#prince oberyn fanfic

[juletheghoul]

Unbroken

AN: I have been toying around with this idea for a couple of years at this point-the idea of being Elia's lady in waiting, and being aggressively pursued by her brother, Oberyn. I imagine him to be younger, wilder, but just as passionate. There is no Ellaria yet, there is no betrayal, just two people who cannot get enough of each other and Oberyn using his position for nothing but mischief. This is quite obviously before the nastiness that we all know befalls House Martell, lets live in it a while! I have a whole drama planned out for them in my head so I might actually write it all out - lets see if I can find the time lol. (in the moodboard above, the face you see is how I imagine Elia to be, reader is still completely nondescript!) This is unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine- hope you enjoy! 🧡

Oberyn Martell x F!Reader

Pairing: Oberyn x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings: (18+ NO MINORS) , language, Smut 18+, PIV sex (wrap it up), dirty talk **pregnancy**

Let me know if I missed anything!

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist 

Her skirts swirl in the wind, whipping around her legs like sand. They were the colour of dusk, burnt oranges and yellows, favouring her golden skin, and her dark eyes. Elia Martell–all the Martells–looked best in these colours. You smile at her as you pour her a cup of wine, indulging her despite her delicate constitution. 

“This is the last of it my Princess,” you fill the cup halfway, “You know it does not sit well.”

“Yes, yes,” she rolled her eyes, sipping at the wine, “you are worse than Doran.” 

You sigh, goodnaturedly, until one of the guards of Sunspear comes, interrupting the Princess enjoying the non-existent breeze.  

“My princess, my lady,” He speaks, addressing you respectively, “The Prince, Oberyn requests your company-”

“Oh what could my brother possibly want from me right now?” She huffs out a breath, her winecup getting the brunt of her annoyance. 

“My apologies Princess, it is not your company he asks for.” He bows his head in deference, his gaze then moving to you. “My lady, Prince Oberyn awaits.” 

Your heart races to hear him calling for you, despite it not being the first time. Elia laughs, and dismisses you graciously. “Go then, my lady. You cannot keep The Red Viper waiting for long, he is prone to sulk, or fight.” Her tinkling laugh follows you where the guard leads, ringing out as you make your way towards his chambers. 

You smile to yourself as you walk the halls of Sunspear, the sound of your soft steps ringing out, bouncing off the tiles and the high, arched ceilings. Your heart feels like a bird in the cage of your ribs, fluttering wildly as you finally make it to the giant door leading to him. 

You meet the solid wall of his back when the guard opens his chamber door, he is sitting at his desk by the window, head down and quill scratching across a piece of parchment. His head turns at the sound of the door, and the quill is discarded. His eyes are lively when they meet yours, full of mischief and devilment. 

“You called for me, my Prince?” You try, genuinely, try to keep the smile off your face. “Is there something you desire of me?” He narrows his eyes, rising and slinking over like some big, predatory cat. He is so tall, his shoulders so broad and the cut of his robes only serves to highlight his best features. The breadth of him, the trim waist, the enchanting vision of his throat and chest on display. All of it conspiring to make you ache to touch him. He laughs low, the sound hardening your nipples. 

“Just you, my flower.” He doesn’t so much reach for you, as strike, like his namesake. His arms wrapping around your waist quick enough to pull a gasp from you. His lips descend quickly, pressing against your neck, his tongue following closely behind and all you can do for a moment is gasp in delight, gathered up in his arms with your hands pressed against his chest.

“This is why you pull me away from the Princess? Because you cannot contain your passion for a few hours my Prince?” His hands travel, landing heavy on your backside, while his mouth travels from your shoulder, up to capture your mouth in a searing kiss, a kiss that pushes everything but him from your mind.

“Yes, my love, I cannot contain my passion for you for even a heartbeat.” He speaks the words, turning your heart, and your cunt to liquid for him, before his deft hands pull at the laces and fastenings of your dress. 

“My Prince, I am to serve-” He pulls the dress up and off, leaving you in your small clothes, “Your sister, I am to serve–” He cuts off the words with another kiss and this time you moan into his mouth, heart pounding between your legs, knowing even now as you protest that you will let him do whatever he wants, that you need him to.

“My sister is too greedy with you, too selfish.” He undoes his robe, slipping it off to fall at his feet as he herds you towards his bed. 

“She keeps you to herself, when she knows of my desire for you.” you tumble into his linens, the smell of him surrounding you, spicy and sweet, like desert heat, fiery peppers, sweet and fragrant oranges. 

He slots his hips between your legs, and his cock is so hard it makes you gasp, the fabric of his breeches dampening when he grinds against the small clothes that cover your sex. 

“You are insatiable–Oberyn!” You gasp his name when he tears the small clothes from your body, his impatience to have you naked and open to him making him ravenous. He laughs, eyes like black diamonds as he practically kicks his breeches off in his haste to get his cock out. 

“I am unwell, my love, truly and deeply sick with want.” He moans the last word when he finally fits himself at the mouth of your cunt, slipping in with one brutal thrust. 

“Gods, yes my love, this is what I needed, to be buried up to my balls in this sweet little cunt.” He moans, his tone obscene as he rocks himself inside you. 

Your arousal is something as fierce as he, the fullness of him only further inflaming your passion. It is always like this with him, never dull, never calm, always an inferno in your veins and in your lungs. He passes it on to you, his fire catching on your skin and soon, you are clutching to him, begging him, your arousal coating him and dripping onto his bed. 

“Yes, yes–” You chant, in tune with every roll of his hips. The sun shining through the window paints everything in his colours. 

“Did you miss me, my love? Miss me here?” He punctuates the word with a hard snap of his hips, it makes your breasts bounce, makes you let out a whine. 

“Yes my Prince, yes, always miss you–” You open your legs wider, giving him more room to get deeper, to fuck you harder, “Oberyn, you’re splitting me open.” You pull him forward, the temptation of his neck is too great, you suck a mark into it, relishing the way he groans. His hand pulls yours up and over your head, making your chest jut out for his tongue. He teases at your sensitive nipples as his cock strokes, and strokes, and strokes until you are on the precipice, on the dagger's edge of pleasure. 

“I can feel it, ready to burst for me–” He smiles, drunk on the pleasure and when he lets go of your hands and presses his thumb to your clit you unravel, clenching and soaking him in your release. “There it is, that’s it-” He speeds up, burying his face into your neck while you take what he gives, his chest pressed up against yours, sweat slicked and warm. 

His pace falters and you feel the hot jet of his seed inside, he groans, changing to a dirty grind as he comes deep. 

He collapses once he’s milked himself dry, his comforting weight pressing you to his feather bed. Your legs settle around his waist, ankles locking on the swell of his ass and your arms wind around his neck to play with his sweat-soaked hair. He hums as you trail your nails down, tickling at the smooth skin of his back. Your lips press kisses against his shoulder where it rests under your chin. This is your favourite part, being full of him, surrounded by him, loved by him, and pouring all of your affection and love back into him in return. 

“Are you quite comfortable, my Prince?” You scratch at his scalp as he takes deep breaths, his softening cock still buried deep. 

“Oh yes,” He huffs the words into your neck, his tongue licking a stripe up to your ear, “I could spend the rest of my life here, cock inside you, my body on yours.” 

You laugh, full throated. 

