#abe Martell

[rambleonwithrosie]

Okay Judean Beauty Contest time 🤣 which of the disciples as portrayed in the Chosen TV show do you find most attractive?

If you don't watch the show feel free to look at the pics below and give your vote.

And we're talking in show here because some of them are more attractive out of character (George Xanthis is much cuter than John imo) and some of them are cuter in character (Z is much more handsome than Alaa Safi sorry)

*yes I realize Yoshi Barrigas no longer plays Philip but he's the Philip we've had the most of on screen kinda like Abe's Big James so that's who I'm going with

[rriverrunning]

the way ned & oberyn remember their respective sisters and its role in the story is sooo interesting to me. everything we know about elia + lyanna comes from things people say over a decade after their deaths, and for the readers, ned & oberyn are some of the primary lenses through which we hear about them. these men both love their sisters so deeply, and think & speak of them often. their actions are driven by the distress & aftereffects of their sisters' horrible deaths: ned is so haunted by guilt that he walks into his own demise, and oberyn risks his life and dies for the possibility of justice for elia. they go to these enormous lengths for the sake of their sisters' memory.

simultaneously, though, as readers, we will still never truly know what precisely either of these women was like! we won't know what they thought or felt! even in death, they are so deeply loved by their brothers! but this act of memorialization means that their primary role in the story is as objects of motivation (based on the circumstances of their deaths) completely separate from their own thoughts and desires in life. memory, even loving memory, is fallible. especially so many years later, how these characters remember their sisters is inevitably influenced by their own unconscious assumptions and beliefs; any memory of character/personality is filtered not only through their perceptions, but also through the passage of time and trauma of the horrific circumstances of their deaths.

and that's not to say that it's a bad thing -- i find the story oberyn tells about elia to be extremely touching & meaningful, i think ned's lying for lyanna's sake is one of the most truly 'honorable' things he ever does -- but to point out the tragedy of their role in the story. they are so present in the story in name, and we know how meaningful they were to the people around them. but by the nature of the story's framing, their interiority will always be denied to the readers. we can guess at what exactly they were like, hearing every anecdote and shared memory, but none of these things will ever be able to fully form a true image as these characters were in life, as they knew and saw themselves to be.

[15-lizards]

ASOIAF modern AU class/wealth distinctions bc in the wise words of Mod Sam from the Inn at The Crossroads Discord: “i love modern aus where theyre like oh yeah the lannisters are filthy rich and here's the starks, piling into a minivan to go to public school. they would not fucking do that”

Lannisters: Private jets and COO/CEO/CFO positions at the family company and plain white tshirts that cost $5000. 1% of the 1%. They’re the Roys we already know this no need to elaborate.

Starks: they’re a rugged type of Minnesota/North Dakota/Wyoming wealth. Land rich. Own ranches and mining operations and oil drilling companies. Ppl think they’re normal bc they look like average farmers until they get a tour of their 300,000 acres and private mountain. Seem down to earth but grew up breeding ranch horses, don’t really understand what a car note is, and Nedcat paid for all the starklings college apartments. Also wear normal looking vests and ranching jeans and boots that cost absurd amounts

Tyrells: masters at the “quiet wealth” bullshit. Wayyyy older money compared to the Lannisters, and aren’t aggressive/scrappy like them bc of it. Literal aristocracy like lords or barons or some shit. Multiple residences, family tradition of politics, and loads of passive income. Maybe run a newspaper or two and own some global shipping companies bc of their merchant roots or whatever. Margaery was at one of those international debutante balls for the ubër-wealthy.

Tullys: Not as rich as the Tyrells or Lannisters but still nothing to scoff at. Not upper middle class but more like lower rungs of the upper class. Family tradition of sending all the kids to boarding school (that’s where Lysa got pregnant 🙂‍↕️) and they have some nice yachts and the like. Have one really nice permanent house on the river, a summer house upstate, and an apartment in the city. Normal enough to blend in with most people at their school. Also made their money thru shipping lanes.

Martells: Southern oil barons. Nymeria emigrated over and immediately discovered oil on her apparently shitty piece of land. Thousands of acres dedicated to drilling and cattle ranching. Awful for the environment but greenwash the fuck out of their business. Good at being a man of the ppl despite literally being in the one percent. Very publicly donate to progressive charities and causes to offset the backlash they get from pay the people who work for them slave wages. People stan them on Twitter because they’re hot and not like other billionaires.

Baratheons: slightly newer money but old enough to have no excuse to act the way they do. Loud annoying displays of wealth. Made their fortune mostly because they were good at being overly aggressive when it came to the stock market or sales or smthn idk what they do. Robert buys an egregious house in Florida where him and some other rich repulsive republicans do Labor Day weekend on their yachts with women they paid to be there. Absolutely terrible at saving their money (except Stannis and kinda Renly) and quite literally have to have their accounts frozen by their investment bankers. Actively going bankrupt.

Greyjoys: Not even rich anymore. Had a sizable shipping company at one point before they got poached bought out by the Lannisters. Also they engaged in too much tax fraud and embezzlement so now no one wants to touch them with a ten foot pole. Still live in their dilapidated cliffside house that’s literally ab to crumble into the sea. Theon got to live with the Starks bc once the Greyjoys got audited Ned felt bad.

Targaryens: REAL old money that stretches back like at least 500 years. Have had multiple income sources over the years and almost all of it is blood money of some kind and extracted through violence :) Giant ass portraits of their ancestors in their multiple residences, they all speak Valyrian at home, and they don’t even go to school it’s just private tutors. Obscene wealth that isn’t even fathomable to most people. Famously bred race horses and hunting dogs for a while until there was some familial infighting about ownership of the racetracks and stables and that collapsed. Got audited and investigated twenty years ago and Aerys just killed himself instead of going to jail.

[pedge-stuff]

I just had the worst and saddest possible day ever and all I wished was someone here, just to hug me under my cold covers. Can you please make something up with pedro and reader please?

I'm so sorry you are going through this?? I hope things have improved since you submitted this. Sending love your way.

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okay (pedro pascal x gn/m!reader)

a/n: same vague universe as “marked,“ per usual.

a little, plotless shorty for your troubles.

thanks, as always, for everything.

TW: a very brief mention of disordered eating

summary: sometimes, you just need to be held.

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"I'm okay," you whisper. "It's okay, really. I just need a little bit."

Less than convincing.

There is a dip in the mattress behind you. Even with your eyes closed, covers pulled over your head, turned away from him entirely, you can tell he is settling against the headboard, atop the duvet.

Pedro doesn't speak. Doesn't touch you, either, but you're not really sure if you're grateful for that; sometimes, being touched when you're like this feels so intolerable, it takes your breath away. Other times, a soft touch feels like the only thing that can hold you together. Trial and error, involving a lot of shitty and unfair antagonisms, has taught Pedro to give you space before he gives you love.

This is why you suck, your brain supplies. Nothing more— your mind is too fucking tired to even dissect your insecurities properly. You just feel bad.

Not without reason; at least, not today. Three missed calls from your mother, with whom you are barely speaking to, anyways. (It turns out being engaged to Oberyn Martell is about the only thing that could cure her passive aggressive homophobia. A bit too late to be water under the bridge, at any rate.)

Three missed calls, and some really shit news.

So, you're in bed. Under the covers, hiding, as if 8:30 is a totally normal bedtime.

And things are decidedly not good.

The tears come, silent and steady.

A warm press of lips to the back of your neck startles you; hot puffs of breath where his nose is buries into the hair curled at your nape, just a moment, before pulling back. It does not feel as bad as you'd feared.

"Sorry," you croak, blindly reaching behind you; squeeze what feels like his knee, in what you hope is a marginally reassuring gesture. "I'm fine, baby, you don't have to sit here with me." Pedro is early to bed— neither of you are really night owls— but not this early.

He makes no effort to move. "Can I..." A tentative hand, between your shoulder blades.

You can't help the thin whine that accompanies your shaky exhale. Fucking pathetic. But you turn, slowly, rolling over to face him. You'd assumed he was up against the headboard, but he's shifted down now, head on the pillow beside you.

