he fires us.”  Jackie muttered.  “Though, he’ll probably do that anyway.  Gut the firm, get whatever tech we have that he wants, and then leave us all on the street.”

I turned back to my laptop; my code was still compiling, so there wasn’t much for me to do. I pretended to be working diligently for the next 45 minutes, and resisted the urge to look up.  However, when I eventually  heard the door to the conference room open, I couldn;’t help myself.

They filed out of the conference room, Oscar Martin shaking hands with lawyers and my boss following behind, looking rather pale. I looked away again, chewing nervously on my bottom lip.  I wondered if my boss had already been canned.  How long for the rest of us? 

“Hello,”  A quiet voice said.  I recognized it, the light hispanic accent wrapping around the word like silk. I looked up to see Oscar Martin leaning on the wall of my cubicle looking down at me. “Oscar Martin.”  He extended his hand.  After a beat, I shook it, but I still didn’t speak.  “And your name is…?” He prompted me.

“Cara Kavanaugh.”  I said quietly.

“Cara.”  He said.  He smiled, a strange look on his face.  Something between surprise and satisfaction..  “It’s nice to meet you, Cara.” He turned back to the others who were waiting for him. “One second.”  He said.  The lawyers nodded.  “I hope I see you around.”  Then he left.

“Did that just happen?” Lisa said, her eyes wide.

“I think it did.”  I said.

“Wow,” Jackie said from her cubicle.

“I caught a whiff of his cologne, ugh, he smells so good.”  Lisa moaned. “Why do you think he was looking at you ? You’re pretty, but you’re no Tula Faracosi.”

I waved her away dismissively, and looked up again as Oscar Martin headed towards the main entrance of the office.  He gave me another look over his shoulder as he went.

What on earth was going on?

After work, I headed to my apartment, idly wondering if I should brush up my resume.  I’d worked at Logistica for about 6 years, starting there right after college. I’d had several positions within the company before becoming the lead project programmer last year.  I didn’t relish the idea of a job search… and while there were no shortage of programming jobs in the world, I had liked working for Logistica.

I opened my laptop, but instead of pulling up my resume, I googled Oscar Martin instead.  His wikipedia page was the first result not from a tabloid.

I read the details about him.  He was 6’1”, Argentinian, spoke Spanish, English, Portuguese, and French, and he had been married once, when he was young.  His wife had died at age 22.  I didn’t possess the Google Sleuthing Skills some of my friends had, so I couldn’t find much else about her.  Cause of death was “unspecified cancer.”  That was tragic.  He had been 24 at the time.  I read about the success of his company, MarTech, and the various companies it had absorbed over the years.  I read about the famous women he was linked to, believed to have dated, rumored to have left broken-hearted.  Taylor Swift’s latest album allegedly had a song or two about him on it. Models, Singers, Actresses all, with beautiful faces and glamorous lives.

And he had smiled at me.  I didn’t think myself unattractive; I have a pretty face, with pale skin, bright blue eyes, and a nice smile.  My hair was actually freshly minted at the salon, and my caramel colored waves were top notch, but I wasn’t a model.  I wasn’t glamorous.  I was a programmer who wrote code. I went to bed at 10:30 after watching reruns of Friends . I had been wearing a men’s graphic t-shirt that said “Tell Your Dog I Said Hi” on it, for crying out loud.  

I made myself dinner - microwaved veggies, minute rice and costco rotisserie chicken, very glamorous- I thought as I sat down to eat, then I watched TV for a while.  Around 7pm, I called my best friend Keith.

“You’ll never guess who I met today.”

“The pope?”

“I don’t think you could be more wrong.”

“Donald Trump?”

“Closer,”  I laughed.  “Oscar Martin.”

“Wow,”  He said.  And then “Oh no,”

“Yeah, so if you know of any outfits looking for a programmer…”  I said.

“I’ll keep an ear out.  So it’s official?”

“He signed the paperwork for the company today.  I suppose it’ll be a few days before we get marching orders.”  I said.  Then I changed the subject.  “How’s Carolina?”

“Doing okay, postpartum has been rough on her.”  He admitted. 

“Can I do anything?”

“Maybe swing by and see her at the shop.  I think she’d like that.”

“I’ll come by after work one day this week.  But let’s let her think it's a surprise.”

“Deal.”  We talked for a bit longer, discussing his infant son and his work, before I finally said good night.

“Thanks for asking about Carolina.  I know you and her-”

“Hey, water under the bridge.”  I said quickly. “Have a good night.”

“You too.”

I went to bed that night wondering if my badge would work on the front door of the building in the morning.

The next morning, I arrived at the office and my badge worked.  I was getting into the elevator when I heard someone call “Hold the door!”

I put my hand in front of the door to prevent it from closing, and a breathless Oscar Martin slipped in beside me.

“Good morning Cara.”

“Uh, Good morning.”  I returned, trying to disguise the fact that my breath had caught in my throat.  I studied him out of the corner of my eye.  He certainly dressed like a tech guy; jeans, sneakers, and a yellow, blue and green plaid button down.

“Have you worked for Logistica long?” he asked as the elevator crept up to the 25th floor. His accent was so smooth, giving his voice a musical quality.

“Six years,”  I said quietly.  I felt so awkward making small talk with him.  I felt like Ann Boelyn making cheerful conversation with the man holding the sword.

“That’s a long time in this industry.”  He commented.  “Do you like it here?”

“Yeah, I do, a lot.” I said honestly.  He nodded.  Mercifully, the elevator came to a stop and the doors opened to my floor.  I stepped out.  He followed me to my desk. 

“I hope I see you later, Cara.”  He said, and he headed to the conference room, where it looked like a meeting had already started.

“Did you really just walk in with Oscar Martin?” Lisa asked as I put my things down.  I sat heavily in my chair. 

“Yes, why?”

“You rode in the elevator with him?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Ballsy.”

“I was already in the elevator.”  I shrugged.

“He’s looking over here again.” Jackie called in a low voice from her cube.

“This is ridiculous.”  I muttered. “You two are being ridiculous.”  I grabbed my laptop. “I’m going to go work in one of the empty offices.”

Shortly before lunch time, an email went out that there would be a catered lunch for staff, compliments of the new owners.  I rolled my eyes, but I wasn’t too proud to turn down a free meal, so at 12, I headed down to the breakroom.

It was a feast.  Kabobs of shrimp, Chicken, and tender steak, exotic salads, grilled vegetables, rice pilaf and more.  The junior programmers had loaded down their plates and were scurrying back to their cubes, but some of the upper management were schmoozing with Oscar as he stood in the breakroom, a plate in his hand, but not eating.

I helped myself to some food and while I was grabbing a plastic fork, Oscar excused himself from the ass kissers and came alongside me.

“How’s your day going?”  He asked, his accent wrapping around the words in an almost sultry way. It would seem there was no such thing as a free lunch.  I was going to have to pay for it by being polite to my executioner.

“Fine, thanks.  And thanks for lunch.”  I said, holding up my plate.  I started towards the door but he fell into step beside me.

“So you’re a programmer.”  He said.  It wasn’t a question, but he didn’t elaborate.

“Yeah,” I said.

“And you worked on the Omega project.”

“I wrote the code for it, yes.”

“I was very impressed with it.”  He said. “That’s actually why I wanted to buy Logistica.”

“My code?”

“Well, your code, and the program it powers.”  He said. “Would you ever consider coming to work directly for me?”

I blinked at him.

“What?”  He asked, perplexed.

“I do work for you, you own the company I work for.”

“Yes, but I have a need for a programmer outside of what I plan to do with Logistica.”

“What do you plan to do with Logistica?” I asked sharply.  Careful, Cara .  I chastised myself.  Fortunately, he looked amused.

“I haven’t decided yet, but I intend to use your code for a project I’m working on.”  I wanted to ask him if it was for his weapons division, but bit my tongue.

“I get the sense you don’t like me much.”  He went on, still following me toward the office where I had set myself up to work for the day.

“I just don’t know you.”  He was right, I didn’t like him, but hopefully this lie would help me keep my job.

“Well, my offer stands; your work speaks for itself, you’re clearly brilliant.”  He said. “Think about it.”

“Thank you.”  I said, unsure of what else to say.  He gave me a perfunctory nod, and then disappeared, presumably back to the conference room.  After lunch, I was pretty full, and the empty office was starting to feel a little too warm. I headed back to my cube so that I wouldn’t fall asleep. I didn’t have much to work on but I didn’t think this was a good time to be seen sleeping in an office somewhere, even if the new boss had just offered me a job.

“Get lonely?” Lisa asked when I sat back down.

“Hot.”  I muttered.

“The rumor mill is flying.”  Lisa said.  “Three people asked if you got let go.”

“Why?”

