#just say you believe the martells should only be a specific | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sunspearesque · 9 months ago

Text

Forbidden Fervor

Summary: Douse the fervor raging within, bestow upon me the forbidden release, frigid and honed, dripping with crimson... Let it carve through my dread as relentlessly as time erodes the vigor from an aged soul.

A/N: yo, idk what happened here.. i saw the inspo and we dove headfirst. i’m so very sure old man nasty spirit possessed me or something cause idk how i wrote this.. but yeah enjoy the filth i guess? lmfao.. also, i did use some of the famous lines from the show/books—specifically the scene where he stabby stab the pink little man at the brothel just because :3 the rest tho are the whispers of my little brain hehehoho

Pairing: Oberyn Martell × OFC from WoV

Rating: E (18+ only)

Content: established relationship (marriage); canonical racism (against dornish people); threat of assault (nothing happens); we hate Lannisters in this house; protective!Oberyn; depiction of injury/attack; use of weapons (dagger); Wet and Wanting™️; primal urges, kinda sorta; a hint of possessive!Oberyn; inappropriate use of weapons; dagger riding (don’t look at me); unprotected p in v; creampie (the man has a breeding kink what can i say?); quoting mr. darcy

WC: 1.9K

Read on AO3 • moodboard

A grand retinue accompanied Prince Oberyn Martell and his wife Nala on their journey north to attend the wedding of Lord Stark's eldest son. The journey was replete with delightful surprises and, regrettably, some less pleasant ones. One of their travel days found them lodged in an inn nestled amidst the forested lands of the North. The weather was cold and crisp, the air dry and biting, causing Oberyn to grumble about the layers of clothing encasing his form. Nala found his discomfort amusing—this man is averse to decency.

As they were enjoying their meal in the inn, a trio of golden-haired men strode in, their disdainful expressions evident as they cast disparaging glances at the other patrons. Murmuring curses under their breath, they took a seat at a nearby table, much to the discomfort of those around them. Nala sensed the tension in the air, recognizing the unmistakable look of Lannisters. She knew all too well her husband's scorn for them. Desperate to diffuse the situation, she attempted to divert his attention away from them, whispering softly, “My love, look at me,” noticing his gaze fixed upon them with obvious contempt.

The Lannister men, oblivious to her attempt to diffuse the tension, noticed her caress on his thigh and exchanged mocking remarks amongst themselves. “Why does such beauty consort with that Dornish bastard?” one of them jeered, his laughter echoing loudly in the room. “This whore should try to get with a real cock... a Lannister one,” another added, patting his bulge and leering at her. “Just give him a shaved goat and an olive oil bottle and be done with it,” the third chimed in before all three joined in uproarious laughter.

Nala could feel the blood charring beneath her skin, her heart pounding in her ribcage as she dreaded her husband's reaction to the insults. She observed the vein running through his neck pulsating beneath his golden skin, indicating the rage boiling within him. Despite his efforts to conceal it, a smirk tinged with bitterness adorned his face, masking the fury that simmered beneath the surface.

With graceful poise, he rose from his seat, his hand drifting toward the dagger secured at his hip—a weapon fashioned in the likeness of two intertwined vipers; its smooth, golden surface gleaming in the dim light of the inn. Slowly and deliberately, he approached their table, his gaze locking onto the perpetrator who had called his wife a whore.

Oberyn's tongue clicked disapprovingly as he addressed the men, his tone dripping with mockery. “Do you know why the world despises a Lannister?” he quipped, his words laden with scorn. “You believe your wealth, your lions, and your gilded pride make you superior to all.” The Lannister men exchanged smug glances, sharing a condescending chuckle amongst themselves. One of the trio stealthily reached for his sword, attempting to draw it from its sheath without detection. Yet, unbeknownst to them, he noticed—he always does.

“May I tell you a secret?” Oberyn continued, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. “You're not a golden lion. You're just a pink little man who is far too slow on the draw.” With a swift motion, he unsheathed his dagger and plunged it into the hand of the man who had insulted his wife, the same hand he had earlier used to pat his cock. Piercing between the carpals of that hand, it now lay on the table. The man let out a guttural wail, paralyzed in his place as the dagger twisted amidst flesh, bone, and veins.

“When I pull my blade, your friend starts bleeding,” Oberyn stated calmly, a smirk playing on his lips. “Quite a lot, I'm afraid. So many veins in the wrist.” He observed the man writhing in pain before turning his gaze back to the other Lannister. “He'll live if you get him help straight away,” he added mockingly, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Decisions,” Oberyn remarked, his head tilting slightly as his gaze shifted to the bleeding man again. “And when you speak of a dornish princess—my wife—you will address her as ‘your highness,’” he continued, his tone carrying a dangerous edge. “Lest you wish for me to sever your tongue at its root.”

He withdrew his dagger from the man’s hand, the Dornish soldiers surrounding him, swords and spears at the ready. One of them addressed him, “What shall we do with them, Your Highness?”

“Nothing,” Oberyn replied calmly, wiping the blood from his dagger with the end of his shawl. "I reckon they've learned a lesson or two about manners from the Dornish, and I expect they'll find their own way out.” With a dismissive wave, he turned to walk toward Nala, who stood frozen with fear, wide-eyed, and breathing shakily.

“Apologies, my love,” he said tenderly, encircling his arms around her waist and pressing a soft kiss to her lips. Nestling her gently in his embrace, as though she were the most delicate of blossoms.

Ever the viper; deadly, dangerous, unpredictable... and mine.

A familiar primal heat stirred within her, much to her chagrin as she cursed herself for succumbing to it.

Gods be good, this shouldn’t ignite a fire within me and make me crave him and the dagger he wielded in my defense.

She kissed him with fervor, her hands caressing his face, yearning to melt into him and merge with him completely. As they parted, both breathless, he chuckled softly. "I see you enjoyed that, princess?" he whispered, prompting a blush to bloom across her cheeks—was I too obvious?

He pulled out the chair for her to resume her place at the table, a gallant gesture amidst the chaos caused by the departing Lannisters, who left mutilated and humiliated.

Throughout the meal, Nala’s gaze remained fixed on Oberyn, her desire for him evident in her unwavering stare. Yet, her eyes also flickered occasionally to the dagger sheathed at his side, her longing palpable. Catching her subtle glances, Oberyn couldn't help but tease her with a smirk. “My love, you are eyeing that dagger as if it were your lover,” he quipped, his tone playful and suggestive.

She regarded him incredulously, her expression stern, before a laugh escaped her lips, unable to resist his irreverence. “What? People engage in all forms of pleasure,” he remarked casually, a hint of mischief in his tone. “I’d be curious to witness you attempting one of these forms, my love,” he added, raising an eyebrow, his smirk unyielding—the infamous smirk that both infuriated and delighted her.

“How in the Seven Hells would I engage in such forms, Oberyn?" she retorted, her tone a blend of amusement and exasperation, unsure whether to marvel at his wit or roll her eyes at his audacity.

He chuckled, unfazed, and resumed his meal, prompting her to shake her head in bemusement before following suit, both indulging in their food as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

—

As they retired to their chambers, the earlier unpleasant encounter and their playful banter lingered in her mind, unable to shake off the eagerness she felt for him.

Not surprisingly, he seemed equally consumed by their earlier conversation. Upon entering their room and securing the door behind them, he immediately closed the distance between them, kissing her hungrily. His hands roamed over her body, gripping her ass firmly, igniting a fire within her and causing desire to pool between her thighs.

Breaking away from their passionate embrace, he strode to the bed and plunged his dagger into the mattress, securing it firmly in place. Only the gleaming, serpent-shaped handle remained visible.

"What... what are you doing?" Nala inquired, perplexed by his actions.

“I long to see you mount it," he declared simply, taking a seat on the wooden chair facing the bed.

"Mount it how?" she questioned, furrowing her brow in confusion.

"Like you mount my cock every night," he replied with a crooked smile.

She stood in stunned silence, her thoughts swirling with a mixture of surprise and anticipation. The unexpected request from her husband both startled her and ignited a flicker of excitement deep within her. It was not uncommon for him to embrace unconventional pleasures, to seek out new experiences in their intimate moments together.

She offered a gentle smile before beginning to shed her dress, letting the fabric cascade down her form like water, revealing the delicate curve of her clavicle, the supple swell of her breasts and their hardened peaks, her glistening cunt between her thighs, before finally pooling at her feet.

His gaze lingered upon her with a hunger that seemed to devour her, as if he yearned to possess this beauty solely for himself, to adore… to pleasure and treasure... wholly and entirely his.

She moved with grace toward the bed, settling and facing him, her eyes fixed on the dagger embedded in the mattress before her. It was the very same dagger he wielded to protect her, a silent warning to any who dared to show her disrespect.

She lifted herself slightly before sinking into it, feeling the cold metal filling her searing flesh. Her eyes closed, lips parting as she relished the peculiar sensation, the ridges of the handle gliding against her inner walls, deliciously. It was unfamiliar yet pleasing, strangely fitting. She quickened her pace, with each rise and fall, soft moans escaping her lips and filling the room. Her breasts bounced with each movement, a testament to the pleasure coursing through her.

Oberyn watched her with an insatiable hunger, enchanted by her allure. She accepted his offerings eagerly, with devotion, her yearning unwavering as she sought to be filled with everything that was his. Whether his fingers, his cock, or even his dagger, she embraced it all, an extension of him in every way.

He felt the bulge in his breeches grow bigger, his cock throbbing painfully with desire, yearning to pierce that sweet cunt of hers, to fill her with his seed over and over again til it takes. He longed to hear her soft moans as he pushed her to the brink of bliss, feeling her warm, wet, and wanting in his embrace.

He freed his hardened cock, his hand beginning to caress it with slow, deliberate strokes, as she mounted his dagger with unyielding ardor, deriving her pleasure from it. Her gaze met his, lethal and luring, eyes that could have felled him had she not been his.

Her movements became erratic, her moans blending into strained whimpers. She slipped her hand down frantically to circle her soaked clit, driving her closer to her release. Collapsing onto the mattress, she murmured his name, her thighs trembling with pleasure.

Rising from his seat, he approached her, cradled her languid form, and moved her to the center of the bed, laying her on her back. He spread her thighs apart, watching her clenching sex seep her release, delicately. He nudged the head of his cock to her entrance. Her cunt sucked him in effortlessly, eliciting a soft whine from her lips as he filled her. He laid atop her, his weight offering a comforting warmth she had always longed for, drawing her closer to him before thrusting into her fervently.

Mine, my love, mine… all fucking mine, the Others take them all.

He nipped at the tender flesh of her breasts and shoulder, his warmth flooding her as he spilled his cum deep within her, his breath ragged.

After their heaving chests stilled, she gently raised her hand to brush the damp curls from his forehead, meeting his gaze. “I love you most ardently, my fierce viper,” she whispered.

#asoiaf #oberyn martell #oberyn martell fanfiction #pedrostories #a song of ice and fire #game of thrones #oberyn nymeros martell #oberyn martell x ofc #oberyn martell smut #house martell #dorne #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fic #fan fiction #aura’s fics

103 notes · View notes

goodqueenaly · 1 year ago

Note

I fell into a rabbit hole of your metas and it's great stuff! But while reading your bits over the Southern Bloc I couldnt help notice something. In Dance(ithink) Barbrey Dustin speaks to Theon about her distrusts for the maesters and insuates that Rickard's Southron ambitions were groomed by the maester of that time. I doubt that GRRM wrote that for no reason, and in the your work I don't see any mention of the Maesters 1/2

(tbh I really wouldn't be surprised if we don't get to see anything substantial on the Maester conspiracy because of time and pacing in two books thanks to GrRm great scheduling bbtp) but do you think the Maesters have any important part on the Southron Bloc plans? Because if so, what would have been their greater goal?

P.S. and another thing! Rickard Starks ambition level is unusual in most of the historical Starks throughout the Targaryen dynasty. Two sons and a daughter connected to land beyond the Neck? I know you mentioned why Rickard would benefit from these relationships, but why did he think of this in The first place? Why did he think it was better to go against the Targaryens when they hadn't bothered with the North much at that point?

P.S. pt2: I really think it was the Maesters that low-key were pushing, for something, and they really needed to cinch Rickard in. Except that Dragons and magic no longer seem to exist, so why continue to erode the Targaryens away(their anti Martell agenda checks out, at least) even if Aegon IV had done what he wanted to do it's not like the Maesters would suffer or benefit either? Sorry, I accidently put myself in the rabbit hole. It's dark here. Bye

The short answer is that I really don't believe in any maester conspiracy explanation for the (as yet theorized) southron ambitions power bloc. I think that there are (again, potential) explanations for why Rickard Stark (and, by extension, Jon Arryn and Hoster Tully) acted as they did which are not dependent on, or even really explained by, a united conspiracy of maesters puppeteering various paramount lords. I am not saying there has never been any greater schemes among maesters ever, only that I believe this specific group of marital and fostering alliances was the product of the aristocratic men involved rather than their maesters.

Number one, I think Barbrey Dustin's comments regarding maesters should be taken with a heavy grain of salt. I don't mean that Barbrey is stupid, far from it, but rather that Barbrey is a woman with very specific grievances and very specific sources of blame for those grievances. Because Barbrey believes that she loved Brandon and that Brandon loved her, she needs a way to explain the failure of her romantic desires that does not blame either herself or Rickard and Brandon Stark (since, after all, Barbrey's goal was to become a Stark herself). This is, after all, the same Barbrey who asserts that Brandon never wanted to marry Catelyn, despite the fact that Brandon fought a duel with (and nearly killed) the person who challenged him for Catelyn's hand and explicitly affirmed his commitment to Catelyn, to Catelyn, before he left for King's Landing. Accordingly, villainizing Rickard's old maester (who was both a foreigner - that is, not a northerner - and a bastard, with all the accompanying prejudice there) and Catelyn Tully (another foreigner to the North) allows Barbrey to create a narrative in which she, Brandon, and Rickard did no wrong and naturally (to her) untrustworthy people can serve as scapegoats instead. Barbrey is a smart and canny woman, but she is as much subject to bias and prejudice as any other character, and given those very apparent biases I am reluctant to simply accept what Barbrey says about maesters as true.

Now, could there be a secondary reason the author included this perspective from Barbrey? Just as the story Godric Borrell tells of the fisherman's daughter and the story Edric Dayne tells of Wylla the wet nurse are both (almost certainly) objectively wrong accounts which nevertheless support the true proposition that there is a greater mystery to be revealed about Jon Snow's mother, so perhaps Barbrey Dustin's antipathy toward maesters is wrongly justified but intended to catch readers' attention to a more general point. Perhaps the author wants to suggest here that there is something a bit underhanded happening with some maesters, just not politically - that is, that individual historical maesters probably helped finish off the Targaryen dragons, and that few modern maesters recognize the potency (and danger) of magic (an attitude which will be immediately, and fatally, undone when Euron shows up to take over Oldtown).

I think it is also important to contextualize Rickard in his time and place. Certainly, it was the case that few (although some) Starks had married outside the North, at least so far as we have the Stark family tree - which, by the way, was as much true for a family like the Lannisters (whose marriages from Damon Lannister through the present day were almost exclusively with other Westerlands Houses), and probably as much true for families like the Tullys and Arryns as well - but it was also very unusual, indeed virtually unique, for all the senior commanders of Westeros to meet in a single space to war against a foreign invading army, which is exactly what happened during the War of the Ninepenny Kings - a war in which RIckard almost certainly served as Warden of the North. This was the perfect opportunity for Rickard to meet his fellow Warden Jon Arryn, as well as senior Riverlands commanders Hoster and Brynden Tully - and if they may not have finalized their entire geopolitical strategy and ambition in that moment (which would have been impossible to do anyway, given that Robert Baratheon, the Stark boys, and the Tully girls did not then exist), they certainly had the chance to discuss their opinions on the current state of the kingdom and build the foundations of their allegiance and mutual regard for one another.

And indeed, it's specifically not the case that the Targaryens "hadn't really bothered with the North much at that point" - quite the opposite, I think Targaryen action and inaction toward the North may have been a major source of grievance that motivated Rickard's participation in this alliance bloc. Remember that when the North needed help during the reign of Aerys I - when Dagon Greyjoy decided to make the west coast of Westeros his playground for pillaging and reaving - the Iron Throne specifically, consciously did nothing. That purposeful inaction directly betrayed part of the feudal promise enshrined when the Targaryen kingdom was formed: in return for the homage and and military service promised by the Iron Throne’s vassals, the Iron Throne agreed to protect those vassal families when they could not protect themselves - when, in fact, the realm itself was threatened. If the Iron Throne had probably (through Maekar) eventually intervened to solve the Dagon problem, Rickard’s great-grandfather Beron and his sons had learned the hard way that the Iron Throne’s commitment to its protective obligations was at best dependent on the personality of the monarch on the throne (and/or the monarch’s chief advisor). That’s not a lesson that I think Rickard - who was ruling barely half a century later - would necessarily have forgotten, or not considered in his political decisions and ambitions. If the Iron Throne ignored its individual vassals' plight without compunction, perhaps the way to make the dynasty listen - to ensure the Dagon problem could not happen again, in other words - was to unite as a bloc with other great Houses, the better to force the dynasty's notice.

Nor might the Starks have appreciated the opposite end of the Targaryens’ exercise of royal power - that is, under Aegon V, whose stated goal as king was to curtail lordly power by "grant[ing] rights and protections to the commons that they had never known before". It is unclear as yet how the Starks felt about Aegon V's program of reforms, yet it is certainly the case that unidentified other lords deeply resented the king's actions, even going so far as to describe him as "a bloodyhanded tyrant intent on depriving us of our gods-given rights and liberties". Indeed, this had not been the first time the Targaryens had intervened in the North to remove traditional privileges of the Starks and their vassals, since under Jaehaerys I the crown had both forced Winterfell to donate lands of its vassals to the Night's Watch and removed the right to the first night (across the continent, to be sure, but even Barth specifically noted at the time that "some lords [would] surely grumble at this [i.e. the end to the first night], especially in the North"); moreover, at least the first of those royal decisions seems to have caused deep resentment among some of the Starks. It's possible, therefore, that Rickard (who may have come into his lordship toward the end of Aegon's reign) agreed that the crown could not simply (metaphorically speaking) stomp into the North and start making demands on those rights which Aegon I had long ago promised to protect.

All of this, I think, may have culminated in an expression of frustration when the various Westerosi commanders met during the War of the Ninepenny Kings. If the Iron Throne had failed to uphold its end of the feudal bargain, in the eyes of these lords, it was now nevertheless demanding that its vassals still provide theirs - fighting for the crown at the summons of the king, to keep the king on the Iron Throne against the ambitions of a foreign challenger. For the first time, the Targaryen dynasty had left a major war entirely to the execution of its vassals, expecting that those families whose ancestors had bent the knee to the Targaryens would lead the charge against the Blackfyre forces (while the sickly king retired in the capital and his young heir served as a mere squire). Why, men like Rickard, Jon, Hoster, and Brynden might have wondered, were they giving their blood and sweat - and the blood and sweat of their vassals in turn - for a dynasty which had decided that the feudal bargain meant little or nothing when it came to the Targaryens' responsibilities? If once the answer had been dragons, that answer was no longer true over a century after the death of the last dragon; I think the Starks, Tullys, and Arryns may have realized that, with the balance of power irrevocably (or so they thought) shifted, now was the time to ally together, the better to rewrite the feudal playbook in a way which better recognized their power and authority.

Conversely, and to the point you made, I do not see any reason why the maesters (assuming all maesters would even act for a single purpose, which I think is simply wrong) would have any desire to encourage these specific marriage and fostering arrangements. Even if we start with the idea that "the Maesters ... were pushing, pushing, for something, and they really needed to cinch Rickard in", what exactly was the end goal here? As you yourself note, it could not have been the extinction of the dragons (which had not existed for almost 150 years by this point), and there seems to have been no animosity on a political level between the Citadel and the Targaryen dynasty, certainly not by this time (indeed, the Citadel's representative enjoyed a place at the right hand of the monarch, as Grand Maester).

#asoiaf meta #southron ambitions

49 notes · View notes

warlordess · 2 years ago

Note

(hi!! i would assume Colette was like, the 7th chosen since the last successful Sylvarant regeneration?? that would make sense bc i thiiiink the game tells you Sylvarant hasn't been regenerated in /a while/ but don't take my word for it uuuhh)

That could make sense despite the game not doing a very good job of actually saying THAT. If she were the 7th Chosen since the last successful regeneration (the post said that was about 800 years previous, I believe) then the game dialogue should have specified that point.

However, I believe the post I reblogged with that question/those tags had a lot of extra info and it also didn't specify that to my knowledge. It verified both that Colette is the 7th Chosen and yet also that the Chosen lineage spawned a new Chosen, like, every other generation. For instance, Colette's grandmother, Phaidra, had a sister that was also a Chosen. Also the art on that post depicted the seven Chosen of Sylvarant and one of them was Spiritua, who we know was successful in her journey since we're able to use her record in the game to assist in finding the seals.

The post did say at some point that some Chosen are never actually active in their world regeneration role (for instance, if they're born in the flourishing world; perhaps also if their mana signature doesn't match Martel's well enough to consider them a proper vessel for her... The post didn't say as much on that second point but they did say there was at least one Chosen that Cruxis just let go through the motions of their journey without really caring about their fate because their mana signature was meh and the next Chosen's was expected to be a much better match to Martel's).

My thought is perhaps a Chosen doesn't actually get to be counted as such if they don't have to go on the journey of regeneration? So all these interim Chosen born who never have to fulfill their purpose get left out of the total sum and that number ends up lower. However if the system has been in place for thousands of years (since we know Cruxis has existed for about 4000), seven is still too low a number imo. Even if the system wasn't initiated for the first 1000 years because the four seraphim wanted to work out the kinks before putting it in place (which I don't even buy)... If Chosen are being born every other generation, if they're dying on the path or else failing to carry Martel's soul... It just doesn't make sense.

The post also brought up about the floating caskets in the Tower of Salvation, saying these were specifically to hold the bodies of the Chosen that couldn't host Martel's soul. There appeared to be hundreds, maybe more, when we visit this location in-game. So do only seven caskets (six, technically, since Colette is still alive) amount for Sylvarant's contribution and the rest are from Tethe`alla? That ratio merits an explanation! Lol.

I dunno, perhaps this tidbit of trivia will never make sense to me.

#Tales of symphonia #Colette Brunel #Chosen system #Asks #Anon #I typed up my entire response on mobile so here's hoping the errors are minimal

0 notes

armaans · 9 months ago

Text

꙰

"indeed. some honour." gods knew joy manwoody needed some honour, and armaan did not even consider himself an honourable man. and he changed the topic; there was no surprise in the fact the sword of the morning had decided to remain firm in what it was he had initially decided. and that was to do nothing, to say nothing; just as they had always dealt and settled on things.

"i'll trust your word on it." baashir knew more of the guidelines for warriors, for knighthood, for idealistic notions about glory and honour - armaan did not believe in such things. humans were immoral, and honour was a myth. something could always prove his fickle honour truly was. there was always a price.

they had not spoken about what armaan had come across so many years earlier, alerted by the sounds of what seemed like struggle, and the sound of pain; the noises that only came from men when they were resorted to behaving like animals rather than humans. if armaan were a better person, perhaps he would have tried to talk him around. if armaan were a warmer person, perhaps he would have assured him that he was available to talk when he was ready - but their lives had always been in such a way.

the silence was comfort in itself. to let things go, rather than continue to push, was the love that armaan and baashir showed one another: though it only helped in the short term, rather than in the long term - that was for sure. "fine." the lord of yronwood responded, raising himself from the chair he had been seated within; their relationship was not one of words, or physical affection, but action. when baashir asked for armaan to make his presence in sunspear permanent, he had done so. when baashir had needed to lead the front in defending the marches against the reachmen, armaan had joined him silently. letting this go, was a show of love.

and they did not speak on everything. what they spoke on, needed to be chosen specifically. baashir voicing concern about armaan's lack of involvement, and how he needed it now, more than ever. truthfully, armaan was here for baashir rather than the three year old princess. and armaan watched as the first minister's lines blurred; seeing how close he had become with the ruling princess of their realm. she was a martell in the end, and would not be his to develop affection and love for. there had been some progress in this matter. then suddenly, all that progress had vanished.

"before i go…" he rolled the sleeves of his black kurta down from his forearms. "should you find you need anything from the riverlands, let me know. questions, or anything else. i have an associate there."

a woman, who was putting her head on the chopping block in exchange for the gold he was smuggling to her private coffers. a traitor, a desperate mother seeking to push forward her own son's claim; and missionaries worshipped gold and gold alone. his dark, stormy gaze looked over the apartments of the princess of dorne, and then back at baashir dayne. it was obvious what he was thinking. what he was all but saying, without saying a word. "see you in the morning."

“And I changed the topic.” Baashir was done with the conversation, didn’t want to get back into it. He preferred to take his time to work out what he wanted to say and perhaps he would bring it up later or he would bring it up on to Myriam. Though, she didn’t often enjoy the conversations about the intangible. No one left around him enjoyed those conversations and it made things painfully obvious there was a difference. He did not know what to do with himself. Baashir Dayne did not grieve. Rarely would one say he emoted even a little.

Them. Baashir almost rolled his eyes at the idea. But he listened to the warning, if Armaan thought it important enough to say then he would listen to him. While the first minister preferred to operate without the lines of the law, Armaan knew that the sword of the morning would do what it took in many cases. These were the lessons he would teach their little Princess. The Raajakumaaree of Dorne would grow into a formidable ruler and he would do it with him by her side and perhaps her uncle should he return from his grief for Mors.

“The intervention?” And as he continued it didn’t take much to understand what he was saying, what he was trying to say without saying. Armaan would never say these words in the quarters of another. Baashir Dayne did not understand clues, riddles, and taking in circles. And as a result, he did not like it. But Armaan was always clear enough in his hidden meanings. Killed her or let her die. Who would mourn her? None he could think of. Perhaps the only one who would have mourned the Manwoody was long dead already. And perhaps, perhaps she deserved it.

No. She did deserve it. It completed the cycle that was the mockery of her place alongside warriors. A woman who thought herself a knight. A woman who thought herself capable of beating him in a fight as if he did not carry the mythical sword of house Dayne, the core of a star in the hand of the greatest knight in Westeros. And a woman, playing warrior with her spear fighting bandits for what felt like years. Making a mess for them, him and Armaan, to clean up. A mess that almost saw him dishonored for being a knight.