“Oh I bet you could, rutting away until I’m raw.” You bring your hands to his face, making him face you and you are once again struck by his beauty, no matter how many times you find yourself in his bed, he still makes your heart race. You swipe your thumb across his plump lower lip, and fix the unruly state of his hair. “I could stay here too, Oberyn. I could be here, under you, with you, beside you always. I love you.” You press your mouth to his, and he deepens the kiss, his ardour burning just as brightly. 

“I love you, my flower, and what we’ve created. I cannot wait to meet my son.” He brings his hand down, to the little swell of your belly, the one that's barely showing yet. You laugh again, and he smiles, his hand warm against your womb. 

“A boy is it? How would you divine that? I am barely showing–”

“I know it is a boy, I can feel it. He will be my little viper, a menace to his instructors, he will have the sweet face of his mother, and the fierce hunger of his father.” He removes himself with a hiss, pulling out and lowering himself until he presses kiss after kiss to the little bump. “Won’t you my boy? You will be the terror and delight of my life.”

He smiles up at you, bright eyed, with all of the love you feel for him shining back at you. 

“You, my love, will give birth to princes and princesses, the most beautiful children in all of the world.” He always got like this after, sentimental and romantic and it always made you happy enough to cry. 

“Yes my love, he will be all that and more.” You pull him up, wrapping his arms around you to lay your head on his chest. “You know I must go soon, I cannot stay in bed with you, despite my wish to.” He sighs, resigned. 

“Yes, Elia awaits, just another moment, and I will let you go.” You laugh, and bury your face into his neck. 

- Tag list: @frannyzooey @greeneyedblondie44 @lola4pedro @221bshrlocked @artsymaddie @supernaturalgirl20 @sleep-tight1 @sherala007 @cannedsoupsucks @thirstworldproblemss @ilikechocolatemilkh @freeshavocadoooo @hrk-fic-recs @maxwell--lord @the-feckless-wonder @kirsteng42 @thisshipwillsail316 @feministfanboi  @stevie75 @readsalot73 @pedrostories @tobealostwanderer @mandocrasis @elegantduckturtle @diogodxlot @alczysz17 @evyiione @absurdthirst @beskarboobs @andruxx @littlemissoblivious @1800-fight-me @maievdenoir @gracie7209 @omlwhatamidoinghere @magikfanatic @frankiecatfish @pedritoispunk @studythoreauly @missswriter @pintsizemama @mswarriorbabe80 @a-trial-run-on-paper @la-le-lu @chickadee-djarin @dobbyjen @rosiefridayrogersunday @ajeff855 @johnsrevelation @the-witty-pen-name @zombiesnips-blog @sarahjkl82-blog @fan-of-encouragement @queenofthecloudss @deadhumourist @felicisimor @toomanystoriessolittletime @what-iwish-you-knew @pedrostories @athalien @bi-thewayy @literallydontlook @pedrosbrat @gamingaquarius @luxmundee @iamafadedmoon @nakhudanyx @littlemisspascal @grogusmum @recklessworry @heyitmelexie @killyspinacoladas @gothicxbarbie @evildxad @dragonslarimar @spideysimpossiblegirl @chemtrail-mix @breezythesimp @altarsw @artooies-scream @staygolddindjarin @softsweetedbeauty @littlemisspascal @yuiopiklmn @squidwell @just-blogging-around @bbyanarchist @girlofchaos @maddiedrmr @frasmotic @acourtofsnakes @buckybarneshairpullingkink @astoryisaloveaffair @harriedandharassed  @shirks-all-responsibilities @androah @alwaysachorusgirl @dindjarinsmut @captain-jebi @gallowsjoker @tusk89 @dadbodfanatic-x @naiomiwinchester @blazedprince @avidreader73 @mr-underhills-things @avengersfan25 @tastygoldentaters @nyotamalfoy @mymindfuckery @its-nebuleuse @missladym1981 @inept-the-magnificent @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @ladyofmidlo72 @greenvita @honey-on-your-tongue

[happilyhertale]

A royal encounter - Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader x Oberyn Martell

Summary: Daemon had a great idea to bring a breath of fresh air into your marriage. But his plans were thwarted.

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader x Oberyn Martell

Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; oral f receiving, fingering (f in v and f in a), p in v sex, p in a sex

Author’s note: To celebrate the one year anniversary of my very first posted story, I've decided to finally post the Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader x Oberyn Martell story.... I hope you like it! And… Thanks for reading my stories for a year! 🖤 I am very happy that you still want to read my stories!

English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Word count: 3.3 k

Other stories of mine

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You cling to the railing with your hands. Daemon's hands dig into your hips almost unpleasantly, the marks of his fingernails will be visible for a long time. His thrusts slowly subside and his breath comes heavily. A warm breeze envelops you, here on the balcony of your old chambers. You have sought a little excitement, escaping the boring ball that has lured many lords and ladies to King's Landing. That's how Daemon came to practically push you into your old chambers for a bit of excitement.

You are both still breathing heavily as Daemon slowly pulls out of you. His soft laugh rings out as he gently kisses your nose.

But then this gentle moment is interrupted as someone applauds you and a clap is heard.

For a second Daemon's gaze meets yours before he looks over his shoulder and sees Prince Oberyn Martell standing in the middle of the chambers. He grins, "Perhaps I should have tried harder to seduce a Targaryen princess after all," Prince Oberyn says cheekily. In one movement Daemon pulls his trousers completely up and spins around, his eyes narrowing.

"Oh, is the Prince of Dorne trying to make a pass at my wife?" hisses Daemon.

A gasp escapes you and you try to hide your naked body behind Daemon's. Your gaze wanders, searching for your dress, which Daemon had torn off you just moments before.

As Prince Oberyn chuckles, "No... But now that I've seen how much fun you've had, I wish I'd had it too," he says to him. Daemon's gaze falls slightly over his shoulder, seeing you trying to cover your body. He sees you reaching for your dress, which is lying on the floor.

He looks back at Oberyn and his mood suddenly seems more relaxed. He starts to button up his shirt, "I think we were just looking for a little excitement here," Daemon replies.

"But..," Daemon adds suddenly, "if you want to join us, I could certainly be persuaded."

You are pulling up your dress and frowning when you hear his words, "Daemon? Did you just invite Prince Oberyn to a threesome?" you ask him a little shocked.

Daemon hears your words, but before he can say anything back, Oberyn intervenes. 

"A threesome?" asks Prince Oberyn with a grin, "I would have thought you were a jealous husband rather than an adventurous one...". Oberyn's words echo through the chambers and your eyes fall on Daemon again. You know he can be jealous, but this time something else is reflected in his eyes.

Daemon chuckles softly, "We could have a good time in these old chambers here," he says mischievously, "It might make everything a little more exciting." Daemon turns slightly, looking you straight in the eye, "What do you think? Is the Prince of Dorne a threat to our marriage?" he asks you gently. His thumb gently strokes your cheek.

You are not easily embarrassed, but this idea makes you blush. You bite your lip lightly, the pulsing between your legs reignited. Prince Oberyn was a handsome man. No less handsome than your husband, but in total contrast.

"No... he's not a threat. I only love you..." you say softly to Daemon.