“You weren’t at your desk.”

“Jesus.”  I muttered, opening my laptop and trying to find something to do to look productive.  The conference room was empty.

“Cara?”  My boss, Kevin McCormick, came up to the edge of my cubicle.  “Can you come with me please?”

“Should I bring my purse?” I asked.

“Just come with me please.”  Kevin said.

I cast a look back at Lisa.  Her eyes were wide.

I followed Kevin to his office.  A man I didn’t recognize was there. At least it wasn’t Betty from Human Resources.

“Hello Ms. Kavanaugh,” the unfamiliar man said.  He was probably 50, with thinning dark hair, and broad shoulders.  He wore a suit.  “My name is Benton Reavis.  I am the inside counsel for MarTech, and Mr. Martin  would like to extend you a rather lucrative employment option.”  He slid a manilla folder across the table to me.  I opened it.

“The salary is listed on the first page.  The additional benefits are listed on the second.  We are proud to offer you full medical, dental, and vision, plus 12 weeks paid vacation,” He went on, but I wasn’t listening.

$450,000.

“There has to be a mistake.”  I said.

“No, there’s no mistake.”  Mr. Reavis said.  “Mr. Martin was very explicit about the offer, particularly the salary.”

“Uh…”  I stammered.  “I can’t- this is…”

“Mr. Martin has reviewed your entire portfolio and employment history at Logistica, and he’s quite impressed with you.  He feels you’ve been under compensated for your work, and he would like to offer you the position of head of development at MarTech.”

“Can I… think about it?”

Mr. Reavis looked surprised.  I suppose it must have been surprising that anyone would need to think about that salary offer.

“Of course, but please be aware that we are actively recruiting so-”

“You’ll have my answer by tomorrow morning.” I replied quickly.

“Very well. My number is inside if you have any questions.”  Mr. Reavis said.  “I don’t think I need to tell you that this is a very lucrative offer.”

“I’m aware.”  I said. “I just don’t think I’m qualified for it.”

“Mr. Martin does.”  Mr. Reavis said with a shrug.  “He’s very rarely wrong about these things.”  I pressed my lips together, and thanked him for his time.

I tucked the folder under my arm and headed back to my desk again.

“Should I get you a box?”  Jackie asked.

“No. I still work here.”

“What’s that?”  she pointed to a folder under my arm.

“Something about the code I worked on for the omega project.”  I said, tucking it into my bag.

“Uh-huh.”  Lisa muttered. “Keep your secrets.”

Towards the end of the day, I headed towards the elevators.  Oscar Martin was waiting for an elevator himself.

“Going down?”  He asked, a twinkle in his eyes.

“To the lobby.”  I said, narrowing my eyes.

Now he laughed.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

“You don’t hide your thoughts very well, and it’s becoming really clear you don’t like me.  Am I going to get a disappointing phone call from Mr. Reavis in the morning?”

“If you mean, am I going to decline your job offer, I haven’t decided yet.”

“I see.  Can I ask what it is about me you don't like?”

“I told you, I don’t know you.  I just know your reputation.” I said. 

“I see.”  He frowned a bit.  “Well, I hope you’ll allow me to show you the real me.”

The elevator opened then, and he gestured for me to go ahead. I did, but he didn’t follow.

“Weren’t you waiting for the elevator?” I asked.

“I’ll get the next one,”  he replied, and I could tell I’d hurt his feelings. That was surprising.  The elevator doors closed before I could say anything else. I sighed.

Once in the lobby, I headed home on foot.  The weather was nice, and it was only 10 blocks.  At home, I studied the job description.  It sounded like a dream, and if the offer was coming from anyone else, literally anyone else, I would have taken it. But my mother had a saying about not getting into bed with serpents.

I sighed.  I had student loans and my rent was going up at the end of the month.  I needed a new bike and I liked to eat out with my friends on occasion.  This job would open doors for me, too.  Oscar Martin knew EVERYONE in tech.  And the salary , I thought again.  It was almost half a million dollars.  Even after taxes,  I would be set.  I could move to a nicer apartment.  And what if I refused?  Then I’d have no job in a few weeks when he eventually gutted Logistica.  Or worse, he might feel slighted.  A man as powerful as he was could easily make sure I never worked in tech again.

I bit my lip, and then I dialed the number on the business card stapled inside the folder.

“Mr Reavis?  It’s Cara Kavanaugh.”  I bit my lip. “I’d like to negotiate a couple of stipulations on your employment offer.”  If he was going to try to buy me, I was going to make him pay through the nose.

“You don’t feel it’s a generous offer?”

“I do, but I’m very happy where I am, and in order for me to leave, I’d like to ask for two additional concessions on Mr. Martin’s part.”

“And what are those?”

“First, I would like assurances that my team at Logistica be kept on and offered positions in the development group should MarTech decide to do layoffs or liquidation at Logistica.  They are good workers and I would like them to be involved in any project I work on.”

“How many team members?”

“Six.”

“And your second concession?

“A hybrid work model.  I would like to work from home two days a week.”  I said.

“I’ll discuss this with Mr. Martin and have an answer for you shortly.”

My phone rang less than 20 minutes later.

“Mr. Martin has agreed to your terms.”  Mr. Reavis sounded surprised.  “Congratulations, Ms.Kavanaugh, and welcome aboard.  You’ll need to report to MarTech HQ tomorrow morning to make it official and so we can provide you with an updated offer letter to match your requests.  The address is-”

“I know where it is.”

“Please be there by 9am.”

“Thank you.”

I sat down on the couch in disbelief.  I was going to be the head of development for one of the biggest tech firms in the world, at 5 times my current salary. Maybe now my dad would finally be proud of me.  

I looked at the framed photo of Keith and I on my side table.  We had been dating at the time it was taken.  I didn’t have feelings for him anymore, not like that, but I had a pang of loneliness and sorrow when I looked at it.  We had been a great couple, but he had said “It’s like a best friend thing, not a love of my life thing.”  when he broke up with me.  He wasn’t wrong, but I hadn’t felt that it was a bad thing, that we were friends.  So what if it wasn’t this big passionate thing?  It worked.  We had been happy, or so I’d thought. And then he’d met Carolina, and that had been that.

I leaned back, looking up at the ceiling. I hoped I wasn’t going to regret this. It wasn’t like me to make snap decisions, but if nothing else, I would be able to pay off my student loans in a few months, so even if it all went south, that was a silver lining.

There was something eating away at the back of my mind, though.  I was good at my job, but I wasn’t that good.  Unless he saw some potential in the Omega Project that I didn’t.  It worried me.  But this wasn’t a contract, I wasn’t locked in for any length of time, so I could leave if it didn’t work out, I rationalized.

I normally wore jeans and a t-shirt to work, but I thought I might need to look a little more put together for this… I settled on a pair of dark green trousers and a white top, and set them aside for the morning.  I set three alarms on my phone, then I had another unglamorous meal before I called my parents to tell them the news.  They put me on speaker phone so they could talk to me together.

“You have to get everything in writing.”  My dad said when I finished.

“I know Dad.”

“Let me know if you want me to have Murray look it over.”  Murray was the family lawyer.

“It’s fine Dad, I can handle it.”

“They’re paying you how much?”  My mother was in disbelief.

“Almost half a million.  I’m going to run their whole development team.”  I said, reading over the offer letter in front of me. 

“Cara, please don't take this the wrong way, but are you sure you know what you’re getting into?  The things they say about that man on TV.”

“I’ll be careful, mom.”  I promised. “I’m aware of his reputation, but this is going to open so many doors for me.”

“I worry that if it doesn’t work out he’ll-”

“Mom!”  I said.  “Don’t talk like that, positive vibes.”  I said.  I didn’t want to think about what a powerful man like that would do if it didn’t work out.  And I didn’t want to tell her that I felt like I couldn’t say no, either.

“If you’re sure,”  she said, but I could hear the doubt in her voice. “He’s very handsome.”  She conceded.

“I’m not interested.”  I said.

“Good.”  My dad said. “You do your job, keep your head down, and your nose clean.”

“He really said he wanted to buy Logistica because of your code?” My mom spoke again, but there was an ember of pride in her voice. 

“More or less.  I don’t know if he was flattering me or not, but that’s what he said.”  I said.

My parents talked about the offer for more than an hour before finally letting me go.  I went to bed, but couldn’t sleep.  I was too anxious about the morning.  It was late by the time I dozed off.

[pedropascal24-7]

Pedro giving us a peek of chest

[martellspear]

─── ELIA WEEK - DAY O2

Doran & Oberyn: I had a sister

[sunspearesque]

Happy Red Viper Day to all who celebrate! 🐍☀️

ten years ago today, oberyn martell played by pedro pascal made his debut on the season 4 premiere of GoT… and the rest is history🧡

pictures: stainsofpascal via ig

[carolina-reaper]

Ngl, I think those of you in the GoT fandom who say they'd like to live in King's Landing or Winterfell or wherever else are CRAZY. If it were me, I'd fuck off to Dorne immediately, no questions asked.