Smiling, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

Wordlessly, he tucks an arm over your waist. He's always been strong, biceps as thick and sturdy as tree limbs, but the Gladiator training has added a layer of muscle just about everywhere. (Including his stomach. Abs are slowly stealing the small belly there, and while you're proud of the work he's putting in, you secretly miss the softness.)

"I don't know what you're thinking," Pedro whispers, mouth brushing against the top of your head. "But I'm so sorry, honey." He rubs the length of your spine, brow furrowing at the feeling of unfamiliar protrusions. Stress and an irregular schedule has sent good eating habits by the wayside; your body is shrinking, while his grows.

It's been the shittiest fucking month. He's been gone, you've been busy, and neither of you have gotten enough of the other. Back in New York three days now, but this is the first night you've been able to stay in together— and, of course, you've ruined it.

"Just happy to be with you," Pedro says, as if reading your mind. "Maybe this strike'll last forever, and I'll never need to go back to Morocco. Sorry, Paul Mescal."

You laugh, despite yourself, thick with tears. "I'm gonna miss the fan selfies, I think. What're they calling you? Pee-paw?"

Pedro groans, punishing you by pulling you tighter against him. Your face is squashed against his chest. Not a hardship. He smells clean, spiced. Familiar. Comfortably, and safe.

"You're engaged to the oldest man on the internet," he laments. "In Twitter years, I'm dead."

The squished hug is short-lived, breaking as he rolls back, gently, to get a better look at you. Cups your face, puffy and wet and gross; brushes twin thumbs over your cheeks, with a fond smile.

"There you are," Pedro whispers.

"I'm okay." Another sniff, but the threat of tears seems to have subsided. Today was shit, but it's over now; you're here, together, with nothing but time and sleep ahead of you.

"It's okay that you're not, sweetheart."

But you are. You're with him.

[starsofjewels]

hello idk if you're requests are currently open right now, but could you possibly do another gregor c fic or one shot???(maybe one were he and reader have children or something idk i just need more gregor, especially from you!!!)

Haunted Keeps and Squirrel Bones

Gregor Clegane x Lady Clegane! Reader (feat. the Clegane boys)

CONTENT: Language, possible HOTD spoliers (regarding Aemond), mentions of hunting animals + animal bones, ghosts, a medieval man's interpretation of the menstrual cycle, Greggie C is his own warning.

Word count: 3.1k

(If you want to consider this a Part 2/ Epilogue to Yellow Wedding, by all means do.)

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I actually had this written and ready about a week ago, but we can pretend it's fresh for you...

Hello beautiful, gorgeous, god-given anon,

yes, my requests are 100% open, request as much as you like!

Thank you so much for giving me an anon post to attach this fic to, so I look like a very good, very proper writer with many, many followers. Here's to more Greggie C requests.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

CONTEXT- In my little fantasy land, Lady Clegane and Gregor have three sons together- Ronan (approx 6/7), Finnegan 'Finny' (approx 5/6) and Baby (a baby, go figure). Ronan likes making the kitchen cats race each other, and Finny likes stories about old battles. Yes, they are both shockingly normal for having Greggie C as a father. Someone let me know if they want more about Ronan and Finny. :)

Your life is sweet, and comfortable. The world of a lady with no particular noble standing, and an infamous husband. You have no expectations in the court, to the Lannisters, or to anyone but yourself and the town you control whilst Gregor is away. 

Clegane Keep is merely a small patch of land in the Westerlands, or in Westeros at all. In the grand, vast world of your Kingdom and your country, it is nothing. And yet it thrives like no other. The food is plentiful, the children run wild in the streets, and your little town’s only downfall is that it is constantly steeped in the hushed stories of Gregor’s violence. Everyone knows someone who their ruling lord has murdered in cold blood, and yet none of them say anything. The Mountain is a fearsome guard dog, enough to ward off any potential threat from the surrounding areas. 

You are watching your boys play when he tells you, splashing each other with water from the troughs. It is hardly clean, you think, but they are having fun, and so you shan’t complain. You are sitting on the other side of the field with their lunch, and their baby brother in your arms, most comfortable with the arrangement. 

Gregor sits beside you, helping himself to the picnic, no matter how much you slap his hands away. If it weren’t for his enormous size, and the jewels around your neck and fingers, you could pass for any common family, enjoying a sunny day. 

“I’ve been called up again.”

Something inside of you sighs, knowing precisely what this means. Another fortnight, more months of waiting up each night for a man you know may not return. Not that you suspect he wouldn’t, Gregor has often joked that he would beat the Stranger when He came for him. And you do not doubt his words. So, you school your face, and respond as neutrally as you can,

“Where to?”

“Harrenhal.”

That makes you turn your head, unable to hide your displeasure at the mention of the place. Every child in Westeros has heard of Harrenhal, and its spirits. It is the place where riches turn to ruin, jewels to mud, and princes to skeletons. Daemon, Aemond, Rhaegar, a Martell, the list of princes who call the area around that haunted keep their gravesite is almost insurmountable. Their ghosts haunt it alongside those of the vengeant Children of the Forest since an ironborn king had made it his pleasure to cut sacred forest. The largest castle in Westeros, and the one place you think even your Mountain may be powerless. After all, there is nothing that can withstand death, or the dead. Not even the mountains.

“Absolutely not.”

Gregor lets out a huff, probably expecting your initial refusal. He lifts up the jewels from your neck, inspecting them in the sunlight,

“He’s offering double the last time, and there’s enough space you can come with the littluns, if you wanted to…”

One of your sons topples over the other one, causing both to fall to the ground. You can hear their laughter from across the field.

“Why in Seven Hells would I want to bring the children to a pile of haunted stones?”

His big hands find their way to your hips, pulling you closer to him, the baby in your arms squalls slightly at the movement,

“It’ll toughen them up, seeing a ghost or two. Besides, can’t live without my sweet wife’s cunny, can I?”

The noise that comes from you is halfway between a scoff and a laugh.

“What, you mean showing me off to all of your men, and the ghosts?”

“Aye, and the ghosts.”

You sigh, and lean back, staring up at the bright sky. It seems more and more likely that you will be attending the haunted keep. Gregor usually manages to get his way somehow.

“Fine.” 

Your husband looks mildly surprised that you’ve agreed so quickly.

“Fine, but the moment anything slightly ghostly happens I am taking the boys up to my father’s halls.”

He had forgotten you were from the Riverlands originally, that the keep you grew up in sat upon the Blue Fork. You were right, of course, your father’s castle was no more than a day or two away from Harrenhal, by boat and horse.

“Whatever.” He was never going to give you a proper response. He reaches for more of the sliced gammon, and you smack his hand, nothing more than a tap on your husband’s great stature.

“You should take them up to see your mam when we get there.��� Gregor leans down to face his infant son, patting the boy’s head, “hasn’t seen the baby yet, has she?”

“Or she could come down to us, if she wanted.”

“Aye, that too.”

The keep is colder and wetter and darker than any book or song could describe it as. The place feels haunted, even without any of the gossip. Things move themselves in the night, shifting just noticeably, the wind howls through gaps in its ruined stones. There is no warmth or comfort in this cold, black place, even despite the fires lit in nearly every corner. You are shoved, unceremoniously, into one area of the keep. The boys are given toys and books to keep themselves entertained, but they are not much in the mood for playing, too used to the bright days down in the Westerlands. Even the baby, with no responsibilities other than to exist, is unsettled, he refuses to sleep, or play, or laugh. You have only the amount of milk he guzzles down, and the fat tears which roll down his face, to convince you that he is still your son. But the money is already coming through, and already it is more than you have ever seen. So you must find ways to entertain yourself, and your sons.

The town is as depressing as the keep. Harrentown has never been known for much excitement, even the whores look grey-faced, not even pretending to appear young and vibrant like their southern counterparts. 

Ronan is jumping in the lake, trying to scare the little fish that stay by the shallow end. You doubt he will freeze, with how hot his blood runs, a gift from his father’s line.

“Mummy- Mummy, you’re not listening!” Finny sits beside you, flicking through a book on the area’s history. He does not understand most of the words, but he knows enough to make his way through it. 