Your gaze drifts to Prince Oberyn and his mischievous grin jumps out at you. He begins to unbutton his shirt and his lightly tanned chest is revealed. It is a stark contrast to your fair skin. Gently he brushes his shirt off his shoulders, revealing muscles that are rather small compared to Daemon's – he is defined but slender in stature. You step forward and stand next to Daemon.

But Daemon's gaze follows Oberyn's actions as he unbuttons his shirt, looking at his wife. He sees pure lust in Oberyn's eyes, the brown of his eyes barely discernible – his pupils dilated with lust.

Daemon notices how handsome Oberyn is and feels an excitement welling up inside him.

Oberyn's gaze falls on Daemon's face and notices Daemon trying to hide his excitement, but he sees his eyes fixed on the scene before him. A smile spreads across Oberyn's face. Oberyn walks towards you and slowly kneels on the ground in front of you.

You gasp briefly as his gaze goes up to you and he smiles at you. His hands reach for your dress and slowly begin to lift it.

The blush on your face continues to spread to your cleavage. Never has another man been about to touch you like this.

As Oberyn's voice brings you back to reality, "The blush is much more visible on your pale skin, Princess," he murmurs, "No need to be nervous, you'll enjoy it"

You bite your lip, even though you don't want to be nervous, you feel it flood through you.

You feel Daemon behind you, his hands on your shoulder. His thumbs glide gently over the crook of your neck. However unfamiliar this situation may be, Daemon's touch soothes you.

"Well?" asks Oberyn suddenly, "Do you want me to have her?" 

Your eyes slide from Oberyn's to Daemon's purple eyes. Slightly peeking over your shoulder, your lips meet, "I want you both, Daemon..." you whisper against his lips.

Oberyn chuckles lightly as he lifts your dress further. You're not wearing any undergarments and as Oberyn pushes your dress up to your hips, your light pubic hair is revealed.

"Mmm, the silver hair of the Targaryens..." he murmurs, pressing his face into it. A smile crosses his face, the smile of an artist when he sees the masterpiece he has created. 

You gasp as Oberyn presses his face into your pubic area. You exhale heavily, watching Oberyn enjoy the warmth of your private parts.

Daemon watches Oberyn and a slight, excited growl forms in his chest. Your previous words, "I want you both," also add to his arousal. Daemon's lips gently touch your neck as his hands begin to slide your dress down from your shoulders.

Prince Oberyn lets his tongue slide slowly through your womanhood. His fingers gently pull apart your folds so he can fully enjoy you.

You moan as you feel Oberyn's tongue find your bundle of nerves and gently circle it.

A "mmhmm" sounds from Oberyn as he pushes his face further into you. Your breath quickens as you feel Daemon lightly bite the soft skin of your neck and Oberyn circles his tongue faster. Your moans echo through the chambers.

When Oberyn suddenly lets go of your warm core and you whimper in disappointment. Your eyes fall on Oberyn, who looks up at you. His lips are glistening with your juice. Slowly he stands up and begins to open his trousers. Meanwhile Daemon lets your dress fall to the floor. His hands slide to your breasts, massaging them lightly. His thumbs and fingers grip your nipples, teasing them lightly. His lips continue to caress your neck as another moan leaves your lips.

You are now standing naked in front of them both. And your teeth don't want to release your lip. As Oberyn takes one of your hands and leads you away from Daemon. You take a step and slip out of your dress, which is lying at your feet. Slowly he leads you to the bed.

You climb onto the bed and Oberyn, who is naked himself, lies down beside you and begins to caress your body with his fingers. You see how Oberyn's hot length is already aroused and unlike Daemon's, a dark ring surrounds his size. You can't resist, you run your fingers through the hair. Oberyn grins at you and now he lightly bites his lip.

Your eyes fall on Daemon and you watch as his gaze is fixed on you. A shiver runs down your spine as you see his gaze follow Oberyn's fingers on your skin. Daemon begins to undress, his eyes never leaving you. First his shirt falls, revealing his muscular torso. The scars from all the battles won litter his pale skin. Your arousal rises immensely. As Daemon undresses from the waist down and his arousal immediately springs free, you moan. The way Daemon stands in front of you and Oberyn's fingers find their way between your thighs is too exciting.

Daemon's attention is on you, the love of his life, and the tanned man next to you, caressing you on the bed and sliding his fingers through your wetness. Daemon comes towards you with long strides, gently sliding himself onto the bed with you. His fingers find your hips, reach into your curves as he begins to play around your nipple with his tongue. You moan again as his teeth begin to nibble lightly. 

Daemon's lips slowly glide up your neck. A game of kisses and light bites until he encloses your lips. You breath into his mouth as Oberyn slides his hand to your bottom and turns you to Daemon. You lie on your side, your hand glides over Daemon's chest to his neck while your tongues dance wildly around each other. Oberyn brushes your silver hair aside and begins to kiss your neck softly. His fingers slide down your thigh, until his hand reaches the curves of your bottom and grips firmly. You whimper into Daemon's mouth. Oberyn releases your butt cheek and lets his fingers slide between your thighs. You whimper again as he covers his finger with your wetness and slides it to your butt hole. He applies light pressure and your whimpering repeats itself.

His fingers are slick with your wetness, easing the way as they tease the sensitive spot. He wants to push you further, to see how far you're willing to go. Experimentally, he stroked his fingers against your hole.

Oberyn's breath hitches as your hips begin to move slightly. A soft sound comes from you and your bottom presses lightly against his finger, your slight gasp sending a wave of satisfaction through him. He pressed a little harder, his finger slowly sliding into your tight, forbidden entrance.

The feeling of you around his finger, it all fueled his desire, igniting a primal need within him. He let out a low grunt in response, his own pleasure intertwining with yours.

He could feel his own cock hardening almost painfully, aching for the intense pleasure that only you could provide at the moment. The sound of your whimpering, your vulnerability and need, only served to heighten his own desire to please you.

Daemon's fingers mirror Oberyn's movements as his fingers slide between your legs. His attention is on your clit at first until he slides them inside you. You hear him growl softly as he feels the walls of your cunt already clenching around his fingers.

Daemon looks at you with slightly parted lips, enjoying the sight of ecstasy on your face. "You always take my fingers so well inside of you," Daemon mumbles a little breathlessly, "just like my tongue... My cock"

You whimper again and your fingers grab his biceps.

Daemon growls again and his gaze falls on Oberyn, who grunts slightly as he slides his fingers into your butthole.

"The princess is so tight," Oberyn murmurs and Daemon feels a tingle inside him as he hears the words. You gasp and bite your lip lightly as Oberyn's fingers thrust deeper, his warm breath on your neck.

Daemon lets his lips meet yours again, both of you breathing heavily, his fingers thrusting faster into you, completely wet with your juices. He starts to insert another finger into you and you moan almost desperately. The sensation of your wetness coating his fingers only fueled his desire further, knowing that you are becoming more and more receptive to his touch. He elicits a long whine from you as he curls his digits against your sensitive walls.

You feel the fingers thrusting into you. But this time it's so much more than usual. Daemon's fingers keep rubbing over the rough part of your wet walls, making you whimper, while Oberyn's fingers keep stretching your tight hole, awakening the feeling inside you that you need to feel so much more.

You moan out loud and before you've fully realised it, you feel Daemon's fingers pull out of you and slide his hot length through your wet folds. You whimper slightly each time he grazes your sensitive pearl. You moan even louder as he presses lightly against your entrance and you whimper again at the thought of how perfectly he will fill you.