[wardenparker]

The Viper's Bride - Epilogue

Oberyn Martell x female reader x Ellaria Sand x OC Co-written with @absurdthirst

The second Prince of Dorne has lived under the illusion that he would not be forced to wed for his entire life. He has enough lovers and illegitimate children to make him a legend across Westeros, and the love of his soulmate Ellaria Sand to content him. But a contract between his brother and a lord from the north will catapult him into a match that may prove to be as complicated as it is intriguing. Especially when he learns that you already have a soulmate of your own.

Rating: T, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 9.5k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: terrible parents, age gap 10+ years, arranged marriage, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol, internalized homophobia. Reader is described as having hair long enough to braid. This is a MMFFF polycule, folx. Get on board or don't click to keep reading. Pregnancy!* Childhood illness, vague descriptions of surgery, child in pain, pregnancy. Epilogue time is fluff time. Summary: In the years after returning to Dorne, your family grows exponentially. Notes: I'm just utterly heartbroken to say farewell to our favourite Dornish prince this week, but hopefully you all enjoyed the ride and were as glad to see this family grow as we were to tell the story 🧡🧡

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14 ~ Ch 15 ~ Ch 16

The sun is not up yet when the door to your chambers pushes open, and small feet pad across the smooth floor. You had been up late last night, celebrating another pregnancy with your husband although you have long since stopped keeping track of who the father actually is. Having now born two children that deeply resemble Oberyn and two that distinctly carry Raeden’s features, it no longer matters whose offspring you bear next. This beloved little girl, though, at nine years old, is the first of your children and very definitely resembles her Sand Snake sisters. Antonia Martell, Princess of Dorne.

There is more gray in Oberyn's hair than black, his body slower to recover from nights of excess, but his eyes open as soon as a little hand touches his arm. "Princess." He rasps, opening his arms to allow her to climb into the large bed. She knows that there might be times when others are there as well and has never questioned it yet. "Did you have a nightmare?"

Antonia shakes her head fiercely and her lip trembles as she snuggles in next to her father. “I can’t sleep,” she whispers, round eyes wide with tears as she tries not to wake her mother.

"What is wrong, my little date cake?" His eyes are brighter, clear and focused on his daughter as she grimaces. He had nicknamed her that after all the date cakes you had stuffed yourself with, lovingly provided by your half brother.

The sound of one of your children will always wake you, and even if you are a bit groggy you make sure to be able to focus on them. Right now, Antonia pulls that focus. “Did Kira keep you up, sweetheart?” At only six years old, little Kira often crawls into her older sister’s bed in the nursery, wondering out loud until all hours of the night or begging Antonia to tell her a story even though you and Oberyn take turns reading to them every night.

“No, Mama.” Even if she had, Antonia wouldn’t tattle on her sister. Her pout grows fiercer and she points to her side with a great sob. “It hurts.”

"What hurts?" Oberyn is sitting up instantly, reaching for his little girl to pull onto his lap. "Star, light the candles." Even though it could just be a stomach ache from too many sweets, Antonia isn't one to complain too much.

In a flash you are out of bed, grabbing a candelabra from the nearby table and bringing it close to the bed with care once it is lit. “Show us, sweetheart.”

Antonia is careful, pointing to her side without touching herself at all, and for the first time you notice her nose is a bit runny and her skin is damp with a thin sheen of sweat. “My tummy hurts,” she tells you both, chin trembling terribly.

“My poor little date cake.” Oberyn keeps his voice soothing, wanting to comfort her as he slowly presses his hand to her side, hating that she cries out in pain. “We need the maester.” He grunts, pulling his hand away and stroking her hair. “Sorry my love, I didn’t mean to cause you more pain. Papa would never want to cause you pain.” Instead of calling for Cal or Leyth, knowing they are still abed, Oberyn stands with his daughter in his arms. “Come, sweetheart.”

"Go, my love. I will look in on the others." If Antonia has gotten sick there is a chance that she will spread it to the others or even their nurse. If you are going to have four sick children, you would rather know sooner than later. You wrap yourself in a thin robe and pick up a single candle to walk with, moving swiftly down the hall toward the nursery.

He doesn’t hesitate. Striding naked through the halls of the Water Gardens since the family had moved there after the death of his brother, Doran. Once he gets out of the family wing, he starts to bellow for the maester to get his ass out of the bed and ready his tonics and cures.

Maester Strode is a relatively young man with a jolly disposition and warm countenance, but when he hears the prince shouting he leaps from his bed and lights the nearest lamp. "What is wrong, your Grace?" He asks, appearing at the end of the hallway with the light held high.

“The Princess is feverish and she is complaining about her side hurting.” Oberyn is grateful for the younger maester, eager to learn and he had taken well to the atmosphere of Dorne.

"Bring her inside at once." Strode knows that the Prince and Princess take the welfare of their children very seriously and moves to follow Prince Oberyn as he carries his heir through to the main room of his chamber. There is an examination table there, for the sick, and he lays Princess Antonia on it with a pillow for her head. "Does anything hurt other than your side, princess?" He asks, moving to a stand against the wall where he can wash off his hands before examining the child.

“No.” She sobs out, a pitiful sound. “It just really hurts.” She’s not sure what she’s done to cause this pain but she never wants to feel it again. Squirming slightly as she lays on the cool table with her little chin trembling.

“Alright, princess…” The Maester soothes, drying his hands before he returns to her side. “Your Grace, if you would hold the light over her?” He motions for Oberyn to stay close during the examination. “Do you feel sick, princess? Warm? Or dizzy, perhaps?”

“I’m cold.” She pouts, even though she is covered in sweat. “And my head feels yucky. Like I drank too much of Papa’s wine again.”

Bracing himself so he does not frown and upset the little girl, the Maester nods and holds up his hand. “May I touch your side, princess? So I can feel where exactly you are hurting?” There are any number of things that could cause these symptoms in the child, but if the pain is specific - if it is one precise thing that he fears - then time is of the essence.

“Careful.” Oberyn warns. “She screamed when I touched her skin.” He tells the maester, his own mind racing with what kind of poison could have possibly caused this. He has kept the younger children away from the chamber where they are stored; but children, especially his, are curious.

“Of course, your Grace.” When the little girl sets her face in a fierce imitation of her father and nods, only then does Strode gently prod the lower right side of her abdomen. When she screams outright he backs away immediately and nods. “How long have you felt this pain, princess?” If the pain is moving quickly, he will have to act fast.

“Just when I woke up.” She complains. “I didn’t sneak sweets, Papa, I swear.” She promises her father. She and her siblings have been known to raid the kitchens for treats. Especially the special tarts that Salin makes.

“Sweets would not cause this.” The maester tells Oberyn with certainty. While it is good that the little girl has only felt pain for a short time, the fact that it is so intense does not bode well. “Your daughter’s side is swollen, your Grace. It is possible that she will worsen quickly.”

“What kind of poison would cause this?” Oberyn demands. “I did not see a bite wound from a viper.”

"It was no poison. She was not attacked." The younger man shakes his head solemnly as he moves to the shelf that holds his most potent remedies. The princess will need something for her pain, and then he will talk to her father. "Could you drink something, princess? If I gave you something to help soothe the pain?" He asks, already reaching for the bottles that will help her temporarily.

Oberyn watches the maester carefully, not because he does not trust the man, he has delivered the last three of your babies, but because he wants to know what he gives her. “Drink up, my little date cake.” Oberyn urges.

The princess bravely manages the small amount of liquid that the maester administers and whimpers but stops cradling her side within just a few minutes. Reassured that his theory is correct, the maester brushes Antonia's curls from her face and assures her that she will start to feel better quickly before he nods for Prince Oberyn to step aside with him. "She is ill, but I believe I can help her," Strode tells him.

"What is wrong with my daughter?" Oberyn demands, now wearing a pair of breeches that a servant had thoughtfully slipped into his hands as he had watched his daughter carefully. "What illness does she have? Will it affect the other children?" Beyond the younger three, there are also Margarey and Raeden's children to worry about. Their third child was Oberyn's for certain and it was questionable if the fourth was Raeden's or Cal's.

“No, your Grace. The others are safe.” It would be far too painful to think of all the babes he had delivered for Houses Martell and Sunstone being gravely ill, and the maester shakes that idea from his head. “There is an organ, just here, in a person’s side,” he explains quietly, trying to let the young princess rest. “As far as I have studied, maesters and doctors have never been able to divine its purpose, but it is always there. Sometimes it swells, causing great pain and other discomforts, and in the worst of these cases it sometimes bursts. When it bursts, it nearly always claims the life of the ill party.”