“Mummy- They pulled the sword out of his face, and they got the dragon out too- But they threw him back!”

You nod, slightly, the story of Aemond One-Eye has been an obsession of both your boys since you gave him that book. Ronan has heard the discussion from the sea line, you know this as he sneaks up to you, with a look upon his face that you can tell means he is going to ask for some wild favour.

“Mummy? Can we go and look for Aemond One-Eye’s bones?”

Your brow furrows, and you stare in mild confusion. They have looked for squirrels and rabbits in traps, and spent days stalking out small birds around their home, but a full, human, skeleton has never much been on their register.

“Ronan, why would you want to look for bones?”

“Sell them.”

You glance from boy to boy. Finny, who you consider your more sensible child, has jumped up, leaving his book at an illustration of Daemon Targaryen striking his nephew from the sky, and you know you have been defeated.

“Aye, alright. But no going in the water, and stay where I can see you.”

Ronan grabs his brother’s hands, pulling him away from you, you watch them start to leave,

“And I get a cut of any money you make, seeing as I’m letting you search.”

“... That’s fair.”

Once again, you are left alone with the baby, on the shores of the Gods Eye. You can see them jump over the hills and dig through the sand, and you are certain at one point you watch Finny put a fistful of sandy dirt into his mouth. You don’t think you will mention that. 

They come back to you, squeaking and screaming, Ronan grasping something you hope is not a human bone, Targaryen or not.

It is covered in dirt and sand, and presented to you like a fine prize by two, beaming boys.

“Erm- It’s certainly… Interesting.”

The bone probably comes from a squirrel, or some other small, furry creature. It is definitely not human, and for that you are semi-thankful. But the boys are convinced. 

You let them take it home, as well as a handful of interesting pebbles. If it will keep them occupied for long enough to stop complaining about the cold, you are willing to indulge it.

The boys keep it by their beds, and you are near certain that they talk to it occasionally. 

But that does not disturb you. What makes you slightly wary of the keep, is that the boys claim it is talking back. Not the bone itself, no, bones cannot speak, of course. They appear in your bedroom at night, complaining of the whispers through the corridors, and they can hardly sleep because of it. They like scary stories, ghost stories, they assure you, but the tales they pick out from these night-time phantoms are beyond what they consider disturbing. Gregor brings them back to bed for you. 

It is late, late enough that you should be abed already, but there is nothing that can convince you to sleep. Your husband is out, for whatever reason, and the boys have been put to bed particularly reluctantly. 

Something feels wrong, perhaps the temperature has dropped again, or a storm is coming. That, or the ghosts have gotten to you.

You sigh, and go back to your sewing, ignoring how concerningly similar the wind sounds to human voice. 

There is someone in the doorway. You cannot tell who, given the dim light, but you see the break in light between their legs, and the definitive shape of a head above it, but they come from nowhere. You think it to be a man, given the build, but you cannot particularly tell. All you see is its shadow, and a sapphire light in place of one eye. It tilts what you think is its head, not daring to venture closer toward you. Instead, it turns back on itself, marching down the hall. It takes barely a minute for your boys to run, screaming, from their bedchamber, you are surprised the babe is not awoken.

“There was a real ghost, Mummy!” 

Finny is beyond words, huddled and shivering to one side of you. It is Revan who takes responsibility for recounting their ghostly experience.

You want to dismiss their fears as something else. A bad dream, the excitement of battles long finished. But, you do not.

“I saw him, loves. I believe it.”

Two children stay huddled to your side long into the night. One who refuses to pick up the book he had so dearly loved nights before, and the other trying desperately to be seen as strong, but who yelps at each click of the floorboard, or scuttle from a creature travelling through the walls. They do not need nor want stories, or song, or toys to entertain themselves with. All they need is their mother.

Gregor comes in close to sunrise. Finny is long asleep, Ronan is uncomfortably awake, you don’t even think that he notices your husband coming in, despite the large shadow he casts. He is filthy, and exhausted, a day of acts you don’t ask nor even think about. Still, he gives you your kiss, and leans down to your older boy,

“Why aren’t they in bed?”

You look up slightly,

“Ghosts.”

He slumps himself into the chair beside you, which you are mildly surprised holds the weight, and groans.

“Ghosts, that’s all I hear about. The men see ghosts, the prisoners see ghosts, the fucking dogs see ghosts. And now my boys see them too.”

“I saw one.”

The noise he makes is somewhere between another tired sigh, and a scoff.

“How do you know it’s not your woman’s business?”

You throw a cushion at him for that, which he catches with ease. You realise quickly he’s semi-serious, he’s never known much about women.

“My monthly does not cause ghost sightings, you absolute fool.”

Eventually, he stands up, cracking his bones as he does,

“Gods, I need a fucking sleep. Come on, I want something warm to hold.”

Gregor picks up Finny, the boy’s limp, sleepy body bouncing like a little fish in his father’s enormous grasp. You watch him pile Ronan on top, fitting both children comfortably into his arms. The man turns around, leans down slightly, and you wrap your arms around his neck, lifted up into the air in an uncomfortable piggyback. If the boys were awake, and suitably not terrified, they would squeal and squeak with delight at this show of strength. 

Your sons are plopped, with an incredible lack of ceremony, into your bed. As you move to tuck them in, Gregor stops you, turning back and thumping down the hall. The scrape of wood makes your brow furrow, until your husband appears again with one of the boy’s beds, carrying the thing as though it weighs nothing. It is out beside the windows on the other end of the room, and your boys are put into the one bed, too exhausted to care, and happy to be in Mummy’s bedroom. The babe is still asleep, neither knowing nor caring about his brothers’ stay in the room. 

Finally, the man gets into bed, and is permitted rest.

“Fucking hells, the things I do for them kids.”

Your hands find his chest, and he kisses your hair. 

“You’re lucky they have your looks. Wouldn’t be dragging in a bed if they were big brutes.”

You give something of a smile, by now too tired to care. But there is no need for words, not now. 

“Did you actually see a ghost or did you just want the littluns in here tonight?”

“Oh, feck off.”

In the morning, you wake to find Ronan and Finny in place of Gregor, as you would most mornings, the bed dragged back to their own room. You dress Finny, and the babe, and bring them down for their breakfast. Nothing is said about the previous night. 

“Mummy?”

“Aye, Ronan?”

The boy looks up from his porridge, rubbing his eyes slightly,

“Can we put the bone back? I thought maybe it was the ghost’s favourite toy and he wants it back. Like when Finny took my favourite knight.”

You are oddly surprised by his little boy logic. It seems such an intelligent observation for such a little child.

“Do you know something, Ronan? That’s an excellent idea. I thought we could leave some offerings around the keep as well, like we do for the gods.”

“So they know we want to be friends?”

You look at him, slightly strangely.

“Of course, Ronan, so they know we want to be friends.”

The trek back down to the Gods Eye is a solemn procedure. The babe is on your back, Finny is trailing behind, and Ronan has wrapped the bone in one of your handkerchiefs, carrying his spade in the other hand. 

He insists on burying it himself. Back into the wet, marshy sand of the shores. When the wind turns just right, you catch glimpses of him speaking to it. An apology, it sounds like. When he is finished, the two of them spend a little while splashing in the water, and throwing rocks at fish, thankfully missing. You are already haunted by human ghosts, the thought of fish ghosts is slightly too much to handle.

Flowers which grow in the fields of Harrenhal are oddly similar to the place itself. Sad, and wet, and mildly depressing. Still, you pick out the best ones, with no help from your sons, who instead tear out patches of wildgrass and push each other down the hills, returning somewhat to their normal, pre-Harrenhal states.

They do help you tie the posies, with blue and yellow ribbons. Finny is particularly excited to attach little stones to each of them, which you find quite an odd thing to be excited about, but you shan’t question it. 

The men look at your boys strangely as they run around the yard, putting little bunches of flowers and unlit candles in door and window frames. Of course, one look from Gregor shuts them up. 