"I think the princess will be perfectly filled tonight," Oberyn whispers, followed by a slight chuckle, as if he can read your mind. His lips still pressed against your neck as his fingers continue to explore your depths.

Daemon thrusts hard into you and your walls give way to his size. Daemon grunts loudly as he's back in his warm, soft home. His large hand slides to the back of your thigh, but you are distracted by the penetrating thrusts. He grabs your thigh and guides your leg closer to his body, placing your knee on his hip so he can penetrate you deeper.

He thrusts forward again and again, conjuring up the sweetest whimpering noises from you.

When you suddenly feel Oberyn's fingers leave your tight hole, you almost feel an emptiness inside you that needs to be filled. But then you feel his cock sliding along between your thighs from behind. Again and again he rubs it through your wet folds, soaking it with your wetness, while Daemon continues to thrust into your cunt.

Oberyn's cock throbbed with desire while his lips are still pressed against your neck. His breathing becomes heavier and you feel the warmth on the soft skin of your neck as he positions himself at your tight entrance.

You're slightly distracted by Daemon's thrusts and grunts, but you feel Oberyn begin to press the tip of his cock against your butt hole. You cry out slightly, but it ends in a long moan.

With a deep, primal grunt, he presses the tip of his cock against the entrance, feeling the resistance and tightness that awaits him. The whimpers and moans escaping your lips only fuelled his desire, his own need becoming unbearable.

But your butthole quickly gives way. Still slightly stretched by Oberyn's fingers, it almost greedily envelops the tip of his cock. You hear Oberyn moaning in your ear, breathing heavily.

"Gods... Princess... I haven't even been all the way inside you yet and you already feel so divinely tight," Oberyn murmurs breathlessly – you can only whimper.

Oberyn follows Daemon's rhythm and every time Daemon pushes your pelvis backwards, Oberyn takes the opportunity. Your bottom is pushed towards Oberyn again and again and each time he thrusts a little harder to meet your movements.

You feel yourself getting restless and your hand suddenly reaches for Oberyn's bottom. Your hand grips his small, firm bottom and squeezes gently. Oberyn continues to thrust slowly but firmly and you are caught up in the feeling of wanting to feel him deeper, but the slight pain forces you to take it slowly. But your hand starts to push him closer to you as a mix of whimpers and moans leave you. Oberyn stretches you further and further and your eyes roll into the back of your head.

With one final, powerful thrust, Oberyn conquers your tight hole and moans loudly. You cry out briefly, but the pain quickly subsides and gives way to pure pleasure. You realise how completely filled you are. Daemon and Oberyn are now thrusting in unison and you are trapped in their grips – and you don't want it to end. You put your head back and Oberyn immediately turns his attention back to your neck. He bites in lightly as he thrusts into your tight hole.

"Gods... Gods... fuck..." leaves his lips again and again.

With a primal instinct, he grabs your hips and slides closer to you. His thrusts now go deeper. He savours your tightness and the pleasure he brings you. The sound of your soft cries and moans fill the air as Daemon and Oberyn thrust into you, driving them both even further into a state of primal lust.

Daemon's hand is still on your thigh, lifting it slightly as he thrusts into your cunt. Oberyn's fingers grip your hips tighter as his thrusts penetrate you from behind.

Daemon grunts to himself, feeling the unusual resistance on his cock every time Oberyn thrusts into you and it turns him on. He thrusts harder and feels your cunt literally pulsating. His hand slides from your thigh to your breast, gripping it tightly as his lips slam onto yours. A wild kiss, accompanied by whimpers and moans, unfolds between you.

Your foot slides to the back of his thigh, wanting to pull him closer, needing to feel him deeper.

Daemon breathes heavily and grunts as your kiss ends. His eyes are fixated on the sight of you taking Oberyn's cock up your ass as he continues to fuck your cunt. The combination of your actions, the raw lust emanating from you, elicits a primal moan from deep within him.

With each thrust, he feels the lust building inside him and the need for release becomes almost unbearable. But he wants to savour this moment, savour your pleasure, revel in the intoxicating connection you share. Daemon's hand lets go of your breast and slides to your leg again.

His grip is firm and so are his thrusts, which become more intense and violent. The sound of your moans and the beginning trembling of your thighs only fuel his desire and bring him even closer to the edge.

You feel that you are about to come. The sensation of being filled in both holes is almost too much and you feel the familiar pressure spreading through your abdomen.

"Yes... Come on my cock," Daemon grunts, " Show me how good it feels for you to be filled like this," he grunts as his cock starts to twitch dangerously as well. Oberyn starts grunting behind you. He can feel your whole abdomen literally start to clench. His hand slides from your hip to your warm core. You look down, breathing heavily, and see Daemon thrusting into you and Oberyn's fingers begin to rub your clit. You are a moaning mess. The pressure inside you becomes almost unbearable.

"Be an obedient wife... come while our cocks fill you," Oberyn grunts in your ear as his fingers rub faster.

You only whimper, followed by a loud moan.

"I'm going to fill you up, princess... My seed will fill this tight hole," Oberyn grunts further, thrusting deeper.

And then you come, your cunt clenches around Daemon's cock, milking him and driving him over the edge with you. He growls and grunts loudly, pumping his cum deep into your cunt with deep thrusts.

Oberyn follows shortly after you and dresses your dark walls in white. He bites the back of your neck and immerses himself in the sensation. The grips on your body are firm, the feeling wonderful.

You whimper softly as the grunting around you slowly dies down. There is a smell of sweat and sex in the air. Heavy breathing echoes off the walls. Your light whimpers come to a climax as the two of them slowly pull out of you. Exhausted, you let yourself sink against Daemon's chest while Oberyn lies on his back, breathing heavily. His hand rests on your bum, stroking it gently.

"Maybe I should visit King's Landing more often after all..." mumbles Oberyn as he looks up at the ceiling.

Your eyes are closed, but instead of a reply, you hear a slight chuckle from Daemon.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Tag list:

@hoshi-miharu-blog @arryn-nyx @aemonds-eyeball @praline357 @melsunshine @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @lauftivy @valeskafics @sylasthegrim @dreamlandcreations @hopelesswritergall @wetbitchlibrary @arcielee @just-some-random-blogger @softyhwrt @bl4ckph0enix

[palioom]

Hellooo!! Just really wanted to say I absolutely love your fics they’re so good am always waiting for you to drop the next one 😩👌🏼

But just a suggestion!! I don’t know what it is but there’s something INCREDIBLY hot about a guy who really wants you to sit on his face 🥵 like he’s FERAL to give it to her and will go down for hours if he can and he will!! 😩👌🏼I don’t really have a specific situation in mind but I just need him to have a NEED to give the reader oral idk FKDKDKS

You can do whatever you want with this! Or don’t! Am grateful for anything 🥹

first of all I'm SO sorry with how long this took to upload! i LOVED the idea the second i saw it and I hope I could do your idea justice after such a long wait, I just didn't have the time for longer stuff with kinktober happening but thank you so much for giving me this idea!!

remedy against pain

summary: after being "gravely" injured, Oberyn knows exactly what would help him heal, and you are more than eager to give it to him.

pairing: oberyn martell x f!reader

word count: 4.9k

warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n (but many, many nicknames); fluff & smut; oral (m & f receiving); multiple orgasms; overstimulation; squirting; face sitting; 69; one small slap on the ass

part of "the viper and the sun"

• masterlist •

When she was notified of Oberyn’s injury that sunny afternoon, she was worried at first. All sorts of grisly thoughts came into her head - thoughts of broken bones and bloody wounds. Another deep scar to worship later, once it had healed.