His heart stops the moment he hears he could lose his daughter. He's fought, he's killed, he's loved and lost, but he would not survive the loss of any of his children - let alone his precious Antonia. She might be the most like him of all of his daughters and his jaw clenches. "Is there anything to be done?" He demands. "Tell me you can save her."

"It is...not often done." Strode admits, wondering how insistent the prince would be about attempting a rarely tried treatment. "Removing the organ before it bursts will keep her safe. But a child recovering from such a wound is still in danger in other ways. She would be in bed for weeks afterward."

"Re–removing the organ." Oberyn repeats. "Cut her open? Can she live without it?"

"Yes. And yes, she can." The younger man nods. "If you wish to consult with her mother before a decision is made, I advise you to speak to your wife quickly. She is already in immense pain and the tonic that I gave her will not outlast a burst."

Oberyn nods seriously and frowns as he looks back at his daughter as her eyes slip closed now that the pain is gone. Drifting off to sleep. He doesn't want to leave her, but he doesn't want her to be in danger of this organ bursting and causing even more problems. "I will bring the Princess back for you to explain to her." He decides. "I will be back in moments."

"I will stay by her side." Strode promises, nodding as the prince hurries back out of his chambers and down the hall.

Oberyn finds you closing the door on the nursery chambers. All the other children are fast asleep and comfortable. He rushes up to you and takes your arm. "Come." He grunts, tugging you away from the door. "Strode needs to talk to you. Now."

"What is wrong?" The only thing you know is that your oldest child is in pain and your husband looks terrified, and those two facts do not combine well so you run swiftly after him.

"She is ill. There's something Strode needs to cut out of our daughter, Star." Oberyn explains as the two of you race back towards the Maester's chambers.

"Cut out?" The panic rises in your voice and you cling to his hand all the harder as terror twists in your belly.

"He can explain it better than I can." There had been a moment when he had stopped listening, he couldn't. Not when he could hear the blood rushinging in his ears and his heart was pounding in fear so loudly that he couldn't think over the sound.

The maester is standing by his examination table when the prince and princess appear in his doorway and he motions for them to be quiet when it looks as though you might explode with concern. "This way," he insists, motioning for you to join him on the other side of the room despite never taking his eyes off of the sick little girl that was brought to him. "She is sleeping, thank the gods. I do not want to disturb her while it lasts."

"Tell my wife what you told me." Oberyn demands, his eyes don't move from his daughter, foolishly afraid that she might disappear if he stopped watching her. Your breathing is shallow and rapid, both from the run and from fear. "Remember the babe," he reminds you, squeezing your hand.

Maester Strode recounts everything he had told Oberyn previously, stressing that there is danger in waiting and that if all goes well with the - admittedly unconventional - procedure, the little princess will be just fine afterward. "Have you done it before?" You ask, running one soothing hand over the side of your belly to remind yourself that panic will not help you or your unborn child, let alone Antonia.

Strode shakes his head regretfully, but puts out his hands to reassure the couple while the prince looks ready to mutiny. "I have been present for it. I assisted. So I am far better prepared than any other maester in Dorne."

"You haven't done this before!" Oberyn hisses angrily. Feeling helpless because he cannot fix this. There is nothing that he can do.

"I assisted Maester Rhodestone with a nearly identical situation while I was still at the Citadel," Strode tells you, hoping the mention of his mentor's name will help to soothe the prince. He knows that Prince Oberyn had also studied under the recently passed maester's tutelage. "He was the first to theorize that it would work, and he was correct. The little boy recovered completely with only a scar to remember the pain by."

Wiping his hand over his eyes, the prince sighs before he looks at you. “Star?” He asks softly. There’s not a choice, but he wants to be sure that you agree with the risks.

"What choice do we have?" As scared as you may be for your daughter, the path is obvious. If you do nothing, the risk is losing Antonia altogether. And that is a risk you are absolutely not willing to take.

“Leave it to the gods.” Oberyn isn’t happy with that idea at all, but that is the choice if he does not agree to this. “And I do not want to do that.”

“I will not stand by and do nothing while my baby suffers,” you insist firmly, although the idea of having to cut her open is terrifying.

“How soon can you do this?” Oberyn demands. “Will she be awake? Feel anything?”

“There is a way I can induce sleep in her. Keep her from feeling the pain outright.” Strode nods. “It will be preferable for this. So she does not move while the organ is being removed.”

“That would be preferable.” Oberyn knows that she could do a lot of damage if she was awake and moving. He’s attended enough battlefield wounds to understand that. “You will use my healing mix for her as well, yes?”

“Yes, your Grace.” The Maester can agree to that easily, considering the prince’s proclivity for herbal work rivaled his abilities with poison.

“Do we need to do anything? Fetch you anything?” Oberyn demands, striding back over to Antonia to check her forehead. “Anything you need, you will have it.” Despite his words to the maester, his eyes are fixed on his precious daughter.

“Fortunately, I have everything I need.” The younger man glances out the large windows in his chambers though, and frowns. “I will keep a watchful eye on her until sunrise. The light will be better than if I worked by candlelight.”

“We will dress and return.” If you do not wish to stay, he won’t make you, but he won’t leave his daughter’s side while she goes through such a thing.

“You go first, my love.” Looking to where Antonia is sleeping, you bite your lip and almost quake with the effort not to cry. “I would hate for her to wake in pain and one of us not be here. You go and change, and I will go when you return.”

"I will be back before you can blink." He promises, pulling you in and crushing his lips to yours in a desperate attempt to calm you both down. "Tell her Papa will be back if she wakes before I can return."

Thankfully, it is past sunrise when Antonia wakes again. The maester has had time to prepare his tonics and treatments, and you have sat up with Oberyn for a few hours discussing how to handle her healing time and how to explain to her siblings that she needs to be allowed to rest and cannot play for at least a few weeks. When her little eyes open again she winces and whimpers in pain but you are both right there beside her.

"Princess." Oberyn leans down and coos as he brushes his daughter's hair back. "I know you are still in pain but Maester Strode is going to make you sleepy and then he is going to make the pain go away." He explains gently. "Will you be brave for me? You will have to be lazy for a little while, I know how much you like snuggling with Ellaria on the chaise. And you will have a scar where your stomach hurts."

“He can make it go away?” She asks warily, as if she thought that would never happen, and yet if anyone had asked her the question she would have said that her Papa could make it better.

"Yes," He leans over and kisses her little forehead softly. "I want you to be brave, my little date cake."

“It won’t h—hurt anymore?” The question falters when she wails in pain again and tears form in her eyes immediately.

"You will be sore, Princess." The maester does not believe in concealing possibilities from those seeking treatment from him, not even the younglings. "You will be stitched up and will have to be very careful how you play. But the sharp pain you have now will be gone."

Antonia is afraid, you can tell that easily, but you stroke her forehead and offer her the most maternal smile of support you possibly can. "It will be alright, sweetheart. Maester Strode is going to help you, and we will be here the entire time."

"You promise?" She asks, her voice small and scared, reaching for and clinging to your hand as she looks between you and her father.

"I promise, darling. Papa and I are going to be right here, and afterward I will carry you back to bed myself." Pregnant or otherwise, you could be on death's door and you would still insist on being the one to carry Antonia back to her rest. "Can you be a good girl for the maester now, and let him help you?"

She nods solemnly, even as she pouts when the cup of tonic that will make her sleep is brought over. "You will need to drink this, Princess." Strode urges.

The smell makes her nose wrinkle but the pain is far worse than a little bad smell, so Antonia swallows the tonic and grimaces only slightly while still keeping your hand in her tight little grip. "I hope it works fast," she mumbles with a fierce pout.

If there is a moment of lightness, this is it. Oberyn chuckles and nods in agreement. “Us too, my sweet girl.” He pets her hair as she drinks the concoction down, making an unhappy noise when it’s done.

It takes only minutes, thankfully, and the maester is satisfied that the little princess will sleep soundly through her treatment. "I will ask you both to let me work," he insists in the most polite way possible. "It will be very distressing to watch your daughter be treated in this way, so I will ask you now to consider whether or not you can remain in the room without interfering. The more swiftly I can see to her illness, the sooner I can stitch her wound and return her to her bed to heal."

Oberyn turns to you and puts his hands on your shoulders. “Star?” He asks quietly. He knows that you are fiercely protective of your children, and he wonders if you can stay.

"I will hold my tongue, but I cannot possibly leave her." Of the two of you, you know that you are the more likely to protest. But the fact is? You promised her that you would be here and you would not break that promise for all the gold and jewels in the world.