“I understand, Armie.” A beat. “Such a sad state of affairs when the body gives up. Alas, she died on her battlefield. There is some honor there.” He brushed his hair back and looked toward the window. Waiting. There was something else. Right? Did he read this all correctly?

#c: baashir #baashir 004 #my babies

12 notes · View notes

feydrautha · 2 years ago

Note

Do you think Larys didn’t get married to anyone out of choice or is Westeros just that ableist?

I'd say it's both that he doesn't care for it and also because Westerosi society is just that fucked, with a very healthy dash of "If he weren't disabled, he would've already been married" influencing the former — but if Larys weren't disabled, he'd be a wholly different character than the one we know so far.

Yes, Westeros is downright horrible towards people with disabilities, be it people born with a disability (Tyrion, Larys), those who became disabled at a young age (Bran, Varys) or as adults (Jaime, Willas Tyrell, Doran Martell), and it's that first category who endured abuse and dehumanisation from the people around them their entire lives - hell, the Karstarks believe that Bran should have committed suicide instead of spending the rest of his life without being able to use his legs, and we saw how Tyrion was treated by most of his family. Especially with men we see how closely disability is tied to their masculinity, and masculinity in Westeros is focused on a man's ability to fight, with the highest goal being knighthood (also an elevation of status for low-born men but that's another topic). Specifically with regard to sexuality and marriage, while Tyrion as a direct result of his extremely traumatic experience as a youth becomes very hypersexual as an adult, we have Ned lamenting that Bran is never going to be able to father children among other things that define a man in Westeros — which is something I can see Lyonel do, as well-meaning as he would consider having pity for his son and thus not seeing him as a man in the first place.

Harwin embodies just about the ideal of masculinity in Westeros, in stark contrast to his brother, who (like all of the disabled male characters mentioned) is virtually denied manhood, and has done so since birth. I'm a firm believer that Harwin loved his baby brother and might have been one of the very few people who didn't treat Larys like a half-man, and Lyonel is no Tywin, but despite that he still was in a way their "beloved embarrassment", and besides, so what if your family loves you but the rest of the world looks down on you?

So Larys is aware how people see him - as male, but not as a man, because he can't fight, go to war, charge at his enemies and run them through with his sword, etc. And because he is not a 'man', he also can't do the other thing that 'men' typically do, which is fucking and siring heirs. He of course knows he could do that, but everyone else who looks at him and only sees an introverted cripple surely doesn't, women don't show interest in him because of this and if they do it's out of politeness (he does know when they talk behind his back so it's not like he is making it up), so it's not honesty and thus irrelevant.

Of course, he developed a certain superiority complex to protect himself from the harsh world out there. The entire nihilistic speech in S1E6 is all but proof of that, "everyone who has children is just creating his own downfall, I am smarter than that and simply don't do that". There is no one who is worth his companionship because they're all vapid creatures anyway, and none of them is truly special. Marriage is something for 'men', who are also vapid.

In the books, Larys does get betrothed to Floris Baratheon for diplomacy's sake, so I highly doubt this would've been on the table in any shape or form otherwise.

#larys strong #anonymous #asks #house of the dragon

23 notes · View notes

ironmandeficiency · 3 years ago

Note

I saw y'all discussing potential zodiac signs for Pascal's characters, what's your take on the major ones? I personally believe Marcus Pike is a cancer, Catfish's a pisces, Din's a virgo, Whiskey's an aries, Oberyn's either a leo or a libra, Ezra's a gemini or a sag, but I lean towards gemini. Javier's the poster child for Scorpio. Don't know about Maxwell Lord.

pedro character star signs

i’m so sorry it took so long, i was tweaking this so much bc i wanted to make sure i got it right! these are just what i think based on my astrology opinions, i hope you like it! 💕 i added their moon signs for flair bc i can. gonna tag a few friends i think may be interested, hope it’s not an inconvenience

max phillips: aries sun & moon. his ambition and charisma paired with the carefree attitude and optimism are an optimum fire sign duality and despite the fact i shouldn't, i love it so much. he has an inner child that he spoils with the riches of his conquests (good and bad) & gets emotional contentment when he succeeds in achieving his goals. knows what he wants & is quick to make those wants known. you never have to worry about where you stand with him because he will not hesitate to tell you.

javier peña: taurus sun with scorpio moon (the real guy is a taurus & i can see it but w heavy scorpio influence). he has his own structure and routine and will fight to the death to maintain it. very work oriented & does his best to rationalize his emotion-driven scorpio moon with his taurean logic, it's a tossup as to whether it works half the time. has a lot of emotional needs that aren't always met day to day & thats why he smokes and drinks and fucks. but don’t let anything make you doubt his love for you because the only thing stronger than his stubborn streak is his heart and its capacity to love you so damn much.

maxwell lord: libra sun with a sagittarius moon. the charisma? attractive and engaging af. oddly adept at chameleoning himself into whatever social group he's trying to vibe with. will draw eyes no matter what because so many people know him & if they don't already, they sure as hell want to. it takes him a while to learn to balance healthy relationships and his work life but when he does, you can visibly see how much healthier he is because of it. normally tends to his emotions in private but with help, he can start sharing a bit more. more optimistic than he sometimes should be but it could be worse

frankie morales: pisces sun with a cancer moon. his caring and sometimes cautious nature (with a twinge of homicidal tendencies) make him one that you don't just casually fuck with sexually or otherwise. catches feelings very easy & makes a lot of emotionally-driven decisions. these two water signs have a propensity towards codependence & defensiveness when hurt. is at his best when he feels loved and is supported by those he loves. emotions are always fluctuating and there’s some trouble with self-discipline (which is not the same as self-deprecation). because of this, he needs someone who can ground him

jack "whiskey" daniels: his swagger!! his charm!! his generosity!! the protectiveness over people he cares about!! this has the makings of a leo sun. this charismatic sun sign paired with his capricorn moon create a living example of the most balanced "work hard, play hard" you've ever seen. has a tendency to set high standards for himself and others & is a smidge more accepting when people fuck up, wanting to help them be better in the future. his emotions are often repressed in the name of responsibility but when he feels safe, he isn’t shy about them in the slightest. very confident in his skills & one of those that he’s the proudest of is his ability to cheer you up when you’re sad

din djarin: he is the most virgo virgo to ever virgo, a double whammy of it in both his sun & moon placements. very logical, disciplined, and tradition-oriented. knows how to bargain and budget, approaches problems with as little emotional attachment as he can (doesn't always work though), and is selfless af. needs something to keep him from being a worry wart bc otherwise he will spend every waking moment fretting over anything he can find. remarkably well-rounded & somehow the most emotionally stable

ezra: everything about this man radiates aquarius sun + gemini moon and you will never convinve me otherwise. he's just enough of an intellectual elitist (the big words and flowy shakespearian vocabulary) for it to border on unique and fun & annoying as fuck. every aquarian i've met has a quirk that sets them apart from everyone else & ezra's quirk (besides murder) is his vocabulary. it takes him a long time to learn to not talk over people on accident (sometimes he does on purpose just to be a bastard), but you can tell when he’s really trying to be conscious of it.

marcus moreno: now this man is what you call a pisces. a softie with a heart of gold that is constantly being underestimated, he has more power than most think. his silly and carefree nature detracts from the badassery he's capable of so it sometimes catches you off guard when he goes into Badass In Charge™️ mode but it’s there. his moon is also in pisces, which adds to his gentility and desire to be understood by his partner. this man just needs some love dammit, give it to him already!! his empathy makes him the Cool Dad™️ bc missy and literally any other kid get the vibe of “yeah this adult will actually listen to me and value my opinions”

dave: capricorn sun, aries moon. he thrives with people who can handle their own shit competency kink anyone? and doesn’t have patience with those who should know better. his standards are higher than a stoned giraffe, and is at his best in controlled environments. has a strong sense of self & a short list of people he would risk it all for. not as outwardly expressive but he does have a couple cues that you learn over time. also knows what he wants and is very meticulous in how he goes about getting it; there are very few places where he takes no for an answer. is a very good provider but don’t expect him to be mushy when you thank him for things he does for you.

oberyn martell: gemini sun & leo moon. he’s got more charisma than can fit in the ocean and sometimes it gets him into trouble. this man thrives on validation from loved ones. there is never a worry about not knowing what he’s feeling because oh boy is this man expressive. he’s a protector and a provider (and a gossip but don’t let him hear you say that). can and will cause a scene if there’s ample opportunity, he enjoys watching shit go down. will only interfere if it directly impacts him or someone he really cares about but otherwise will just pop the popcorn and pull up a seat. somehow has all the details of everything that ever happens but you learn to not question it.

pero tovar: scorpio sun (but specifically october scorpio) & aquarius moon. he’s highly rational when it comes to emotions but does have a temper. he’s observant af of his environment & the emotions of everyone around him, and chooses his actions carefully based on those. doesn’t confront his deeper emotions as often as he should bc it’s easier to default to Angy™️ and let the rest of the world come to their own assumptions. has no tolerance for lies and other bs, wants the truth and though it makes him seem power-hungry and manipulative, that’s not his intention. it’s just his way of looking for someone he can trust with the most intimate parts of him

marcus pike: this man? taurus sun, cancer moon. has a fear of abandonment that takes a while to quell but once it’s gone, he’s all in. he’s very empathetic and observant af, will know exactly what you need before you voice said need. will feel guilty for his baggage sometimes and the guilt will make him recluse for a short period until he’s reminded just how appreciated he is. does not play around when it comes to affection & is very eager to give and receive it whenever possible

my friends that i think might be interested: @scribbledghost @autumnleaves1991-blog @dyke--grayson @max--phillips @dindjarindiaries @pikemoreno @ohnopoe @pedropasscals @forever-rogue @engineeredfiction @bitchin-beskar

72 notes · View notes

honeybeezx · 4 years ago

Text

Armor - Oberyn Martell x Reader x Ellaria Sand - Part 4

Author’s Note: Sorry I’m getting this out so late, but It’s time for our girl Ellaria! I love her so much, but I don’t feel super confident with writing her. It might take me a while to find her voice, be patient with me guys lol. Anyways, hope you enjoy and as always, feedback is welcome!

Word Count: 4.0k

Warnings: crude language, mentions of sex

At this point, you weren’t even shooting to challenge or better yourself. You hit every target without fail, you weren’t even paying attention as you did so. Shooting helped you think, allowing you time to process your thoughts, you had a hard time doing so while being still. Well...sometimes it was hard sitting still in general.

“I always feel sorry for the unfortunate man that crosses one of your arrows.” Tyrion’s voice rang from behind you. You turned and gave a small smile before walking away a bit to retrieve said arrows.

“I’m surprised no one here has crossed them yet.” You joked, forcefully taking out the arrows from their targets and gathering them into your sling. “Was there something you needed?”

“Yes.” He replied, but still seemed hesitant to tell you.

“Tyrion?” You asked warily.

“You’re not going to like it. Oberyn is here again, but this time he brings his paramour, the Sand woman. But she insists on leaving the prince and I to our devices. However...Oberyn does not feel comfortable having her roam the palace alone. He asked if you might be able to accompany her?”

Bull fucking shit.

You were not stupid. Ellaria seemed like a capable woman who could more than defend herself. No, this was too deliberate, too planned. Ellaria wanted to get you alone. How convenient that she didn’t want to step on Oberyn and Tyrion’s toes when she was nearly attached to Oberyn at the hip the last time you saw the two of them together.

“I was paid to guard you, not the prince’s paramour.” You grumbled, but truthfully? After your talk with Oberyn, you were curious about the captivating Ellaria Sand. Equally as beautiful as her lover, and equally as passionate. If anything, you may be able to learn a bit more information about the guests from Dorne, and even more so, how to convince the prince not to kill the Lannisters.

“Fine. But next time Bronn gets babysitting duty.” You huffed. If you made it easy for Tyrion he might get suspicious.

It wasn’t as if you thought the prince’s lover was incredibly beautiful.

No, he wouldn’t guess that.

Right?

“They both asked for you specifically, but I will try to convince them next time.” Tyrion said, almost as a joke. “Tell me, why are they so taken with you? First Oberyn visits the palace only to converse with you, next Ellaria asks for you to keep her company.” Tyrion eyed you suspiciously. He was far too clever for his own good, and while it amused you most of the time, it was also extremely annoying.

“Now, are you going to tell me what really happened in that brothel?”

You punched Tyrion hard in the arm.

“Ow!!! You just punched me!! How dare you!! I ought to arrest you for treason!” Tyrion whined dramatically, but none of his words scared you.

“I didn’t sleep with either of them if that’s what you’re implying, you fucking bastard.” You spat. Tyrion often teased you, but this was a new low for him. “What I told you was true, I did as I was told.”

Tyrion was still holding his arm and wincing as he processed your words. “Oh come now, you must have done something for them to like you so much. Even I didn’t like you the first time I met you.” He teased.

“Fuck off.” You grumbled, holding back your urge to shove him. You knew Tyrion and you knew he would find out one way or another. And if he and Oberyn were going to meet today, Tyrion was sure to ask him about it. You’d rather tell him yourself than have him hear it from Oberyn. Only the gods knew what sort of version he’d give. “I gave them the girls, but they just weren’t as interested in them. They were...They were interested in me.” You tried to say as nonchalantly as you could, trying to keep your voice steady.

To say Tyrion was shocked was an understatement. “Really?” He asked, clearly amused.

This was not going to go well for you.

“And what did you say to that? A handsome prince and his beautiful woman want to fuck you, and you just said no?”

You punched him in the arm again, causing him to wince once more. “You she-devil! Will you please stop hitting me, you vile, terrifyingly strong woman!”

“Stop making jokes about this!! This is serious Tyrion!! They insulted me. I am a skilled assassin, known throughout Westeros and all they wanted to do was fuck me, thought I was another girl for purchase. And to make matters worse, I don’t think their feelings have changed on the matter.” You huffed, plopping down into the grass. You knew you would have to get back up soon, both of you couldn’t leave the Dornish waiting, but you wanted nothing more than to lie there forever and forget your troubles.

Tyrion softened and pulled you up into a sitting position to look at him as he sat across from you. “Is that why Oberyn visited you yesterday?”

You sighed but nodded. “We...have a better understanding now. They know why I was angry and they are smart enough to not press it any further, but they don’t hide their desire. I’m watching both him and Ellaria. I still don’t trust them. I think they want to use me to get to you and the rest of your family. It won’t work.” You promised confidently. Even Oberyn’s pretty words could not break you, and you planned on keeping it that way.

Tyrion looked sad and you could not, for the life of you, understand why. Surely keeping your guard was a good thing? Surely the fact that you were starting to get a hold of this little game was something he should be proud of. So why did he look so remorseful?

“We better get going. Don’t want Oberyn stabbing another Lannister while he waits for us.” Tyrion joked half-heartedly.

You eyed him suspiciously. He knew that you knew something was up with him, but he wasn’t going to relent. You decided to drop it. After all, you were keeping royalty waiting.

But before you could re-enter the palace, Tyrion grabbed your wrist. Your head snapped back to him at the sudden gesture. “Don’t let them in too much, but don’t dismiss them as an ally. They may be useful to us...and you need friends.”

This sort of sentiment didn’t suit either of you, but especially not Tyrion. You were confused by his words. “I have friends. I have Bronn, and Shae, and-“

“That’s different.” Tyrion cut off. “I hired you and we all became friends in the process. These people may want to befriend you just because they like you. I’m not telling you to bare your heart to them, I’m telling you to be open-minded.” He clarified. You weren’t used to seeing Tyrion so...serious, at least in this regard. He let go of your wrist and composed himself as if nothing happened.

You didn’t really know what to say to all of that, so you did the same and followed behind Tyrion into the palace.

“Prince Oberyn, Lady Ellaria, welcome to King’s Landing.” Tyrion smiled softly before giving a small bow.

The Dornish returned the favor. Both of them were once again adorned in the colors of their homeland. Warm tones of yellows, golds, and oranges draping loosely against their toned frames.

But when their heads came up from the small bow, both pairs of eyes settled on you.

“It is good to see you again, little hawk.” Ellaria cooed.

If her voice wasn’t so soft you might have been angry. You were not little.

“The pleasure is all mine, my lady.” You replied with ease, keeping your cool.

“As much as I would love to enjoy your company once more, I’m afraid Lord Tyrion and I have business to discuss.” Oberyn said sadly, but gave you a small smile anyways.

“Keep Lady Ellaria company. Shouldn’t be long.” Tyrion instructed, but his eyes still bore into yours. Remember what I said.

“Give me a tour?” Ellaria brought you back to the present, her mischievous eyes dancing over you. You had a feeling this was not just going to be a tour.

“Of course, Lady Ellaria.”

The Dornish woman cackled with laughter, as if to prove a point. “I am no lady. Ellaria is fine. I am not wed to Oberyn, therefore I have no royal status”

You quirked an eyebrow at her response. “Not married? But you two are so...close.” And the fact that they stayed together when they both preferred having several lovers was certainly saying something as well.

“We are wed in everything except name.” Ellaria explained. Oddly enough, it made sense. Dedicated to each other, but also able to seek pleasure with others. They could be attracted to several people, but love was another matter entirely. It went deeper than just fucking around. They were each other’s person.

You tried not to think about how easily you understood that.

“Oberyn is the love of my life. I love him, and he loves me, completely. There are no barriers with us. We take what gives us pleasure as long as it benefits both of us.” Ellaria smiled to herself. It was easy to see how much she loved him and vice versa.

What an incredible thing to know someone so completely.

“However,” she began, “Life in our homeland calls to us. Oberyn and I wish to see more of our children. We have seen enough of Westeros to last us a lifetime. We want to...settle down, to only leave Dorne on matters of business.” Ellaria explained. It seemed hard to imagine the two living a domestic life. They were so bold and free, and they possessed the power to go anywhere, do anything.

But you remembered your talk with Oberyn and about his eight daughters. So much was uncertain about the prince, but his love for his family was unquestionable. He was willing to kill Tywin Lannister, the most powerful man in all of Westeros because he believed him to be involved with his sister's murder. No one could fake that level of love and dedication. If you loved someone that much, you imagined you’d stay in one place for them too.

“Oberyn and I still love each other, very much, but we sometimes wonder if there is one another person who may join us. Someone more constant. Oberyn and I have been with each other for so long. To know someone else as well as we know each other could make things interesting.”

You really didn’t like that she was staring at you so intently.

Or maybe you did, and that was the problem.

“There are many people who I’m sure would be honored to receive the affections of Dornish royalty.” You replied easily, trying to draw the attention away from you.

“Not so many as we might have thought.” Ellaria teased before linking her arm with yours. How she had managed to do that so easily was beyond you. You looked around and were relieved to see that no one was around, but you were still on guard. Spies were everywhere in this palace. But when you thought about it, there was no way the queen could use this against you. She may tease you about it, sure, but she could not hurt Ellaria and start a war just because she didn’t like you.

So while you hated feeling your heart in your chest...this was safe.

“Don’t look so frightened.” Ellaria chided. “You are simply escorting me, yes?”

You eyed her disbelievingly. That was not all that was going on here, and you couldn't help but notice her choice of words. “I think we have different ideas on what makes a person an escort.”

Ellaria hummed and smirked. “Very different ideas.” She flirted.

You narrowed your eyes in warning and she got the hint...sort of. “I like a person in armor. Oberyn has dashing leather brown armor, but I very seldom see women with such attire, a shame really. It’s flattering in a different sort of way.”

You rolled your eyes. “My armor is not for appearances. It keeps me safe.”

“Safe and beautiful can coexist.” She smirked. “I know it was not your intention for the armor to be beautiful, but it is.” Ellaria used her other hand to trace the ornate design. There wasn’t much additional detail, just your crest, an arrow intertwined with a feather on your shoulder pieces. It was subtle enough for someone to notice at such close proximity, but otherwise, the crest was for you and no one else. You didn’t need people to know your crest, you kept it as a reminder of who you were.

“Your armor is a piece of you. I don’t pretend to understand what it is to be you, but I do understand what it is to be a woman. Not many women can say they are feared warriors or assassins, you’ve earned the stories they say about you, you’ve earned your reputation. You have every reason to wear it with pride.” Ellaria smiled at you before...seven hells was she cuddling into your arm????

You were glad Tyrion and Bronn were nowhere in sight.

But as quickly as she did it, she resumed her previous position, simply perched on your arm, as if nothing had happened.

“And it suits you because it does not hide your pretty face.”

You were sure the compliment was only meant to make you more flustered. “If you wish to catch me off guard, Ellaria, you will have to try much harder than that.” You snipped.

The striking woman chuckled and her laugh, her true laugh, was the sweetest noise in all the realms. Joy and life were in that laugh. Warmth. That was the feeling. You almost didn’t recognize it. It had been so long since you had felt anything close to it. It settled in your chest and forced you just...feel.

And you couldn’t run away from it, not with her arm locked around yours. You wondered if that had been her game all along.

“Do not tempt me, Silver Hawk. You forget that I stood before you in a brothel. I could very easily arrange for you to meet us there again.”

“No.” You replied before you could even stop yourself. Your mind reeled, trying to recover, to say anything that could give you at least some of your dignity back. “I only go where Tyrion tells me to. Otherwise, I am at his side or within reach.”

“And what if I ask Tyrion to just...have you visit a while?” She teased.

You rolled your eyes.

“Then I will acquiesce, but that doesn’t mean I have to do what you tell me.”

“Hmmm...We’ll just have to convince you then.”

You snorted. “It would be amusing to see you both try. I am paid to assist Tyrion, but even then some of his demands do not go without question. If I truly didn’t want to do something he asked of me there is not a man alive who could make me do it.”

Ellaria’s eyes darkened as she looked at you.

You didn’t know it, but she could have taken you right there on the palace floor.

“You are a fearsome thing to behold, do you know that?” Ellaria laughed. “Believe me when I say I would not do anything to push you away, not when I am enjoying your company so much. I believe my prince spoke to you of friendship, yes?”

“He did indeed.”

“That is what we both want. But at least let me compliment you. A pretty face as yours deserves at least that.” Ellaria grinned.

You sighed, but her deep brown eyes were impossible to deny.

“Only when we’re alone. I don’t need Tyrion or Bronn giving me any trouble over it.” You grumbled.

“Deal.” Ellaria agreed.

“Ellaria.” A familiar voice called from behind you. On instinct you pulled away from her, even though you were sure the Dornish prince did not mind. What you were worried about was the hand of the king that trailed behind him. You hoped he hadn’t seen you with Ellaria draped all over you.

“My prince.” Ellaria greeted, returning to her favorite place, at her lover’s side. “She is nice company when she’s not so defensive.”

“You should see her when she’s drunk.” Tyrion chipped in. “That’s the only time she seems to like me.”

Somehow you managed to glare at both of them.

“Oh stop now, just a bit of fun. The prince and I were actually just speaking fondly of you.” Tyrion had that familiar, mischievous glint in his eye that made your heart palpitate faster in your chest.

“Oh really?” You were not amused. Now the prince was the object of your glares. What did he tell Tyrion? Did he betray you? Tyrion knew the prince and his lover were enamored with you, but Oberyn didn’t know that Tyrion knew. Not to mention you told Tyrion nothing about your little threats you gave upon meeting them both. If he told Tyrion, you would never hear the end of it, and you would be even more on guard around the prince than you usually were.

“We were discussing the idea of a tournament.” Tyrion proposed. “The king is fond of...violent delights and your skill with a bow would most certainly amuse him. I made a bet against the prince here that you would beat any challenger.”

“I intend on losing.” Oberyn laughed. “That is why I did not bet a lot.”

“Still,” Tyrion smirked, “I would very much like to be in possession of more money that I have to do nothing for, so I was wondering if you could help me.”

How Tyrion thought he would be able to convince you so easily and propose this idea for his own benefit was beyond you.

“And what do I get from this?” You weren't one for showing off your skill. There was some sort of advantage to people underestimating you, you could always take them by surprise. But by now your reputation probably ruined any chance of surprising anyone. Not to mention you could change your mind if money or something of value were involved.

“The adoration of the king, the hand of the king, and the high society of Westeros.”

You snorted. “Forget it.”

“Fine! You can have the winnings too.” Tyrion huffed. “You rob me of my own winnings from my own bet. You wound me, my dear.”

“You’ll get over it.”

Both Oberyn and Ellaria laughed.

“Do you two always act like this?” Ellaria asked.

“Unfortunately her skill comes with a mouth and an attitude. She sometimes succeeds in making me question if that is worth the protection she provides.”

“If my protection wasn’t worth it, I would still be in the North right now.”

“Hmmm...yes sometimes I wish you still were.”

You gave Tyrion a playful nudge. “Don’t listen to him. He’d miss me.”

“I can tell.” Oberyn grinned. For a second you forgot all about keeping your guard up around the Dornish visitors. Tyrion always brought that out of you, the real, unguarded version of you. You supposed you could allow yourself some fun, just this once.

“This is so exciting! I’ve been dying to see the Silver Hawk in action.” Ellaria grinned something mischievous. In any other circumstance, it might have made you nervous, but the chance to actually get some shooting in was actually exciting.

Definitely didn’t have anything to do with showing off in front of Oberyn and Ellaria.

Definitely not.

“I hope to live up to your expectations, Ellaria.” You smiled, just a little.

“I’m sure you will exceed them.” She winked

Tyrion glanced between you and the Dornish. “It seems like she already has.”

If looks could kill, Tyrion would have dropped dead under the heat of your glare.

“She has been more than obligating in making us feel welcome here.” Your eyes widened at Oberyn, but you quickly concealed your shock. He hadn’t told Tyrion about your threats and less than warm welcome. But why? Why would he lose the opportunity to get back at you for insulting a prince, a prince who was an honored guest nonetheless? “You have a very loyal friend at your side, Lord Tyrion. You’re very lucky to have such friendship.”

Neither you nor Tyrion knew what to say to that. At least for a moment. Tyrion eventually had a response to everything.

“I choose my friends and allies well.”

No one could deny the double meaning in that. It was an offer to them more than it was a compliment to you.

“You do indeed.” Oberyn agreed.

Two more pieces to Tyrion’s game.

“You both are welcome to peruse the palace as you please, though I’m afraid I must steal away our Hawk. Please make yourselves welcome and do not hesitate to bother any of the servants should you need something.” Tyrion offered respectfully, ever the host to his new allies.

“Your hospitality is most appreciated, Lord Tyrion.” Both men have a small, respectful bow.