They have never asked to pray before, but they pray that night. Not to gods, but to the ghosts of Harrenhal, asking them to be nice, and not haunt them, and all of the other things which concern little children.

Finny goes to bed with no complaint, tucked up with a song and a story of the Battle of the Trident. It takes his brother slightly longer, needing more convincing. You light him a candle and put it above the fireplace, light scares off the ghosts, you tell him, and he believes it. 

The morning comes with no ghosts, no small children in your bed, and a Mountain stealing your side of the blankets. You sigh, sitting up and kissing his face; he groans in response, wrapping his arms tighter around you. When you finally escape his clutches, you find the babe with a silver rattle, which he is particularly happy about, a sapphire ring beside him. Large, and ornate, and certainly real. 

“Who bought the ring?”

Gregor is still partially asleep, he moans,

“How should I know? The ghosts did.”

Something in you tells you he might be right. 

There are gifts for the boys as well. A book of Targaryen heroes for Finny, with his name already written in the front cover, and a whistle formed from bone for the older one. Gregor gets nothing, but the affection from your boys, as you pretend that he is the one who has found such pretty presents. He, naturally, sucks up the attention. 

When you finally leave Harrenhal, there is a sense of normalcy. The boys say they will miss the place, miss the ghosts. They love the Riverlands now, apparently, and they do not want to leave. 

This ends the moment you get back to Clegane Keep, when they leave their ghostly presents, rush to the kitchens, and return carrying a cat each, which they then insist on racing. Harrenhal becomes a distant memory, which no one speaks of, and a beautiful, sapphire, ring lives in your jewellery box. One day, if Gregor gives you a daughter, you decide you shall give it to her, and hope her brothers do not scare her with stories of a haunted keep, and the ghost they befriended. 

[queenaryastark]

As gross as the parallel is, it's interesting that GRRM has Quentyn hear false rumors of Dany that vilify her for promiscuity in a similar way that their shared ancestor, Meria was vilified by her enemies:

The more Quentyn heard of Daenerys Targaryen, the more he feared that meeting. The Yunkai'i claimed that she fed her dragons on human flesh and bathed in the blood of virgins to keep her skin smooth and supple. Beans laughed at that but relished the tales of the silver queen's promiscuity. "One of her captains comes of a line where the men have foot-long members," he told them, "but even he's not big enough for her. She rode with the Dothraki and grew accustomed to being fucked by stallions, so now no man can fill her." -- Quentyn II, ADWD

---

Age and ill health finally did what dragons and armies could not. In 13 AC, Meria Martell, the Yellow Toad of Dorne, died abed (whilst having intimate relations with a stallion, her enemies insisted). -- Fire and Blood

Both Dany and Meria are/were powerful women ruling in their own right whose enemies fabricated falsehoods about them and tried to depict them as sexually depraved since they couldn't defeat them. This is clearly an intentional parallel not only between Dany and her ancestor but between both of them and Catherine the Great who was also sexualized by her enemies, who couldn't defeat her. She, too, was said to be participating in beastiality with a horse when she died, which was false.

Through Dany and Meria, GRRM is showing how women in positions of power are vilified by misogynists who want to uphold the status quo.

[ivashkovadrian]

i'm gonna do a handful of these in the same post because i'm catching up so i only bother you only once. if you're tagged, feel free to pick whichever of these you like (or all. or none. it's all up to you!!) THANK YOU FOR TAGGING ME IN THE FIRST PLACE!

1.

tagged by @withered-rose-with-thorns

favorite color: purple last song: The Anchor - Bastille currently reading: The Kingdom of Copper by SA Chakraborty currently watching: i've been rewatching New Girl the last couple of weeks coffee or tea: tea absolutely (i don't drink coffee)

2.

tagged by @cardvngreenbriar to share five favorite songs at the moment

Make Up Your Mind - Florence + The Machine

Hiding - Florence + The Machine

More - 5 Seconds of Summer

Delilah - Florence + The Machine

Haunt - Bastille

3.

tagged by @harrenhals

last song: see above currently watching: nothing last movie/tv show: see above spicy/savory/sweet: sweet but i love spicy relationship status: single current obsession: idk, kiwis? last thing you googled: udm14 (allows you to search google without all of that AI bs)

4.

tagged by @belgianfry

10 characters | 10 fandoms | 10 tags pick 10 characters from 10 different fandoms and tag 10 people!

ADRIAN IVASHKOV (obviously) [vampire academy]

Yennefer of Vengerberg [the witcher]

Abed Nadir [community]

Cher Horowitz [clueless]

Inej Ghafa [Shadow & Bone - Six of Crows]

Katarina Sharma [bridgerton]

Arianne Martell (a song of ice and fire)

Rosa Diaz (Brooklyn Nine Nine)

Nandor and Nadja (what we do in the shadows) i can't choose between the two of them ok

Sihtric Kjartansson (the last kingdom)

tagging @korra-of-the-watertribe @faircastle @helaena-targaryens @sidprescot @useragarfield @belgianfry @harrenhals @cardvngreenbriar @withered-rose-with-thorns

[beyondbinaries]

sobs so since 1 am I have made multiple ocs. Martel bls help me. "verius." is my discord if ya wanna learn more ab tiny ,,,

Look at tiny they are fren shaped

[not---meat]

Paradise: Chapter 3: She Ran Away

Pairing: Javier Peña x McKenzie Martel

Rating: A - Adult

Warnings: Angst.

Summary: Conversations over brunch.

Note: This is an AU set in between season 2 and season 3 of Narcos sometime in the 90's. I apologize in advance for any historical inaccuracies!

MASTERLIST --- PARADISE MASTERLIST

What was the saying? If you love something let it go and if it comes back to you then it’s yours? McKenzie thought that was bullshit. Sure you could let it go… but would you still want it when it came back?

As she sat in the old diner in Laredo and stirred her coffee she lost herself in thought. She wondered if there was a reason for any of this madness. She wondered if sitting there waiting for him to show up was even worth the hassle. Javier had promised they would just talk. He had promised that he would tell her what had drove him to leave the way he did and not just some excuse for her safety. He had promised to tell her what brought him back. As if she didn’t know.

Kenzi wasn’t an idiot. The whole time that Javier was gone she had kept a close eye on the news. She had heard all of the stories of Pablo Escobar, feared for Javier’s life, and scoured the obituaries for his name just in case. Maybe she had stopped visiting Chucho, maybe she had all but given up on ever seeing Javier again, but she still cared about him even if he hurt her.

"Kenz."

His voice pulled her attention from the coffee she was stirring and had been stirring for a while. Green eyes flickered upward, meeting his own, shaded by the yellow tinted aviators he wore. Kenzi nodded, as if to tell him to sit down as she brought the cup to her lips and sipped her coffee. She wasn't sure what she was going to say. Truthfully she wasn't even sure she wanted to hear what he had to say. Her stomach turned as her heart pulled itself every which way, fighting for dominance, fighting for the decision on whether she was going to get up and walk away or if she was really going to hear him out.

"I saw you finished the mural yesterday." Javier sat down in the booth across from her, setting his jacket down next to him. He took the aviators off of his face and hung them from the collar of his shirt. "It looks good. I think dad will like it."

She slowly set her coffee back down onto the table, nodding and swallowing the mouthful of the bitter drink. "Yeah. I hope so."

Javier pursed his lips slightly, watching her with an eyebrow slightly raised. "Look… Kenz we don't have to do this yet if you don't wa-"

"I do." She cut him off, eyes flitting from the coffee cup still warming her hands to meet his eyes once again. "I'd rather get this over and done with so I don't have to think about it anymore."

Slow breaths. A sigh. Javier nodded his head and waved down the server so he could order a coffee for himself, his eyes never fully leaving Kenzi despite her willingness to look away from him and focus on something else. Anything else. She gazed out the window, watching as a couple walked down the street hand in hand. Stupid, happy smiles plastered on their face as they spoke to each other. It made her feel sick. It made her feel like she just might throw up.

"Fine." Javier started, smiling up at the server as she handed him his coffee, "Fine, Kenzi. Fine. What do you want to know?"

Her answer was quick. One word. Why.