“I understand.” Cal has slipped into the room behind Ellaria, ready and willing to take any and all news back to the others. Raeden, Leyth and Margaery are watching all the other small children and keeping them safe.

"Work swiftly and true, maester." You tell Strode, not knowing what else you can do but let the man do his job. His job of saving your child.

Oberyn pulls you away from the table as he readies his tools. “It will be well.” He murmurs against your ear, holding you close. Ellaria comes closer and she wraps her arms around you and presses against your back.

"I thought it was difficult when Lina broke her arm last year." Sniffly quietly against Oberyn's chest, your hand winds around Ellaria to hold her closer to both of you. Admittedly, you had panicked last summer when your second daughter - the first you share with Raeden - had fallen from a tree and broken her arm while playing. This somehow seems worse than that. "This is unbearable. She did nothing wrong. Nothing to cause this."

“Things happen.” Oberyn reminds you gently. He rubs your arms and pushes down his own fear. You need him to be strong for you and he can almost guarantee his oldest eight had come with Ellaria and are waiting out in the hall.

"That is not a comfort, my love." You sigh deeply, knowing that it is not his fault, and wipe tears from your eyes before they can fall and cause you to sniffle. Antonia may be asleep but the sound of her mother crying should never happen near her unless it is weeping for joy. "Thank you for coming, El."

“Where else would I be?” Your lover and Oberyn’s soulmate huffs, knowing you need everyone you can have right now. “Rae and Margaery would be here, but they are keeping the little ones from storming the castle.”

"This family is blessed to have all of you." Swallowing a deep breath before you lean in to kiss her softly, you know this morning is going to be more difficult than any of your births - or even Margaery's and hers had been far more treacherous than yours. "I think we could all take turns with Antonia as she is healing? It will help her to not be so restless if she has different faces each day."

“That is an excellent idea, my love.” Oberyn leans across you and presses his lips to hers. “Unless Lord Sunstone has pressing matters to attend to.” The clinking of tools makes him want to look over, but if he does, you will and he wants to distract you for as long as possible.

“I think not.” Ellaria shakes her head but does not let her expression grow concerned or melancholy. “They spoke of only the children last night. Not business.”

“Then I am sure that they will have no problem with the idea.” All five adults, really seven if you include Cal and Leyth, were adored by the younger children and could be seen as a beloved aunt or uncle if they were not the parents. It really was a village of children and adults in the Water Gardens these days.

“She will be fine.” Ellaria soothes, running one hand up and down your back when she feels you tighten with nerves again. “It is natural to be scared, but remember how Maester Strode helped Margaery when Martine was born. He is skilled and earned your trust well.”

“I know.” You cannot help it, though, and have to stand with your back to the table so you do not look. “This fear has nothing to do with not trusting him. It is only because she is my little girl.”

“Of course, my love.” Oberyn hums softly, his eagle eyes fixed on the maester’s movements and his body tenses the moment the sharp knife cuts into his daughter’s small body.

“Is he doing it?” When Oberyn tenses you can only guess why.

“Yes.” He squeezes you quickly, making sure that each one of the moves the maester makes is not one that hurts his baby. At the thought of that, his hand slides down to your stomach. “Don’t fret too much, you will make yourself sick.”

“I am honestly surprised not to have been overtaken by it already,” you admit with a sigh. “Perhaps this babe is finally going to be calm, if only for her mother’s sake.”

Oberyn snorts, about to make a joke but he bites his lip on it. “Let us hope.” Ellaria strokes your back and sighs. “The girls are outside. They wanted to be here.”

“All of them?” The only surprising thing is that you are surprised by it, and it actually brings the nearest thing to a smile to your lips that you can manage. “Eight older sisters and they do nothing but dote on the little ones. They’re such sweet girls.”

“They would do anything for them.” She is proud of them, all wanting to come and wait. Understanding the risky procedure might not have a happy outcome and believing guarding the maester’s door might keep Antonia safe.

“I’m grateful for them.” You tense when Oberyn’s breath hitches slightly, and swallow down the fear that will surely lead to tears if you allow it to surface. “And for you, El.”

“My love, there is nowhere else I would rather be.” Ellaria leans in and kisses your shoulder and hugs your back.

The process takes more than an hour. And though the Maester is quick, quiet, and sure of himself, you do nothing but quake with fear the entire time. It is only when he is inspecting her stitches in the bright morning light that you feel like you can finally breathe again.

“It is done.” The Maester sighs, straightening up and moving to clean his hands again. The procedure had been a success and he is relieved that it had gone so smoothly.

“And our daughter?” She is still sleeping, lying on that table, but she is breathing and she is not quite so pale anymore.

“She will be perfectly fine.” He tells you with confidence. “She should wake up soon and she will be sore, but she will make a full recovery, your highness.”

"Can we move her before that?" You ask immediately, stepping quickly up to the side of the table and wincing at the sight of cleaned blood around her stitched wound. Your poor darling... "Let her wake up in her own bed, I mean?"

“It might make her feel better.” Strode nods. “Although I have a feeling that she might wish to be close to her parents for the next day, and have you close to her. So I would put her in your bed, your highness.”

"Just so." With Oberyn's help, you keep Antonia steady in your arms as you pick up her little body and look to the maester with deep gratitude. "I will forever be in your debt for keeping her safe, Strode," you declare quietly, almost as if being too loud might wake your oldest child. "If Maester Rhodestone were with us, I know that he would be proud to see you carry on his work."

“It is my pleasure that I can continue his work.” Strode reaches for Ellaria and presses a bottle into her hand. “Just a drop into some juice will keep her comfortable while she recovers.”

"Just one." Ellaria acknowledges, understanding that with medicine as with poisons - dosing is everything.

Maester Strode nods and quickly moves to the table to start cleaning up from the surgery and to examine the organ he has removed from the princess. Much could be learned by studying it.

******

The maester was correct that Antonia's recovery would take some time. It is entire weeks in bed with the tonic for pain deposited in her juice, until she is strong enough to be sitting up and playing cards or other games with her siblings. In the next few weeks Antonia spends a few hours at a time at the Water Gardens with all of her sisters and her few brothers. But the thing that truly delights every single one of you once you see that she is healing well? Antonia will soon have her very first scar. And that is a very exciting thing to happen when the adults all around you have found their soulmates - and then earned more on top of the first.

“Your father and stepmother are here, Star.” Oberyn tells you as he walks out into the gardens with the couple trailing behind him. Your father had decided when he had been reunited with Marlee, finding her alive and well, that he did not wish to spend another minute apart from her. Taking her and her children back to the Vale so he could relinquish his titles to your eldest brother and let your brothers meet the soulmate that should have been their mother. Surprisingly? They had quickly accepted the kind hearted Dornish woman and her children as part of the family. Even accepting that their father wished to return to Dorne to live out his days. Leaving the cold of the Vale behind as well as the painful memories of time lost.

There is little to no formality within your family despite the high titles, and you pop up from dangling your bare feet in the water to give your parents tight hugs. Your father’s hair is completely white now, and the cane he walks with is not just for show, but he has been more lively in the almost ten years since reuniting with his soulmate than ever before. “I am so very glad to see you both,” you hum. The sentiment is true no matter how often you see them.

"Princess." Despite the fact that you have asked Marlee to just call you by your name for years, she cannot help but use your title. Her arms still open to embrace you warmly. "We wanted to come see the grandchildren and to check on you." She is not a grandmother by blood to the children, but it does not matter and she dotes on each one of the children and spoils them as if they were her own.

“We are always happy to see you.” Your children have known no other grandmother and for that you are immensely grateful. They adore their Uncle Salin as well, who keeps them well supplied with sweets and stories of the world outside of Dorne.

“We thought that perhaps we could care for the children tonight.” Marlee explains. “To give the five of you a break?”

“That is so very kind of you.” It has been obvious, in the years since your father has remarried, that he had lost his spirit and his happiness to your mother’s cruelty. Now that he is reunited with his soulmate and living his life on his own terms, a happier man does not exist. “We could all have our midday meal together before we slip away? I know the little ones will be so glad to see you that they will not even notice we have gone.”

“We would be delighted.” Your father answers with a smile. “I can share the raven I received from your brothers.”

“I am not sure if that is exciting or ominous,” you tease with a grin. Your brothers have been thriving in the Vale, grown men living their lives happily with their wives and children all growing into bright young people with their futures sprawled out in front of them. “Oh my dears!” You call out, turning back to where the kids are splashing in the water and Antonia is playing dominoes with Raeden to keep her from getting too rambunctious. “Look who will be spending the afternoon with us!”

“Nonnie! Poppie!” Antonia screeches, her face lighting up and the other children, including Margaery and Raeden’s, all start screeching the nicknames that the eldest had bestowed on their grandparents. Margaery stands from where she was wading with her smallest toddler and waves happily. Delighted to see the parents she had adopted as her own since her father had never spoken to her again before his death when King’s Landing had been burned by the Targaryen queen.