“We hope to see you soon.” Oberyn once again kissed your knuckles softly.

Tyrion had to do everything not to chuckle. That didn’t stop a stupid grin from forming on his face.

When the couple was out of earshot, you pointed a finger at Tyrion. “If I hear a single word about any of that I will be using you as target practice for the tournament.” You huffed.

Tyrion smirked. "Come now, my dear, having two incredibly attractive people want you like cats in heat is nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about."

You huffed and stormed away. If Tyrion actually did need you, you would punish him by making him wait until tomorrow for whatever it was.

Curse them. Curse them with their stupid charm, their incessant flirtations, their dumb, pretty faces, their kind words, their alluring charisma...

What the hell were they doing to you?

————————— Cersei waited patiently in her room. She had neglected a few royal duties all for this. Her nails tapped on the table, then quickly stopped when she heard the door to her chamber open.

“Well?” She asked sharply.

The blond-haired boy failed to control his nerves under the queen regent’s gaze. “The Silver Hawk has captured the interest of Prince Oberyn and his paramour Ellaria Sand. The assassin has not outwardly verbalized her affection towards the Dornish, but she was seen in the courtyard on Lady Ellaria’s arm.”

Cersei took a moment to consider this. You never showed any outward affection towards anyone except her brother, and she couldn’t do anything about that, not while her brother was being protected under Tywin. But she could do something to you. You were only under the protection of Tyrion, which meant very little to her. Her father she had to obey, her brother she did not.

“Keep track of her. They don’t call her the Silver Hawk for nothing. She has a sharp eye, make sure you stay out of sight while you spy on her. If she finds you, you run. If I find out she spotted you, you will be executed. Do I make myself clear?” Cersei asked, having no concern for the man who was her own blood, her cousin.

“Y-yes, my lady.” The boy gulped before taking his cue to leave.

The queen stirred about in her chamber, her thoughts were only composed of how best to take revenge on you.

—————————

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

—————————

Tag List (if I’m missing someone please let me know!)

@ilikechocolatemilkh @rpcvliz @janelongxox @evyiione @grogusmum

#armor #oberyn x reader #oberyn x you x ellaria #oberyn x reader x ellaria #ellaria sand #game of thrones #game of thrones fic #got #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #prince oberyn #oberyn martell imagine

112 notes · View notes

warsofasoiaf · 2 years ago

Note

I’m sorry, what? In what way is Rhaegar the guy that is out to “defend himself from being killed and it might result in my cousin’s death?” Rhaegar is the aggressor! Robert is the one defending himself.

Robert pardoned the lords because they were loyal lords, but because it was a solid policy choice (almost certainly engineered by Jon Arryn). It helped consolidate control of the country and lead to a stable and secure Westeros. By refusing to even take hostages, Robert sets himself apart from Aerys, who exiled and murdered his own councilors.

The idea that “Westerosi standards for a king is low” really doesn’t apply here, because this isn’t just a matter of “the king is a shitty person, who cares?” This is a direct threat to their own safety. Giving the king carte blanche to murder whoever he likes with no recourse is a terrifying amount of power, especially one like Aerys who has been notably unstable, fickle even in his good years. Pretty much every rational conclusion you draw ends up with a high chance of death just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Even the Martells have to be nervous, because both Elia and her children are under the same threat. Remember that before Robert’s Rebellion broke out, the court was rife with factionalism and there was discussion that Aerys might try to replace Rhaegar with Viserys. With Aerys saying that he had the right to murder Robert because he was betrothed to Lyanna, that’s saying that if Aerys suspects Rhaegar of something, he has the right to murder Elia. The only real way I can see someone thinking that this is okay is if they were arrogant enough to believe that they could control Aerys, such as some of his specifically-named sycophants. Most people do not apply.

Strong disagree that the nobles did not care if Aegon IV lined his own pockets. The worldbook explicitly tells us that they specifically did care - they cared enough to throw their political weight behind then-Crown Prince Daeron as champion of his own faction, one powerful enough to check royal policy in the diplomatic arena, stopping his first proposed invasion of Dorne “with words.”

Pretty much everyone not forced to go along with the Targaryens should have either sat the war out or joined the rebels, simply out of proactive self-defense.

-SLAL

You rightly have pointed out how Rhaegar, by fighting for his father, was condoning his actions and indicating that it was fine for the king to murder Lords and their sons with no trial and to advocate for the Guests Right to be violated. But this got me thinking, doesn't that mean the Lords that fought for the Targs agreed as well? It's an aspect of the Rebellion I've always had a problem with, as I struggle to believe any major House would be cool with the idea the King can just kill them for any reason, yet fighting for the King meant you supported such powers, albeit not directly stating it.

It actually is a problem: no rational actor should have sided with the Targaryens in Robert's Rebellion. Aerys's conduct means that anyone, no matter their status, can be marked for death at any time, for any reason, without any recourse. Anyone sensible would be trying to escape to a safe location and plan their next move, either searching for Rhaegar to offer him support or joining the rebels. This is a set of circumstances which there is no happy ending if you support Aerys - you can fall out of favor at any time. If there's one thing aristocrats could be counted on in the Middle Ages, it was defending their traditional rights and privileges, and Aerys violates almost all of them when he burns Rickard alive and laughs while he does it; not only is Rickard denied his right to trial, his rights are openly mocked in front of witnesses. This is such a flagrant display of tyranny that no one should have ever accepted it. Even grasping grubbers like Mace Tyrell would see that the personal gain is not secure, since Aerys dismissed Tywin after all that loyal service.

The problem with this is Doylistic, it's a background event that was conceived of relatively early on which doesn't really pass the smell test. However, unlike say, Tyrion's tumbling ability, there's no real walking it back given how largely it factors into the characterization.

Thanks for the question, Anon.

SomethingLikeALawyer, Hand of the King

136 notes · View notes

aboveallarescuer · 4 years ago

Note

Btw, I wonder if you ever thought about the Jaime/Cersei and Dany/Daario relationships paralleling eachother? I never see people talking about it but some of their quotes and scenes seem intentionally similar to me. + For example, how Daario and Jaime's (yes, Jaime Lannister is a toxic romantic partner, the fandom can stay mad) reaction to their respective marriage proposals are heavily linked with posession (more so than love).

First of all, Anon, I'm assuming you're the same person who sent me two asks, this one and another about Tyrion. Re: the latter ask, I basically agree with your comments and have nothing substantial to add, so I'm going to focus on answering this one.

So, yes, I had thought about similarities between Dany/Daario and Cersei/Jaime before, but I'm glad you sent me this ask because you made me think of more parallels and antiparallels. They are certainly worth discussing because they highlight different aspects of Dany's and Cersei's characters and make it clear, once again, that they are meant to be foils.

(I'm not going to add book quotes here because I'm tired, sorry... But you can ask for evidence in another ask if you find anything I say questionable)

Daario and Jaime are both hot-headed, arrogant warriors presented as alternatives to the husbands of the two queens (Hizdahr, Robert).

Both Dany and Cersei love these men instead of their husbands.

Both Daario and Jaime react angrily when they find out that Dany and Cersei are going to marry.

Both Daario and Jaime ask the queens to leave their husbands and to be with them instead, but they both deny their requests.

Both Daario and Jaime offer to kill their queens' husbands for them. Both Dany and Cersei imagine the two men following through with their threats at some point.

Dany ends her affair with Daario after she takes Hizdahr as her consort. Cersei doesn't end her affair with Jaime after marrying Robert (and she did nothing wrong in this particular situation).

Neither Dany nor Cersei hides their affairs well (though it's worth noting that Cersei is being more reckless in doing so because she was queen consort and her power derived from Robert, while Dany was queen regnant and, therefore, had power in her own right. Indeed, Dany taking Daario as her lover is compared to Lewyn Martell, a man, taking a paramour in Dorne. That certainly isn't how the Faith views Cersei's affair with Jaime. Also, as I said above, Dany's affair lasted while she was unmarried, while Cersei's happened while she was married).

Dany thinks she'll never have a child with Hizdahr because she believes she's infertile. Cersei thought she'd never have a child with Robert back when he was alive because she always took measures to prevent that from ever happening (and she definitely did nothing wrong here).

Dany idealizes her relationship with Daario way more than Cersei idealizes hers with Jaime. For instance, Dany says to herself that she would give up her crown for Daario if he ever asked her to do so, but she doubts he ever would because she assumes he loves her solely because of her power. Cersei never considers giving up her crown for Jaime (to be fair, I don't think Dany would've done that for Daario either). In this particular case, I actually think that Rhaegar is Cersei's Daario, because it's with Rhaegar that Cersei dreamed and still dreams of marrying and having his children and living a blissful life together (though, even in that fantasy, Cersei would still want to be queen, while Dany thinks she'd be content living a normal life alongside the man she loves without any power or luxury in the house with the red door). Daario and Rhaegar (rather than Jaime) are the men who bring out Dany's and Cersei's romantic sides (which makes sense because Cersei idealized Rhaegar back when she was a young girl like Dany). Rhaegar is the one that got away for Cersei, and I imagine Dany will have similar feelings about Daario in the future.

At some point during their reigns, both Dany and Cersei send Daario and Jaime away, but for opposite reasons: Dany does so because Daario advised her to kill her subjects and she's appaled by the suggestion; Cersei does so because Jaime advised her to cooperate with her subjects and she assumes that that means he is disrespecting her authority (which he does sometimes, but not always).

It's harder for Dany to be apart from Daario than it is for Cersei to be apart from Jaime. Dany immediately regrets her decision to send him away and even goes as far as to think that, because she had an indirect role in Hazzea's death for allowing Drogon to roam freely, she is a monster just like Daario (seriously, how can anyone think that book!Dany is arrogant???). Meanwhile, Cersei only comes to regret her decision to send Jaime away after she needs his help, specifically after the Faith arrests her and she has no reliable option to choose to fight for her life in a trial by combat.

Both Dany and Cersei spend most of their storylines away from these men. (I could be wrong, but I don't think GRRM had Daario out of the picture because he was supposedly bored with him like I've seen some BNFs or 'neutrals' argue... I do think that was a choice specifically made to strengthen the parallels between Dany and Cersei).

Both Daario and Jaime feel jealous of Dany's and Cersei's relationships with other men throughout AFFC/ADWD.

Daario returns with the Stormcrows when Dany recalls him even though it would have been beneficial to betray her and turn to Yunkai's side, especially since he already knew that the Second Sons had done that. Jaime doesn't return when Cersei asks him to go back... You could even say that he switches sides, in a way, by deciding to prioritize Brienne's request instead. This is part of a larger pattern: while most of Dany's people (including Daario) remain loyal to her by the end, almost all of Cersei's allies abandon her. While it's said that Dany managed to keep everyone (former slaves and former masters) together, Cersei destroyed the Lannister-Tyrell alliance due to her poor decisions.

ADWD Daenerys X ends with Dany thinking about how Daario wouldn't mind seeing her in such a messy state like how she is by the end of the chapter. AFFC Cersei X ends with Cersei hoping against hope that Jaime will return and win her trial by combat. Both expect to be reunited with and to be saved by their lovers at the end of these chapters.

Dany doesn't trust Daario, but she doesn't close herself off from him either, which is why she has the support of the Stormcrows. Cersei says she lost her trust in Jaime, but then, by the end, she is in such a dire situation that she desperately decides to put all her hope in him and trust him way too much (to a degree that even Qyburn finds concerning since he lost his hand). This is part of a larger pattern: while Dany is wary of some people, she knows that she should still take risks and make alliances. This attitude doesn't make her omniscient and she is not immune to making mistakes or to people (like Brown Ben) betraying her, sure. That being said, Dany still remains open-minded, cooperates with influential allies and makes a peace agreement that could have worked if the deal wasn't inherently false for prioritizing the privileges of the masters over the lives of the slaves and if her primary goal wasn't to protect the disenfranchised first and foremost. Meanwhile, Cersei thinks she should distrust everyone, which leads her to alienate potential allies that could have been useful and to be surrounded by people who claim to agree with her on everything, but who are neither experienced nor reliable. Then she creates plans that rely way too much on these very untrustworthy people, which is why they backfire: from the construction of the dromonds (which she relied on Aurane Waters, who turned his back on her) to the attempt on Bronn's life (which she relied on Balman Byrch, who turned his back on her) to the scheme to have Margaery and her cousins arrested (which she relied on Osney Kettleblack, who turned his back on her) to the decision to rearm the Faith Militant (which she relied on the High Sparrow, who turned his back on her) to her decision to trust that Jaime (who also turned his back on her) will return to fight for her life ... I'm sure there are more examples, but that's enough to illustrate my point. Cersei's thinking is too extreme, while Dany has a healthy distrust of others. As a result, Cersei makes hasty decisions and burns bridges unnecessarily, while Dany is able to make more carefully weighed decisions, as well as to create and maintain important alliances.

Finally, I think Dany and Daario's relationship is more positive than Cersei and Jaime's. Not only there's no verbal abuse or disrespect of sexual consent like how it happens with Cersei/Jaime, but Daario didn't switch sides to Yunkai, gave her good counsel (such as when he tells her to hold court and reminds her that her children need her) and genuinely cares about Dany, which we see from when he tells her not to get married time and again to when we contrast him with Osney. He is possessive and brags about sleeping with her on some occasions, yes, but I think it was @evilwomen who pointed out in one of our conversations that Dany doesn't feel bothered by any of that, which goes to show how much she loves him, since she's willing to forgive actions that would be considered insults for his sake.

So, once again, thanks for this ask, Anon, it encouraged me to think about connections that I hadn't considered before.

And you know, I said this before and will say it again... This is why I think Dany is the YMBQ... Not just because she clearly fits all the requirements, but because she and Cersei were way too carefully written to parallel and contrast each other (so much so that the author mentioned that in multiple interviews). You said you "never see people talking about" the parallels between Cersei/Jaime and Dany/Daario, but look at how much I managed to find off the top of my head (and I'm not even sure this is comprehensive, tbqh)??? Now imagine that happening to all of their casts of supporting characters and to all the political events and to pretty much every single aspect of their characterizations and storylines. Their parallels and antiparallels are really overwhelming, and it's why I decided to make gifs showing why they're foils.

#daenerys targaryen #cersei lannister #daario naharis #jaime lannister #answered #asoiaf meta

81 notes · View notes

forever-rogue · 4 years ago

Text

All Hallows Eve (In Name Only)

A/N: Alright, alright, it’s spooky time in Dorne! This is set in the series universe, but can be read as a standalone. Obviously, it will make a little but more sense in context, but I hope you enjoy either way! This takes place after Oberyn and Sunshine return to Sunspear, but not necessarily at a specific time. I hope you guys like it and have a safe and spooky Halloween! 👻🦇🎃🧟 As always, feedback and comments are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know. xx

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Reader

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: None

IN NAME ONLY SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

"My love?" your voice carried softly throughout your private quarters as you kept an eye out for Oberyn. Before you could say anything else, he appeared in the room, sporting only a pair of clean trousers, his curls wet from being freshly washed. He offered you his typical dazzling smile before sauntering over you, "oh, my moon and stars! I didn't mean to interrupt."

"My sunshine," he grinned as he wrapped his arms around your waist before pulling you towards him. You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips, "I was just going to look for you."

"Hmm," you beamed as you nuzzled your nose against his, "and to what do I owe the pleasure of your almost search?"

"Nothing in particular," he promised, his lips lingering over yours as you reached up and played with his damp curls, grinning at the one in particular that always seemed to lighten to a soft gold unlike the rest of his unruly mop, "I missed you."

"You flatter me so, my prince," you teased before pulling away and playfully swatting his chest, "but you've just seen me. I believe we spent the night together, broke our fast together, and then parted ways for the most minute bit of time."

"I still missed you," he insisted as you tossed him a new clean tunic, "for what is this prince without his sunshine?"

“I’m going to assume that this prince can survive but a short time apart from me,” you teased as you walked over to the tall, gilded looking glass, adjusting the beautiful golden necklace that Oberyn had recently gifted you. It ended just perfectly above the swell of your breast, and you hadn’t taken it off since he presented it to you.

“Either way,” he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around waist and silently held you for a few moments. It was such a small, but comforting, gesture and if it was up to you, you’d have stayed in his arms forever. Oberyn pressed a kiss to your neck before whispering against your skin, “to what do I owe the pleasure of your search?”

“I fear it’s nothing terribly important...”

“If it’s important to you, it’s important to me,” he promised, “now go on, tell me.”

“You know what’s coming up in a few weeks, right?” you asked as he met your eyes in the mirror, confusion etched on his face as he tried to figure out what you were talking about. You couldn’t help but laugh at the confusion on his face as you turned to look at him, “really, my prince? Its All Hallows Eve!”

“All Hallows Eve?” he repeated slowly as your eyes widened in surprise, “I’m not quite sure I follow...it’s not much of a big deal is it? It never has been here in Dorne. It’s more stories that have been passed down through generations.”

“Oh my love,” you reached up and grabbed his face, cradling it gently in your hands, “we still have so much to learn from each other, to teach one another...”

“I should be honored to have you teach me more about this apparently important holiday,” he grinned as you nodded before kissing him. He took your hand and led you towards the bed, motioning for you to get in. You eagerly complied as you crawled atop the soft blankets and pillows, laying down on his side as you relished in his scent that always seemed to linger. Oberyn laid down next to you, pulling you into his arms, as you rested your head on his chest, “tell me more.”

“Well, there’s so much to tell. Growing up in the Reach where there are always plentiful and bountiful harvests, we celebrated every autumn. I can remember it even from when I was a little girl,” you remembered particularly how fond your father was of the holiday, always making Honeyholt the center of festivities, “it always signaled the ending of summer - the harvest, and the coming of the new season.”

“Of course,” he agreed, “as is only natural in a place where you have more varied seasons.”

“Not only that,” you continued, “but a lot of people believed it was when the veil between our world and world of the deceased is the thinnest. People would wear costumes as they celebrated, especially around big bonfires, to scare and ward off the dark spirits and try to honor ancestors that had passed. Doing so was to ensure that winter would be successful and not too harsh.”

“I’ve never heard all of this before,” he admitted as you nodded excitedly, “it sounds like fun.”

“Oh it is,” you agreed, “getting to dress up and have big parties with bonfires? It’s amazing! Now that I’m older, I realize a lot of people just like the festivities because it gave them an excuse to drink copious amounts of honeyed wine and ale...but I still like it. It’s tradition, and it has good roots. Plus, children, ones that would dress up, would go from home to home, bringing some of their harvest to others and exchanging them for things they did not have. A little bit of give and take, but it ensures that no one would go hungry during the harshest of the winter months.”

“Who knew the Lords of the North had hearts after all?” he teased as you snorted with laughter, “while I did not know your father, I know he was a good man. I am not surprised he would take it upon himself to do such things, and you’re just like him, always trying your best to give back.”

“It’s the right thing to do,” you insisted, “we have so much and need so little, while others work so hard and have almost nothing. No deserves that - are not all lives created equal and therefore deserving of such things? It was hardly the position of the other Lords of the Reach to think in such a manner. It was often commoners that keep things alive, which I do believe is very telling. But I always liked it, feeling I was helping with something.”

“You help with more than you know,” he took your hands and brought it to his lips, gently placing a kiss to your knuckles, “never doubt that. You are nothing like them.”

“You flatter me so,” you sighed contently, pressing a kiss to the bit of exposed chest that peeked out from under his tunic, “but I love you either way.”

“And I you,” he promised. You laid there in silence for him time before he spoke up again, “would you like to start a new tradition in Dorne?”

“Hmm?”

“All Hallows Eve,” he stated, “perhaps its time we start celebrating it here as well. We have much to be thankful for, and it would be a good way to make sure everyone is set up with what they need for the coming months...”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, you sat up straight, looking at him with eager eyes, glittering with excitement. It was enough to bring the biggest of grins to his own face as you placed your legs on either side of his and planted yourself on his waist.

“Do you mean, my moon and stars?” you asked softly as only nodded in response, his hands finding purchase on your waist, “truly? I-I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want, or have it feel like I’m thrusting this upon you.”

“It would never, and I want to do this,” he promised, as your heart melted at him, “I mean it, if it’s something that’s important and matters to you, then it matters to me as well. Besides, this will be fun, and I think it will be a great opportunity to get to know more of our people. What do you say?”

“Me?” you asked with a gentle laugh as you leaned down and kissed him, “yes. Yes. Of course it’s a million times yes. Thank you so much, my love. I promise you will not be disappointed. It’s going to be so much fun! We’ll have to have all the girls come, and Ellaria and Quentyn and everyone else!”

“I’m already looking forward to it,” he promised, “we’ll make it welcome to everyone. When Exactly is it?”

“October 31st,” you told him excitedly, your mind already buzzing with all sorts of different ideas, “oh...that’s only a few weeks away. I better get planning!”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked softly as you shook your head, “nothing at all?”

“Nope,” you insisted before leaning down and kissing him deeply, “all you have to do is worry about a costume and leave the rest to me. I..thank you for this, Oberyn. There is not a day that goes by that I don’t think about how fortunate I am to have you as my husband. I love you.”

“And I love,” he promised gently, pulling you down so you were laying on top of him, “I would do anything for you, sunshine. My sunshine.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

The next few weeks were spent in a rush and a blur as you attempted to plan the biggest and best All Hallows Eve celebration that anyone had ever seen. Luckily, much to your delight, the people of Dorne really wouldn't have much to compare it to, so if it ended up a total disaster at least in your book, no one would know. All they knew were legends and stories of old, but you still wanted to make sure everyone had a good time and was able to get any things they needed for the autumn and winter.

You hadn't experienced this time of year in Dorne yet, and despite the desert-like nature of the region, you were positive the cooler months would bring a similar harshness. You vowed to make sure that no one would be left hunger or forgotten, even if that meant trekking through Dorne with foods and goods yourself.

"A most kind and generous princess," one of the farmers had complimented you as you arranged for him to provide his grain at the big fest. You took his hand and clutched it within yours, thanking him for his kindness and generosity.

"I am no princess sir," you insisted gently, but firmly, "I just want to make sure everyone has what they need."

"But you're married to the prince-"

"Yes, my husband is the Prince," you agreed, "but that does not mean I am just the princess. I am just like everyone else."

"Whatever you say, Princess Martell," he shot you a cheeky wink before heading out with a smile, "I will send you soon the required grain."

"Thank you," you watched him go with a small laugh. Princess Martell. You couldn't deny that you liked the sound of that.

»»————-　♡　————-««

You were humming to yourself as you moved things about the garden, trying to arrange everything perfectly so that the big bonfire would be able to go in the middle of the large courtyard. The big day was coming in a few days, and you were busy finishing up the last minute preparations. You’d gotten help from seemingly everyone in Sunspear to help make sure the celebration would go smoothly and be a memorable one.

You’d been so busy running around that you hadn’t even had that much time to spend with Oberyn, which he assured was fine a multitude of times. But still, you missed getting to be around him all the time, something you vowed to correct that when this was all over.

“Hello my love,” almost as if he could hear your thoughts, Oberyn was sauntering towards you, his long arms outstretched as you dropped everything in your hands to rush over to him. He was quick to wrap you up in his arms, and spin you around, pressing soft kisses to the side of your head, “oh, how I’ve missed you, my sweetest girl.”

“And I you, my prince,” you promised as he set you back down, “I thought you were going away with Doran on business today?”

“I was...but then I received the most exciting of news,” he admitted as your eyes grew wide with excitement, “and I thought I had to share them with you.”

“Oh? Pray tell what could have been so important that you’ve left all the duties to Doran?” you teased but quickly stopped as you hear the soft pitter patter of wild footsteps on the warm till of the palace floor. Oberyn’s smile widened as you looked past him to find two little blurs running towards you. It was only a few seconds before you were almost knocked over as two little figures tightly hugged your legs.

You automatically knew who they were and bent to hug onto them tightly as they twittered about excitedly. Once they calmed down you pulled back and ruffled their dark hair before offering each of them a kiss on the top of the leads, “hello my sweet ones! How I’ve missed you both.”

Dorea and Loreza gave you eager grins before taking a moment to hug their father. A warm happiness overtook you as spied Elia and Obella following closely behind, along with Elliara. Deciding not to wait for them, you ran over and wrapped them all up in a tight hug, murmuring about how happy you were to see them again. You were - it felt like your little family was completely again. Now all you needed were his older girls and then you’d be all together again. Just like you knew you were all meant to be.

“I’ve missed you all loads,” you told them softly, “I’m so glad you’re all here, and could join us for this.”

“We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Ellaria promised you as she gently touched your cheek, “it’s important that we honor the things you love and hold dear as well. And it’s important to take care of our people.”

“Indeed it is,” you agreed, “we take care of all people, because we are all one and the same.”

“You are wise beyond your years, young one,” she said softly, “you look well - happy.”

“I am,” you promised, stealing a quick peek back over at Oberyn, who currently had one girl in each arm as he showed all the flowers that the two of you had planted. Your little gaze over was not lost on her, “I am very happy. Beyond what I can put into words.”

“Good,” she beamed at you, “you deserve it. Both of you. Now, please tell us how we can help. Whatever we can do, we shall be more than glad to do it.”

“Thank you,” you beamed at her, “but first tell me, what are you all dressing up as?”

“I’m going as the Stranger,” Obella chirped excitedly, “to honor death and those that have died for us.”

“I’m going as Elia,” none other than her current namesake said excitedly, “to honor her, Papa, and our family. I have one of her old dresses that I’m going to wear. Uncle Doran said I looked just like her.”

“I’m sure she’d be very proud to see you in it,” you told her gently, brushing a few of her dark locks out of her face. You’d heard all the stores about Elia, how just, kind, and caring she was. Oberyn hadn’t brought her up much, only a few times in passing, and while you were curious to know more, you didn’t want to pry and disrespect his boundaries. Maybe one day he’d tell you more about her, “you are a great namesake to her, my sweet girl.”

“And we are going to be warriors” Dorea bounded back over to, practically bouncing on her feet in excitement as Loreza nodded in agreement, “warriors fight and keep everyone safe. Just Like Papa!”

“And two wonderful little warriors you will make,” you grinned at them, “I can’t wait to see all of your costumes!”

“And what will you be?” Obella asked excitedly as you shrugged lightly. You’d been so busy trying to throw everything together that you hadn’t given much thought to your own costume. But you were sure that you could throw something together and have it be decent enough.

“I don’t know that,” you admitted, “perhaps I shall go as a star or the moon. I shall have to think about it.”