All she had been told was that he had been brought back to their shared bedchambers with an injured back and knee, sustained as he was practicing with their eldest daughter, Obara.

It was difficult to believed that a girl of eighteen years of age could injure her own father in such a grave manner that he had to stop and leave the training pits altogether.

But as the nurse who accompanied her talked more about his supposed suffering, she had to try and keep her oncoming laugh hidden. Coughing to stifle her laughter, the best rendition of worry etched onto her features when she heard of what truly ailed him.

A small, moderately deep cut on the knee and a large bruise on his back from when he fell after Obara had swiped him off his feet.

That old man.

Ever a penchant for the dramatics, the immediate notice of his quite severe injury an exaggeration like only he could procure. In grave danger to meet death, at least that was what he wished for her to believe.

Oberyn loved to exaggerate his ailments whenever she was around, keen to have his wonderful wife dote on and care for him like only she could. With her gentle hands and words, her tongue spinning the sweetest words to help him heal while he lamented about how much he had hurt himself.

She knew every time that things weren’t as bad as he made them out to be, at least not when she saw him. Before that, she would worry her head off, the most grim images in her head until she found out the truth. But she played along nonetheless, and sometimes she would even find it in herself to tease him.

“The Prince is in a lot of pain, my Princess.” The nurse informed her as they arrived at the huge double doors leading to their private chambers, seeming extremely worried. Oh, what a mean man Oberyn was sometimes, making everyone concerned for him all because he enjoyed the attention it gave him from his wife. “You ought to tread carefully.”

She chucked quietly, giving the woman in front of her a soothing smile.

“Thank you, I will make sure to treat my dear husband with utmost care.”

The nurse bowed her head before scurrying off again, leaving her to go inside their chambers.

Carefully she opened the huge doors, flanked by guards on the outside, stepping into the silence of the room. They had drawn some of the curtains so not too much light was flooding inside, dipping everything into hues of red and orange.

She could see him lying on the bed, a wet rag covering his eyes, propped up on some pillows behind him into a position halfway between sitting and lying down. Not looking too miserable, if she had to give an estimated guess from where she stood.

“Oh, my Viper.” She cooed as she came closer, watching how his entire demeanour shifted beneath her words. Suddenly he did look quite miserable, creases forming on his forehead and the corners of his mouth turning downward just slightly. Like their girls pretending to be sick so they would coddle them. She wasn’t quite sure if they learned from Oberyn or Oberyn from them. “My sweet, sweet Viper. Are you well?”

Sitting down on the side of the bed, right next to him, she took his warm, broad hand into hers, feeling the rough calluses on it. With the other, she reached up to remove the wet rag from his eyes.

“My lovely wife.” Oberyn groaned, looking back at her, blinking a few times to adjust to the sudden brightness that flooded his eyes. “My pain seems to ease in your presence, my Sun.”

She chuckled quietly, her thumb brushing over his knuckles while her other hand brushed back his dark, slightly damp hair, then trailed down his face to cup his cheek. Always with a slightly concerned look on her face, but he could see the small twinkle in her eyes.

Oberyn knew it would be hard to fool his clever wife, but he could still try.

“I am glad it does, my love.” She said, smiling at him as he put on the sickest expression he could. Of course he was in some pain, but Gods, how he exaggerated. “Does it hurt much, my fierce Viper?”

The phantom of a smile graced his features for just a moment, vanishing just as quickly as it had appeared.

Nevertheless, she caught it.

“Quite so, my Sun.” He answered, his piercing eyes holding her gaze, and for just the briefest moment, she believed the pain he was in. He made her believe, knowing her heart was too soft for him to truly doubt him. “The pain is nearly unbearable, if it wasn’t for you by my side, I would certainly perish.”

She leaned closer to him, placing a soft kiss onto his lips, light as a feather as he was obviously quite weak. Warm and a little chapped against hers, the bristles of his beard tickling her skin.

His lips chased hers as she drew back, having to stop himself from chasing after them further.

He was in pain, his back certainly did hurt, but not to the degree Oberyn made it out to be. 

“What would make you feel better, my sweet husband?” She cooed, sitting back up again. Still stroking his cheek and her pout bordering on mock concern.

His dark eyes truly began to sparkle at her question, his fingers flexing against hers. 

Oh, there were many different ideas he had about what would truly help him.

But there was one idea in particular that would ensure a speedy recovery.

“The taste of your sweet cunt, my love.” Oberyn said after a beat of silence, a small smirk on his lips. “Nothing would heal me more efficiently than that. Nothing.”

She remained quiet for a moment, her pout giving way to a smile.

“Oh, my love. You are too injured for that.” She tried to imagine him wanting to keep up the facade of being terribly hurt, but also wanting to roll onto his stomach and delve his tongue deep inside of her. As much as she liked the idea, she was more interested in seeing how Oberyn would like to go about this. “I wouldn’t want you to risk your back by helping you onto your stomach.”

His fingers tightened more around hers, a fiery desire settling inside of his eyes. Desire and lust and a need, pushing away all the traces of him being too hurt.

“And you certainly cannot kneel with your gravely injured knee.”

Clever thing.

He needed her cunt against his mouth, had been craving the embrace of her thighs around his head ever since he had woken in the morning. While she had laid beside him in bed, sunken in a peaceful slumber, her magnificent features traced by the rising sun.

But he had decided to wait until tonight, for she had slept so peacefully that he hadn’t wanted to disturb her. And the wait would have made things so much sweeter in his mind.

Imagining her taste so much that he swore he did eventually taste it.

Maybe that had been why Obara had knocked him over so effectively in the end.

“Straddle my face, my love.” He said, already moving to pull a few pillows from beneath his head and throwing them to the side, making it easier for her to position herself. “Please, my Sun. Don’t deny your husband the pleasure of suffocating between your wonderful thighs while drinking from you. Not while he is gravely injured.”

Gravely injured.

Her smile widened at his words, pulling his hand against her lips once more and kissing each of his knuckles. Slowly, deliberately. Never looking away from his eyes.

Oh, how dramatic he was. How could she deny him?

“Is that truly what would make you better, my Viper?” She asked, feeling the familiar heat pool in her stomach, the tingling on her skin and in her spine, wanting him but not wanting to cause him further injury. They both could get quite passionate, after all. “Are you certain?”

Oberyn chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. If his back wasn’t hurting as much as it was, he simply would have lifted her on top of him, unable to wait any longer to have her.

“There is no better medicine than the cunt of a woman.” He replied, removing yet another pillow and reclining. Noticing how she almost gave into rolling her eyes at him. “Nothing better than the cunt of my sweet wife who is keeping me waiting, hurting.”

She removed her shoes before climbing onto the bed with a giggle, lifting her skirts as she straddled his chest and moved closer to where he needed her. Watching how his eyes sparkled with mischief, darting between her face and the apex of her thighs.