A long sigh passed Javiers lips as he lit a cigarette and shook his head, taking in a puff before speaking. "I already told you, McKenzie. It was for your safety."

"That's bullshit." Kenzi whispered, shaking her head. "Tell me the truth, Javier."

"That is the truth, McKenzie."

"But not the whole truth." She bit back, her gaze snapping toward him, "Tell me the whole truth."

Another long sigh passed Javiers lips. He ashed his cigarette into an ashtray then took another pull off of it, shaking his head as the smoke billowed from his lips.

"Fine. I didn't want you to come." He admitted, "I didn't… I thought I needed a change, Kenz. I mean, fuck, I was about to marry Lorraine, settle down, maybe start a family… I wasn't ready."

Kenzi once again looked out the window, shaking her head as she wrapped her arms around herself, her fingers moved to her bottom lip, picking at it lightly. "I just don't… I don't understand, Javier." She breathed, "You gave up everything for what? Your work?"

"She's better off now." He responded.

"She is." Kenzi nodded, "Married with kids. She got her happily ever after, but we aren't talking about Lorraine, are we?" Her attention turned to Javier again, her hand dropping from her face. "This isn't about the bride you left at the alter."

"Yeah." Javier breathed, a billow of smoke coming out as he spoke, choking his words slightly. "It's about us."

"There is no us anymore, Javs."

"Isn't there?" He questioned, putting out the last bit of his cigarette, "Last time I checked we are still cradle to grave."

McKenzie stared at him for a while, a harsh silence between them as she glanced back out the window, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill.

"Cradle to grave…" She whispered, "Cradle to grave implies that we don't keep each other in the dark and leave each other, Javi. You promised-"

"I promised I'd be there for you, Kenz. That didn't mean I actually had to be there. I was trying to keep you safe." He snapped.

"You promised not to hurt me, Javier." She bit back, her eyes snapping toward him again. She shook her head and relaxed her shoulder a bit, grabbing her coffee and taking a sip.

"And I apologized for that McKenzie. I don't know what you want me to say. I did what I thought was right. I didn't mean for it to hurt you. I'd never want to hurt you. Please…" Javier reached across the table, taking her hand in his as she set her coffee cup back down, "Just… Trust me?"

There was a pause between them, a gentle sigh from Kenzi as she slipped her hand out of his. Javier sat up straight again, his gaze finally moving. Traveling to somewhere else.

"I thought about you every god damn day, McKenzie. I called Chucho to check in on you. Worried about you anytime he said he hadn't seen you in months other than a quick glance at the grocery store. I thought about calling you but I just… I couldn't have lived with myself if something happened to you." Javier leaned back in his seat. Deep brown eyes trailed back to McKenzie, watching her as she processed his words. "So many good people died out there, Kenz. People I trusted. I couldn't…"

His eyebrows furrowed slightly, pinching together and creating a harsh line in his forehead as his head dipped downwards, casting his gaze to the coffee cup in front of him.

"When the people I cared about started dying just for being associated with me I couldn't chance it, Kenz. I couldn't… risk your life. Not when I knew that you would have been willing to do anything to help."

Kenzi closed her eyes, listening to him speak, her anger slowly seeping out of her with every word. His tone was sad, regretful. She could feel him opening up and yet she still wanted more. she still needed more.

"Why did you come back?" She questioned, her voice closer to a whisper than anything else.

"Los Pepes." Javier replied, his voice low as if it were a secret that he didn't want coming out, "That's all I can say, Kenz."

"Because you're afraid?"

"Because I fucked up." He replied quickly, meeting her gaze, "And now I'm paying the price in more ways than one."

Both their attentions turned as their server came by, asking if they would like anything to eat. She refilled their coffee cups as Javier looked over the menu. They ordered and sat in silence for a moment, Javiers hand on the table, twiddling his thumb slightly as they both searched for the right words.

Finally McKenzie spoke. "Don't keep me in the dark like that again." She said softly, swallowing hard, "And… And tell me the truth about this shit, Javi. You don't have to do it now just… When you can, tell me."

"I will, Kenz. Just… Don't leave me, okay?"

there was a pain in his eyes, a pain in his expression that absolutely tore up her heart.

"I won't if you won't." She offered him a soft smile, "Cradle to grave no matter what."

The corner of Javiers lips curved slightly, returning the small smile that McKenzie gave him as they sat in silence for a moment. Overwhelming relief radiating between them. It could have been a lot worse. They could have had an actual fight about it, but Javier rarely ever raised his voice at Kenzi before. Truthfully the two of them rarely had ever fought before, their conflicts usually ending peacefully with them apologizing to each other for their irrational behavior.

Javier was rational. He was smart and he knew Kenzi well enough to know that hateful words didn't do him any favours.

"Alright. I have a bacon and egger platter for you." the server spoke, cutting the silence between them. Both their attentions turned to the server as she started to place their meals in front of them. Out of respect the two moved their cups out of the way to make it easier for the woman. "And I have the vegetarian omelette for you. Anything else I can grab the two of you?"

"No. No. I think we are alright, thank you." Javier responded, his voice soft as he unrolled the napkin holding his cutlery. His gaze moved back to Kenzi as she did the same thing. "So… Since when are you a vegetarian?" He asked.

McKenzie shrugged, setting her napkin to the side as she cut into her omelette, "Well… you know that whole cannible guy kind of put a wrench in my willingness to eat meat, you know?" Kenzi replied, looking up at Javier, "Couldn't get the visual out of my mind. Too gruesome."

Javier let out a breath, almost a laugh, "Still got a weak stomach, huh?" He joked, taking a bite of his food. "You would never have survived out in Medellin. The shit you see? You'd have flown home immediately."

His comment silenced her for a moment, her gaze moving downwards as she took a bite of her food and chewed. They sat in silence, both eating. Neither of them looking up at each other.

"Sorry." Javier spoke after a few minutes. He wiped his mouth and leaned back in his seat, "I didn't mean for it to sound negative."

Kenzi shook her head. She set her napkin down on her plate and grabbed her bag. "It's okay, Javs. I know you didn't mean anything by it."

"Let me pay." Javier offered as he pulled out his wallet. He grabbed a few bills and set them on the table. She twitched her nose slightly but didn't argue, instead just pulling the strap of her bag around her.

"Thanks. I have to run." She offered him a smile, "I'll see you around?"

"Wait. Kenz." Javier grabbed her arm as she started to walk away, "Just… What are you doing tonight?"

McKenzie let out a breath, looking down at him, "I… Nothing too serious. Just a night in with Rob." She shrugged, "You could stop by if you want?"

"Sure. Yeah."

"Cool. Chucho has my address." She offered before slipping out of his grasp. As she walked out of the diner and headed toward her car, she couldn't stop herself from smiling. Maybe, just maybe, that saying wasn't so bad after all. Maybe everything happens for a reason.

Maybe when things come back to you they are yours after all.

NEXT CHAPTER

[cherrytarot]

Hi! Hope this ask will be getting you at the best of your health and happiness :)

I'd like to participate in yourfs ask game.

My initials are AB

A trait about myself is I absolutely love nature... I love to sit near a sea and listen to the sound while feeling the breeze.

Something that I've assumed about my future spouse is that he's someone who's mature than probably goal oriented.

Thanks for your efforts ☺️

Hope you have a meaningful day ahead 🍁

jaden martell

[tb-gerschutz]

Two

Word Count: 2,940

Trigger Warning(s): past descriptions of ab*se, possible graphic depictions of violence

Summary: Princess Anaysha finally comes face-to-face with the Red Viper.

**********

Upon my arrival to Dorne, I was immediately struck down with awe because of Dorne's beauty. It was much brighter and more vibrant than what I had to lay my eyes on back in the Iron Islands. I considered this as a nice eye-opener because it allowed me to take in new and beautiful surroundings that I never thought of exploring before. Granted, I had thought of exploring foreign kingdoms before, but ever since my father started pushing me through tortuous hell, my mind had completely been focused on surviving and enduring. And even though I was a princess, I felt like a little girl again while observing the luscious sights that I hoped to find out more about.