“Whatever you decide, it will be wonderful,” Ellaria gave your shoulder a squeeze before rounding up her little flock, “now come you four, we have to unpack and then we shall help wherever we are now. But for now, it’s best we stay out of the way.”

“We shall see you at dinner,” you said softly as you took Oberyn’s hand in yours. They all waved you off excitedly as you turned back to your husband, offering him a soft smile, “this was the exciting news?”

“Indeed,” he said fondly as he kissed your knuckles, “I dare hope you are not too disappointed.”

“On the contrary,” you insisted, “I am beyond happy. I’m happy to have you by my side, happy to have them all here...everything.”

“Good,” he sighed contently, “now, tell me what I can do for you? To help...although I daresay you seem to have handled everything well. The place looks beautiful and everyone is buzzing with excitement. You will put all other festivities to shame, I daresay.”

“I like to think I’ve got some decent organizational skills, maybe one of the few things I’ve gotten from my mother, But I do also have a love of parties and festivals,” you mused, “definitely a trait from my father. But there is one thing you could do for me…”

You brought a hand to his face, touching his cheek before delicately tracing over his nose and jaw before running a handsome through his dark curls. He made a small sound as he closed his eyes and keened into your touch. You leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, lingering against him.

“Tell me,” he whispered softly, his hands going to your waist, their grip firm, but delicate as ever as he held onto you, “tell me what you want, sunshine, and you shall it.”

“You,” you whispered against his lips, “I want you, Oberyn. I’ve missed you. I need you. Your kisses, your touch - all of you.”

“What a shame,” he smirked against your lips, “it appears my afternoon is already booked up.”

“Oh?’ you raised an eyebrow at him, “and just what could be so occupying of your time?”

“Spending the afternoon with my queen,” he explained as he took your face in his hands before pressing kisses to the apple of your cheeks, “giving her whatever she should desire, however she should desire.”

“And just who would I be to turn down an offer like that?” you asked as you already felt the heat pooling low in your belly, “I am many things, but I am no fool.”

“Then we have no time to waste.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

The evening of All Hallows Eve came faster than you had anticipated, but you were excited to see it come nonetheless. As you were milling about your quarters, slowly attempting to get ready and slip on your costume, you went out onto the balcony. The sun was rapidly setting and the familiar night time glow was setting over Dorne, and you could see bonfires lit everywhere as far as the eye could see. A small smile crossed your lips at the thought that all of that was due to you. You hoped that everyone would enjoy themselves and get what they needed.

"It looks wonderful out there," Oberyn beamed as he found and stood next to you, looking out over his kingdom as he placed a kiss to the side of your head, "you've done a wonderful job, my love. Everyone is buzzing with excitement and I've heard nothing but good things, and have already seen some costumes roaming about the halls."

"I'm sure they'll all be just grand," you agreed as you turned to go back inside, "and just what are you going to be, my love? You haven't told me yet."

"I am going to be the sun, of course," he said as though it was the most obvious thing. You made a small sound of amusement as you found clothes of brilliant, bright gold laid on the bed. You told a hand over, admiring how soft and delicate they were before turning back to him, "would golden glitter everywhere be too much?"

"Not enough I think," you snorted as you spied the golden paint and glitter on the bureau. He was going to be a sight to be marveled at, "it suits you, you know."

"What does?"

"The gold," you took some of the paint and dipped your fingertips in, turning around and swiping some of it on his bare shoulder, "the sun. Everything. You spread sunshine everywhere you go."

"I believe that is better suited for you," he chuckled as he grabbed his costume, "perhaps I should have let you be the sun. Just what have you decided to go as? I'm afraid you've been just as secretive."

"Well, I'm terribly afraid it's nothing exciting so do not get your hopes up," you shrugged as you flaunted over to the wardrobe. You looked over your shoulder to make sure he watched you before unlocking it and slowly pulling out a stunning gown of pale yellow, draped and framed with glittering and dazzling beads and jewels. The skirt was thick and full with silver tulle and lace giving it an almost ethereal appearance, "what do you think?"

"Its beautiful," he agreed, the corners of his mouth slowly turning up into a smile, "and will look even more beautiful once worn by you. The moon? A very smart choice. Though perhaps we would have been more apt to switch costumes."

"I disagree, my moon and stars," you took the gown and walked over to him, kissing the tip of his nose, "I think we have made very good choices. Apparently we are very much on the same page."

"It is true that the sun and moon need each other," he insisted and he helped to strip off your garments, letting them hit the floor before placing kisses on your bare shoulders and collarbones, "one cannot exist without the other."

"A true poet," you praised as you stepped into the gown, letting him help to pull it up and tie it into the back, "although it is true. I do not know what I would be without you, my love."

"Quite fine I am sure," he insisted as he grabbed your jewels from their place in the bedside table. The sun bracelet was placed delicately around your wrist, followed by the necklace that Oberyn had made for you, "I believe it is I that would be far worse off."

"You are a fool of a man if you believe that," you chided softly before pausing to kiss him properly, "but I adore you beyond measure regardless. Now, on with your costume so we can get going. Otherwise people will think we've decided to bunk off."

"Normally you try to get my garments off, not on," he teased as he started to slip his own items on. You'd gone back to the looking glass to adorn yourself with the headpiece you'd had prepared, not unlike a crown, and put some make up onto your features. Oberyn caught your eye and shot you a cheeky wink, "but I suppose that can wait for later."

"I'm afraid it will have to wait, my prince," you agreed, feeling warmth flush all over your face, "besides, I am almost ready and you still need to paint yourself."

"Help me?" he asked innocently as you slowly nodded.

"Of course," you painted your lips in a frosted pale gold before rejoining him, pushing him slowly back on the bed, "what made you choose the sun?"

"The sun brings life, new things, prosperity," he said as you took the golden glitter and brought it down his arms and shoulders, "we cannot survive without the sun. And with it, it brings hope and happiness. I figured it was a good way to honor the ancestors and to ask for a bountiful winter."

"Very good indeed," you agreed, taking some of the excessive glitter and running it through the curls you loved you loved so much, "and gold? It suits you perfectly, although I fear we might have glitter everywhere for some time. But then again, there are worse things in life."

"Indeed there are," he agreed, "besides, I quite like the thought of you covered solely in glitter."

"You just like the idea of me, I'm starting to see," you teased as you brought the paint down the expanse of the exposed parts of his chest.

"What is there not to want?" he insisted as you just laughed, "what made you choose the moon?"

"Well, the moon signals the passage of another day and ushering in of a new one - life, rebirth, a new day," you explained, "I figured it was a good way to bring in a new season and say goodbye to the old."

"How very fitting," he responded as he pulled you into his lap, causing you to giggle wildly, "this is brilliant, all of it."

"I like to think so too," you agreed, making it a point not to touch the last bits of still drying painting on his body, "now be careful, or we'll both be covered in golden glitter!"

"I think it suits you too," he took some of the leftover paint, more glitter by now than pigment or anything else and swiped across the apples of your cheeks and tip of your nose, "a golden beauty. Just as a Martell should be."

"Hmm," you hummed in delight as you slowly climbed off of his lap, "Indeed. And now, we are set and should get going. Otherwise we will be late."

"Fashionably late," he suggested as he went to grab both of your shoes, "but then again, a prince is never late, even else is simply early."

"Well, I do not happen to be a prince, so I do not get that excuse," you pulled on your sandals, "so I prefer to be on time."

"Ahh, but you are my wife," he reminded you,"therefore whatever rules apply to me, apply to you. But then again, if we are already on the verge of being late, perhaps we could just remain absent..."

"Your ploys to keep me in bed will not work," you jokingly scolded with a smile, "besides, we will have plenty of time for that tomorrow. Tomorrow is a day of rest."

"Only if you promise," he offered you his hand after straightening his belt. You took his hand with a nod before pressing a kiss to his cheek, "now shall we grace them with our presence?"

"Indeed we shall, my prince."

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Wow," Oberyn's eyes lit up as he looked around the large courtyard. There was a large bonfire in the center, and carved pumpkins scattered around, illuminated everything in a beautifully haunting way. People were already filing in, chatting and laughing merrily as they ate and drank. Luckily, most people seemed to have come in costume, "you did all of this."

"I mean I had a lot of help," you said as he took your hand in his, lacing your fingers together, "I couldn't have done it without everyone else's help. It was a collective effort, truly."

"Either way," he beamed at you, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, "this is wonderful. I like the lanterns too, are they all done by hand?"

"Yes," you grinned, taking him over to one you'd carved that very morning. It was a simple little thing, caringly made with a smile and eyes, "the girls have been helping me. They've been so great, and it was fun for all of us. We just cut the tops off and scoop out the innards and then carve into faces, and then the candle goes inside. Its supposed to ward off evil spirits."

"Very cute," he said as he studied intently, his thumb stroking the back of your hand.

"And dual purpose," you said excitedly, "the insides were used to make pies and the seeds were saved to plant a new crop come spring."

"Look at you," he shook his amusement, "always thinking about everything. One of the many things I love about you."

"You're just enchanted by the magic of the evening," you insisted, feeling flustered by his compliment all while relishing into it, "what I've done is nothing special."

"But it is," he promised, waving at the some of the townspeople that had shown up and were eagerly calling out your names, "you've brought a whole new tradition to Dorne."

"Dorne is my home now," you reminded him, "and it is also an honor for me to have everyone embrace it so."

"They love you," he insisted as a few people you passed by stared at your gilded gown in awe, "you're their princess now."

"I should hardly think so," you said shyly as you spotted Ellaria and her girls, who waved excitedly at the two of you, "I'm just here, still the same me as always. I do however have a wonderful and large family now, which I believe is far more than I deserve."

"You deserve the world," he promised as the girls ran over to you. They eagerly hugged you both before twirling around and showing you their costumes.

"Very beautiful," you promised each of them, feeling an almost overwhelmed sense of pride and love in how much effort they put into everything. They really were so much more supportive than you have ever dreamed. Family. They were family, "I hope you all have lots of fun this evening!"

"We've already gotten lots of sweets and cakes," Dorea grinned excitedly as Loreza nodded, "but don't tell Mama."

"Its between us," you winked at her as Obella rolled her eyes dramatically.

"Mama knows," she insisted as Ellaria came over, "and at this rate, we'll never be allowed sweets again."

"I can be more forgiving than you think," she promised her girls with a laugh, "now go and take some sweets and share them with others. Make sure everyone gets some."

"Yes Mama," they echoed as the older two took their younger sister's hands and they walked off to help pass out treats.

"You two look stunning as ever," she grinned as your face flushed with warmth, "the sun and the moon. How very fitting."

"And to think, we didn't even know what the other was planning," Oberyn's arm wrapped your waist as he gave her arm a squeeze, "thank you for coming."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," she insisted, "this will be a wonderful tradition to start in Dorne. But let me not occupy you any longer, I'm sure everyone is eager for a glimpse of the pair of you."

"We shall see you soon," he promised as you nodded. You were so thankful for her presence; she had a way of making you feel warm and cared for. It was a far cry from how you had felt in the beginning after your first meeting.

As you continued your jaunt about the courtyard and gardens, you pointed out everything to him and explained the significance and meaning behind the traditions and symbolism. He was enraptured, almost as if by magic, as he listened to you speak. There was something about you that always made him feel so calm and at peace, as though his heart and slow were at home.

At one point you spotted his older girls, all decked out like their younger sisters, helping out and getting boxes of goods that would hold for the winter to take those who needed them. Kindness, you decided, was definitely a Martell trait, and you hoped that none of them, or whatever possible future children of sorts you had, would ever lose that spark.

You had mentioned to him, more in passing than anything else that you had often gone around Honeyholt, passing around pies and treats to families nearby. A part of you knew that he would remember, but you hadn't expected him to want to commit to such a thing.

"What do you think?" he asked with a gentle in the direction of a full cart near the entrance to the kitchens. You looked back at him with wide, gleaming eyes, as you eagerly nodded.

"Seriously?" you asked as you grabbed his hand, holding it tightly between your own, "Oberyn, I would love to. It will be so nice to give a little something back."

"Then we shall do it," he promised, "come on, sweetest of honeys."

And that's you ended up with Oberyn at your side, each of you using one hand to pull a full cart of goods, your others hands entwined together in the middle. It was, like so many other things with Oberyn, utterly wonderful and despite being a somewhat monotonous task was fun.

You told him about your childhood in Honeyholt and your favorite holiday traditions, and he told him yours. He was such a naughty child, a smart, bold little thing from the start. Knowing how smart and mischievous Dorea and Loreza were, you had no doubt that they were the spitting image of a young Oberyn.

"Would you like to do the honors?" he asked as you stopped at the first row of houses nearing the outskirts of the village. You took a load of pies and other goods in your arms and nodded, letting him help you to the door, knocking on it gently. It was a few moments before the door always opened. A young man stuck his head as he looked at the two of you suspiciously. It was only a moment before he realized who you were, after looking Oberyn up and down.

"Oh! I-I apologize," he opened the door and gave you each a look of awe, "your highness, Lady Martell! I didn't..."

"It is okay," you insisted with a big smile, "its All Hallows Eve today. We've come to bring you some treats and goods to usher in the new season!"

"For us?" he took the items from your hands as you beamed at him, "h-how could we ever thank you-"

"There's absolutely nothing to thank us for," Oberyn insisted as the young man appeared to be close to tears. While the Martells reigned over Dorne with a kind, gentle manner, this was still more than anyone expected.

"From our family to yours," you agreed, "and if you ever need anything, our home and help is open and extended to you."

"Thank you," he said as he shook each of your hands in turn, "thank you so much. I appreciate this more than words could express."

From there, the two of you went from house to house, giving people things from your cart until there was nothing felt. Others from your household were doing the same thing, all of you going to different parts of Sunspear. You'd asked the other noble families in the various parts of Dorne to do the same, hoping they would listen and follow your lead.

By the time you finished, it was late, later than you had thought, and you were worn out. Worn out, but happy and glad to have brought All Hallows Eve to Dorne.

When you returned to the palace, the fires were still burning bright, and people were milling about and having fun. The costumes you had seen were all wonderful, and you'd gotten to hear so many stories about people's family members that had passed away.

"Your father would be proud," Oberyn promised quietly as you sat near one of the bonfires, "he'd be so proud of the woman you are."

"Thank you," you turned to him with soft eyes, "he was...always my biggest supporter. I miss him, terribly sometimes, but its not as bad anymore."

"Why's that?" he asked as you leaned over to him, putting your hand gently on his cheeks as you stroked his soft skin.

"Because of you," you whispered softly, “and your, our, family. You love me, and have given me so much more love and kindness than I could ever dream of. You are my heart, my sweet prince."

"It is not common for me to be at a loss for words," he said softly, "and yet you continually leave me stunned."

"Its because you love me," you grinned with a kiss to the tip of his nose, laughing when some of the golden glitter got on your face, "and you are a silly fool when it comes to love."

"Neither of those are lies," he insisted, "I am a most weak hearted fool for my wife."

You hummed in content as you rested your head on his shoulder, looking into the fire as a sense of tiredness overwhelmed you. But at the same time, you had a question on your mind that you'd been curious about for some time. You figured now would be the perfect time to ask him, "Oberyn?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"Your sister, Elia, what was she like?" you asked softly, "I...I'm sorry if that's out of turn, but I'm just curious. I've heard so many wonderful things about her...I would have loved to meet her."

"Its okay," he promised as you relaxed slightly, "she would have loved you and you would have loved her. She was the youngest out of the three of us. Every bit the opposite of me, she was fearless and kind, always going into everything with passion and open heart. She never made anyone feel inferior, she made everyone feel welcome and loved. She always wanted the best for her people, her husband, her children...she was one of the many people that met a cruel and wicked fate she did not deserve, nor her children. I've always...wanted to avenge her. I've come close, but luckily, I stopped before it was too late."

"In King's Landing...before the Purple Wedding..." you finished for him as you felt him nod. If even one decision had been made differently, you would not be sitting next to him, or calling him your husband, "whatever happened, I'm glad nothing happened to you."

"Ellaria was able to talk some sense into me," he admitted as you turned your head and kissed him, "as always."

"She is one of the smartest women for a reason," you agreed, "and one of the strongest if she was able to get you to see reason!"

"You wound me so," he laughed.

"You are stubborn, but I love you," you sighed as you took his hand and held it tightly in yours, "tonight we honor and celebrate her life and my father's. And those others who had left our worldly realm."

"Yes," he agreed, feeling himself get choked up, "to Elia and Haymitch."

"But you're wrong, you know," you said as you slowly stood up and reached for his hands.

"How so?"

"You're not the opposite of Elia," you insisted, "you're quite like her actually. Kind, brave, smart, loyal, handsome. You may not see it in yourself, my prince, but it is true."

"Have I told you that I love you?" he asked as he pulled you into his arms.

"I think so," you grinned at him, "but I'm not opposed to hearing it again."

"I shall repeat it until my dying breath - I love you."

"And I you," you played gently with some of the curls at the nape of his neck, "shall we retire for the evening, my love?"

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Help me?" you asked as you took off your jewelry and stood in front of the mirror. Oberyn was already stripped down to his britches, his skin still painted with golden glitter. He came up behind you, his hands going to your waist as he took the delicate circlet from the crown of your head, setting it down along with your necklace and bracelet. He kissed along your shoulder before burying his face into your neck, "Oberyn! I meant help me take this dress off!"

"I know," he grinned as he started to undo the back of your dress. He moved with deliberate slowness, making sure to touch every inch of your skin as it became bared to him, "is it horrible of me to say you look gorgeous in this dress, and even better without it?"

"Not at all, my prince," you grinned as the heavy fabric pooled at your feet, leaving in your simple undergarments. You turned to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you held him close. He kissed you gently as he slowly moved to finish undressing you, "you're going to cover me with glitter and gold!"

"You say it as though this is a bad thing," he teased as you moved to finish undressing him, "but if you want me to stop, I will gladly oblige you."

"Don't stop," you whispered against his lips, "make me as golden as you."

"You are already so golden, my love," he promised softly as he wrapped his arms tightly around you. It was such a tender, intimate act that it was enough to make you feel so safe and warm and at peace, "thank you for this."

"For this evening, bringing us a wonderful new tradition," he whispered, "for everything, my sunshine. I love you more than you could ever know."

"And I love you, my prince," you promised him, pressing kisses all over his face, "now I implore you to take me to bed and make me yours."

"Anything for you, my queen."

»»————-　♡　————-««

Permanent Taglist: @secretsweetscollectionblog @sheridans-dynamos @rogerfxckingtaylor @queenbbarnes @persephonesnebula @spacedustmazzello @ah-callie @blushingwueen @thisis-theway @el-lizzie @rosetophighlander @rae-gar-targaryen @hiscyarika @readsalot73 @huliabitch @ollyoxenfrees @coffeeandtodd @beepbeepsephy @gooddaykate @scarlettwitcher @nerdyknightwritersblog @choicesarcade @arrowswithwifi @everythingaboutnothingstuff @24kgoldentip @suckerfor-fanfics @bestintheparsec @pedrosdoll @winters-buck @javihoney @aeryntheofficial @hail-doodles @engineeredfiction @aeryntheofficial @asgardianvamp21 @keithseabrook27 @karmezii @dearspacepirates @thatsuitlooksgoodonyou @shameless-pope @paintballkid711 @mrpascals

INO Taglist: @captainskyline @scarlettvonsass @hail-doodles @unadulteratedneckherolover @the-cult-classic-bitch @adlerorzel-blog @rika-cchi @theocatkov @thatsuitlooksgoodonyou @whiskeyxinxaxteacup @shayna-winchester @xxlovingfandomsxx @ohsnapitsjanet @phoenixhalliwell @roxypeanut @imnotmentallyst4ble @catsnkooks @misslolasworld @lalablue0 @starlight-starwrites @cielphantomhixe @lady-tano @simonedk @asgardianvamp21 @earthtokace @thelastemzy @indelwen-of-mirkwood @gamingaquarius @maytheglitter @apples-of-february @prettyjewel93 @valhallavalkyrie9 @hystericalmedicine @miraelles @ohpedromypedro @afleetingdream91 @cheesecake-manufacturer @cryptkeepersoul @onlineluna @littlefool-smalljester @imnotmentallyst4ble @shelbythequeen @witchstarw @mrscrain-x7 @songsformonkeys @kiaralein @liadamerondjarin @purpletoadslimeeclipse @rpcvliz @knittingqueen13 @jaime1110 @voteforpedropascal @demoncrypt1066 @klaine-92 @goth-pigeon @rogueonestan @kiwibaekie @lv7867 @toilet-keeper @kid-from-new-zealand @stillshelbs @buckythewhitewolfx @justanotherblonde23 @dammn-dean @april-14-blog @ghostwiththemostbitch @godohammers

#oberyn martell #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #got #in name only #fem reader #all hallows eve #prince oberyn #sunshine and her moon and stars

336 notes · View notes

janiedean · 3 years ago

Note

ooh so linked to the Brienne ask re: the kingsguard part. What are your thoughts on Aerys’ kingsguard, especially like Arthur Dayne who Jaime from what I remember has complicated feelings for but pretty much idolises him. And they’re so loved by almost everyone in universe!!! Like idk how to think about them really my feelings for them are also complicated

+ okay good because I honestly don’t see why people love them so much like most of the things we’ve heard about them are like. Objectively bad. And like yeah the idea of them is cool but well that can only go so far. also I’m sorry if these asks are a mess I’m exhausted!! ALSO I think you’re amazing for answering all of us anons with such detail I always love coming on to your blog

(putting both asks in the same place uu)

in order: the fact that they're loved by everyone in-universe and fandom actually likes them (or at least arthur dayne hahahahaha god) is like... some of george's best trolling because guess what the entire point is that they're supposed to look like amazing people/the real deal when instead they're all terrible the end - except again for the poor martell prince whom we don't know enough about and I'll give him a pass bc martell people are usually not stupid af but in order:

as I said george has made a point of stating that knighthood is a rotten institution and the kg especially aerys being like... what should be the highest honor for a knight is equally as rotten as knigthood in general and is made of people who do Not Deserve The Title - I mean again hey it's orders so marital rape is fine, hey we're leaving the 15yo to man an entire castle? WHY NOT, the king is mad? WELL WE SWORE TO SERVE HIM, like not counting martell prince there isn't one single person in the aerys kg except jaime who actually upheld the oaths they swore ie protecting the innocent so make of that what you will

the fact that jaime aka the fifteen year old is literally the only one who gets the job and then goes there like 'hey we're basically covering for marital rape what the fuck' and no one else bats an eyelid should already say everything there is to say about these people's moral standard

the fact that none of them actually stuck up for the fifteen-year old who was obviously not ready for the job nor tried to idk do anything to make it easier on him or whatever also says everything about their moral standard because honestly fuck you

the fact that everyone thinks they're amazing jaime included when they're all pretty much shitty is like... well, same as fandom does, which means that the readers bought what people in-narrative do... except that the moment you scratch the surface it's really damned bad

and I'm saying barristan is on thin ice because from his chapters you can see he's like... not a bad dude but like his reaction to jaime being in there still when he saw aerys is 'ah that fucker who killed the king and was so proud he had to try and get into it at fifteen'? like??? fuck you?? honestly the fact that all of them literally served a dude who put people on fire and was a menace/danger to the realm and then have the gall to think that jaime is the worst or who didn't like try to help him or anything while he was obv struggling with his vows and the fact that he was serving a madman says all about their moral standards, again

and honestly arthur dayne is the literal worst of all of them because like - first of all oh you knight the 15yo who goes along with you slaying bandits and you don't try to dissuade him from joining the kg? what the fucking fuck am I supposed to think - second of all you don't even warn him of what is expecting him when he joins when you've been there for a while? - but third of all which drives me insane and I hate that fandom sleeps on it and goes around happily like ARTHUR/LYANNA THE SHIP OF DREAMS... okay listen like I have literally zero investment in lyanna as a character or in r + l and I don't necessarily think he did everything - I think they had a mutual infatuation and eloped and she sorely regretted it and then it was on r. who shouldn't have like acted on it because he happened to be the 20+ year old with a wife and kids, but there's the whole tower of joy situation - in which sorry but we have arthur fucking off KL with other kg people and leaving all the others in the literal shit bc they'd have to deal with aerys and it'd be less of them than they should be, to go with rhaegar to the tower of joy to help him elope which whatever, and then lyanna was left there after r. had to go back... when her brother and father were burned alive and like if she knew that then I doubt she'd have wanted to stay and if she didn't then they withheld fairly important fucking information, so like he stayed there guarding a pregnant 15-16 yo who most likely did not want to be there and who is pregnant by his best friend whose family oh accidentally murdered half of hers........ and lyanna was there even after rhaegar died so I mean it's not like the moment he happened this dude goes and says 'hey maybe we should actually go back and see if we can solve this mess' no he kept her prisoner there anyway - on top of that... here I'm wildly speculating but: he had to know rhaegar was dead and when ned showed up if we are to believe him and idt he was unreliable on that... ned didn't want to fight him or kill him he just wanted to get his sister and leave and like he was most likely in love with ashara aka arthur's sister so why the fuck would he want to kill him right, and like rhaegar's dead and arthur has nothing to lose by letting ned up especially knowing that lyanna is fucking dying in childbirth like she's dying her brother's there just let him up and solve it later esp when the dude doesn't want to kill you....... but no ned had to kill him because he wouldn't budge and why the fucking fuck wouldn't you budge at that point? your side lost the war, the guy you were friends with that you did all of this for is dead, the girl is about to die at least let her die with her family, why? - only thing I can deduce from it: that rhaegar told him that the baby's survival was the most important thing because third head of the dragon blah blah blah and that if the war was lost to just grab the baby and lyanna if she survived and fuck off to essos until he grew up, except that lyanna didn't survive so the conclusion is that he tried to stop ned from going up there bc he'd have found out about the baby and tried to stop them and at that point who gives a fuck if lyanna died or not but he'd have liked... let her die and kill ned in the process and done that most likely, and sorry but when they knightly vows are, I would like to remind everyone, In the name of the Warrior I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Father I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother I charge you to defend the young and innocent. In the name of the Maid I charge you to protect all women…. like... what, what exactly has this dude done that would qualify as that? because lyanna would be young and innocent and a woman and he basically is letting her die, that behavior does not qualify as bravery and he'd like... deny the kid a chance of growing up with his family period if he killed ned and he didn't seem to particularly give a fuck las we checked, and that's like not counting the whole 'oh I won't tell the 15yo who idolizes me that he's signing

his life away to trauma nor I will support him for shit when he does' part of it, but the tower of joy stuff is shady whichever way you look at it and honestly the more time passes the more I'm convinced this guy is just a complete pos and the worst of them all except gregor when it comes to like 'people thinking you're a good knight and you're actually a pos instead' and I'm dying on that hill until george proves me wrong

and on that the thing is that... I ranted about it once here but basically jaime idolizes the shit out of him because he never saw that even if his subconscious kinda knows because when he had the weirwood dream his greatest fear was confronting the former kg and everyone was accusing him of stuff he couldn't have physically prevented (more ranting on the weirwood dream here) and he's there like 'ah I wanted to be arthur dayne but I became the smiling knight instead' but like... actually he is more of a true knight than arthur dayne can ever hope to be? because like in the above meta I was talking specifically about how to pia he's like... better than arthur dayne, but like not to be that person but jaime who thinks he's the gregor clegane of his time and not arthur dayne, while arthur dayne was... doing the shady toj thing with lyanna - saved an entire city from aerys blowing it up - risked his neck for brienne even if he didn't even like her as in he got himself kicked in a healing stump when he couldn't even stand up for himself so she wouldn't be raped - risked his neck going back for her at harrenhal and jumped into the bear pit without even knowing how he'd manage it - was actually being a decent person to tommen until c. forced him to leave - the moment he saw what happened with pia he gave her her rapist's head when she's like a commoner no one gaf about and took her into her service - when his squire wanted to bed her he like told him to be kind to her jfc - is per tyrion the only relative who actually loved him/freed him/actually stuck up for him (and tysha is on tywin thank you all very much and jaime feels so great about it he doesn't think about it until he can't anymore) (also he was the one chasing the bandits away in the first place so he was probably there like oH I HELPED A MAIDEN too lmao god fuck tywin) - actually stuck for his cat vow bc he took riverrun without bloodshed - sent brienne after sansa with the magic amazing sword because he wanted to upheld their shared vow to cat going against his own family - the moment brienne shows up like hey wanna blow this joint and leave the army you don't wanna lead to find sansa he didn't even like blink before saying yes and I'm supposed to think that in between him and arthur dayne he isn't the only one who actually stuck to his vows as well as he could/knows anything about them/is actually a trueknight™? because lmao the fact that jaime doesn't fancy himself one because of aerys when everyone fancies arthur dayne one when the latter did absolutely fucking nothing beyond slaying bandits to put his money where his mouth was while jaime didn't even like brand himself like that and still did all of that and half of it was acting on instinct not even like doing the math before and *he* was the one wanting to be knighted at fifteen and took his vows seriously when oh wait knightly vows are basically the epitome of selflessness is like again grrm trolling the hell out of everyone characters included but it's clear from the narrative imvho and I can't wait for the moment he serves the just desserts and a) jaime realizes it b) everyone else in-narrative realizes it c) bran timetravels to the fucking toj and we find out what actually went down there and this saint arthur narrative is burned to the ground because honestly no

there, I think I spat out almost all of my venom XD

#anonymous #ask post #janie writes meta #ch: jaime lannister #ch: arthur dayne #anti arthur dayne #spoilers: ALMOST because like #everyone writes fic abt arthurlyanna raising jon in essos being IN LOOVEEEE #which honestly... given the premises is like guys ship what you want but i'm skeptical #and then I had to stand through years of ppl bashing on joncon #for having done THE EXACT SAME THING WITH AEGON #but oh he was pathetic for that apparently #like take your not really veiled homophobia and go honestly #bc giving shit to joncon for stuff that arthur or barristan already ddi #and WORSE for that matter #(or ned lmao)#is just.... never mind it's been years i'm still pissed off #only good thing about 8x05 is that the joncon hatred sort of stopped #bc they realized he wasn't wasted ink #but yeah nvm that here you go anon #i'mma stop now