“How is my little warrior feeling today?” He might not be walking as fast as he once did, but your father is still just as determined as ever to have his grandchildren in his life. He bends down now with great care, not wanting little Antonia to over extend herself. “I hear you are healing better than the Maester predicted.”

“I am almost ready to play like normal.” She had been patient with your caution, but she was eager to run and play with her siblings, even picking up the toy spear her Papa had given her to practice with. “I have missed you and nonnie.” She hugs his neck tight and kisses his leathery cheek with a loud smack.

“We have missed you too, little one.” He smiles so dotingly and bops the tip of her nose playfully with one finger. “That is why we are going to spend all day and night with you and your siblings. Because we have been away far too long.” In truth, they have only been traveling a little while, but Marlee’s younger daughter had just given birth and they wished to meet the new babe.

“That is the best gift ever!” She cries out happily and grins. While the servants will still be there, all the children adore time spent with their grandparents. Their soulmate story was a favorite bedtime story as well.

“Come, little one.” He puts out both his hands to her to help her stand. “Let us wash, and we will see what your Uncle Salin has made for lunch, hm?”

“He will have made tarts.” Antonia declares with a grin. “He’s made them every day along with the date cakes Mama loves.”

“Tarts, you say?” That is his favorite, of course, but he wonders if you have a specific craving this time, with his next grandchild already squirming and kicking in your belly. “Well, we know why there must be date cakes, don’t we?” He asks her, taking her hand so they can walk together while the other young children scramble out of the water and into the palace for their lunch.

“Mama’s going to have another baby.” She tells you happily. “They have been talking about celebrating because Aunt Margarey is having a baby too.”

“We always enjoy having a few pregnancies at once,” you agree, taking Antonia’s basket from her so she can walk with her grandfather — her flower crown weaving has come along beautifully during her recovery. “Do you know why else we want to celebrate, sweetheart?”

“Because you and Papa have been married for a long time? Your– your ani– ani–birthday?” Antonia asks, frowning slightly because she knows that’s not the word she wants to use.

“Anniversary.” Her substitution works very well, though, and you grin. “Not quite yet, pumpkin. It’s for you! Because you have been such a brave girl and so patient while you’re healing, we’re going to celebrate you getting your very first scar.”

Her eyes widen once you say that out loud. “A scar?” She asks quietly. “Like– like a soulmate one?” She knows that soulmates are special and you and papa are extra special. “Do you think we know mine? Or will I be like Aunt Margaery?”

“We don’t know yet, sweetheart.” Aunt Margaery, though she never gained another set of marks over her life, has been immensely happy in her romantic life. “We might know yours already, or we might wait many years before we meet them. Both are perfectly okay.”

“Okay.” It’s something fun but it’s not overly concerning to her right now. “I’m hungry.”

That draws an amused chuckle from both you and your father. Truthfully? It is probably good that your nine year old is not too excited about growing up. Let her be a child for as long as she is willing.

“Do soulmate scars hurt?” She asks after a few moments, biting her lip and frowning slightly. If she’s got to have a soulmate, she doesn't want to cause them any pain.

"Only for a moment, precious." Her concern is commendable, and a point of pride as you and Oberyn have always tried to teach your children empathy. "You had pain for weeks to earn it, but they will only have pain for just a moment. And after that, they will know that you are out there somewhere."

“Okay, good.” The pout clears up and she smiles happily. “I don’t want to cause them pain for too long.” She tells you. “Papa said you always weep when he gets scratches.”

"That is because I worry too much." You tell her, giving your father the stink eye when he chuckles in agreement. "I don't like it when Papa gets hurt, just like you don't want your soulmate to hurt, either. But there's no need to cry. I just worry."

“It’s okay Mama. Papa is the strongest, fiercest man alive.” She boasts, with the sense of confidence of a child that worships her father can have.

"Yes he is, sweetheart. He defeated an entire Mountain while you were still in my belly." Brushing some curls from her eyes, the smile on your face bolsters into something equally proud. "But just because someone can withstand hurt, does not mean they should have to."

“I know.” She rolls her eyes. “It’s just good that he can because I always want Papa here.” She tells you quietly. “He’s the best papa in the world. He even promised me a dragon.” Her eyes widen happily. “That’s better than a pony.”

“Oh he did, did he?” Though you all but roll your eyes, it does make you smile. Oberyn’s devotion to children is complete and no one could ever doubt that. “That does sound like the best papa in the world.”

“He is.” She insists happily. “He told me that first I have to make sure that I can keep the little lizard he let me keep alive. Because he says dragons are like giant lizards.”

"That is what they say." Never having seen one, you cannot say for sure, but if there is anyone whose readings you would trust it is Oberyn. As the group of you walk into the dining room at the Water Gardens, you are met with a whole group of other people waiting. A group which includes Raeden and Margarey who are beaming with excitement as they stand on either side of their oldest son by the windows. The young boy is only a few months younger than Antonia and looks every inch his father's son, but with his mother's quick wit and sense of humor. "Oh, dear," you hum in amusement, seeing the way Margaery looks as if she is about to burst at the seams. "What have you been up to, my dear? You like the cat that got the cream."

“It is– we have news.” Margaery nearly vibrates with happiness. The life she has had here, the life so willingly shared with the most surprisingly wonderful people, is one that she never could have imagined so many years ago. Despite the fact that she does not share marks with her husband, she does share love with Lord Sunstone. Love that is equally shared with you and Ellaria and Oberyn. The outlandish and improper request she had made so long ago had been her salvation and she is forever grateful for it. Which is why she now hopes this news will be celebrated with the people she loves most. “Bryer has gained a mark!” She cries out happily.

The room seems to freeze, all occupants at once have their eyes on either Bryer Sunstone or Antonia Martell — and all of these eyes are wide. Your hand grabs Oberyn's arm tightly beside you on instinct and you almost choke in surprise as you stare down at your little girl and then immediately force your eyes up to the little boy she has been steadfast friends with for her entire life. "Is– Margaery, is it–" The words will not even come, but many tears do instead. "Is it a funny shape?" Antonia bursts out with an entirely different question, obviously not having made the instant connection that every adult in the room already has. "Where is it, Bry? Can you show me? I bet it's more fun than mine."

“Nia.” Bryer huffs and rushes towards his best friend and now his soulmate. He had seen her mark when she was wearing stitches and knew what it looked like. It was good he’s always felt really good around the older girl, like she was the best part of a tart. He bites his lip and lifts his shirt to show the matching mark on his skin to hers. “It’s your scar.”

The sound of her mother's broken sob of joy seems to go right over Antonia's head at the moment as she stares at her best friend's stomach and her already wide eyes grow three sizes as her mind races to understand what has happened. One of her fingers comes out to poke the mark as though it were made by coal and she could smudge it, but no. No. It is there as deeply and truly as her own, and she lets out an equally overwhelmed squeak before finding Bryer's eyes. "So...we're...soulmates?" She breathes out, clearly astonished by the very idea.

“I–I think so.” He’s always felt so close to the Princess. But he shrugs. “Unless– unless you don’t want to be.” He offers, knowing that sometimes people aren’t soulmates and love each other. His parents are like that. So why couldn’t people be soulmates and not love each other?

“I don’t think we get to pick.” Antonia reminds him, but within seconds the little girl is smiling broadly. “But…” Mischievous by nature, Antonia Martell has always been the most like her father of any of his children and delights in making adventures out of everyday life. “But that means we can be best friends for everything, Bry!”

The breath Bryer had been holding whooshes out of his chest and his own grin lights up his face. “I know!” He drops his shirt and grabs her hand. “Let’s go pick out what we are going to do first!”

“Nuh-uh, you two. Not quite yet.” You barely manage to stop them as they try to bolt past you, and you shake your head the way only a mother can. “Best friends still need to eat lunch, and Nia still shouldn’t be running.”

“Maaammmmmaaaaaaaaaaa.” Antonia whines, pouting fiercely. “I’m not hungry.” She complains, even though she had just been say she was hungry. “I want to figure out what to do with my soulmate.”

“And you can.” Oberyn interjects, reaching out and taking his daughter’s should to turn her slightly. “You have the rest of your lives to plan, but now…” he tell her. “I want you to plan to eat lunch with your family and your soulmate.”

******

“Nia?” Still half asleep, Bryer stretches in bed and frowns to not find his soulmate beside him. After arriving at the Water Gardens late last night he had slipped into her chamber and curled around her for his first good night’s sleep in a month — four weeks at his father’s side traveling their lands and tending to their people was important but he had missed Antonia desperately.