Oberyn found her movingly too slowly, his rough hands grabbing at her thighs and ass, pushing her along faster as a pained groan left him. Looking up at her, he found her looking back down at him with a raised brow, but he simply grinned, her knees finally on either side of his head, but she was still sitting on his chest.

“Oberyn.” She warned, not wanting him to be in more pain because of how eager he was. Her husband would break his neck if it meant he could fuck her somehow. 

He simply chose to ignore her, coaxing her with his hands on her ass, his thick fingers digging into the silk of her dress.

“Come here, my Sun.” His voice was dark and smooth, desperate almost. So close to what he wanted, if only she moved. “Let me have you, I need your sweet cunt on my tongue, your sweet juices.”

She giggled, letting him guide her over his face, lifting her skirts again as she hovered over him. He looked ravenous and she could feel his hot breath against her folds, his nails forming faint crescent marks on her skin.

Oberyn didn’t even wait, simply pulling her down onto him, groaning at the surprised noise that left her; half moan half gasp. Expertly licking a stripe through her folds, his tongue found her clit and toyed with it. Flicking against it before he sucked it into his mouth with another groan, her hips bucking into him as she grabbed the headboard for purchase.

“Oh, Oberyn.” She moaned, grinding into him, one of her hands tangling into his hair and tugging on it. The vibrations of his noises travelled up her spine, shivers breaking out over her skin. Eyes closed and her head thrown back. “Gods, yes!”

While he started out slow at first, he quickly picked up speed, eating her like a man starved as his tongue sweeped lower, fucking into her quivering hole, his nose bumping against her clit over and over. 

Like he had been denied this for centuries.

“You taste fucking delectable.” He groaned against her, one of his hands leaving her hips and moving up to grope at her breast. Ignoring how his back hurt, just needing her and her sweet noises as she pressed herself down harder onto his face. Just how he wanted it. “Exactly what I needed, my Sun.”

His fingers pinched her hardened nipple, making her whine and stutter in her movements for a second, her own tugging on his dark hair harder. 

This truly was his heaven, his wife’s weight on top of him, her body freely grinding against his tongue while he took whatever he could get, lapping at her as if his life depended on it. As if her juices were the only remedy against his pain, a concoction no one else could prepare but her.

Suffocating between her warm thighs, her wonderful sounds muffled by them but still loud enough for him to hear.

He would have to make a habit out of this whenever he was sick.

But he needed her release above all, feeling how she pulsed around his tongue, how her movements became more erratic, leading him to double his efforts. He came back to focus on her clit, slowly becoming aware of how hard he was beneath the covers, just from devouring her like this.

“Please, my Viper.” She moaned, the words hitching on her breath as she looked back down at him, so close to reaching her peak. He looked gorgeous in the red and orange lights. “Oh, how grateful I am it wasn’t your talented tongue which was injured.”

He smirked, lightly grazing his teeth over her clit before sucking it between his lips once more, swiftly feeling her reach her peak right after.

Trembling on top of him as she fell into herself slightly, she still moved her hips against his face as his tongue eagerly lapped up her release. His name tumbled from her lips like a prayer, over and over as his fingers dug into her ass, keeping her close to him even as the pleasure started to border on pain.

And she knew, as he didn’t stop and simply kept going, that he hadn’t had enough of his remedy yet. Still needed more to sate himself, to heal. Circling her clit, fucking into her sensitive hole, all while he began to writhe underneath her.

Oberyn loved the shift in her sounds, more on the side of painful pleasure which he knew she loved, her senses heightened and burning a path of desire inside of her as he kept going. Taking what he needed from her, trying to keep his hips still as a sharp pain shot up his back each time they rutted up into nothing, against the thin covers which provided little relief.

She took a glance over her shoulder, her hips stopping just for a moment as she saw his cock straining against the covers. Thick and hard, all from him burying his face inside her cunt, aching to be touched.

Wondering if he would end up begging for her touch, knowing he derived just as much pleasure from eating her cunt like he would with his cock inside of it. That’s what made him so wonderful, being able to give and receive pleasure just from that alone.

Choosing to ignore it and see if he actually would end up begging her, she bit her lip and turned back around, his tongue swiftly working her up again, pain and pleasure bleeding together into one. A steady buzz that had her nerves aflame and her mind swimming, torn between shying away from and pressing herself down harder onto his eager and warm tongue.

He hurled her into her next orgasm, her juices trickling down his chin and neck while he hummed into her. His own sounds bordered on pain, making her concerned amidst the haze surrounding her like a thick fog, but she knew fully well that he knew his limits.

Hopefully.

Oberyn needed her desperately, the pain in his back almost forgotten in the nagging presence of his aching cock, the friction against the thin sheets doing nothing for him. Wanting to lap at her sweet, swollen cunt but also needing her on him somehow, engulfing him.

Her hands, her mouth, her tits - he would take anything as long as it meant he could keep his face buried between her warm thighs.

Reluctantly he pushed her away from his mouth just briefly, latching onto the soft, scarred inside of her thigh. Her tiger’s stripes as he called them affectionately, from carrying his children and the weight gain that came along with that.

“My Sun.” He groaned, tanned fingers digging into her skin and his eyes closing briefly as he dug his teeth into her thigh, humming. Feeling like he was getting drunk just from her, or going crazy. Maybe even both. “Gods, I need you.”

A giggle left her through the haze in her mind, catching her breath in the brief moment of respite. She loved when he got so drunk on her that he couldn’t let his lips rest even for just a second.

“You have me, Oberyn.” She whispered, flames still licking at her insides, her blood boiling hot. Acting as though she didn’t know about the painful erection hiding beneath the covers. “I would think you have me, your tongue was deep in my cunt just moments ago.”

Oberyn groaned again, more kisses and licks and bites bestowing the inside of her thighs in a frenzy. His wife could be such a mean woman sometimes, teasing him, making him wait.

Maybe this was his punishment for acting sicker than he was.

“My cock demands your attention, my Sun.” He rasped, his eyes piercing and full of lust. His hips rutted upwards as if to emphasize his point, a deep grunt following the movement. One of pain, and it made her wonder whether she should be doing this with him in the first place. “My sweet, please. I need to find relief in you.”

Hearing him plead her to pleasure him only fanned the flames inside of her, a whine escaping her lips as her own hips bucked up. She didn’t want to keep him waiting, but just how desperate could Oberyn become?

“But you need my cunt, my Prince.” She said, brushing his hair back without a care in the world. Like she wasn’t burning up from the inside and like he wasn’t aching for her. “How will you heal if you engulf your cock inside of it? What other remedy do we have that is better than my cunt?”

Oberyn licked his lips, regretting that he had taught her to be so naughty.

“My Sun, don’t tease your bruised and sick husband like this.” He admonished, attempting to move her, but the sharp pain in his back swiftly reminded him that he shouldn’t. And he really did not want to miss her wet heat just yet, needing more of her. “I will take anything you can give me, as long as you do. Please, my darling.”

She giggled and Oberyn immediately knew that she was playing with him. Making a twisted little game out of his injury.

He would have to punish her once he was healed enough.

“Does your cock need me so desperately, my Viper?” She asked, laughing breathlessly. “I don’t wish to break my sweet husband in half, you are so gravely injured already.”

The sound that rumbled in his chest was akin to a growl, his patience for her games wearing thin as his dick throbbed with need in between his legs. Aching and desperate for her touch.