27 notes · View notes

concussed-to-pieces · 4 years ago

Text

Her Dove, His Falcon, Their Shield Part Two

Fandom: Game Of Thrones

Pairing: Oberyn/Reader/Ellaria

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Disclaimer for Game Of Thrones writing here! Hello everyone, welcome to the next installment! I hope you're all doing well. Thank you so much for being here. Enjoy!

Tag List: @culturalrebel @huliabitch @absurdthirst @helplessly-nonstop @lackofhonor @the-feckless-wonder @cyaredindjarin @thesadvampire @robin-writes @buckysalefty

Part One

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains allusions to previous abuse, non-graphic mentions of pregnancy/labor and birth, and threesome antics. Stay safe!]

"Again!" Oberyn demanded, wiping the sweat off his brow.

You feinted left, then right, the butt of your pike nearly striking the prince in the ribs before he danced out of the way. You grunted, discouraged by the fact that you still weren't fast enough to catch him. You had been closer that time though…

The prince laughed, the noise in and of itself immensely galling. "Perhaps if you land a blow on me today, my newest daughter will bear your name!" He taunted. "Shieldove Sand has such a ring to it."

You leveled your pike at him. "Save your teasing for your courtiers, Prince Oberyn!" You snarled, "I am in no mood for your damned japery at my expense!"

"Hold." Oberyn ordered sharply.

You slumped a little, your grip on the pike loose now. "I...I apologize, your highness."

"You are concerned about her." It wasn't a question and you well understood that.

"I am." You allowed softly.

Ellaria had gone into labor several hours before and Oberyn had specifically sought you out for some particularly grueling training. His smile was tight-lipped as the two of you squared off in the empty training courtyard. You knew he was worried as well, but you were bordering on frantic.

Oberyn's heavy sigh took you by surprise. "I would give every breath in my body to be there with her, but I am told it is an excessively messy affair. She does not wish for me to see her birth." He said bluntly. "Every time it is like this. Every time I am caged, constantly pacing, driving myself mad with thoughts that grow more and more dark as the hours pass."

You bit your lip and then laid a hand on his shoulder. "I am sorry Oberyn, I didn't mean to imply that...I know I am not the only one who fears for her safety." You apologized timidly.

He covered your hand with his own, thumb rubbing over your knuckles idly. "You called me Oberyn." He mused after a moment. You flinched, but he kept your hand where it was. "I am glad, my falcon. It heartens me to know that you think of her as I do."

"We can do naught but pray for her safety and keep ourselves busy until she requires you once again." You pointed out, desperate to change the subject so he wouldn't dwell on your error of addressing him by his given name. "I must train even harder, for what if the new babe is like your Sand Snake Elia?"

Oberyn burst out laughing, bumping his forehead into yours. "Truly, what if! We will have no choice but to rally the guard at that point. No one will be safe." You couldn't help your smile when he looked at you, his eyes crinkling with mirth. "Thank you for the levity, my falcon."

"I live to serve, your highness."

He sighed heavily, knocking the butt of his spear against the ground. "How many times must I insist you call me Oberyn?" The prince began to back away, his spear twirling easily in his deft hands. You shook your head ruefully and did not reply, your own weapon in a low defensive position. "Prepare yourself, Ser Shieldove! You face the Red Viper of House Martell!" He announced with a grand flourish, charging in afterwards.

You easily parried his first strike, and dodged his second. The third rasped against your chain mail loudly, making the prince grin triumphantly before you brought the haft of your pike up and threw him back a step. "Too cocky, princeling!" You admonished, startling another laugh out of him. "You'll have to do better than that!"

Your pike thrust out and he slipped around it like the snake he was, his own mail clicking with the sharpness of his motions. You scoffed, swinging the shaft instead to finally catch him firmly in the ribs. The prince staggered, but quickly took advantage of your shock as his spear jabbed low, aiming for your legs.

At the pressure of meeting your body, the safety binding around the blade of the spear tore slightly. You felt something catch on the inside of your unarmored thigh when Oberyn snapped his wrist back, his spear singing through the air with the speed of his retreat. You caught his next attack with the palm of your hand around the haft of his spear, halting the blow before it could land. "Mind your blade." You warned, tipping your head to the now-exposed metal at the head of his spear.

Oberyn nodded, then his eyes widened. As he strode forward, your thigh began to sting. You glanced down, startled by the amount of blood that already darkened your hose. Oberyn shoved you back a step with the force of his approach, his fingers tearing at the laced placket on your trews.

"W-What are you doing?!" You protested, your voice pitched abnormally high out of fear as you slapped your hands down over his own to still them. He was too close, why was he-

"I have just slit your leg open and you ask what I'm doing? I should have made you wear your cuisses, I am a fool." He hissed, "Sparring with you while we are both in turmoil was me tempting fate, and now you...have…"

His words faded after he gave up on your placket and simply tore the hole in your hosiery a bit wider, exposing more of your bare thigh. You closed your eyes tightly, not wanting to see his face.

"Ser Shieldove, what are these marks from?" Oberyn queried after a moment, his trembling fingers grazing one of the many silvered scars.

"Pinching, Prince Oberyn." You answered softly.

"Pinching." His voice was flat with disbelief.

"When I would make noise or cry out during, Prince Oberyn."

"Gods, what?" Oberyn breathed.

You shrugged helplessly. "He did much worse to others. I was useful." You were certain he must be staring at you, but you could not bring yourself to meet his eyes.

His arms wrapped around your shoulders and he embraced you, pulling you into his chest and resting his forehead against your temple. "That is...barbarous, monstrous." He seethed. "To so boldly attempt to rob you of any delight you might ever have--I tremble with rage!" His laugh was sardonic, bitter, and he was indeed shaking. "So that you can feel the echoes of his lecherous manhandling, every time you bathe or dress?"

"I do not believe he expected me to escape." You admitted, startled by his rough inhale of breath. "I believe he expected me to perish one of those nights, but I was hardier than his usual playthings."

"No more, falcon." Oberyn whispered. "Please. My heart breaks at the notion of you enduring such heinous treatment." He kissed your forehead and you flushed. This was far removed from his usual lighthearted flirting! He sounded distraught, burying his face in your neck as he continued to hold you.

My heart breaks…

Slowly, hesitantly, you raised your hands to rest on his back. Your fingers fumbled for purchase momentarily on his armor. If he merely sought you out for comfort because Ellaria was indisposed, then comfort him you would. Somehow. "I have survived him, however." You sighed. "And thanks to you, he will not harm anyone ever again."

"It feels like too little in the wake of his reign of terror." Oberyn muttered. "I did it solely for my sister, for the dashed body of my infant nephew and the slaughter of my niece, but had I stopped to think about the debt that man must have wracked up with his nightmarish actions…" He trembled again. "It is as though I was picked by the gods themselves to strike him down. Why me, I wonder?"

His palm covered the wound he had created, pressing down steadily as he helped you hobble to the nearby bench. "You worry too much!" You waved off his concern, peering at the wound. It was deeper than you had anticipated, but it was still hardly a scratch to someone like yourself. "This parchment cut shall not fell me. Unless you've poisoned your blade, Red Viper?"

"Never!" Oberyn protested. "I would not gamble so foolishly on naught but a simple sparring match, Ser Shieldove."

"You do loathe losing." You teased. "You must tell your daughters I died valiantly, cursing your name while choking on my own spittle or something equally as glorious."

"It would be a death for the history books." Oberyn assured you, the furrow of his heavy brow lessening somewhat as he seemed to realize that you would be alright.

A servant skittered around the corner of the hallway leading to the training yard, her gauzy skirts bunched up in her hands so she could run freely. "Prince Oberyn!" She called, gasping for breath.

The prince whirled and you lunged to your feet, your leg forgotten. "Speak, girl!" Oberyn demanded of the servant, who had obviously run quite a fair bit in order to find him.

"Baby--Ellaria wants--come now-" The girl panted, gesturing vaguely behind her.

Oberyn was still for a moment, like he was frozen. You placed a hand on his rear and gave him a gentle shove, saying, "tell her no matter what happens, I am proud of her, Oberyn." The prince nodded hurriedly, shaking off his daze and bolting down the hall.

You grimaced. Hopefully, no one would question the blood that stained his hand and vambrace! You decided your best option would be to retreat to your quarters to dress your wound and wait, on the off chance that the prince or his paramour would deign to summon you.

You had hoped that the sparring would help you expend some of your nervous energy, but it did not seem that luck was on your side. You found yourself endlessly restless, pacing back and forth beside your pallet as the sun slowly sank. The bells for the evening meal rang out, but you ignored them.

You finally lit your lantern and settled down into the chair beside your bed, focusing on the flame that flickered in the glass panes. It was an old exercise, but comforting in its familiarity. You let your mind empty, let everything drift away until all that remained was the candle and yourself.

All I ask is that they are healthy, whole and strong. You were uncertain of who you prayed to in these times of meditation, daring to surmise that you prayed to anyone who might be listening. All I ask is that Ellaria is well, and the baby is well. Your brow furrowed. Please.

You did not know how much time passed while you were in prayerful contemplation, only realizing how sore your back was when the door to your quarters was thrown open. The sudden motion made you flinch in surprise, looking up. It was that same servant, the young girl, her face alight. "The prince and his lady have sent for you, Ser Shieldove!" she chirped.

Thank you, you threw your heartfelt gratitude to whoever might be responsible before snuffing out the candle.

Clad in only light hose and undertunic, you raced through the maze of outer hallways with all the speed and eagerness of a child. As you approached the birthing chambers, however, you attempted to calm your thundering heart and turbulent mind, slowing to an undignified jog.

The guard at the door saluted you stiffly, opening the door after a moment of floundering with his gauntlets. You crept into the room, closing the door gingerly behind you and then turning to survey the scene.

The first thing you noted was Ellaria sound asleep in the lavishly-structured bed, her arms supporting a swaddled, tiny babe hungrily mouthing at her breast. You heaved a sigh of relief, slumping back against the door. The next thing you saw was Oberyn beside the bed, still in his armor, with a second swaddled bundle cradled in his embrace.

The prince looked up at you and you saw that his eyes were glassy with tears. "I have been blessed." He said hoarsely.

"Two?" You whispered, barely able to believe it yourself.

Oberyn nodded, beckoning you closer. "Come see my first son, Ser Shieldove." He implored, his voice breaking. No longer caring if you seemed overeager, you strode across the chamber to the prince's side. Oberyn tugged at the swaddling by the babe's face, allowing you a clear view.

"Oh." You sighed wistfully, reaching out to touch his sweet little nose before you remembered your manners and snatched your hand back. This was a Sand, after all, and the firstborn boy no less!

Oberyn tilted his head towards the washbasin beside the bed. "Wash yourself, and you may hold him."

"A-Are you sure? What if I...gods, he is so small, Prince Oberyn." You whispered. Oberyn just nodded, gesturing to the basin again. You obliged him rapidly but thoroughly, washing yourself to your elbows and then patting your arms dry with the clean towel. You returned and you were confronted with the reality of a slumbering, swaddled babe being deposited into your arms.

"Cradle his neck, rest him upon your breast. The little ones have no real strength to hold themselves up." Oberyn instructed you softly, moving your hands until the baby was secure against your chest. "Look at him, just look." The prince didn't seem to be able to stop marveling at his new son, drawing a whisper-soft finger down the bridge of his wee nose. You were almost worried about the excessive attention he was giving to the boy, when he abruptly turned back to Ellaria. "Now, precious daughter, are you sated?" He cooed. Gods, domesticity suited him, armor and all. "Will you grant your poor mother respite? She has toiled long to bring you to my arms."

"Too long." Ellaria agreed, smiling wearily up at Oberyn. He kissed her forehead, losing the battle with his tears. "Do not cry, lover!" His paramour chided him as he sniffled.

"I am the most blessed man in all of Dorne and you would have me be stoic, woman? This one time, I'm afraid I cannot acquiesce!" Oberyn huffed, carefully scooping his sleeping daughter off of Ellaria's chest. You stifled your own giggles at the prince's petulant behavior, swaying back and forth idly.

Ellaria glanced up at the sound of your snorting, her eyes barely open as she smiled at you. "I am glad you're here, Ser Shieldove. I know my little ones will be safe now." She mumbled, obviously moments from falling back to sleep.

You nodded, chuckling at Oberyn's indignant grumble. The baby in your arms stirred and you began to sing softly, not wanting to disturb Ellaria. "The moon rides sand dunes home to me, she calls me sweetly by name. I am a child, a child of Dorne, the moon she knows my name." You crooned, still swaying to and fro in an attempt to lull the babe back to sleep. "The sun rides sea waves home to me, he calls me proudly by name. I am a child, a child of Dorne, the sun he knows my name." You continued to hum the tune, even as you felt the little one relax against your chest.

"How do you know that song?" Oberyn whispered.

You glanced up, but his expression was guarded. "I heard one of the older knights singing it and I asked him to teach me. He said it was a child's song." You replied, whispering as well. "I simply liked the tune. Should I not sing it?"

"I have not heard that song since I was only knee-high myself. I had all but forgotten it." Oberyn's eyes were thoughtful, the prince studying you closely. "You are full of surprises, my falcon. It gives me a certain joy to know that the first song my babes ever heard was Moon And Sun." His brow furrowed. "I cannot recall the third verse, the one about the stars."

"The stars crown mountains high above, unbowed, unbent, unbroken. We are the stars, the stars of Dorne, the world will know our name." You prompted softly.

"You have a lovely voice, my dove. Perhaps you are a nightingale?" Oberyn teased. "I shall ask you to perform at their naming."

"Your mockery always wounds me so deeply, your highness." You deadpanned. Tiny fingers wrapped around your index and you looked down, but the child's eyes were still closed. "I have been seized, it appears." You said with a smile, laying a careful kiss on the baby's head.

Oberyn cleared his throat suspiciously hard, thumbing away a few stray tears. You chose not to comment, allowing him his moment of paternal weakness.

…

You spread the blanket out on the ground in the blood orange grove, laughing when you caught sight of Dorea clobbering a nearby tree with her child-sized morningstar. "Lady Dorea! I believe you have vanquished that particular foe!" You called.

"Ser Shieldove, there is an orange that I can't reach and it is the best one! I need it for Mama!" She yelled back, bouncing on her toes as she tried to jump for the fruit. You shook your head, making your way through the rows of trees to where she stood.

The fruit was (probably) just within your grasp if you stood on your tiptoes and braced against the trunk of the tree. You stretched out your arm, reaching upwards and-

Someone's hands landed on your sides, pressing into your armor and lifting you with ease. You managed to grab the orange, laughing when you realized that it was Oberyn who had given you your boost. "Your highness! Thank you for your brave effort." You said with a grateful smile, tossing the orange to Dorea. The little girl tore off towards the blanket you had spread, hollering to the approaching Ellaria that she had the perfect orange for her.

You expected Oberyn to release you with some quip, but oddly, he did not. His touch was not particularly uncomfortable. Firm enough that you could feel it through your armor, but loose enough that you knew you could easily twist free should you desire to. In amongst the sheltering branches of the blood orange tree, the prince caged you against the trunk and studied you intently.

"Your highness?" You asked softly. "We should return, the children are-" His mouth on your own halted your words and you went stiff. His kiss tasted of fresh blood orange, tangy with citrus and you found yourself enjoying it a fair bit more than you should have, your chest heaving against his own when he finally pulled away.

"My falcon, my dove, shield of the Red Viper's clutch." Oberyn breathed, his pupils blown in the green-dappled light beneath the tree's foliage. "Forgive my impudence. Seeing you with my children stirs my mind to such wicked thoughts."

"Prince Oberyn!" you protested, your traitorous body still reeling from his kiss. But no, you couldn't, Ellaria-- "Please, you must think of your family." You insisted tremulously. "I will not let you ruin the beautiful life you have built for yourself. This...affection, whatever it is you're feeling for me--" You sucked in a sharp breath. "It is nothing but a misplaced infatuation. It will pass. You must consider your children, your highness, a-and Lady Ellaria."

"You truly believe that?" Oberyn asked, but he didn't sound angry. If anything, he sounded hurt. "You believe that I would seek you out due to something so cheap as infatuation? What, simply to exercise the power I have over you?" You shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak. "Your silence is damning, Ser Shieldove. I would never try to wound Ellaria or my children, just as I would never try to wound you. I thought I had made that clear."

His hand carded delicately through your hair, tucking a few loose locks back into your braids. "I do not believe you would purposely seek to hurt me." You amended finally, your gaze firmly fixed on the toes of your boots. "Many men do not realize the harm they cause, either through their actions or their wandering eyes."

"I am not many men." Oberyn replied softly. "I have lain with both men and women, my falcon. I know well the pain of careless touch and I do not abide by it in my partners." He stepped away from you after a moment, shrugging. "If you are so concerned about my infatuation, mayhaps you ought to ask my paramour what she thinks of inviting you into our bedchambers?" He suggested with a feigned attitude of nonchalance.

"Are you mad? Obe-Prince Oberyn, you are hers. There are certain things that one does not do, even as a prince of Dorne." You snapped, your turmoil adding a sharp edge to your voice.

Oberyn looked startled, then he had the audacity to grin. "I am hers, you say? You insinuate that I ought to receive permission? Then I'll go ask her now-"

"What? No, that's not it at--damn it, Oberyn, take this seriously!" You hissed, wanting to strangle him. "She has borne your children, have some respect for her and don't attempt to stray!"

Oberyn's laughter washed over you and you were torn between the urge to punch him in the gut and the urge to bury yourself alive. "Stray?" He finally sputtered. "Forgive my mirth, my falcon. I am...All I can say is that you really must speak with my paramour. I imagine the two of you will have a highly interesting discussion."

"Oh, of that I am certain." You said icily, stalking past him and heading towards the blanket where Ellaria played with the twins. You bowed stiffly and her eyebrow quirked, as if to ask what's wrong? "I will return to the water gardens, my lady. His highness appears to be in such ferociously high spirits I assume he will be more than up to the task of warding off any attackers."

"Do not leave, Ser Shieldove!" Oberyn boomed directly behind you, making you jump out of your skin. Gods, he could be so quiet! "I will maintain my composure, I give you my word!"

"It is not your composure I worry about." You shot back under your breath, making him struggle vainly to disguise his laughter as a coughing fit.

Ellaria looked back and forth between her lover and you, her eyes dancing like they did when she and Oberyn enjoyed one of their many secret jokes. "I see you both have been sampling the oranges." She commented pointedly, tapping her lower lip while winking at you. "They do stain so beautifully, don't they lover?"

"But Ser Shieldove has not even had any yet!" Loreza said plaintively, the younger Sand's red-stained fingers tugging at Dorea's hand. "We should get her some."

"Aye, how is it that you have blood orange on your mouth and not a mark on your hands?" Oberyn asked playfully, as if he didn't already know, this was all his fault!

You were back to warring between the two urges and the option to punch Oberyn, while absolutely certain to lead to your immediate incarceration, was looking more appealing by the second. You set your jaw, willing away the tears that were trying to build as Loreza set off with Dorea in tow. "I am--I am leaving now." You said thickly, cursing yourself for the sob that blatantly hitched your words.

Ellaria immediately noticed your discomfort, her smile vanishing. "Are you well, my dove?" You hiccupped roughly, nodding. Your performance wouldn't have fooled anyone, but Ellaria seemed to take pity on you and allowed you to dismiss yourself.

You stalked off through the orchard, trying vainly to stem the flow of tears that poured down your face. You finally stopped beneath one of the many trees, sliding down the trunk and wrapping your arms around your knees so you could hide your face as you sobbed. It was incredibly unfair of Oberyn to tease you so maliciously, but what did you expect from a prince? No doubt to him, the common folks' feelings were nothing but toys. Your heart had soared and broken all at once, leaving you feeling bruised and aching.

The summer of being wanted, desired by someone, the winter of knowing that giving in to them would destroy their happiness...

"Ser Shieldove!" You started, looking up. You hadn't noticed Loreza and Dorea returning from their hunt, the two girls arm-in-arm. "What happened? Did you get hurt?" Dorea asked worriedly, making your heart break all over again. "Should we get Mama?"

"Oh, no no!" You tried to assuage their concern, giving the two girls a watery smile while you cast your mind around for a suitable excuse. "I--I saw a bee."

"You're scared of bees?!" Loreza erupted incredulously. "I didn't think you were scared of anything!"

"Not even our papa!" Dorea paused, then added, "but I'm scared of bees too. I got stung once, on my foot. That's why I wear my big boots now." She said importantly, shuffling the aforementioned boots. They did look oversized for her stature. You had never noticed…

An orange was thrust at your face, Loreza blinking solemnly down at you. "We found you a good one. It's ripe, I promise." The two of them plopped down on either side of you like little sentries, Dorea brandishing her tiny morningstar.

You turned the orange over and over in your hands. "You know, where I am from, these are only for royalty." You began suddenly, digging your nails into the peel. "I had never even touched one before I came to Dorne."

"Never?" Loreza gawked, her own cheeks smeared with red from her feast. "I love oranges. Kumquats. Grapefruits."

"Lemons are better than grapefruits. More spicy." Dorea said firmly. "Like dragon peppers."

"I don't like dragon peppers." Loreza retorted sulkily. "They burn my tongue."

The two girls bickered around you while you slowly peeled and ate the fruit, your turbulent thoughts calming under the press of the mundane task. You felt foolish for letting your emotions get the best of you; obviously Oberyn only teased you because he knew he would get a reaction! You pushed away the memory of how gently he had tucked your hair back into its braids. It was probably a force of habit for him, having had so many daughters. It meant nothing.

You tore apart the last two slices of orange and slurped the juice off the heel of your hand, realizing that Dorea and Loreza had gone quiet. A quick look confirmed your suspicions: the two of them were sound asleep.

You exhaled through your nose, then settled back against the tree. You eased Loreza down into your lap, stroking over her hair absently. The little girl yawned, but did not move. Dorea slumped into your arm and you carefully wrapped it around her instead, keeping your hand on her shoulder so she didn't topple over. Your own eyelids grew heavy the longer you sat with the two little girls, though you knew you ought to be vigilant for any dangers that could be lurking. Worn out from your crying jag, you slipped from consciousness yourself.

You were roused what must have been hours later by a cautious touch on your shoulder. You jerked awake, your hand flying to the pommel of your seldom-used sword. "Tis' only me, my dove." Ellaria soothed, her hand resting on your shoulder. "You did not make it back to the water gardens, I see." She nodded downwards at the sleeping child in your lap.

The sun was hanging low and red on the horizon, casting a pink hue over the land. "Seems I didn't." You yawned indecently wide, then carefully hugged Dorea a bit closer. "The little ones found me an orange fit for royalty to eat, and we spoke of important matters."

"Oh?" Ellaria arched a brow.