Antonia groans, wiping her mouth and grimacing as she looks down into the chamber pot. “I’m here.” She tells him, standing back and reaching for a cup of water. Wine has been turning her stomach lately.

“Are you alright, love?” In the ten years since discovering they were soulmates, Bryer and Antonia have become bonded entirely. They are each other’s constant companion even more than when they were children and the occasional joke about their inevitable marriage had started well before that was even a possibility.

The fact that her father was the first to recognize the symptoms will forever be a source of embarrassment to Antonia. Not because she is ashamed of sex, she never would be because of the relationship her parents share with Ellaria and Bryer’s parents. She was embarrassed because she should have figured it out herself. “I have a confession.” She admits, shamelessly moving towards him as naked as the day she had been brought into this world.

“That sounds terribly ominous,” Bryer teases, trying to lighten the mood from the serious look on his beloved’s face. “Lover, you know you can tell me anything.”

“I know.” Setting the cup down, she sits on the edge of the bed as her soulmate and lover moves closer to her. His hand automatically reaching for hers. “I didn’t want to send a raven, I wanted to tell you in person.” She bites her lip as she looks down at their joined hands. She knows Bryer loves her, but she’s unsure of how he will feel about her announcement. “I am expecting your first child.” She tells him, looking up to stare into his eyes.

The way the air gets sucked out of the room for a moment should have had both of their heads spinning, but when Bryer’s mouth finally catches up with his mind he nearly loses his jaw to the ground. “You—we—a child?” He gasps, looking down at her belly as though a bump has formed there instantly.

She nods, hoping the shock is just that and not disappointment. “Papa recognized the symptoms and asked mama to take me to Maester Strode. He confirmed it. I am two months gone with your child.”

When he can find it in himself to move again, Bryer lunges forward and kisses Antonia with the most earnest, heartfelt honesty that he can muster. “Marry me.” He breathes out, practically laughing with how light he feels. “They cannot possibly tell us we are still too young if we will soon be parents.”

The girl deflates in relief and nearly barks out a laugh as she throws her arms around her lover’s neck. “Papa is already plotting it.” She promises. “He knows you must secure your heir properly. And he knows how much you love me.” In reality, you had no issue with them marrying young, Oberyn had just wanted to give the boy an opportunity to sow wild oats before marrying, if needed.

“I do love you,” he insists, cradling her in his arms and tugging her impossibly closer. “I always have. Since the moment I knew what love was.”

“I love you.” She promises, pressing her lips to his softly and smiling. “We have always been meant to share this life.”

“What do you think of trying some breakfast?” He asks, pressing kissing along her neck and shoulder and holding her as close as can be in his arms. “Or do you feel too sick for it?” He knows that he has heard his own mother, and hers, and Ellaria bemoan the way an uneasy stomach gets in the way of being hungry, and he wants to do everything he can to take care of her.

Humming softly, she leans into his embrace. “I think that I can stomach some date cakes.” She admits with a small giggle, reminded of her own mother’s eating habits while you were carrying her siblings. “And some of the fruit that your mother loves.”

“Whatever you want, my love. Anything.” Resisting the urge to tease, Bryer nuzzles against her again and kissing her shoulder. “Should we go down to breakfast and let our parents know that you have told me?”

“Mama and Papa already know.” She reminds him. “There’s a good chance they have told your parents. Papa had said that they were all going to be together, since they had all been missing your father in the big bed.”

“Well…” Bryer laughs softly. “The least they can do then is tell us what they have planned for our wedding.”

“Of course.” She rolls her eyes but she knows that her parents and his would want them both to have everything they ever wanted. “Let me dress.”

“If you must,” he pouts, always preferring her bare when he can get it. Even more so now that something primal and territorial is creeping into his mind with a baby in her womb.

“While our parents might parade around the Gardens nude when they think we are asleep, I don’t know if I could.” She teases. Many nights when Bryer had come to her chambers, they had heard their parents frolicking in the waters well after dark.

Nodding, Bryer climbs from the bed and begins to dress himself in turn. “I know that they have found their happiness in the freedom to share love with so many, but…I want only you,” he admits with burning cheeks. “You are all I want and all I need, Nia.”

“Bry–” She shakes her head. “I have only been with you and that’s perfectly fine with me.” She rolls her eyes and walks over to throw herself in his arms. “Mama says that if we choose many or just each other, all that matters is that we are happy.”

“Your mama is a very wise woman.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to her hair.

“Yes she is.” That point, Antonia would never argue. “Let’s go tell your parents they are going to be grandparents.”

“My mother is going to cry,” he predicts with a grin before scooping Antonia against his side and heading off with her down the hall.

Of that, she has no doubt. Lady Sunstone, or her Aunt Margaery, had developed a habit of crying when she was happy. She explained it one day, telling Antonia that when she was younger, she could never show her true feelings so they just kind of bubbled up as tears now.

“I half suspected the two of you might sleep through breakfast,” you tease when your oldest child appears in the doorway of the dining room with her soulmate wrapped around her as young people in love so often do. “Or even have trays brought to you in bed. Welcome home, Bryer. You were dearly missed.”

“Thank you, your highness.” Despite being his soulmate’s mother, Bryer still uses your title despite you telling him not too many times. His father, your soulmate, still called you princess and he was his father’s son. “It is very good to be home.”

“Very good indeed.” You agree, trying very hard not to smirk in your daughter’s direction. “Come. Join us. We were all catching up on the news.”

The news. Antonia eyeballs her mother and wonders if she had told everyone. “Apologies. It has been a slow morning for me.”

“Of course, sweetheart. Do not worry about that.” The table is full this morning — with more than a dozen children and five adults seated around it — and you all take from plates piled high with fruits, cakes, cheeses, and last night’s leftovers from the banquet. Salin had outdone himself with two whole roast boar and pot upon pot of spicy stewed lamb along with all the other elegant dishes he had provided. It was sure to be just as delicious this morning. “Lord Sunstone was bringing us up to speed on the prosperity of the farms in his region, and how well Bryer’s second tour with his people went.”

“Oh?” Antonia beams proudly at Bryer. “I know he will be a very good lord when the time comes, just like his father.” She has the utmost respect for Lord Raeden, and thinks of him as a second father.

"He has compassion and intelligence." Raeden commends his son from across the table, even with his youngest child sitting in his lap. "Two things which will be necessary for him to harness when things are bad or good with our people."

“The Sunstones are an asset to Dorne.” Oberyn agrees. “Every one of them.”

"And the next generation will be, too." Bryer declares, chest puffed and drink held aloft, proud to be a part of this conversation but also to usher in the next as he beams at Antonia beside him.

“To the next generations.” Margaery agrees, beaming at her eldest son and her husband’s heir. Proud of the son she had birthed and raised here in Dorne. “We have created enough of them.” She jokes.

"It is high time our children took over, I could not agree more," you hold up your own glass, but push a glass of juice toward your daughter. "I could not take wine when I was pregnant with any of you, pumpkin. It only makes sense that you cannot, either."

It is fitting that her mother be the one to announce it and Antonia’s eyes dart towards Bryer parents. No shock on their faces, only excitement and pride. “Mama!” She cries, pouting at you. “You told them!” She’s not angry, but she is going to see how sheepish you are over it.

"I could not resist," you admit, laughing and covering your face for just a moment to show embarrassment even though you barely feel absolutely any. Being excited for your first grandchild is your motherly right. "Forgive me, sweetheart? It is such good news to be shared."

“She could not keep it in, and I am so happy she could not.” Her future mother by marriage leaps up and rushes around to hug Antonia. “I could weep last night so you do not think I am anything but thrilled.”

"It brings our families as close together as they could possibly be." You are on your feet as well, hugging Bryer while Margaery squeezes Antonia to pieces. "And we are so very excited for both of you."

“Bryer is excited.” Antonia announces, looking over at her father. “Shocked. I thought he was going to choke on his own tongue.”

"That is about how I reacted when I found out that his mother was expecting him," Raeden chuckles. He, too, has joined the press of parents embracing their children and he hugs Antonia tightly. "His mother could have knocked me over with a feather. He is more like me than even he knows, sometimes."

“Thank you.” She whispers to him. “For making him a man I am proud to love.” She smiles up at the older version of him. While there are glimpses of his mother in him, he is far closer to his father in resemblance.

"Loving you has made him a good man." Raeden promises her. Just as love had made him a good man so many years ago - in so many different ways.

Leaning in, she kisses his cheek and then hugs her papa after he embraces Bryer. “I can’t believe it papa.” She tells him. “I’m going to have a baby.” Oberyn chuckles, folding his daughter into his arms and kisses her hair. “I believe it. Boy was sneaking into your bed every night.” He tells her. “Now he can just go through the door, rather than climbing through the window.”