Despite me trying to ascend off the ship by myself, one of the Dornish shiphands had stopped working and noticed me, a princess. He then dashed up the ramp, took my hand, and became especially careful when leading me down to land.

"There were rumors that a princess was arriving here today," he remarked.

I glanced over to him and crookedly smiled. It was enough for the left corner of my mouth to perk up. "And where have you heard these rumors?"

"I'm not sure, Your Highness, but I'm confident that the crown prince must've let it slip to one of his servants," the Dornish shiphand explained.

I gave a simple nod to him, turning my attention to what was up ahead. Another servant, who I assumed was someone who worked closely to the prince himself, confidently—and oddly quickly—traipsed up to where I was, greeting me as anyone would: in a cordial fashion.

"The rumors were true," the servant said, bowing down to me. "A grand princess has arrived in Dorne. Prince Oberyn will be very pleased with your arrival."

"Has he heard of me?" I asked.

"Oh, he sure has. He might not know your face to your name, but he's certainly heard of the name of the princess from the Iron Islands," the servant remarked, "and I can be almost certain that he will be most pleased when he finally meets you face-to-face."

The servant then showed me the direction where the palace was—and where I could find Prince Oberyn. "Come. Let me take you to the Red Viper himself."

One part of me was finally relieved that I had escaped my father, who probably was unleashing a manhunt to come find me. I wasn't surprised by it, given his brutal nature, but it sure felt good to finally get away from him after years of abuse. The other part of me, however, was completely frightened with the impending meeting with the crown prince of Dorne.

I had heard of the name Oberyn Martell before, and I also heard of what he's done. Not only is he a feared conqueror of Westeros, but he's also a skilled fighter. According to the tales that I was told, he was especially flawless when it came to fighting with a spear. That scares me into not wanting to ever physically fight against him. I know of his ruthless and brutal nature, but it doesn't seem like anything compared to my father's murderous intentions.

The servant and I had finally come up to the front gates, where we were confronted by two guards clad in leather armor and armed with spears. They allowed the servant to pass through the palace's front gates, but they put up their spears to block me from entering.

"It's okay. She's with me," the servant tried to explain.

"Trust me. I got this," I confidently said to the servant. "Thank you, though."

The servant nodded and walked off calmly. "I will then inform Prince Oberyn of your arrival."

The guards turned back to me, not believing the servant's words. I still kept my firm expression on my face and my head held high with enough confidence to power a queen's rule.

"What is your name then?" one of the guards asked.

"I am Anaysha Mullendore Sparr, Grand Princess of the Iron Islands—including Pyke Castle—and the daughter of Brandeth Sparr, King of the Iron Islands, and Giyana Mullendore, Queen of the Iron Islands and former princess of The Reach," I confidently answered.

The guards exchanged a glance at one another as I gave my reason as to why I was here. "I am here to speak with Prince Oberyn Martell about a diplomatic issue."

I could see their expressions change almost immediately, as they became more apologetic rather than tough-looking.

"We are terribly sorry, Your Highness," they apologized as they bowed to me.

"It's perfectly fine. I know you two are just doing your duties to the prince," I answered. "It takes some tough men to be working for such a tough yet seemingly justified royal. I admire you for what you are doing, so don't apologize for doing your duties to a high royal."

As soon as the guards lowered their spears, one of them took the opportunity to take me to the Red Viper himself. "Come now, Your Highness. Allow me to take you to the prince myself."

The guard led me through the palace grounds, which were a beautiful wonder to me. How could such a place be so beautiful? It was the most beautiful place I had seen in all of my life, since I had never been anywhere outside of the Iron Islands before. Every plant was blooming to its potential glory, and any fountain that was there would flow in such a delicate manner. This palace was so glorious that it made me feel as though I had somehow died and gone to heaven...and heaven was this place here.

Eventually, the kind-hearted guard had led me into the grand palace that one could easily get lost in if they aren't familiar with it. We stopped in a hallway in front of what I assumed was a bedroom, and my thoughts were confirmed with the guard shortly thereafter.

"Wait here," the guard commanded as he went into the sleeping quarters.

The guard went into the room and left me in the hallway. I had nowhere to go, nor did I have anything to do to keep my mind occupied for such a hopefully short time. Still, I kept my head held high and waited for that moment in which it would finally happen. The moment in which I'd come face-to-face to Oberyn Martell.

"When I introduce you, do you want me to use your full name and title or just your official title?" the guard asked, peeking his head out from the room.

"Just my official royal title," I answered.

The guard went back into the room for a few minutes before the door opened again. This time, however, I was allowed in.

"Come on in," the guard said, allowing me to enter the room.

I confidently and gracefully marched into the room, where I instantly locked eyes with the prince himself. He had dark, black eyes that pierced into my mind as if a viper was biting into its next victim, as well as a sharp jawline that I could see visibly. Clad in a beautiful, well-crafted golden robe, he continued to stare at me with hungry yet piercing eyes.

"Might I introduce you to Anaysha Mullendore Sparr, Grand Princess of the Iron Islands. Daughter of Brandeth Sparr, King of the Iron Islands, and Giyana Mullendore, Queen of the Iron Islands and former princess of The Reach," the guard introduced, walking out of the room shortly after.

I bowed before the prince, being gracious enough to greet him as I would with any other royal.

"I appreciate the gesture, princess, but you don't need to do that," he said with such a unique, graceful accent. I couldn't place what accent it was, but it definitely was one I hadn't heard of before. "We are but the same level. There is no need to bow down to someone on your level."

I rose back to my feet without saying a word. "I'd figure I'd do such a thing for someone who is very well-known and feared all across Westeros. Someone of high nobility, I should say."

With every passing moment, he kept getting closer and closer to me, making my heart pound so loud that it would have escaped through my chest had it been given the chance.

"You've heard of me?"

"I'm one of many that have heard of you," I answered confidently, still keeping my calm and confident front.

Silence fell over us, as the Red Viper continued to pace around me, gazing upon almost every feature of mine. He moved as though he was a slippery snake. True to his nickname, of course.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness. I would've arrived sooner, but there was great unrest in my kingdom that I had to neutralize first," I stated.

He stopped and exchanged a pitiful glance with me. "Unrest? What has happened behind those stone walls?"

I sighed. "Unfortunately, a lot. But for the reason as to why I am here, I'll give it to you now. My father put me up for execution only a short time ago for crimes that I considered unjust, and I had to escape to somewhere far away—like Dorne—in order to prevent myself from dying so young."

"What unjust crimes are you mentioning?" the prince asked, his eyes piercing into me as clean as a knife.

"Treason and incompetence," I mentioned. "Treason because I keep defying my father and pushing back against his tyrannical rule, and incompetence because at eighteen, I still have not found a potential suitor to marry one day."

I could see the Red Viper's eyes slightly widen with shock, as if he had never heard of a princess committing such crimes. Maybe he hasn't heard of incompetence being a crime. No one has, except my father, who wanted to have every excuse to chop my head off.

"Treason? Incompetence? Sounds to me your father is a burden to live with," he snarled.

"A terrible one, indeed. I'm lucky to have escaped when I did," I added.

I paused for a moment before asking for a not-too-rash favor from the prince. I was about to ask a favor from the most dangerous man in all of Westeros, which could go awry rather quickly if I happened to speak one word out of line.

"Might I ask for some sanctuary and some protection here in Dorne?" I asked, bracing myself for any possible consequences that might come next. "Just until my father's threats die down, or he is defeated in battle."

He stopped in his tracks and tilted his head to the side, still keeping his piercing eyes on me. He had not lifted his harsh gaze one bit.

"That's all I ask of you, Your Highness, and I hope you find the humanity in your heart to help someone like me out," I added.

"Of course, princess. I will be more than willing to give you all the protection you deserve," he said with a crooked smile. "After all, a beautiful royal like yourself deserves all the protection one kingdom has to offer."

"So I can find sanctuary here in Dorne?"

"Trust me, Your Highness. As long as you are within my stomping grounds, you are guaranteed full protection by me," he answered coolly. "Hell, you can stay here in Dorne as long as you'd like."