“My sweet, please.” He whined, his eyebrows knitting together as he looked up at her. Begging her with his eyes, so full of lust and hurt and desperation that she melted underneath them. “Turn around and let me feel the divinity of your mouth and tongue, my Sun. Help me heal, my Princess.”

She smirked, swiftly moving off of his face before turning around and straddling it again, feeling his strong hands grip her thighs as she leaned down. 

Biting her lip as she slowly peeled back the thin, orange fabric of the covers, she let her fingers wander over his hot, tanned skin dipped in orange hues. Feeling his muscles twitch beneath it, teasingly slow as he groaned into her middle, tongue already back on her.

“Don’t tease your husband, my dear.” He whined, digging his fingers into her skin harder in an attempt to make her move faster. “The punishment for this crime is severe.”

It did nothing to stop her teasing, only moaning when his teeth nipped at her folds, her fingers finally uncovering him. Erect and red and angry, the head weeping for her and throbbing as she ran a finger along the length of it with a featherlight touch.

Tracing the thick veins, his hips squirming and his moans muffled by her, she couldn’t help the small laugh that left her. Only keeping him waiting a little longer, she finally granted him his wish, kissing the head of his cock and tasting the saltiness of the pre-cum.

“Oh, Gods.” She heard him groan behind her before his tongue dove into her, eliciting a high pitched moan from her when the pleasurable pain returned. “You gorgeous thing, my Sun.”

Just as eager as he was at the beginning, lapping at her like a man starved, home from long travels through the desert. His hands keeping her squirming hips in place.

She slowly let spit dribble down his cock, wrapping her fingers around it before she pressed her lips against the head over and over, her tongue teasing the sensitive skin with tiny licks before finally flattening against it.

When she finally wrapped her lips around him, he bucked up into her mouth, a whine sounding from between her thighs. Immediate relief spread through him but he needed more, both on his tongue as well as his cock, her head bobbing up and down. Her thighs began to tremble, the slick sounds of her cunt as well as her mouth on him pushing her closer to the edge as she took him deeper.

Her hand wandered to his balls, heavy and warm as she fondled them, just how Oberyn liked it. Taking him deeper still, hitting the back of her throat and feeling another groan against her middle, travelling up her spine.

So damn close, forgetting to move for a moment as she concentrated on the fiery sensation that threatened to set her body ablaze again, closing her eyes and whimpering around him.  The tightness of her throat only spurred him on, her weight on top of him as he finally hurled her over the edge, her sounds coming out as delicious vibrations around his cock.

Yet not stopping, giving her ass a soft smack to spur her back into moving, kneading the soft flesh.

She moved in earnest now, letting him slip down her throat and stilling for a few moments before simply teasing the dark head, kissing and licking at it with vulgar wet sounds.

How she wished to look at him right now, see his dark, piercing eyes glazed over with lust and need and watch him watch her devour his thick cock. Her cunt pulsed at the thought, his talented tongue keeping her nerves aflame, the pain it elicited only helping in hurling her closer to yet another orgasm.

“One more, my sweet.” He groaned, so close himself as her mouth worked over his sensitive cock. “One more for me, let me heal myself through you.”

A sharp whine left her, hips bucking against his face.

“One more for you.” She breathed out, her fingers wrapping around the shaft again and suckling at the head. Delirious and repeating what he had said. “One more, Oberyn- Please-”

She was unsure if she needed him more than he needed her right now, still in awe of how long he could stave off on his peak despite how sensitive and worked up he was.

When the telltale twitching of his cock set in, her tongue continuously flicking over the slit, she felt him focus on her clit, closing his lips around it and sucking hard. Just needing to swallow down more of her.

“Oberyn-” She moaned, dragging out his name as she spilled all over his face, her eyes rolling to the back of her head, trembling on top of him.

It triggered his own peak, groaning into her while he finally felt that sweet release wash over him, dulled by the sharp pain shooting up his spine. Still, nothing could ruin this, no pain would ruin the feeling of his wife’s cum all over his face while his own cock twitched and pulsed furiously.

Some of the white ropes laid across her cheek before she wrapped her lips around him once more with a groan and swallowed the rest eagerly. The salty taste spreading over her tongue, fully Oberyn.

Her mind swimming at the sensation and her body boneless.

They remained like this for several moments, his tongue tenderly licking at her once the waves had stopped, noticing the subtle twitch from just how often he had brought her to a peak. Her cheek rested on his muscular, thick thigh, still tracing the veins on his softening cock before clumsily rolling off of him and onto her back.

A breathless laugh left her, taking a moment to close her eyes and take in the warm feeling that simmered in her body, her hand finding his, their fingers intertwining.

A soothing gesture, grounding her in reality as she felt like floating in water.

Oberyn sat up slightly, wincing quietly as he took in her face, some of his cum still on her cheek, red and orange dancing across her skin from the curtains and he couldn’t help but smile. More than satisfied with what just happened.

Never would he tire from seeing his wife covered with his cum, the only sight better than this being when it trickled out of her swollen cunt.

“Thank you, my Sun.” He said, his thumb brushing over her fingers soothingly. Almost forgetting about his injuries as he laid here with her. “The copious amounts of medicine you provided me with are already showing their effect.”

She laughed at that, and the sound only helped to mend his bruised body, watching her open her eyes and sit up. Stopping to take in his wet face, the now tired but satisfied eyes along with the smallest curl of his lips.

The sight was something she would never tire of, her core still throbbing. So handsome, with the lines on his face which began to form, the first few silver streaks in his hair and beard.

“I am glad I was of help, my Viper.” She giggled, raising her unoccupied hand to swipe his cum off of her face before sucking it off her finger. “I generously received a little bit of my own medicine. Though, my aches only began after ingesting it.”

Oberyn laughed, loud and hearty as he pointed for her to lay down next to him. Needing to feel her body, though he wished he could bury his face in between her thighs for just a little longer, slower this time and not rushing things.

She shuffled around, bending down to kiss him languidly and tasting herself on his tongue. Then finally laying next to him just how he wanted, pulling the covers over them.

“I think in your case, my sweet,” he began, wrapping his arm around her and ignoring the pain that came with it. Kissing her forehead and just keeping her close. “It is simply that you are ageing.”

A playfully shocked gasp left her, hitting his chest with a quick swat and laughing at the exaggerated grunt he let out. Pretending as though he had been struck by something much worse than his beloved wife’s hand.

“How dare you treat your husband, your Prince, like such when he is in terrible, terrible agony?” Oberyn asked with a laugh, wishing he could crush her against him. “Do you not wish for me to be well, my love?”

She nuzzled against his neck with a giggle, peppering his jaw with kisses as she inhaled his scent. Still smelling like the training pits, earthy and sweaty.

“I wish for my husband to stop the dramatics.” This sweet banter had always been her favourite, laughing and jesting with him like no other. “Become the feared Red Viper everyone knows instead of letting your daughter of eighteen years of age knock you off your feet.”

The grip on her hip tightened and she giggled more when she realized that he could certainly not do as he pleased with her just now. Secretly she loved the dramatics, always worried about him but unable to stop her loud mouth and her teasing.

“Oh, sweet wife…” Oberyn sighed, looking at her. What a funny thing she was, too swift with her dangerous tongue. “Once your mortally wounded husband is healed, there will be a punishment in order.”