Antonia puts on a performatively guilty face, but does not feel bad about it for a moment. "Do you not always say that love should be celebrated, Papa? We are only following your principles."

“I do say that. And I’m proud that you have found your love, my little date cake.” He kisses her cheek. “I love you Princess, all I want is for you to be happy and healthy.”

"I am happy, Papa." Antonia promises him, tears welling behind her eyes. "So incredibly happy."

“That’s all that matters, my love.” He promises her. “You were created in love, raised in it and you will carry that love to your own children and the people under your Lord husband’s protection.” Oberyn predicts. “Dorne is strong and you are a Martell.” He caresses her cheek. “You have lived up to our motto and I am so proud. Unbowed, Unbent,” he winks at the daughter conceived in King’s Landing so many years ago. “Unbroken.”

______

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My Masterlist!

[lestatslair]

HELP

[sinnaminie]

Happy last day of 2023!

For my final plushie photo of this year, I’ve assembled all the Pedro Pascal plushies I could find for a family photo.

Thank you all for the love and support over the past 12 months. Hope we all have a wonderful 2014 😘

[mybworlds]

In love with these photographs, in love with his smile and his smiling eyes ❤️🧡

[spacelatinos4life]

Game of Thrones’ Team on Dorne, Oberyn’s Exit | Entertainment Weekly (27 July 2014)

The cast of Game of Thrones talks to EW at Comic-Con.

[sugar-and-pearls]

Familial FOS PERSONALITY TYPES AND HOW THEY INTERACT WITH MINE

(I'm not going to lie, this will be MUCH longer than my previous ones)

INFP X INFP

INFPs will typically have a weird “mind-reading” connection with other INFPs. That said, these types are so individualistic that if they have opposing values their connection can be like a bomb about to explode. When INFPs have friendships with other like-minded INFPs they tend to feel heard, seen, and inspired. Together they can explore each other’s imaginative inner worlds, fight for similar causes, and listen to each other without fear of external pressures and rules.

INFP X ESFJ

Warmth and passion are often at the heart of this friendship or relationship. ESFJ/INFP partnerships can be tumultuous or deeply rewarding depending on how willing both types are to understand and respect each other. ESFJs often appreciate the quiet tenderness of INFPs. INFPs can help them to tap into a deeper, truer sense of who they are and what they value. In contrast, ESFJs can provide INFPs with a friendly, down-to-earth haven with which to be themselves and share their ideas.

INFP X ESFP

These two types tend to click because they have a shared passion for authenticity and adventure. ESFPs can help break INFPs out of their shell and introduce them to a variety of exciting experiences. Their enthusiasm and fun-loving nature is often endearing to INFPs. In turn, INFPs can help ESFPs to tap into their emotions more fully and experience life with more depth and imagination. These types tend to bounce ideas and possibilities off each other well, with the ESFP wanting to immediately take action on ideas and the INFP going along for the ride and frequently enjoying the thrill!

INFP X ESTJ

ESTJs and INFPs tend to have fiery interactions – sometimes in a good way, sometimes in a bad way. They are opposites in many ways while still sharing the same cognitive functions. ESTJs are often drawn to the quiet sensitivity and creativity of INFPs while INFPs are drawn to the pragmatic, logical nature of ESTJs. If both types can be patient with each other’s differences there is a lot of opportunity in this friendship or partnership for personal growth and broader perspectives.

INFP X ISFP

ISFPs and INFPs tend to have a really strong and powerful connection almost immediately. They both are dominant introverted feeling types, so they naturally give each other space to be themselves. They are both idealistic and visionary, with ISFPs having a more down-to-earth, pragmatic bent while INFPs are more focused on imagination and conceptualization. Together they can broaden each other’s worlds and help each other to have more open-minded, balanced perspectives.

INFP X INFJ

INFJs and INFPs share a mutual love of meaningful, deep conversation. These types tend to thrive as friends when they give each other space to be their authentic selves. While they share none of the same cognitive functions, because they share three preferences (Introversion, Intuition, Feeling) they tend to respect each other’s individual needs, empathize readily, and connect over ideas and possibilities.

INFP x INTJ

While these types might seem like opposites at first glance, they actually have quite a bit in common. They both look inward to their values and outwards to efficacy when they make decisions. They are both introverts and intuitives. They enjoy exploring ideas, theories, and possibilities together. They also respect each other’s personal values and autonomy.

INFP X ESTP

ESTJs and INFPs tend to have fiery interactions – sometimes in a good way, sometimes in a bad way. They are opposites in many ways while still sharing the same cognitive functions. ESTJs are often drawn to the quiet sensitivity and creativity of INFPs while INFPs are drawn to the pragmatic, logical nature of ESTJs. If both types can be patient with each other’s differences there is a lot of opportunity in this friendship or partnership for personal growth and broader perspectives.

INFP X INTP 

INTPs and INFPs have a shared love of freedom, exploration, and autonomy. INTPs prefer thinking over feeling so they may come across as overly blunt to INFPs, and INFPs may come across as overly-sensitive to INTPs. However, once they get to understand each other there’s usually a very strong bond and mutual appreciation. Both respect each other’s space to feel and think what they want and both have a creative energy that is inspiring to the other.

INFP X ISFJ 

ISFJs and INFPs create a bubble of warmth and empathy for each other. These types usually click very quickly. They share a mutual sense of empathy, warmth, and gentleness. At the same time, ISFJs bring a more grounded presence to the relationship while INFPs help to clarify values, bring ISFJs into their pure identity, and give a spark of imagination. These types share two cognitive functions: Extraverted Intuition and Introverted Sensation. Because of this, while they have some differences, there is still a mutual sense of comfort here.

INFP X ENTJ

ENTJs and INFPs are very different at first glance, but these two types can really help each other grow. INFPs are often inspired by the big-picture, strategic, action-oriented nature of the ENTJ. ENTJs in turn find the warmth, authenticity, and imagination of the INFP intriguing. They can both help each other in contrasting ways. ENTJs can help INFPs bring their ideas to life and tap into their thinking side. They can also help them refine their ideas and create strategies for their realization. INFPs, in turn, can help ENTJs delve into their deeper feelings and values. They can also help them to see innovative alternatives and possibilities so they don’t get stuck in tunnel vision.

INFP X ENTP

ENTPs and INFPs share a mutual love of exploration, imagination, and creativity. While these types can have some friction due to their differing judging processes (ENTPs are auxiliary thinkers and INFPs are dominant feelers), these same differences can help them grow as individuals. This friendship or relationship pairing may be a little fiery and argumentative at times, but if both types can work at understanding each other’s type preferences it can also be one of growth and refinement.

[tightjeansjavi]

Bonus round for the Red Viper himself…

Let’s talk about that chiseled jawline, goddamn.

[something-tofightfor]

9 years ago today:

Also:

[ligawolfcosplayandarts]

I decided to add shading , so have Gregor gradually gearing up.

Let's pretend he's Gregor from Good! Mountain AU because he's smiling here. We need Good!Mountain AU just to have less dead people and smiling Mountain who wants to make up to his brother Sandor. I adore Sandor so much and in my Sandor x OC fanfic I have AU Mountain who even didn't kill Elia and her children (He told Varys to take them three, hide them far away from Lannisters and lied to Tywin that was too late to get them).

Anyway, gradual gear up.

Shirtless.

Armoured

Armoured with Helm on. 🏔️

[nocheiraia]

Have been thinking about the Grishaverse for a while and-

Elia as the Sun Summoner who can defeat the Others bc they are afraid of sun's light.

[westeroswisdom]

Pedro Pascal will be the host of Saturday Night Live on February 4th.

Pedro Pascal will bring his TV takeover to NBC’s Studio 8H where he’s set to make his “Saturday Night Live” hosting debut next month.

NBC announced Thursday that the actor will host the sketch-comedy series on Feb. 4. He will be joined by musical guest Coldplay, which will return for its seventh “SNL” appearance.

[ ... ]

Pascal’s “SNL” gig also comes a month before he’s set to return as the titular character in Season 3 of Disney+'s “The Mandalorian”  on March 1. 

The actor, also known for “Game of Thrones” and “Kingsman: The Golden Circle,” is well aware that his recent roles have been father figures. And so are his Twitter fans, many of whom have celebrated the actor as “daddy” — and  not in the paternal way.

Whenever a GoT person is host of SNL there is either a related skit or at least a major reference to the series. In the case of Kit Harington, some of his series friends showed up.

Of course it would be very cool if Bella Ramsey dropped by. Hafþór Júlíus Björnsson (The Mountain) would be another interesting possibility. A visit from The Bud Knight, who met his end at Super Bowl LIII the same way as Oberyn Martell, would be esoteric. Whatever happens, it should be a fun SNL with Pedro Pascal.