"Not as long as I need?" I asked confusedly.

"No. As long as you'd like," he confirmed. "I understand your situation. It's a tough one, and such a heavenly princess like yourself doesn't deserve to be subjected to that type of torture. As long as you are here, you're safe. I will make sure of it."

I nodded, acknowledging the Red Viper's promise. A promise I never thought would actually be solidified. Despite this truth, I was satisfied with knowing that I had Westeros's most dangerous man in my back pocket to protect me from the hell that would be unleashed in my direction. I knew damn well that my father was going to let loose a form of hell that no one—but him—has yet experienced. I came close to it through our heated arguments, but I never actually experienced it. Even though I dreaded it, I had known all along that someday, I'll face that inevitable evil known as my father.

"I forgot to tell you, Your Highness. There is a wedding happening in Godsgrace. Sabas Targaryen and Taliya Lannister are to be wed soon, and it is evidently a big occasion," he said. "I'll be attending to represent House Martell, and I am in need of an escort."

He traced his finger down my jaw and kept his eyes glued to mine. It made me shudder not only in fear, but also in desire. Despite me barely knowing him, I was more drawn to the Red Viper than ever. It was like a viper had injected its venom into me, forever putting me under its spell. In the Dornish prince's case, his "venom" was physical touch, and it sure worked because it made me think of him in a more attractive light. I hadn't fully fallen for him yet, but I had a feeling that I would.

"I think it'd be a perfect opportunity to start our courtship," he sneered with lingering eyes.

"Courtship?"

"You heard me right," he confirmed. "A courtship between you and me. I think you're far too beautiful to simply ignore. And we're both longing for a suitor, which is quite the coincidence. Come now, princess. It's too good of an opportunity to pass up."

My mind started to race as quickly as the prince's draw in battle. Was this a good idea to enter a courtship with such a dangerous man? Is he a different person than what others know him to be?

Then, my thoughts switched to a whole new perspective. The Red Viper did make a valid point in us not having suitors lined up, and it would be too good of an opportunity to pass the charming Dornish man up. I have found him quite attractive and charming, but I can sense that he might have a good heart. A good heart that I'll be keen to be a part of. Plus, getting together with him would not only be beneficial to me in many ways, but it would also serve as another bit of perfect revenge against my father.

"Fine. I will," I finally said, "but on one condition."

"Anything, princess. Name your price," he sneered with a crooked smile.

"You part ways with your paramours," I firmly stated, my face firmly keeping to one emotion. "How will I know that you're fully invested in this relationship with me if I have knowledge of these paramours slinking around?"

The realization immediately hit him, and although obscure, I could see how the Red Viper's face changed drastically from flirtatious confidence to that of subtle shock. He had to realize that he had a big choice to make: part ways with his multiple lovers or have a possibly solid relationship with me. No matter what choice he made, he had to sacrifice a possibly important part of his life.

"You don't have to banish them from the palace completely," I added. "Just make sure they have the necessary needs to survive, and maybe more. Treat them like noble, well-treated servants, if you will."

He bit the inside of his cheek and traced his tongue along the inside of his mouth. Inside his head, he debated on whether I was worth it to him. Evidently, I was.

"It's a deal," he finally spoke up.

That was the moment when I was personally branded to Oberyn Martell's soul. Such a precious soul that I hope to see relatively soon.

"Come. Let me show you the beauty of Dorne," the Red Viper said, graciously showing me out.

"I saw some of it when I landed. I thought I died and went to heaven because I didn't know a place could be so beautiful," I commented.

He chuckled. "Princess, you haven't seen anything yet."

Curiosity grasped onto me tightly, and I followed closely behind this prince. This charming yet seemingly dangerous prince. So far, I don't know why he is considered the most dangerous man in all of Westeros, but I have a gut feeling that will tell me why very soon. Something—I don't know what—drew me to him, made me more attracted to him. I have yet to find that out, but I hope it isn't something that gets me killed later on in life.

He showed me around to pretty much every inch of the palace, which seemed like it was far larger than the castle I grew up in for nearly eighteen years. Designed in quite the unique and fancy architecture, the palace swallowed me up whole in its beautiful, vibrant colors much brighter than what I was used to. For all my life, I was surrounded by darker colors—black, gray, and all the variations of such. Now, I was stunned by much brighter tones—orange, gold, beige, light blue, and so many more variations to count.

"I never knew such a palace could be so—big yet beautiful," I remarked, continuing to look around at these new and amazing surroundings.

"Well, it's definitely different from a dark color palette. That's for sure," he added on.

"It sure is," I remarked, smiling brightly at these new and wondrous surroundings. "It sure is."

And from that moment on, something changed in me. Something that made me temporarily put my old life back on the Iron Islands behind me. Was it the best idea to do this? Maybe, but I hope that the Red Viper will help lead me to that decision that I'll soon make in the future. 

[longroadhcme]

Who are you most attracted to in town? (all muses)

HONESTY HOUR.

"Is it acceptable to say myself? 'Cause, we all know I'm the cutest around these parts." A smirk following, typical and very-Katherine in nature. "But, for the sake of your curiosity, we'll go with that delightful looking Isaac fellow. His jaw, well, I could just bite into it. I'd say Lucien, but he's falling in the poll due to his recent endeavours. Stefan, of course. I think that much goes without saying, have you seen him? Oh, and can't forget that delicious Alfonso, have you seen him without a shirt on? Trust me, he's doing us all a service with those abs." @ofsteelehearts, @ofkingmakers, @moralivity, @hoaxwings.

"I've not really been paying attention since I got here. There's been more pressing matters, don't you think?" A shrug followed, mind wracking for anyone she'd clocked in the meantime. "Let's just go with familiar territory, and say that Atlas is up there. Rightfully so too." @hoaxwings

"When you're in the line of work that I am, it makes finding anyone attractive pretty difficult, 'cause you know underneath the pretty face, there's a deep rooted pit of despair and supernatural trauma." Evidently, she'd had a taste for that in the past. "But, for the sake of shallow tendencies, Greyson is definitely easy on the eyes. I don't think we've had the pleasure of meeting yet, but Mason Lockwood is also enough to make anyone's eyes flutter. And, despite everything, I suppose, Klaus is still on the list, if not purely for attraction purposes." @darkncghts, @theirdiaries, @ofchaoticminds.

"After the pity party I witnessed, I'm not sure anyone is actually 'attractive'. In order for me to find you as much, you'd need to not run around crying because of people actually being honest with one another." It was safe to say that CJ was hard to please, especially when it came to such departments. "In fact, we'll just go with that guy who embraced the chaos with me, Brent, was it? Otherwise, ask me again when things have calmed down, and maybe I've seen other sides to people around here." @ofvengefulwrath

"I think we all know one of my answers here, so not sure if it's even worth acting surprised? But, Damon, obviously is up there in the list. I mean, his eyes alone are enough to lure you in, let alone the activities included in our friendship." Was it even considered as much, these days? They hadn't crossed those lines again thus far. "Aside from him? I'll never tell him, for his ego would double in size, but Lucien definitely has some level of appeal. But, perhaps that's just his pretty face? 'Cause as soon as he talks, that attraction dwindles. And, lastly, I guess we'll throw in two curveballs, on a purely physical basis, 'cause lets be real, they're shifty little buggers; Mikael and Tristan." @ofchaoticminds, @ofkingmakers, @dxddyoriginal, @de-martel

[15-lizards]

Hi! I absolutely love your thoughts on Planetosi fashion and the culture aspects and changes in fashion over the time periods. It’s such an aspect of world building that I don’t think gets much focus in media and it gives a look into so much of a richer world that we didn’t see as much in the show (in my opinion).

I know you mentioned a bit about the Daynes style of dress, but do you have any more HCs on Dorne? I know you mentioned the the amount of layers would change according to the region because of the heat.

Yes I love thinking ab dornish fashion!!

Starting from the north, near the Dornish marches and by the Red Mountains, where those with the most Andal blood live, we have a little bit of a mix between influences. Either because they live so close to the edge of the kingdom, or because Andal traditions trickled down. Clothing is thicker bc it is a (slight) bit colder for where stony dornishmen live. Textiles are also a combo of thicker fabrics they get from the stormlands/reach and traditional airy fabrics from Dorne.