"Bees, my lady. We spoke of bees."

"Have you found them, my love?" You heard footsteps approaching. "Ah! I should have known." Oberyn continued softly, obviously trying not to wake the twins that slumbered in his own arms. "Safe and sound asleep."

Ellaria roused her daughters, eventually permitting you to get to your feet and work the kinks out of your neck from sitting in such an awkward position for so long. "I believe we should speak." Ellaria murmured, placing her hand on your shoulder once again.

You shook your head violently. "There is naught to speak about, my lady. I assure you, I shall cause you no trouble." You knew that your tone was exceptionally weary, but you hoped she could forgive such indiscretion.

"Listen to Ellaria, Ser Shieldove." Oberyn demanded. "This is a mistake-"

"I'm well aware that what occurred was a mistake." You interrupted him through gritted teeth. "And as I said, Prince Oberyn, I will cause no trouble for you or your lady."

Oberyn opened his mouth to retort but Ellaria gestured for him to be silent. "Tomorrow, then?" She phrased it like a request, but you knew better than to think you could refuse her.

You bowed perfectly, your form ramrod straight when you saluted her and the prince. Your words were dripping with false sincerity as you stated, "Of course, my lady. I live to serve."

…

The dread that you felt permeated your very marrow. You were certain you would be sent away. What else did one do with a member of their household who was untrustworthy, especially if their partner proved they could not or would not stay away from such temptations?

This was surely the end of your proud career under the banner of House Martell. You were a fool for thinking that you could have been happy here.

You packed your few possessions with an air of sorrowful finality. You hadn't acquired much during your time in these lodgings, your living space admittedly Spartan. When you were summoned, the manservant found you sitting patiently on your bed in your armor, your satchel slouched on the floor.

"Ser Shieldove, Ellaria Sand requests your presence." The older man droned, raising an eyebrow at your state of preparedness.

You nodded, trying not to let your apprehension show as you thanked him and proceeded out into the hall. Your boots felt like they were lined with lead and your eyes stung from all the heartsick weeping you had done the night before. Your stomach would not cease feverishly knotting.

All too soon you found yourself at the door to the prince's chambers, raising your hand to knock. You hesitated momentarily, flattening your palm on the door and then resting your forehead against the intricate latticework. Your shoulders heaved with a single, soundless sob before you straightened back up. You would face this trial like all the others in your life, with some bare shred of dignity.

You knocked on the door. Upon hearing Ellaria's voice bidding you to enter, you unhitched the latch and let the door swing open. You ought to have known that Oberyn would be present as well. You weren't sure why seeing him standing on their terrace felt so...final.

"Ser Shieldove, you come dressed for war." Ellaria remarked, sounding surprised. "Please, set your bag and blade by the door."

"I sought to make my dismissal simple, my lady." Your voice rasped in your throat when you spoke. You made no move to come further into the room, nor did you release your hold on your bag. "We do not need to drag this out, especially not from some misguided desire to soften the blow."

Oberyn turned to look at you, his brow furrowed. But you only had eyes for Ellaria, the woman rising from her vanity to pad barefoot across the floor to you. She stood before you, unarmed, unafraid, her hair still loose around her face. "Why do you believe you were brought here for dismissal, my sweet dove?" Ellaria asked. Gods, gods, her tenderness was going to reave your soul from your body.

You swallowed hard. "I...forgive me, my lady. Please, forgive me. I was weak and permitted my emotions to get the better of me. I did not firmly reprimand Prince Oberyn when he kissed me in the orchard. I take full responsibility for my failure." You bowed your head in grief, your dry eyes burning. "I will not bring shame to your family with my indiscretion, so I come willingly to my dismissal."

"She kisses like a virgin, Ellaria." Oberyn murmured, a hand cupping his paramour's hip and tucking her into his side. "She kisses like she has never been kissed. It was divine."

You flushed hotly, certain that he was mocking you. "I cannot believe your cruelty." You muttered incredulously. "To jest about something like that!"

"Is it true, my little dove?" Ellaria purred, her hand stroking your cheek. "Do you kiss like a virgin?" You stared at her, thoroughly confused now. You did not even notice her other hand cupping your face, utterly transfixed by how close she was. She was so near that you could see there were tiny flecks of gold in the brown of her irises.

And then she kissed you.

Your satchel fell off your shoulder, hitting the floor with a muffled thud when you reached out clumsily, gathering the other woman in your arms. She let you, she let you, gods, she was kissing you and that was her tongue teasing your own. You whimpered into her mouth, bewildered and helpless to resist her.

"I think you are right, lover." Ellaria agreed after she took pity on you and allowed you a moment to breathe. "Hot and trembling and yet so, so eager."

"I...do not understand." You said weakly.

"Oberyn and I found long ago that we share certain proclivities, my dove." Ellaria explained, toying with your hair. "Particularly in the bedroom."

You felt like your mind couldn't catch up to your mouth, stammering, "S-So...wait, the both of you…?"

Oberyn, his chin resting on Ellaria's shoulder, gave you a sly wink. "Aye, my love has excellent taste." The man tugged Ellaria's dressing gown to the side, baring her shoulder so he could shower it with kisses. "We have a special affinity for strapping, chivalrous types."

"So I'm not...I wouldn't...the-the both of you would know about me?" You stuttered.

"What do you mean, my falcon?" Oberyn asked curiously.

"Well, I just...I assumed you were seeking me out as a--a secret. Something akin to adultery." Your voice faltered a bit. "B-Behind Lady Ellaria's back." You watched as understanding appeared to dawn on the prince, his brow furrowing darkly.

"Oh no, no no, gentle dove." Ellaria cupped your face with her hands. "We indulge together and we indulge openly. You would not be Oberyn's secret plaything." She assured you sincerely.

"Forgive me, I did not mean to imply that I think so little of you!" You apologized to Oberyn, who still looked somewhat thunderous. "I was distraught and confused, your highness. You know well that I have been wounded before. Please, please forgive me." You wrung your hands fervently. "I would do anything to-"

"Be still, my falcon. You protest overmuch." Oberyn chided, his expression clearing. "If you believe that your simple misunderstanding grieved me, I should hope that you never heard all the terrible, salacious rumors spread about me in King's Landing!" He smirked. "Such imaginative people."

"They certainly had a strange way of slandering you." Ellaria remarked, her lips twitching into a wry smile. "Do you remember what they said about your cock?"

"Oh that one was my favorite." Oberyn, no doubt noticing your horrified look, began to laugh in earnest. "There was a rumor that my cock was the same as a horse's, you understand." He finally managed to explain. "Length, girth, a hearty amount of description went into this tale. I feared I would disappoint, after hearing such an inventive story about myself! Mercifully, none of the lovely women and men in the brothel seemed particularly distressed about me lacking a cock that would outright murder them. One poor girl swooned from relief, timid thing."

"Oh dear." You said faintly. "I mean, the rumors are not wholly unfounded, but perhaps slightly less exaggeration-" You halted abruptly with a sharp squeak of dismay, what had you just said?!

"Flatterer! Always, it's in your blood I'd wager!" Oberyn chuckled, shaking his head. "I believe it is due more to my age, prolific partners and casual promiscuity. No one there could fathom such a thing, though in Dorne we view it as a common practice. That and the unwavering love I had for all my daughters. They claimed I was barking mad. Surely, I ought to be cursing the Seven every time a new girl was born." He scoffed derisively, blowing a raspberry as though he was a child. "Instead of being delighted with a healthy babe to love and spoil, sing songs to and dandle upon my knee. Aye, Prince Oberyn is surely mad."

His hand reached out to cover Ellaria's on your cheek and you closed your eyes, leaning into their joint touch.

"Gods, is she not the loveliest woman you have ever laid eyes on?" Oberyn mused softly.

"Truly. So strong and brave!" Ellaria answered, making you flush with embarrassment and stare downwards. "Do not shy from such ardent words, my dove! They are spoken in truth, I promise you."

"I do not doubt your sincerity, my lady! It is just...it is overwhelming." You replied honestly. "A part of me is still that terrified woman from King's Landing, trying to barter for passage aboard any vessel willing to take me. That I would be rescued by the two of you…I never could have imagined this, even in my wildest dreams."

"It was a lucky chance that my dear Oberyn spotted you."

"I'd surmise more divine providence, but all the same." You smiled. "Thank you. Both of you. I...I know not what to say."

"Join us in our bed, gentle dove." Oberyn requested, his voice deadly serious. "Join us, my falcon." His hand slid beneath your chin, tugging lightly at your gorget and no doubt feeling your rough swallow. "Let us give you something good to think of on lonely nights when duty calls you elsewhere."

"I--I-I would very much like that, your highness." You whispered.

His fingers hitched your chin, tipping it upwards so he could see your eyes. "Oberyn." He said softly.

"Oberyn." You allowed yourself to say his name deliberately and he grinned, tugging at your chin playfully before he released you and stepped back.

Ellaria caught his hand, and then extended her own to you. "Leave your sword, my dove."

"The armor as well." Oberyn added, his smile growing wider by the moment as you began to hurriedly oblige. You were thankful that the leathers slid off over your head, but the chainmail shirt took a bit more twisting and turning for you to emerge safely. "Gods, look at her, my love." Oberyn sighed to Ellaria after you had fought your way free of the mail, "the pride of her, the way she stands. I would happily cultivate such splendor."

"You did, Oberyn." You pointed out, fumbling with your cuisses. "You granted me the opportunity, after all."

"Let me help you, my dove." Ellaria murmured, her hands covering your own. You grimaced uncertainly, glancing to Oberyn. "He told me of your markings. I am no pampered princess, Shieldove." The steel in her gaze was undeniable; she dared you to think she would cringe at the sight of your scars. "I bear many of my own marks. The life of a Sand is better than most, but still fraught with its own hardships."

You nodded jerkily, letting her assist you with removing your cuisses, greaves and sword belt before she ran her hand over the laces at your groin. You swallowed hard. "I do not wish to distress you, my lady."

"Only Ellaria here, my dove. Here and everafter." The woman said, her fingers tugging the laced placket loose.

Oberyn sauntered up beside her as she slid her palm to your hip, fingers spread on the hot skin she found there. "Your consent, my falcon?" He breathed against your jaw, placing a trail of kisses over the area. "I seek your enthusiastic consent. I seek to have you undone and crying out in rapture, but first your consent."

Ellaria's fingers teased at the waistband of your hose and you shut your eyes, gathering your courage. "Yes. Yes, I...I want. I want you both." You managed to say.

"Open your eyes, knight of House Martell." Oberyn ordered and you obeyed meekly. The prince touched his forehead to your own, his brows pulled low. "Your consent, Ser Shieldove. Look at me while you give it. Look at her while you give it. We need to know. We need to hear it from your lips. No hesitation."

"We will stop if you cannot consent, sweet dove." Ellaria assured you.

"N-No! No, I do want this, I swear I do. Gods, my head is spinning from how much I want the two of you." You confessed bluntly. "I am unsure of how to proceed. I do not know what to do. Forgive my inexperience." You held out your hands imploringly. "Show me what to do?"

"Never apologize for not knowing." Oberyn said firmly. "All man should ever apologize for is not being willing to learn." He stroked his fingers over your temple, light as a feather's touch on your skin. "And you are so, so willing." He whispered. "You have sought learning your whole life, my dove. Sought to hone your body, hone your spirit with songs and prayer. You have learned how to wield our weapons and cradle our babes with the same willingness that you approach us with now."

Ellaria enfolded your hands in her own as you processed Oberyn's words, each one saved in your heart like a precious treasure. All man should ever apologize for is not being willing to learn. "Will you…" you hesitated, biting your lip. "Will you help me learn?"

"Gods, I would eagerly kiss the breath from your chest." Ellaria sighed, her smile warming you from head to toe.

"Is it...considered strange that I want the both of you?" You asked warily. "I have never lain with a woman before, b-but I would...I mean, if I could, I would like...I would like to. Attempt to! That is." You fumbled, kissing her knuckles afterwards.

"You wish to drink from the pure springs of my paramour? A bold request. What will you offer me in return for my generosity?" Oberyn's lips brushed your ear and you quivered when he continued, "will you let me touch you as you touch her, my falcon?"

You raised your eyes to meet his, startled by the heat you found there. Did he really feel that strongly about you? You freed one hand from Ellaria and reached out to take hold of his light robe. "If you harm me-" You began to warn him, your voice catching in your throat.

"Sweet dove, he will not." Ellaria assured you, her expression serious. "Neither of us will. I promise you." She cupped your jaw, her thumbs grazing your chin achingly soft. "We of Dorne are known for our passion, but a fire is gentle embers before it is stoked to hungry flame. We will not harm you."

"This incredible, delicious display of vulnerability that you are presenting to us...well, it would be wholly inappropriate to squander such a gift." Oberyn's hand covered yours on his robe, larger fingers lacing easily through your own. "We will bed you, and we will love you, my falcon."

"Do you offer such pleasures to all your knights?" You queried, half in jest as you let him lead you to their sun-drenched bed.

"Only for the ones who break the Mountain's fingers." Oberyn chuckled, leaving you and Ellaria to settle onto the bed while he went to draw the thin curtains over the entrance to the terrace.

Ellaria pulled one end of the laces on your placket, her motions teasingly slow and deliberate. The lacing unwound itself, tugging free of the grommets until your sturdy hose were slouching open. Her hand pushed your tunic up slightly, enough to reveal a sliver of your stomach for her to graze her knuckles against, then her lips. Those fingers curled around the hem of your tunic, continuing to drag it upwards to bunch underneath your breasts.

"Her body looks beautiful like that, my love." Oberyn commented idly from his position at the foot of the bed. "Ser Shieldove, touch her hair, caress her. She loves to be touched while her mouth is occupied."

Your trembling fingers barely grazed Ellaria's luxuriously unbound locks, still smooth from being brushed, and you felt your heartbeat quicken in your chest. "May I…?" Ellaria nodded and you dug your hands greedily into her soft waves, half-sitting so you could press a lock to your lips. "Thank you, Ellaria." You whispered.

"Such chivalry! Perhaps we will consider parting with a few locks for you to carry into battle as a token of our affection." Oberyn kissed the crown of your head. "Regrettably, my curls are a bit shorter than hers."

"Mm, yours would make such delightful paintbrushes." Ellaria teased, continuing to cover the skin of your stomach with tender kisses and nips. She bit down gently on the waistband of your hose, looking up at you in question. You nodded rapidly and Oberyn settled into the bed alongside you, the man yawning wide.

"Watch her now, my falcon." He instructed, his fingers tracing lazy circles on the bare skin of your stomach before this thumb slid beneath your bunched-up tunic. "She is such art, the way she moves. Had I the skill for it, I would write endless poems about the beautiful anticipation she inspires in me." His touch was light, teasing, forefinger and thumb pinched into the fabric of your tunic to ease it off the rest of the way. His other hand shot up to lift and cradle the back of your neck while he divested you of the article of clothing, the inconsequential motion new and gentle to you.

Ellaria rolled the hosiery off down your legs, the light breeches sticking to your heated skin. You were left nearly bare, the only garment still on your body the simple breast binding you used when you were armored. Ellaria hummed in satisfaction, drawing her hands greedily up your trembling form to seize the edge of your bindings. "Be naked for us, gentle dove." She crooned, her sweet voice dissolving your last fear. You placed your hands over her own, helping her to untie the frantically-knotted cloth.

Oberyn hissed out a breath through his teeth when your breasts were finally freed. "Gods, you were made for us." He groaned, "I want to grab handfuls of you and gorge myself on your taste, my falcon."

Ellaria wasted no time flicking her tongue over the stiff peak of your right breast, smiling when you threw your head back in response. Oberyn lapped sloppily over your left breast and then blew gently on the damp trail, forcing you to bite down on the heel of your palm to keep from making a sound.

Oberyn eased your hand away from your mouth however, grimacing when he saw the marks your teeth had left in the skin. His facial hair felt like pinpricks when he kissed your palm, his eyes solemn. "We crave your sounds, my falcon. We welcome them." He murmured. "You can be as loud or as soft as you want, but do not smother them before they can blossom."

Ellaria toyed with your nipple, rolling her index finger back and forth over it and you whimpered pitifully, blinking back the tears that rose and nodding hard. "I will try, Oberyn."

"It will take time, sweet dove." Ellaria's gentle smile pierced your heart, her soft words contrasting so vividly with her devious fingers. "Do not underestimate our patience. You are our knight, our shield, and we will cherish you as you ought to have been cherished."

Part Three

214 notes · View notes

a-libra-writes · 5 years ago

Text

How the GoT Characters React To Your Kidnapping

No one asked for this & its another weirdly specific long one, bc this is westeros and shit aint sunshine and roses so idk lets just do this oh gods why is it so long

To the Gendry & Mance anons: i got u, fam ♡

In this preference, you'll be rescued by: Ned Stark, Robb Stark, Sansa Stark, Jon Snow, Benjen Stark, Jory Cassel, Dolorous Edd, Mance Rayder, Tormund Giantsbane, Theon Greyjoy, Yara Greyjoy, Daenerys Targaryen, Jorah Mormont, Missandei, Grey Worm, Tywin Lannister, Tyrion Lannister, Jamie Lannister, Sandor Clegane, Bronn, Petyr Baelish, Stannis Baratheon, Davos Seaworth, Margaery Tyrell, Brynden Tully, Edmure Tully, Brienne of Tarth, Ramsay Bolton, Roose Bolton, Oberyn Martell, Beric Dondarrion, Gendry

NED STARK

It happened many years ago, but the incident still gave you shivers when you recalled it. It was at the height of Robert’s rebellion, when fighting and chaos was at every House’s doorstep. Your family supported Robert wholly; your father and brothers had been away at war since the beginning. You were maintaining your family’s keep in your father’s stead. The Riverlands was a bloody battleground, and you made a point to visit neighboring keeps and their smallfolk to offer food and shelter in your own castle. You were returning from one of these trips when you were taken by brigands wishing to ransom you.

Your father was riding with Ned when he heard the news, and he made it clear he wouldn’t continue on until his only daughter was found. Ned had befriended him in the time they’d fought, and agreed to help. Together they traced the trail you took to the fishing villages, and soon found which abandoned house you were being held in.

You were filthy, exhausted and hungry at that point, and afraid of the sound of fighting you heard outside the door. Then the door opened and a tall Northman came in, gently asking if you were okay and carefully untying the bindings around your wrists and ankles. You remember how Ned wrapped his cloak around your ripped dress and picked you up so gently. He set you on his horse and rode behind you, asking a few questions as you two rode back, like how you were faring and if the horse was going too fast for you. Back at your Keep, he insisted on carrying you to the Maester, all while your parents thanked him. They let Ned and his host of soldiers recover at their castle, even if food was low, and Ned visited you each day to check on you. You kept his cloak curled around you as you watched the Stark host finally leave. Even well after you two met and courted, and finally married in the godswood at Winterfell, you kept that cloak with you. Ned didn’t know, but you liked wrapping up in it when he had to leave for a long time.

ROBB STARK

It happened at the worst possible moment, in the midst of the chaos of the war. You insisted on accompanying his war camp through the battles, in spite of the danger to yourself. You were newly married, but you didn’t want to hide away in Winterfell. Robb was grateful for the counsel you provided, even if he worried for your safety. You were surrounded by soldiers, you should have been safe. Should have been.

Once Robb discovered you were well and truly gone, with your personal guards found dead, all he could see was red. The young wolf immediately went to gather men and scouts, ignoring the lords who told him to leave the rescuing to soldiers. Robb couldn’t forgive himself if something happened to you - he couldn’t keep fighting the war knowing his wife was in danger, and he’d run himself ragged to find you. Grey Wind caught onto your scent and within just a few hours, they found the makeshift camp you were being held at. You gasped as Grey Wind jumped at the man beside you, tearing at his throat, and Robb wasted little time in dismounting and following his wolf. While his men took care of the remaining kidnappers, he threw his arms around you and pulled you into a crushing hug.

Once you were back at camp, Robb had you looked after, buzzing with anxiety the whole time. He’d be adamant about sending you to Winterfell for your safety, wanting his mother to go along with you. Even if you’d try to argue with Robb, he’d truthfully tell you he couldn’t stand the thought of losing you. He’d rather miss you until the war ended than grieve you for the rest of his life.

SANSA STARK

Upon hearing about your kidnapping, Sansa immediately felt sick to her stomach. She couldn’t believe such a thing could happen to you - she remembered the last conversation you two had, what you wore, the jokes you both laughed at, the last kiss you shared. It was jarring to contrast that with some terrifying dungeon, and for the next few weeks she could hardly sleep or eat, constantly replaying those memories and thinking of them as “the last”. She didn’t care who tormented her, whether it be Joffrey or Cersei or anyone else. Sansa’s mind was too occupied with terrible thoughts of how afraid you must be and if you were hurt.

She heard rumors of your rescue, and that manifested into your arrival back at King’s Landing. She awaited you anxiously, thinking of what to say, worrying about what you endured. Finally, when Sansa saw you arrive at the Red Keep, all thoughts left her mind. Forgetting decorum, she pulled you into a hug, and even though you were still aching from your captivity, you held her back with as much emotion and strength.

When the two of you finally got some time alone, and she leaned against you and held your hand as you explained all that happened. From that point, she’d try to be at your side as much as possible, and feeling like she had to appreciate each day with you in case something terrible happened to either of you. Anytime you noticed her worried expression, you’d kiss her brow and reassure her, and she’d just shake her head, insisting that she ought to be the one comforting you.

BENJEN STARK

You’d wanted to accompany him on a mission for months, and he let you go on small trips here or there, but never anything like this. Accompanied with three other brothers, the four of you were assigned an important task by the Lord Commander. In spite of the seriousness, Benjen teased you like he always did, and even risked being cheeky, since the other two brothers knew your gender and your relationship with him. They’d just roll their eyes and joke along with you. It felt freeing to be beyond the wall, and you enjoyed the expanse of snow and trees so much, you forgot about the danger.

You and one of the brothers split off from the group to investigate some odd tracks. It turned out to be a trap, and while he was killed quickly, you put up a fight and were dragged off. The wildlings recognized you as the “little crow” who followed Benjen around, and since he had killed one of their leaders months before, they wanted revenge. It wasn’t until much later that Benjen and the brothers found the corpse the wildlings left, and a shredded piece of cloak you left behind for them. Benjen’s face became unrecognizable as he steeled himself for the worst, and urged the men on the trail. He tried pushing aside his regrets and anger at himself as they followed the tracks in the snow and the small things you left for them, like small rocks or an odd shape in the snow.

They came upon the wildling camp as the sun set, and you used the chaos to escape your bindings and steal one of the wildling’s clubs to help the fight. Once it was over, Benjen wasted no time in pulling you into a painfully tight embrace. The wildlings hadn’t done more than threaten you and hit you a few times, but he kissed you in relief several times anyway. All the tension seemed to leave his body as you held his face and reassured him. As the rest of you brought your slain brother’s body back to Castle Black, Benjen still kept you close at hand. You two knew the dangers of what was beyond the wall, so while Benjen eventually relaxed after a few weeks, it was still an unpleasant fright that he tried not to dwell on.

JON SNOW

Your family visited Winterfell often, what with your mother being friends with Lady Stark and living so close. From an early age you were friends with Jon, Robb and Theon, always running about and getting into trouble with your mother. Especially now that you were a lady, she scolded, you couldn’t talk with whichever boys you wanted. Jon was always different to you, though. You couldn’t imagine not being with him, and he felt much the same, even if you both struggled to express it. Jon was determined to spend as much time with you before he left for the Wall, and you would do the same before you were married off to whoever.

Jon knew you wanted to explore Winter Town today, and he couldn’t accompany you, so he waited impatiently for you to get back with your cousin and one guard. It was late in the evening, and both he and your parents began to worry. It was discovered your guard was slain, and you and the cousin were missing. Ned gathered several men to lead the search with your father, and Jon didn’t shy away as he all but demanded to be allowed to look as well. He wasted no time in giving Ghost a handkerchief to track you, and soon the men were following the direwolf through Winter Town. Ghost’s nose led him to a shack well outside of town, where the men wasted little time in surrounding it and pulling out the failed kidnappers.

Jon thanked the gods they hadn’t done anything terrible to you, and he was the one who untied your bindings and carefully dabbed your bleeding lip. You rode back on his horse, and he carefully helped you down and guided you to Maester Luwin, as much as it upset your mother. You asked him to stay beside you as Maester Luwin checked over your bruises and applied a balm to your broken lip. Well after your parents had left, Jon risked escorting you to your room, where you gave him a sweet kiss in spite of the pain it brought you.

JORY CASSEL

A lady was supposed to stay in place and entertain, but you were often restless, especially since your brothers could go where they pleased. One of them finally gave into your pleading and took you with him to Winter Town. Your brothers ended up leaving you to enjoy the brothel, and you enjoyed the freedom to explore the town as you wished. Unfortunately, your fine dress and warm cloak caught the wrong kind of attention. When they finally noticed you were missing, they couldn’t be sure how long it had been.

Rushing back to Winterfell, they went to Jory first. He was skilled and he could get a small handful of men to listen to him - and hopefully, keep quiet about it to your parents. Jory was livid, trying to keep his cool as he swept through Winter Town. It was getting dark, and worry was eating him alive. The attempted kidnappers were sloppy, luckily, and hadn’t gone far. They were no match for trained Winterfell men, and Jory had them taken alive so they could be judged by his lord.

Before that, he had to take care of you. Jory wrapped his fur around you and held you close, patting your hair and asking how you were. They hadn’t done anything, thank the gods, and you trusted his men not to say anything about the secret relationship you two carried on. Once you were back at Winterfell, he visited your chambers in the evening to keep reassuring you, although his relief and worry was evident.

DOLOROUS EDD

He'd told you not to come on the expedition, he'd told the senior officers not to bring you. You two actually argued about it, and you joined the expedition out of spite. Edd had an awful feeling that something was going to go wrong, and it did. You accompanied a small scouting party, and the three of you hadn’t been heard from in days. To say he felt sick would be an understatement. He brought it up with Jon first, looking as dismal as he felt, and his friend managed to send Ghost on the trail. A day later, the wolf didn’t bring good news. Ghost handed his master a bloodied glove, not your’s, but one of the brothers you left with.

Sam and Jon tried to assure him, but Edd couldn’t keep the darkest thoughts out of his head. He assumed the worst, accepting that you were gone, even if his brothers were positive the scouts were taken, not killed. That was hardly better. When you and the two brothers returned, having escaped your wildlings captors, Edd bit his lip until it bled to hide just how relieved he was. Hiding your gender and your relationship with him meant he couldn’t run up and squeeze the air out of your lungs and tell you that he knew something terrible would happen, and it did, and he couldn’t ask you to strip away a few layers to make absolutely sure you were alright. So, he did this as soon as you two were back at Castle Black.

Hiding away in a small dingy room, you’d try to coax the worried, tight expression on Edd’s face as you assured him you only had a few bruises and scratches. He’d sigh heavily and pull you in an embrace, which made it difficult to put your clothes back on, but he didn’t budge. He’d be morose for a while, keeping close to you while you worked to make extra sure you were alright.

TORMUND GIANTSBANE

It wasn’t just your beauty, but your ability to fight that drew Tormund to you. He had an utmost respect for your abilities, so when you were sent on this or that mission, he didn’t worry for your safety - he just frowned that he wasn’t going with you. Tormund didn’t worry when the group of free folk you left with hadn’t been heard from in a few days. This was unpredictable land, after all. The trouble came when scouts came back, reporting that most of the group was found dead, but your corpse was nowhere to be found. They suspected crows, who had been on the move in the area.

That’s when Tormund was ready to spur to action and join the group looking to retrieve you. While they were worried you’d give up information to the crows, he knew you’d die rather than betray your comrades, and that’s what filled him with anxiety and anger. Tormund led the men himself, urging them on through the icy tundra. He was hedging his bets on the crows being soft and keeping you alive.

They found the crow camp and Tormund had to keep himself from just barrelling straight toward you. As the fight began, Tormund was able to cut his sword across your bindings so you could join in. Even if you had a cut on your face, you didn’t seem worse for wear. Once the crows were dealt with, Tormund was quick to pull you in his arms and loudly tell you how relieved he was, adding with a laugh that he knew the crows couldn’t handle such a woman. He’d plan a careful kiss on your brow and look after any wounds you had before you two would return to Mance’s camp, where Tormund would announce to everyone that you were back, and proudly bragged about the beating you delivered to the crows once he cut you free.

MANCE RAYDER

While he loved your cleverness the best, Mance couldn’t deny you had a lovely grace when you fought. It was unlike the other free folk, who stabbed or bludgeoned or slashed until the thing was dead. You were a born fighter, a good one, and you gladly took the jobs that had you in the thick of it. He rarely worried when there was possibility of danger on one of your missions, because you weren’t worried yourself. However, the tribe you were visiting had a terrible reputation, and he told you as much. Mance wanted to go with you, but you were sure you and your men could handle it.

You hadn’t been heard from in some days, and Mance had a gut feeling that he wasn’t comfortable with. That was confirmed when your weapon and the head of your men was sent back to him, with a clear message that the tribe wouldn’t join his army. The fact they hadn’t sent your head was little comfort. Mance gathered his best men and rode out at once, his face stony and his eyes betraying the terrible fear gnawing at his heart.

When they came upon the camp, it was a hard fight, and Mance grasped the leader by the throat as he demanded where you were. You were carelessly left in one of their tents, bound and suffering more than a few injuries. Mance untied you, wrapped you in his arms and assured you that you’d be home soon. Back at the main camp, he tended to your wounds in your shared tent, rinsing them with warm water, good-smelling balms and soothing you in a soft voice.

THEON GREYJOY

You spent plenty of time at Winterfell, usually playing with Sansa and Jeyne, but Theon was fond of teasing you just to see your cute face flush and yell at him. He wasn’t always a jerk. He’d been helping you work on your archery, and you two could talk on and on about horses. He knew your parents and Lady Stark didn’t approve of your friendship with him, so he always got a little thrill when he stole your attention. Of course, he insisted to Robb and Jon that you were the one with the crush.

His cocky attitude disappeared quickly when your parents came running to Lord Stark in a panic, explaining you were taken right outside their keep and they were delivered a terrible ransom note. Theon joined Robb and Ned on the search for you, trying to still his hammering heart as they followed the scent hounds. He was trying not to think of all the awful things that could be happening to you, and spurred his horse faster once the hounds picked up a scent.

He and Robb were the first ones to ride on the camp and attack the kidnappers. Ned had to remind him to leave them alive to face their punishment - Theon was too eager in beating them to a pulp, and he felt they should be killed on the spot. You were tied up and dirty, but still alright, and Theon hoped because he was the first one to come to your aid, that you’d ride back on his horse. You rode with Lord Stark back to Winterfell, and Theon sat outside Maester Luwin’s room as the old man looked over your injuries. It was hard to act like an ass when you were so tired and shaken, so he sat at the foot of your bed and tried to make you laugh instead.

YARA GREYJOY

She heard news that your host of men had encountered trouble, but Yara didn’t worry like an old woman. She trusted your skills and abilities, and you weren’t the type to want some honorable death in battle. Then she received the message - a warning from the Northmen who took you. She sighed, picked up her axe, gathered a half dozen men and left Deepwood Motte to get your sorry butt. Yara wasn’t going to let you live this down.

She found where they were holding you in a good amount of time, and you bitched out Yara as she walked in the room laughing. You headbutt her in annoyance once she untied you. The Northmen had tried to interrogate you on the Ironborn’s plans, but like Yara expected, you were made of tougher stuff. Still, she didn’t like to see the bruises on your arms and wrists, or your swollen lip and cut brow. While her men stole what they wanted from the hideout, she took a moment to take you aside and take care of those little wounds. You hissed and she told you to stop bitching, even as she carefully patted at your brow and lip.

During the next few days, when you'd laugh then wince from your lip or shift uncomfortably from the bruises, Yara would slip an arm around your waist and hand you a drink. She'd try to be subtle about touching you more carefully in bed and kissing your lips with less firmness. She didn't want you to feel coddled and mother henned after, but she didn't like seeing her girl hurting so much, either.

DAENERYS TARGARYEN

To say she was angry was… an understatement. All of the Free Cities would hear of her wrath once she discovered you were taken by her enemies. There would be no negotiating or ransom, period - She’d call for Jorah, Barristan, the Unsullied - everyone to look for you, to find the ones responsible, to get anyone with information. Once you were found, she’d take you into a suffocating hug. Barristan would have to remind her that you needed to be tended to, and she’d hold you just a little longer before reluctantly handing you to him.

While you were being helped, she’d gather all the culprits in a public space and give them a proper execution with her dragons, a clear warning to anyone with similar ideas. Even after that, she’d be buzzing with anger and once she was calmed, the worry and anxiety would set in.

As your wounds were cared for, she’d ask the care-taker if they were sure about what they were doing, then she’d want to test your food, then bathe and dress you, insisting you to be still and not help. Once you were in bed, she’d still want to keep you in a close hug, insisting that you were safe now and it wouldn’t happen again, but you were sure she was trying to convince herself and not you.

For the next several days, or even weeks and months, Daenerys would insist you not leave her side, or if you did, you’d have several Unsullied for protection. She’d become quite over-protective, and when you’d express that it was getting to be too much, she’d admit she never wanted to feel that fear of losing you again.

JORAH MORMONT

He noticed you hadn’t been back from your scouting on time, and after an extra hour passed, he began to worry. You two weren’t just lovers, you were protectors of Daenerys, and you always promptly returned from the duties she gave you. When Jorah’s suspicions were confirmed and he learned you were taken by Daenerys’ enemies, he wasted little time in gathering a group of Unsullied to help retrieve you. However, it was Jorah himself who cut through most of the kidnappers once they found the hideout. While the Unsullied finished up, Jorah beelined to where they kept you.

Since you had kicked one kidnapper senseless and nearly bit the ear off another, they’d had you painfully bound and gagged. The adrenaline was leaving Jorah quickly as his shaky hands pulled you free, and you were pulled into his embrace so quickly, it made you dizzy. You were going to tell him not to hold so tight, but your exhaustion caught up with you and Jorah carried you all the way back to the Great Pyramid. Once you two were back at your shared rooms, he immediately began fretting and worrying, wanting to give you a hot bath and a good meal and soft clothes, completely ignoring his own exhausting and the blood on his cheek and hands. You were only able to calm Jorah down by pulling him into the bath with you, and even then he was apologetic, thinking it was his fault in some way. You kissed him until that sorrowful look finally faded, and he took care of any need you had that evening. For the next few weeks Jorah was quite dogged about following you around and insisted on going with you during your patrols and investigations. Sometimes it was a bit too much, but you noticed how he kept looking at the bruises on your wrists or the cut on your forehead that was taking a long time to heal, and you let him tag along.

MISSANDEI

She didn't want to believe such a thing happened. While Missandei initially feared for your safety when you went out into Meereen's streets, she'd become more comfortable because of your training with Ser Barristan and Ser Jorah. And today you left with several Unsullied, but that hadn't helped. The report came back that you'd been taken by enemies of Daenerys, and Missandei's heart sunk into her stomach as she thought about what could happen. She couldn't even pretend to be alright.

So she waited, feeling sick and buzzing with nerves, unable to do more than pace. When Daenerys herself came to tell her the news that you were recovered, and your wounds were being tended to, Missandei collapsed with relief. She waited impatiently until you were finished, trying to gather herself, but all the strength left when she saw you sitting up in bed, fresh bruises and wounds on your body. You pulled Missandei into your arms and comforted her, already feeling comforted by her warm presence. Once you wiped her tears and she took a deep breath, Missandei was quick to make sure you had everything you needed.

She'd continue to tend to you herself, bringing you food, drink and checking your wounds. You'd notice her gloomy expression and try to cheer her, and several times she'd make you promise to be more careful once you were better. Well after your wounds healed, and you announced you were patrolling again. An unmistakable look of worry crossed Missandei's face, and she only smiled after you kissed her and reassured her.

GREY WORM

He preferred it when you patrolled together, both because you two made a good team, and it was the best way to make sure you were safe. On the days when you two had separate patrols and duties, Grey Worm would seek you out once he was finished. Normally, finding you was no problem - he knew your usual routes and you often told him what your duties were beforehand. But this time, he was having trouble finding you in the winding streets of Mereen. He didn’t worry at first, but after searching for some time, Grey Worm was beginning to get a bad feeling. He trusted his gut instincts and he just knew something was off.

That feeling was confirmed when he found your weapon buried in the chest of a thug, both carelessly left in an alley. Grey Worm knew you’d never leave your favorite weapon behind, and the scene had signs of a struggle. He gathered several of his men together and with a rigid determination, set to tracking you down. Even if he was steady in giving his orders, his heart pounded with a frightening feeling he’d never experienced before. It made his stomach churn, but he pressed on.

When they found you, it was just in time. Since you had killed one of their men and given another a hard beating, the kidnappers were ready to hurt you even more than they planned. Grey Worm and his Unsullied comrades dealt with them, and as soon as the last spear was shoved in the last one’s neck, Grey Worm was immediately at your side. He insisted on carrying you back, and he watched the person tending to your wounds with sharp eyes. You had to pat Grey Worm’s hand and tell him to take a deep breath and relax. Your wounds weren’t the worst you’d ever experienced, but he was still tense in the next few days, and asked that you stay home until your wounds were totally healed.

TYWIN LANNISTER

It would take a fool to kidnap the wife of Tywin Lannister, but it happened all the same. Your captors were confident he'd give up all sorts of riches for you, but you were anxious, worrying what sort of wrath he'd unleash - or worse, if he was coming for you at all. You tried keeping that thought from you as you stayed in captivity. It was sudden when the rescue came, Lannister men easily slaughtering your captors. You shook in fear as Ser Gregor of all people led them. A soldier carefully helped you to your feet and led to a large tent. As the captives screamed behind you, you were checked for wounds, given food and drink, and dressed in new clothing. The soldier explained that Lord Tywin was sending for you, as if you were just being picked up from visiting a friend. Still in a daze, you were hastily brought back to Casterly Rock in great comfort.

Once you arrived, you were again immediately attended to. Handmaidens gave you a fine nightgown you don’t remember owning, your bed had additional pillows and you were brought your favorite foods and drink. It was all a little overwhelming, so you sent them all away, and curled in bed, wondering where Tywin was. You were stirred from a deep sleep, feeling fingers running across your cheek and hair. You awoke sleepily, and it was odd to see that gentle expression on his face as he sat next to you on the bed, but you could tell he was trying to be stern and calm as he asked after your condition. Tywin would be adamant about you getting proper rest, and you could tell he was holding something back, but soon you were falling back asleep, still feeling the fingers running along your skin.

In the next weeks you’d have guards always following you, handmaidens attending to anything you needed, and he’d keep you close in public, when he could. In private, he’d handle you with care, and hold you much closer when you two were in bed. One sudden night he’d apologize, saying he failed, assuring you that it absolutely wouldn’t happen again. It was a vulnerability he rarely showed, making you realize the experience rattled him as much as it did you.

TYRION LANNISTER

It was wrong of him to assume that just because you two were betrothed - the marriage arranged by Tywin, no less - that you’d be safe from Cersei’s wrath. You were subtle when you defied her, just enough that she knew you were being insolent, yet careful so she couldn’t openly punish you. Tyrion warned you about treading this fine line, even if he admired and loved your courage. It was bold of his sister, downright foolish, and she’d learn that. She’d learn what it would mean to cross him like this, but for now, he was single-mindedly focused on finding you.

He didn’t anticipate her men would kill you, as that would ruin the alliance between his and your’s, but things were worse than death. Tyrion gathered all the hill clansmen he had and a group of city guards to sweep King’s Landing, and he’d even call in a favor with Varys to find out if the spider knew anything. The moment they found you, he wanted to know - the idea of you being hurt and alone made him sick with fear.

Bronn and a few of his men were the ones who found the small room you were being kept in. Tyrion came at once and had you quietly escorted to a lovely chateau outside of the Red Keep. He brought you everything you could want; food and drink, lovely dresses, a luxurious bed where a maester he trusted attended to your minor wounds. He tried to hide just how anxious he was as he explained you should stay here for a while, with several guards he trusted. While you rested and recovered, he was more than ready to enact the revenge he’d been stewing on.

JAIME LANNISTER

When you didn’t show to the usual secret spot that you two met in during the afternoon, nor in the evening, Jaime immediately felt anxiety brewing. Had you two finally been caught? Was Cersei on your trail, so you were avoiding him? The next day came, and by the second evening your absence was finally noticed by several others. It was a kidnapping, your family claimed, and they had evidence. Jaime was furious with himself at the time he wasted, but he knew he couldn’t leave the Red Keep. He went to Tyrion, shocking his younger brother with how he almost begged for help in finding you.

The kidnappers hadn’t had the smarts to leave King’s Landing yet. He wasted no time in cutting through them, a sort of ferocity that didn’t often come to him when he fought, and he finally had you in his arms again. It was only two days, only two days, but it felt like longer. It could’ve been longer, or forever, if his sister was truly behind this and wanted a way to have you killed. You had to gently ask Jaime to not hold so tight, and that snapped him out of it.

Once you were brought back and cared for under a maester he trusted, one who could keep quiet, Jaime didn’t want to bring to your family yet. Tired as you were, you tried to remind him of his sister and his duty, and you were shocked how he didn’t care. He’d stay with you even if you shoved him away, which you didn’t. You were too tired to argue,, and allowed yourself to rest against his chest as you fell asleep. In the next few weeks he’d visit you often, to the point where even Cersei was noticing his distance and you had to remind Jaime not to be so reckless.

SANDOR CLEGANE

Gods damn it all, you told him. You tried to tell him. You talked of the enemies your family was making, the threats they gave your mother and father. Sandor insisted as long as you stayed in the Red Keep and “didn’t run off to do stupid shit”, you’d be fine. When he didn’t see you for some time one day, he didn’t think much of it - you both were hiding your relationship, and sometimes that meant staying away to keep off suspicion, as much as he hated it. Then your disappearance was brought up by your parents at court, and Cersei more or less dismissed them. Sandor offered to look for you, but he was shot down. Later, he told one of the other kingsguards to watch Joffrey, and when the man argued, Sandor grabbed his neck and nearly throttled him.

Once he was free of the Red Keep, he scoured through the shady streets of King’s Landing, places he knew well, going off information your parents had and daring himself to hope. The kidnappers had you in a little hovel that he broke through with little regard for his own safety. You heard him, and the sounds of men dying as he cut through them. It wasn’t his usual detached killing; you heard distinct agony as the men were harshly wounded and thrown aside. When he all but tore down the door to the room you were in, you ignored your pain to run and fling your arms around him.

He should’ve taken you straight back to the Red Keep, to a maester and your parents, but his body moved on its own. He took you to the small house he owned, just outside the Keep. You had scrapes and bruises, a nasty knot on your head, and you both were quiet as he did what he could. You stayed with him the rest of the day and evening, and Sandor let you hold him as tight and as often as you wanted. He hated that he didn’t heed your words, and the thought that you may have been raped or killed had shocked him into something of an angry, sullen silence that only your comforts and soft kisses could pull him from.

BRONN

When he heard about your kidnapping from Tyrion, he nearly dropped the wine he was drinking, and when Tyrion confirmed it he tossed it aside as he jumped up from the table. You had mentioned some enemies your family was making, and he had brushed it off and reassured you, positive you were safe in the Red Keep. He couldn’t believe he wasn’t there to protect you, and cursed himself endlessly as he led the search and rescue for you. Much of Bronn’s humor would be gone, and he’d take it upon himself to do most of the searching.

He tore through the kidnappers with his men, and as soon as he saw you, he sheathed his sword and pulled you in his arms. Regardless of your condition, Bronn would feel all the tension leave his body because you were alive. He’d have a smirk and give you an overly-confident reassurance, as if he wasn’t making himself sick with worry the past few days.

You’d both ride his horse, with you in front of him and his arms wrapped around you as much as he possibly could. He’d still try to remain casual, attempting conversation, giving reassurances that you’d both be home soon. Your tired silence unsettled him. Finally he’d just kiss your cheek and mumble how sorry he was for not getting there sooner.

Once you two were back and you were cared for, Bronn was quite protective in the next few months, often shirking his Kingsguard duties to follow you around personally, and you’d notice when you two were intimate he’d be attempting to be gentle of your wounds, a side to him you’d never seen before.

PETYR BAELISH

Petyr blamed himself completely when it happened. There were quiet rumors and distant whispers he heard, your family had upset several Houses and created enemies, and you were a possible target. He took measures to protect you, of course - more of his spies watching you, a few incognito guards that would make sure you made it to your room safely. It wasn’t enough, and the culprits struck faster than he anticipated. Petyr set out to correct his mistake at once.

Your family was considering leaving you to your fate, and he wouldn’t forgive them for it, but ... he’d deal with them at a later time.

For now, Petyr used a considerable amount of his resources to find who took you, and where you were. Normally he would stay distant and let other men do his dirty work, but Petyr wanted you by his side as soon as possible. His plans of a grand rescue, rehearsed words, some sort of gallant action, went completely out the window when he finally had his arms around you again. Not trusting your family or anyone else, Petyr would bring you to his private suite in his brothel, personally tending to any injuries himself and giving you sweet reassurances. If they were serious, he’d call a maester, but otherwise he’d want you all to himself.

You’d notice Petyr would become increasingly more protective, insisting it would never happen again, as if trying to reassure himself more than you. He’d absolutely threaten your family behind your back, trying to contain his anger as he considered punishing them with some made-up treason or strong-arming them into allowing him to marry you. Perhaps he could have both, especially if you were already taken with him.

STANNIS BARATHEON

Once he received word that you’d been taken, the tension and anger in Stannis’ body was so fierce and immediate, his men thought you had been reported dead. Finding the culprits and retrieving you safely became his utmost priority, and as the days would pass, he’d sleep and eat less. He’d grind his teeth until his jaw ached and would struggle to wait for news; he’d have to be held back from just going after you himself. He’d implore Melisandre to try something to find you, and once you were located, Davos would be the only person Stannis trusted to get you back to him safely.

When you’d finally reunite, you’d be shocked at the strong embrace your husband would pull you into. It was almost be painful, and he’d bury his face in your hair and struggle to express his relief. Stannis would then pass you to a maester, who would check you over, and he’d stare at the both of you with intensity, making sure any injury, no matter if it was just a bruise, was found and tended to. You’d be able to finally rest in your bed again, and you’d wake up to Stannis asking if he could stay with you. Of course you’d accept, seeing how exhausted he looked. Stannis would climb in with you and bring you close to him, and you’d notice in the next few days how deeply he’d sleep and how tightly he’d keep an arm around you.

In the morning and following days, he’d want you to be by his side as often as possible. He’d occasionally stop whatever he was doing and look over you, sternly fretting about your wounds and sending you to the maester for the dozenth time. From then on, you’d be followed by a regular guard if you weren’t by his side. He wouldn’t budge on this, and when you finally expressed that he was being perhaps too over protective, Stannis would frankly tell you that he didn’t want to suffer a scare like that ever again. You could’ve been lost to him forever, and he failed in his duty as your husband to protect you.Right there, he’d take your hand and swear to you it wouldn’t happen again.

DAVOS SEAWORTH

He wasn't the first person to know, and that made his heart ache. Of course he wasn't - your relationship was secret, and your father wouldn't tell the likes of him about his daughter being taken. At least the man made you a priority: He bluntly told Stannis that he wouldn't join the war effort until he found you, especially since he suspected deserters took you for quick coin. To your father and Davos' shock, Stannis assigned the onion knight to the task. Your father was slighted, but Davos understood. You were taken at the docks of Storm's End, a place he knew all too well.

He tirelessly talked and bribed each fishmonger, sailor and captain on the docks, trying to focus on his work and not let panic set in. Your father was convinced you were taken away from Storm's End, so he searched elsewhere, but Davos still had a few men. He knew he had to find you by a certain time, it'd be impossible to know which ship left with you. Finally, he got a good lead, and more or less used Stannis' name to board an inconspicuous trade ship. Hidden amongst crates under the deck, you and several other girls were bound and gagged, meant to be sold off in Essos.

Davos' composed, determined demeanor dropped completely once your arms were wrapped around him and he could hold you tight. While the soldiers helped the other girls, Davos stayed with you, trying to keep his voice steady as he asked if you were hurt. The whole "secret relationship" thing flew out the window as you stayed close to him all the way back. When your father irritably told Davos to step back, you told him off right away and explained how he saved you. There would be plenty of gossip, but you were too exhausted and overwhelmed to care. You snuck into Davos' room that evening, wanting his comfort, and he gladly gave it to you.

MARGAERY TYRELL

She would’ve been one of the first ones to know about your disappearance, as you two were close and you didn’t show up at the secret place you two kept. Margaery went to all your usual spots and your room, and immediately felt something off. She heard you mentioning the enemies your family had made, and although she told you to be careful and maybe come with her to Highgarden, neither of you thought this would actually happen.

She’d act quick, rallying her best household knights and even her brothers Garlan and Loras. Margaery would go to Olenna, trying to logically explain that your House was close to the Tyrells, and being kidnapped while staying with them would look bad. Olenna would play along, although she had plans to find you anyway, knowing how close you were to her granddaughter. Once you were finally brought back, Margaery anxiously waited until you were checked out by the maester and safe in your room. She’d sneak into your room and throw her arms around you, unable to keep her emotion and anxiety in check any longer, and give you several kisses out of relief.

Once you both calmed down, she’d brush your hair or rub your shoulders if you wanted to talk, and if not, she’d be happy to take you in her arms while you two dozed off. From then on she’d want you by her side all the time, growing nervous if you were gone for too long, and if she couldn’t be there, she’d want a guard she knew and trusted with you. She might even have some handmaidens or guards report on you, to see if you were shaken from the experience or if your wounds were still bothering you. Whatever you like to eat, drink or wear, it would be provided for you. Margaery could come across as a bit excessive, but only because she was still reeling from the idea that you could’ve been gone for good.

BRYNDEN TULLY

He hadn’t known about your kidnapping until several days after it happened, during the chaos of the war. He nearly throttled the messenger, and then rounded on Edmure, wondering why he wasn’t informed. While he couldn’t leave his command to look for you, you’d be on his thoughts in the night, and he’d prepare himself for the chance of you being dead. He’d think about the last time you two were together, what you said, how you felt and the way you smiled, and he’d try to keep those thoughts away as he fought, hoping that they weren’t the last memories he’d have of you.

It seemed like the gods answered his prayers when his men caught rumors that your kidnappers had fled to a nearby holdfast. Leading the rescue himself, they finally found the little fort you were being held in. He dealt with the men easily, cutting past them like they weren’t even there, hastily sheathing his sword before crouching down to pick you up. He’d hold you so carefully, like you were made of glass, and whisper sweet and comforting words as he’d carry you back to his horse.

Back at Riverrun, he’d ensure the maester tended to you immediately, waiting impatiently the whole time. Once you were in back safe in bed, Brynden would waste little time in curling up with you, apologizing for taking so long and not being there. He’d be truly heartbroken, and would ask you to forgive him. Even after you reassured him and fell asleep, Brynden would struggle to sleep himself, still overcome by the guilt and relief that was hitting him at once.

EDMURE TULLY

The Riverlands were safe for anyone, so you and your husband opened Riverrun for the smallfolk seeking refuge from bandits and Lannister soldiers. Edmure confidently left Riverrun and the smallfolk in your hands. When he returned some time later to resupply his men, he was confused by the somber and terrified mood the smallfolk held, then he was told: just two days ago, you had left to help a razed village evacuate to Riverrun, and you were captured in the process.

All the fatigue from marching and battle left Edmure completely, replaced by a frantic panic. At best, they’d ransom you, at worst, you were dead. He knew this, but Robb’s fear was they’d use you to get Edmure to surrender the castle. He sent an impressive number of men with Edmure to try to find you, figuring they couldn’t have gotten far, especially since no Riverlander peasant would ever help Lannister soldiers hurt their beloved Lady. It seemed word of your kindness had spread far, and many peasants were willing to report strange things they’d seen. It meant you were alive, and that spurred him on in spite of his aching body and heart.

The soldiers were just a small group that had overpowered the few guards you left Riverrun with. They’d lured you out with a false report that a village was razed and the surviving smallfolk had too many wounded to leave. You cursed them so much they’d knocked you unconscious to keep you quiet. Edmure panicked openly as he picked up your limp body, and one of his men pointed out you were breathing. Once you were safe at home and your head wound was tended to by a Maester, Edmure finally collapsed next to you on the bed. He increased the Garrison at Riverrun and had to be reassured over and over that you were alright and had no lasting injuries.