Moving to the actual deserts of Dorne, this is where you see full coverage clothing. Usually this consists of a singular long and loose shift, with added robes for added protection. If you pass a sandy dornishman in the desert, you will hardly ever see their face. Clothing is almost solely made up of cotton and linen (they’re the most breathable fabrics) and there is always going to be a turban or hat of some kind while they ride or herd or work

And “Salty” dornish fashion (so around the coastlines) still has strong remnants of their Rhoynar ancestors. Both in patterns/accessories and the fabrics they use. They can afford to have both light and heavy fabrics since they live near the water and weather will cool during winter, unlike the rest of Dorne. Their patterns and textiles still reflect the intricate artistry of the old Rhoynar cultures, and has striking similarities to the free cities, mostly Myr

The Martells themselves :D very much drippy. Despite the fact that Dorne is a notoriously brutal climate, their clothes reflect the fact that they are not only wealthy enough to survive but also have extravagance. I’m obsessed with the idea of gilded and embellished clothing for the Martells, especially for ceremonial/traditional clothing to show off power (the left pic is Doran and Oberyn at an important Sunspear ball is it not) ALSO I like to think that princesses of Dorne will wear their bride price on their clothing as a sort of “I’m expensive” type thing, embellishing their dresses with silver coins and charms that equal the cost of their bride price

BONUS sand snake fits: I think the girlies like to match, especially when they need to go intimidate someone. Still fairly practical most of the time for riding around and fighting but still indicative of their royal blood despite their bastard status. Other times I think they fully dress practically and essentially like a commoner (when they need to stay hidden for ~espionage~ reasons) and it’s just easier to move around in whenever they’re in rough terrain. Probably favored by resident butch Obara

[jonquilspool]

ok pia mylestoyne (who i will not be @ ing bc i'm literally nobody and also afraid of being annoying) talked ab their ocs here and how they're mostly canon characters who died or weren't mentioned more than a couple times and then she made them ocs kinda and i thought that was so fucking cool so i'm gonna make a list of ones i would like to do eventually so i can refer back to it:

unnamed female cousin of cassana estermont

she lived thru the siege of storm's end. her husband and father both died during it. there is potential here

annette arryn, stillborn daughter of jon arryn and jeyne royce

i already have many plans for her. i love her so much this is an existing oc and she's so fun

son of rhaena targaryen and corwyn corbray

targ-corbray child of love who is then forced to grow up without lands in oldtown with his mother. who has a dragon.

the last lord tarbeck

either thrown down a well OR a sad bard in essos. probably the second if i'm thinking abt him here

victarion greyjoy's only daughter

idk i just think this one would be interesting... she'd be either brutish like her father or despise him

olyvar martell, younger brother of doran martell

throwing another martell into the mix would be fun--especially as a middle ground between doran and oberyn. or maybe he can be the Bad Martell... we haven't had one of those yet...

vaella targaryen, daughter of aenys targaryen

i think she would be fun. chance to have a character that's so fucking mean to jaehaerys i will always take it <3

baelon targaryen, son of viserys i targaryen

ok this one is more complicated but i picture him as a veryyy fucked up child with an oedipus complex around rhaenyra. like scary awful obsessed but rhaenyra feeds into it bc it's the last piece of her mom

lianna velaryon, cousin of rhaena targaryen

lived with rhaena on dragonstone until she was like 9 and androw farman poisoned her. buuuut if the poison didn't take she could've had a super interesting life. there's a chance she knew aerea!

[fuckyeahpedropascal]

You guys, this was such a fun poll! Thank you for turning out for the round table and repping each Pedro boy (some more than others lol).

Incidentally, I also have a lot of thoughts on the topic, so I think I'll do a more detailed breakdown of the poll results for this one. I will start with the Top Three™ below the cut.

#1: Ezra

I don't think anyone disagrees with this result! Prospect is a massively underrated movie of P's, especially among new fans, and Ezra is a wonderful enigma of a character.

@missredherring: #i kept coming back to Ezra#and maybe Im doing this wrong but his performance as Ezra has everything#the character is wonderfully complex and he turns on a dime

@mando-abs: #ezra is Pedro’s best performance (outside of Joel bc yeah)#(oh! and outside of Javier bc also yeah)#and you can’t change my mind#and Ezra is critically underrated because of that

@imaswellkid: But, you know. "I'm Ezra". and I'm a fucking puddle.

@oonajaeadira: #i'm sorry but his performance in prospect is the fkn bomb#and in all the mando/tlou hubub got sorely ignored for being one of his best “reluctant dad” roles

@nothoughtsjustmeds: #he is a really well formed character and there’s still layers of him to unravel#i love the varying takes in fandom about him

#2: Oberyn

Interestingly, there isn't a lot of discourse about Oberyn in the tags, but he still came in second in a field of very strong contenders. That speaks to the underratedness of this OG bisexual prince.

@ohsomightypeaches: Last but not least my sweet sweet prince. I love this hoe. That's all. More hoeing please. I know GOT season 4 was like million years ago. And I get to live in my alternate universe where he's NOT DEAD FROM EYES BEING GOUGED OUT and hoeing all over Dorn. And that's all I really want from these fics + ELLARIA. And no I will not elaborate. + extra points for being the first thing I've ever seen this superb actor that he is.

@jahsontodd: #I feel like Oberyn has noteriety but among 🤢men#they are like yeah Oberyn is so cool he gets the ladies#meanwhile we are like yeah yeah Oberyn *thinks about ellaria and blushes*

@lauratang: #definitely oberyn#martell for the win

#3: Marcus Moreno

I am so chuffed for @radiowallet that our superhero dad came in third! I haven't watched the movie in full, so I'll leave the discussion to the experts, but I agree he is probably one of the most underrated boys out there.

@radiowallet: #Marcus Moreno is constantly left out of the conversation#and I am here to take a stand#This man has it all#And then some#Yeah the silly movie leaves a lot to be desired but that's what makes him great#put your own spin on him#make him sweet#make him spicy#add all the seasoning to this guy he can take it

@ohsomightypeaches: LOOK. Marcus Moreno def deserves more love 😩 he's a darling dork and I love him. (Read: I suffered through this movie so I can witness this greatness and wanted desperately to strangle Miracle Guy) he got my vote. Only because you made me choose you monster (affectionate)

@thosewickedlovelies: #kgjfkdhahs prev tags Cat how does it feel to be so right and so funny#season him. beat him. leave him to marinate. put him on the heat and watch him sizzle#(put him in your mouth afterwards and enjoy the fruits of your labor...)#WHO SAID THAT#lgjgkshshsgafs

Who's the most underrated Pedro boy?

This is only our second multi-Pedro boy poll! I know this is a potentially controversial topic, so before anyone comes at me for my selection of underdogs, my methodology is under the cut! I am not putting a 9th option, so if you have opinions, discussion is encouraged as usual!

• Masterlist •

Related posts:

Accents: Pedro boys* (R)

Pedro boys being sassy AF

Sass Final: Meemaw v Javier*

My methodology:

'Underratedness' is of course, subjective. But I am taking into account the general pervasiveness of the characters in the fandom in terms of fanfiction, gifs, discourse, artwork etc.

I'm not including any characters that came out after 2021 - I think it's fair to say that Pedro boys that were introduced since have received fair attention, including Javi G and Dieter.

I've obviously not included the most popular Pedro boys that came out before 2021, including Frankie, Jack and Javier.

Oberyn might be a controversial addition, but I think it's fair to say that there isn't as much content for Oberyn when compared to the more popular Pedro boys.

I'm not including characters that only appear for one or two episodes, or characters that are too obscure (Graceland, The Good Wife)

[sortagaysortahigh]

BITCH I STARTWD MY GOT REQATCH AGAIN AND IM BACK TO SEASON FOUR SND OBERYN MARTELL SHDKDJEBWFJFB BITCH I FORGOT AB HIM SHUT THE FUCL GJEIDBFNFF