BRIENNE OF TARTH

She would be an absolute wreck from the initial report that you were gone, to realizing it was a kidnapping, to setting off with Podrick to find you herself. Several times Pod would have to stop her, telling her to sleep and eat properly, but she’d want to forge ahead. She wouldn’t be able to stop worrying, thinking of worst-case scenarios. Her head would only clear when she had to fight, and even then, she used a ferocity that didn’t often show itself in her.

More than anything, Brienne would be angry with herself, as she swore to protect you and this happened. Once she finally came upon your kidnappers, she’d swiftly dispatch them, not even thinking as her sword guided her. A calm would settle over her as she found you, checked you for wounds, and led you back to safety. It wouldn’t be until you held her face and cried that she’d finally crack and cry with you, the days of emotional and physical exhaustion hitting her all at once.

Once back home, you’d bathe together and she’d have a maester clean your wounds, although she’d hold your hand the entire time. You could tell a heavy weight was resting on her, and once you ate and were in bed, you’d invite her and hold her close. She’d confess she blamed herself, and how fearful she was, and you’d have to reassure and soothe Brienne that nothing was her fault and you were so glad she came to rescue you. You two would end up snuggling and sleeping for most of the day and night. Once you were feeling better recovered, especially with Brienne bringing you breakfast and more medicine, she’d be even more loyal and dogged in her guardly duties. You couldn’t complain too much, as you liked having her close, but you hated the idea of her blaming herself still, and you had to reassure her often.

RAMSAY BOLTON

It would take an absolute madman to kidnap the wife of Ramsay Bolton, and the only explanation is that your captors hadn’t the slightest idea of who you were, no matter the warnings you gave them. They caught you while you traveled on the road, seeing you as a dumb and pretty noblewoman they could ransom. When you didn’t come to dinner that evening, Ramsay was immediately angered, assuming you had run away. Unbeknownst to you, he had trained his hounds on your scent, and fetched items from your room that they could track. He thought he would find you quickly, but the hours passed by, and he finally came upon your dead guards. Ramsay realized it was a kidnapping, and was gleeful, wondering what sort of men would have the gall to take his wife.

As his hounds followed the trail, his glee became apprehension, and that turned to irritation and anger. He wondered what they were doing to you, what they had done already. The thought of your skin being touched or bruised by anyone other than him made his blood boil. When Ramsay arrived at their camp, he and his men dispatched with the kidnappers in a brutal fashion - naturally, he wanted the ringleader and a few others captured alive. He’d find you quickly and ask all sorts of impatient questions - where they touched you and where you were hurt, and you’d struggle to answer. Finally he’d take you back to the Dreadfort, carrying you with an unusual carefulness as he brought you to the maester - he wanted to treat your wounds himself, but his father insisted.

Waiting for the maester to check on you and then for you to wake up wore on his patience, but Ramsay did it, alternating between torturing his captors and waiting at your bedside, sometimes not even bothering to clean the blood from his hands or face. Once you woke, he’d be delighted to inform you of what he already did, and all but beg you to tell him how you wanted the remaining kidnappers punished.

ROOSE BOLTON

He knew becoming the Warden of the North through unsavory means meant he would have enemies, and Roose took precautions in your safety, having you stay in Winterfell with several guards following where you went. His most trusted were the ones who protected you, and he never anticipated one turning against him. He struggled to maintain his aloof demeanor as he was told the news. When the first night had passed, his facade began slipping as he demanded his soldiers to keep looking. When the third night passed, Roose would go out on his own, even enlisting Ramsay and the hounds. His mind was at odds, the cynical side of him insisting you were dead or had endured something terrible already, but he wanted to hope you were safe.

Once his men finally found and retrieved you, he’d pull the fur off his shoulders and wrap you up, keeping you close as he took you back to Winterfell. He’d want to see any wounds for himself, caring for them and giving uncharacteristically gentle kisses to your temple and your lips. The worry would be evident in his icy eyes, and he’d give you whatever you asked, bathing you himself, dressing you and tucking you in with great love. Roose wouldn’t join you right away, though, insisting you needed to sleep.

Once he left you, the rage would enter his body all at once. Following his earlier instructions, his men took the kidnappers alive. Roose dealt with the leader, and once his anger was sated, for once he’d allow Ramsay to do whatever he wished to the rest. After that Roose would be particularly protective of you and wouldn’t want you to leave Winterfell for months. No matter how you asked or begged to leave, he’d refuse. He never wanted his enemies getting ahold of you again.

OBERYN MARTELL

He would’ve been one of the first people to notice you were missing, given that he loved being around you at every moment and you hadn’t been at any of your usual places for hours. He’d do his own investigating and, being the hot-headed man he was, would immediately gather a rescue party to find you. He’d be seething with anger, wondering who could’ve done such a thing, conflicting with his own guilt that perhaps you were taken by someone who wanted to hurt him. He’d be relentless in looking for you, anticipating the worst, and his men wouldn’t be able to calm him or get him to slow down.

Once he finally found where your captors were keeping you, they were dealt with swiftly by his own spear. He’d set it aside and quickly take you in his arms, petting your hair and giving you a dozen relieved kisses. He’d try to keep calm so he could soothe you better, but you could tell how tense he still was, like he was on the edge of a breakdown.

Back at your shared home, he’d want to bathe and care for you himself. You’d get plenty of soft and comforting touches, but you could still see intensity in his eyes. He’d promise you he wouldn’t let this crime go unpunished. Once you two were snuggled in bed, he’d keep a tight hold on you, and for the next few weeks Oberyn would be absolutely underfoot. He would want to do all the caring for you, rather than your handmaidens or the maester. He’d want lots of reassurance from you, as he’d be shaken and would want you to feel safe and happy in your home again, and would even feel guilty, as though he personally failed you as your protector. It would be a long time before Oberyn let you out of his sight, or let you go without guards he personally trusted.

BERIC DONDARRION

When he heard you had been separated from one of the Brotherhood’s scouting parties, and possibly taken by Lannister soldiers, the whole camp went cold at once. The most affected was Beric, who felt like ice was clawing at his heart instead of the usual fiery warmth he felt. The sternness from his knight days, combined with an almost frantic strength, led him as he led a rescue party. While a few men grumbled as to why he’d go through so much effort to save one girl, the ones following him had grown to see you as a comrade and a sister.

To their relief, you had left something of a trail with rocks, small sticks sitting upright in the dirt and even a few scraps of clothing the soldiers didn’t notice you dropping on the ground. You were terrified, anticipating the soldiers would do as they pleased with you, torture you, kill you - or all three, most likely. You heard a commotion, one of the soldiers was shot through with an arrow, and in an instant several members from the Brotherhood jumped through bushes and trees. Before you could even look for him, Beric was beside you, untying you and holding you close.

He wanted to get you away from the camp right away. While his men finished off the soldiers, Beric held you close and looked shaken. He’d take you to Thoros, who’d assure him that you were fine apart from bruises and scrapes, but it didn’t comfort the former knight. You’d curl up to him that evening and he’d sigh deeply, apologizing for what you went through. After that, Beric would be very resistant to sending you on any further scouting missions. His shoulders would visibly tense and he’d sigh again, asking you not to do such a thing.

GENDRY

He always had to watch out for you, because if you weren’t helping Arya with one of her schemes, you were hatching something of your own. While he admired that courage of your’s, he teased you were a bad influence on the already wild girl. However, when Arya came running to him that day, the look in her eyes made his heart sink. She told him no one had seen you nearly the whole morning and day, and she knew Lannister soldiers had been pestering you. She was afraid they’d taken you, like they sometimes took other girls. While he usually wanted to keep his head down, he found himself gritting his teeth, grabbing a hammer from the forge and handing Arya a dagger. Together, they snuck away into the dusk.

At an empty part of Harrenhal, they came across a Lannister soldier who was knocked clean out, and they followed the shouts and yelling. They were just in time: You had hit one of the soldiers with a rock and knocked him out, and the other two were ready to kill you for it. Gendry’s body moved on its own as his powerful arms knocked one of the men dead, and Arya was quick to stab the second. Gendry dropped his hammer and pulled you into an embrace, telling you it was safe now, even if his voice was shaking as bad as your body.

The three of you snuck back into Harrenhal, cleaning the weapons and returning them to the forge. While before he was considering keeping his head down and just working Harrenhal’s forge, now he wanted nothing more than to run away with you. When you said you had a plan days later, he stared at the bruises left on your arms and firmly agreed to help.

#game of thrones imagines #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #got #got imagines

490 notes · View notes

thecaffeinebookwarrior · 5 years ago

Text

A Writer’s Guide to Viewpoints

Most of us know that there are three major viewpoints from which stories are told:

First Person -- “I tell my own story with the pronoun ‘I’ because I’m just so damn awesome.”

Second Person -- “You are a character in this story, and you can’t do anything about it. If it makes you uncomfortable, tough shit.”

Third Person -- “He muttered himself and pulled the blankets over his head, wishing this asshole would stop narrating his life.”

Those are the three viewpoints, and that’s all there is to it. Just pick your favorite, and you’re ready to go. Right?

Well. Not exactly.

You see, my fellow scribblers, there are actually multiple sub categories of each viewpoint -- beyond even the “Third Person Omniscient” or “Third Person Subjective.”

To be specific:

First Person:

First Person Informant

First Person Reminiscent

Unreliable

Second Person:

Reader as Character

I Substitute

Third Person:

Objective

Limited

Multiple Selective Omniscience

Omniscient

This might seem overwhelming, but fear not! Each perspective is fairly easy to break down, and ultimately, apply to your own work and understanding of literature. This post will elucidate each.

So let’s take charge of our narratives and delve in, like the active protagonists we are.

What is the First Person?

I’m sure we all know this, but a First Person narrator tells their story from the pronoun I (or sometimes we, though this is quite rare.)

The different factions of First Person narration are somewhat under-discussed -- certainly not as widely known as the Third Person Omniscient versus Objective viewpoints -- but, as these examples prove, they do exist.

As you read, you’ll likely think back to your favorite narrators, and realize that not all First Person viewpoints were created equal.

The First Person Informant:

“I’m telling it like it is. As it’s happening. I’m living in the moment, and watching it unfold with you. Look at us, charging blindly into the future together. Isn’t it exciting?”

This dude conveys the events as they transpire, or appear to transpire, in the present. There’s no “once upon a time” for him. Merely the unfurling now.

Examples:

“Vampires in the Lemon Grove,” by Karen Russel

“In every season you can find me sitting at my bench, watching them fall. Only one or two lemons tumble from the branches each hour, but I’ve been sitting here so long their falls seem continuous, close as raindrops. My wife has no patience for this sort of meditation. “Jesus Christ, Clyde,” she says, “You need a hobby.”

Russel’s narrator – a world-weary vamp navigating the tribulations of eternal love and insatiable bloodlust in an Italian lemon grove – is an excellent example of a first-person informant. He isn’t telling us about the lemon grove as it was, but as it is. The lemons fall before his eyes as they fall before ours. We are in this lemon grove together.

“Natural Selection,” by Jacob M. Appel

“The stolen baboon. On the evening news, she’s an irrelevancy -- a simian mug shot tucked between National Hairball Awareness Day and an interview with the Boston Strangler’s Children. Six hours later, she’s lounger on the sofa in our living room, smacking together her protruded lips, scratching her back on the damask. Suburban Tampa is apparently far more fun than a lab cage in Atlanta.”

Here, we are transported directly into a father’s dilemma after his well-meaning yet painfully naive and somewhat spoiled daughter “liberates” a mistreated lab baboon -- a decision that could effectively ruin both of their lives. The informant perspective amplifies the reader’s suspense, as we are in the moment with him and can only discover the outcome by watching events unfold (or skipping pages.)

“What I Do All Day,” by Hellen Ellis

“Inspired by Beyonce, I stallion-walk to the toaster. I show my husband where a burnt spot looks like the island where we honeymooned, kiss him good-bye, and tell him what time to be home for our party.”

This one is just great. We are transported into the perspective of a seemingly chipper, affluent housewife as she quietly goes insane from suffocating domesticity and the horror of a meaningless life. And, emphasized by the informant perspective, we feel all of this with her! It is characteristically brilliant and hilarious satire from Ellis’s brilliant and hilarious collection, American Housewife.

The First Person Reminiscent:

“It was on a dark and rainy night when I decided to tell this story. I tell it as I remember it, after these events have transpired. Let’s look back on them together.”

In this perspective, the narrator is looking back on events after they have happened. He isn’t describing these events as they unfold; he is telling a story.

Examples:

Life of Pi, by Yann Martel

There are actually two reminiscent narrators here. The titular Pi, and the author who has elected to tell his story.

“This book was born as I was hungry. Let me explain. In the spring of 1996, my second book, a novel, came out in Canada. It didn’t fair well. Reviewers were puzzled, or damned it with faint praise. Then readers ignored it. Despite my best efforts at plating the clown or the trapeze artist, the media circus made no difference. The book did not move. Books lined the shelves of bookstores like kids standing in a row to play baseball or soccer, and mine was the gangly, unathletic kid that no one wanted on their team. It vanished quickly or quietly.”

So opens this immensely clever novel, which, in all regards, blurs the lines between allegory and reality. However, most of it is narrated by the eponymous Pi, who becomes this author’s muse.

“I've never forgotten him. Dare I say I miss him? I do. I miss him. I still see him in my dreams. They are nightmares mostly, but nightmares tinged with love. Such is the strangeness of the human heart. I still cannot understand how he could abandon me so unceremoniously, without any sort of goodbye, without looking back even once. The pain is like an axe that chops my heart.”

Here we have Pi, reflecting on his spiritual and allegorical companion, Richard Parker (an oddly named tiger whom we come to love as much as Pi does.) Pi’s retrospective narration allows for the clear-sighted view of his complex feelings that can only come with time and distance. Thus, this reminiscent narration enhances the power of the narrative.

The Catcher in the Rye, by J.D. Salinger

“If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you’ll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don’t feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth.”

My feelings towards J.D. Salinger are somewhat negative (I recommend you watch the documentary Salinger to figure out why) but this book is timeless for a reason. This opening line offers up countless questions that leave you thinking long after you turn the final page. Moreover, it impeccably establishes the voice that will carry us throughout its meandering narrative. Catcher in the Rye would not be the same without its reminiscent narration, and this line establishes that.

Lolita, by Vladimir Nabokov

“Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita. Did she have a precursor? She did, indeed she did. In point of fact, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one summer, an initial girl-child. In a princedom by the sea. Oh when? About as many years before Lolita was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.”

This opening line makes me somewhat sick to read, because, of course, it is the floral soliloquy a frothing, rabid pedophile, about a “four feet ten” twelve-year-old girl. But, as a piece of art, it is still remarkably done -- the perspective of a monster, putting himself on trial before an imaginary jury, and telling a story that is invariably partial towards his warped perspective. Once again, the retrospective is integral to this grotesquely fascinating narrative.

The Unreliable Narrator:

“I am the King of the Lizard People, and no one will acknowledge it but me. Don’t believe me? Too bad. I’m the one telling this story, and you have no choice but to believe my dubious rendition of these events.”

It’s widely debated as to whether this should be its own category. Why? Because all first person narrators are inherently unreliable. We just have little choice but to take their information as it’s denoted to us. Oftentimes, they win our trust; but other times, it is their unabashed unreliability that makes the narrative memorable.

Don’t believe me? All of the past three examples were unreliable narrators. And I examine several more in my post on types of unreliable narrators here.

In the meantime, let’s move on to the oft-underrated Second Person.

What is the Second Person?

This highly controversial viewpoint uses the pronoun “you.” Most people associate this perspective with amateur fanfiction or pretentious purple prose, but let me tell you: when this perspective works, it is stellar. And I’ll explain why.

The Reader as a Character

“You’re walking down the street, and you realize the narrator is talking about you. Maybe you like this. Maybe you don’t. The narrator doesn’t care. The narrator is a cruel and indifferent god. You put in your headphones to tune the narrator out. The narrator finds this incredibly rude. You can’t escape me, motherfucker.”

This is what most people think about when they picture a Second Person Narrative. Okay, not this specifically -- being frank, most people probably think about reader-insert fanfiction (which can be amazing as well.) This viewpoint asks the reader to imagine themselves as a character -- usually the main character -- in the narrative.

Examples:

“This is a Story About You,” from Welcome to Night Vale, by Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Craner

“‘This is a story about you,’ said the man on the radio. And you were pleased, because you always wanted to hear about yourself on the radio.”

Even if you’re unfamiliar to this podcast, I highly recommend you listen to this episode (or read the transcript) immediately. It shows you virtually everything reader-insert can be, and what a remarkable effect it can have. It virtually envelops you in this perspective, this town, and this surrealistic reality.

“The Young Immortal,” by Brooksie C. Fontaine (me!)

“When it started, it was the February fourteenth of 1945. An American plane was hit in the engine by Japanese fire, fell from the slate gray sky like a shooting star. Its blazing red reflection ignited the swell of colorless water. And then it was gone, taking with it all the color in the world.

In that plane was my fellow air force pilot. The love of my life.

You.

I know what you’re thinking: you weren’t alive in ‘45, and you weren’t a man. Well, I’m gonna tell you you’re wrong on both counts. You’ve been a man before. You’ll be one again. It doesn’t matter to me, so long as it’s you.”

This one is unique, because it includes both the First Person Reminiscent (the eponymous immortal narrator) and the Second Person Reader as Character. The reader is in the perspective of the narrator’s oft-reincarnated love interest, and so I decided to include it as an example.

The “I” Substitute

“You were fifteen when you realized you could only get hard if you were thinking about carnivorous dinosaurs. Not me. You. This has absolutely nothing to do with me, and I resent the insinuation that it does. This is your problem, dino-fucker. This is your story. This is about you.”

This one’s interesting. The narrator is in denial, and using the second-person to distance themselves from the events of the story. It is a substitute for the First Person, and a thinly-veiled one at that.

Examples:

“Freaks,” by Alden Jones

“From the cluster of mourners, Kristen’s mother had emerged; she strode towards you. Her straight brown hair was limp and flyaway. She wore the expression of an animal who wanted to devour you. Her eyes were cushioned by the bluish puffed skin beneath them, but they flashed hot with fury.

‘You,’ she said. She pointed her finger. She began to gallop. ‘You think you see something no one else sees?’ she called. Mourners turned to watch her progress towards you. Heather took a step away.

You dangled the camera by your side. You froze. You did nothing but watch the thing happen.

‘YOU,’ the mother said, charging. ‘YOU. YOU.’”

These are actually the concluding lines of this haunting story from Jones’s collection, Unaccompanied Minors. I had the pleasure of hearing her read this story for my graduate program; in the Q&A afterwards, she explained how the narrative, and the characters’ mentality throughout the story, depended on the Second Person. “It was a different story without it,” she said.

“The Other Person,” by Nathan Leslie

“You write the story in the second person. It’s your go-to point of view now. You like it’s edge, its resonance of irony, even if your story lacks said irony (it adds irony). You makes anything possible. You is the new me.”

This one is simultaneously hilarious, sad, and strangely invigorating. It encapsulates the deep trenches of insecurity that come with being an author, and whittles them into sharp, sly satire. The “I” Substitute doesn’t just emphasize the story; it is the story. This story would not exist without it.

Now that I’ve successfully changed your mind about the Second Person (and if you still don’t agree with me, you’re wrong), let’s move on to the ever-popular yet difficult-to-master Third Person.

What is the Third Person?

You know what the third person is, but I’ll suspend my disbelief and pretend you don’t. It uses the pronouns he, she, or they, but the perspective can be virtually anywhere. Which makes the Third Person such an interesting thing to explore.

Third Person Objective

“She slaps him. He touches the red mark her ring left behind, and stares at her with wide eyes.”

This one is also known as The Dramatic, The Camera Lens, or The Fly on the Wall perspective. It describes the events as we would view them, with no inside information into the thoughts or motivations of the characters. What we see is what we get, and we have to discern the characters’ feelings based on what they say and do.

Example:

“Meanwhile. A Conversation,” from American Gods, by Neil Gaiman

“‘Miz Crow?’

‘Yes.’

‘You are Samantha Black Crow?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you mind if we ask you a few questions, ma’am?’

‘Are you cops? What are you?’

‘My name is Town. My colleague here is Mister Road. We’re investigating the disappearance of two of our associates.’

‘What were their names?’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Tell me their names. I want to know what they were called. Your associates. Tell me their names and maybe I’ll help you.’

‘...Okay. Their names were Mister Stone, and Mister Wood. Now, can we ask you some questions?’

‘Do you guys just see things and pick names? “Oh, you be Mister Sidewalk, he’s Mister Carpet, say hello to Mister Airplane?”’”

In this unique and hilarious chapter, we witness an exchange between (bisexual icon) Samantha Black Crow and a minor villain who has been assigned to track down the protagonist. We aren’t privy to either of the characters’ emotions or thoughts, or even their actions, yet we can discern all of it from dialogue alone.

Third Person Limited

“She’s had enough of his bullshit. Something in her snaps, and her open palm collides -- hard -- with the side of his stupid, stupid face. He touches the red mark she left behind, staring at her like he can’t believe she actually did that. Good. Maybe that’ll teach him to stop being such an pugnacious fuckwad.”

This one is tethered to a specific character, whose thoughts and feelings we are aware of. However, we are not inside the mind of the character in the same manner as a First Person narrator.

Examples:

American Gods, by Neil Gaiman

“Shadow had done three years in prison. He was big enough, and looked don’t-fuck-with-me enough that his biggest problem was killing time. So he kept himself in shape, and taught himself coin tricks, and thought a lot about how much he loved his wife.”

Though American Gods features an impressive diversity of perspectives, we spend most of the book tethered to the lovable ex-con Shadow Moon. We are never trapped inside his head, as we would be if the story were First Person, but we know what he is thinking and feeling. He is our viewpoint character.

The Giver, by Lois Lowry

“It was almost December, and Jonas was beginning to be frightened. No. Wrong word, Jonas thought. Frightened meant that deep, sickening feeling of something terrible about to happen. Frightened was the way he had felt a year ago when an unidentified aircraft had overflown the community twice. He had seen it both times. Squinting toward the sky, he had seen the sleek jet, almost a blur at its high speed, go past, and then a second later heard the blast of sound that followed. Then one more time, a moment later, from the opposite direction, the same plane.”

Lois Lowry’s timeless, haunting dystopia is introduced through the guileless eyes of twelve-year-old Jonas. We are aloud to see the world from his perspective, but the distance of Third Person Limited allows us to feel the horror of each situation with more clarity. Lowry demonstrates how to utilize POV to one’s advantage, similar to how Neil Gaiman uses Third Person Limited to enhance the horror of his masterful modern fairy tale Coraline.

Multiple Selective Omniscience

“She decides she’s had enough of his bullshit, and slaps him. Hard. Hard enough that her ring leaves a red welt on his cheek.

He feels his eyes go wide, and he touches the side of his face. He keeps waiting for her to apologize, but her eyes are narrowed and her lips are pursed. She doesn’t look sorry.”

The viewpoint shifts between characters. It can be extremely effective, as long as we are aware of when the proverbial camera changes angles.

Examples:

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, by Betty Smith

First of all: if you haven’t read A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, do it. Do it right now. It is the piece of classic literature I recommend to everyone who hates classic literature, because it’s devoid of all of the traits that make people hate classic literature to begin with. It has oodles of complex, idiosyncratic, autonomous, and tough-as-hell female characters, bad language, and frank discussions of sexuality, poverty, and classism. Read A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.

Anyway. Though its protagonist is Francie Nolan, who, like the eponymous tree, perseveres and thrives against insurmountable odds, the viewpoint bounces around an immense deal, between Francie’s family and neighbors to the most minor side-characters. Because of this, many people believe that the true protagonist is Brooklyn itself, and the people in it.

The Twelve Tribes of Hattie, by Ayana Mathis

This is a captivating, gut-wrenching book, similar to A Tree Grows in Brooklyn in its highly effective depiction of poverty. The book follows the children of Hattie Shepherd, a formerly young and optimistic mother, who lost her firstborn twins to an easily preventable disease in the aftermath of the Great Migration. The viewpoint changes with each chapter, showing the perspectives of each of her children and how they are haunted by this loss.

The Vacationers, by Emma Straub

A far cry from its poverty-focused predecessors, this book focuses on the problems of the affluent and privileged. It is, however, a deeply interesting read, as it swerves between the perspectives of the titular vacationers after a patriarch’s fore into adultery threatens his family and marriage.

Omniscient

“She decides she’s had enough of his bullshit, and to his surprise, she slaps him. Hard enough that he feels her ring leave a red welt on his flesh.

He touches his cheek in shock, and stares at her, awaiting an apology. But she isn’t sorry. All she feels is satisfaction.”

Just what it sounds like. The character is an all-knowing entity. Or Lemony Snicket. Perhaps both.

Examples:

Everything I Never Told You, by Celeste Ng

“Lydia is dead. But they don’t know this yet.”

Celeste Ng’s beautiful and haunting novel begins with the wordless affirmation of the narration’s omniscience. The narrative knows things the characters don’t, though it doesn’t always choose to relay its secrets. In this case, it doesn’t answer the mystery of Lydia’s death until the very end -- an answer that the characters themselves will never discover.

The Hobbit, by J.R.R. Tolkien

“In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.”

Tolkien’s book shows us how useful omniscience is for worldbuilding. He doesn’t need to cleverly sneak this exposition into Bilbo’s dialogue; he can tell it to us outright, and immediately draw us into this world while doing so.

Good Omens, by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett

“Current theories on the creation of the Universe state that, if it was created at all and didn’t just start, as it were, unofficially, it came into being between ten and twenty thousand years ago. By that same token the earth itself is generally supposed to be about four and a half thousand million years old.

These dates are incorrect.”

This delightfully Pratchett-esque opening immediately puts us into a -- literally -- godlike perspective, in which we are given insider information about the start of the universe. It immediately establishes the tone of this amazing novel: one in which life and creation are too important to be taken seriously. And for this purpose, this uniquely omniscient perspective is the only way to go.

That’s all I’ve got for now, my fellow scribblers! As you contemplate perspective, just think about how different the same events would look from a two disparate viewpoints. Even if two people are sharing a moment, that moment is different for both of them.

The perspective isn’t something you tack on to your story. Oftentimes, it defines your story. So choose carefully, and don’t be afraid to explore!

Happy writing, everybody! <3

#writing #writing tips #caff's writing tips #the author speaks #authors #writing resources #perspectives #writing perspectives #first person #second person #third person #pov #fiction

5K notes · View notes