He paused for a moment, squeezing her hip harder, delighting in the warm flesh in the palm of his hand.

“A punishment and an apology. Perhaps both could be the same.”

She became excited at the plethora of things he could do, though she was quite certain about what he meant, her clit throbbing in anticipation.

“First you should heal, my love.” She said, entirely genuine, pushing her dirty thoughts aside as her hand brushed over his stomach. Warm and soft, tender and the most perfect place to rest her head on usually. “Please rest, let the medicine I gave you work its wonders.”

He kissed her forehead again, allowing his lips to linger there as he closed his eyes and breathed her in. The scent of oranges filling him, his body melting in her presence.

Surely, there was no sweeter remedy than his wife and her delicious cunt, the sweet relief he found in between her thighs.

[gosmigenergy]

KINKTOBER 2024 / Day Eleven

THREESOME / SWIMMING / PEGGING (@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction)

Starring: Oberyn Martell x F!Reader x Duke Leto Atreides (Modern AU)

Summary: When Oberyn has guests, you normally find yourself banished to your quarters yet when Duke Leto asks for you too, it’s an offer you can’t refuse.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No use of Y/N, language, sex powder/pollen/drug taking, mentions of drink, fingering, oral - female receiving/male receiving, praising, squirting, P in V, unprotected sex (protection in real life, please, thank you), spit roasting, three-way, MMF, cream pie

Word Count: 4.7k

Notes: Ok, this is a wip that I clearly abandoned and found sitting on my computer, this was definitely started before I saw Dune and before I knew what Spice was 🙈

It wasn’t unusual for Oberyn to you to his quarters late at night, however he never invited you when he had company.

You’d met plenty of aristocrats, royalty, dignitaries and all manner of terminology you’d never heard. It was a simple introduction with the acceptance that he wasn’t yours for the length of their stay.

Never had anyone asked for you specifically.

You considered rejecting the offer of Duke Leto but there was something in the way Oberyn approached you. The glint in his big brown eyes, his lowered volume and a crooked smile that you had seen countless times, things were getting exciting.

“Remember, panties are forbidden.”

There was something in the crude way he described your underwear that got you just a bit wet.

You knocked the door.

No answer.

Oberyn always answered.

You grabbed the handle and pushed your weight to open the door, almost falling into the room. What you saw was mostly bare skin, hands seizing every inch of soft flesh, mussed brown and black hair.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry!”

You turned away, pressing your palms to your face, shoving yourself against the wood as the door slammed shut.

“You’re late.”

Spinning on your heels, you meet Oberyn’s pouted lips, plush and coated in saliva.

“We had to keep ourselves entertained somehow.”

Your inner walls clenched with the authority in his voice, it was rare but when he used it, it truly turned you on. Then you noticed how his and Leto’s eyes were blown, the glimmer that was usually white now a faint hue of blue.

Leto saw your scrunched expression.

“Come here,” he said, gesturing you over with two fingers.

You fleetingly glance to Oberyn, watching his lips curl.

Cautiously, you approach the pair of them, smoothing your palms down your dress as you squeeze yourself between them. The sweat clung to their torsos, their bulges straining beneath the fabric of their underwear.

If you hadn’t walked in when you did, they’d be fucking by now.

Leto leaned over the arm of the sofa and returned with a golden platter.

“What is it?”

“My people call it Spice.”

He dipped his fingertips into the mound of powder, crushing the particles between his thumb and forefinger.

“Completely herbal, no chemicals, all natural.”

“And will make you feel phenomenal.”

You turn to Oberyn, cupping his whiskered jawline in your palm. The smile blossomed on his face, burying the dimples deep within his cheeks.

Except you had seen how drugs affected people, from other students in your years in college to workers in the industry, snorting to keep going. Your stomach twisted with worry but also intrigue, they do always say you should try something once.

“We’ll be here with you, we’ll make sure you don’t have a bad trip.”

Leto wasn’t giddy like the other man, his chest rose slowly, his expression soft in comparison to when you met earlier. He didn’t rush you, gave you time to survey what was in front of you.

“How do I—“

“You just breathe it in.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Taking the platter in your hand, you bring the powder close and take a large inhale. A tingling sensation filled your nostrils before a warmth travelled to your lungs then, disappointingly, nothing.

“Take a couple more.”

You followed Leto’s instruction before he brought a hand back to the platter, taking it away, the gentle clank of it as it comes to the table.

The pair let you catch your breath, the heat emanating from them with their musky stench, Oberyn’s aftershave potent as he leaned in.

“Do you mind if we continue?”

“Not at all,” you haul yourself up from the sofa embarrassedly.

It didn’t take long for him to engulf his other partner, crashing his lips to his in overwhelming desperation.

You make yourself a drink in the corner, pouring golden liquid into a glass with ice and swirl. You take your place in the armchair opposite them, wondering how much time would pass until it hit you like the men you watch longingly. The warmness is still present in your chest and you question whether this is how it all starts.

Leto grabs a fistful of Oberyn’s hair, pulling his face away from his. His eyes roam to you, his expression nonplus.

“You’ll know when it hits.”

His voice was low, a notable gravel in the undertones.

You didn’t know if you believed him, how can you go from the calmness of you to the same feverishness of Oberyn?

Shifting in the chair, you allowed your body to sink deeper into the cushions, holding onto your drink loosely. You might as well make yourself comfortable before the Spice takes you over and with the glint in Leto’s eyes, he was going to make sure you had a good show.

Part of you thought about looking away, watching the television that was on in the background but you couldn’t.

You always saw Oberyn as the instigator, the dominant figure when it came to the bedroom, he was with you anyway, yet here he was different.

After your exchange, Leto used a free hand to rip himself from his underwear. His hard cock swinging from it’s release, slapping under his navel as it snapped from the elastic prison it was confined in.

Your cunt pulsed.

Oberyn swallowed, his throat bobbing as his gaze fell to Leto’s generous length. The other man didn’t allow him long in his admiration before bringing Oberyn’s lips to his tip.

He obliged to Leto’s demands, parting his mouth, gradually taking him in inch by inch. Oberyn had a skill you had let to learn, not even gagging when it was clear as day that Leto’s dick was making it’s way down his throat.

Leto groaned deep from within like a beast that had finally gotten his prey.

He took his grasp off Oberyn and let him do his work, Leto’s head falling back as the other’s moved smoothly up and down, the sloppy sounds of wet friction.

You couldn’t keep track of time in this moment. It felt like you could have been watching them for hours, no end in sight, no let up from either man.

The heat had spread through your body, through your veins in a weirdly comforting way, your eyelids heavy enough to close yet you didn’t fall asleep. You pressed your palms against your exposed skin, a tingling rising to the surface that felt good, really fucking good.

“Nice of you to join us.”

Leto’s dorsal tones snapped you from your dreamlike state.

Opening your eyes, you could see a faint glimmer and it took you a few seconds to realise it was coming from you, otherworldly in its presence. You scramble off the armchair, noticing how the stuff wouldn’t go away, if you moved, it moved. It clung to your arms and legs like some sort of parasite.

“What’s happening?”

Your voice seemed to squeak, words trapping in your throat as the panic set in.

“Breathe, my love.”

Oberyn had climbed off Leto and treaded towards you, hands open.

Except you couldn’t, your chest was heaving, tears brimming your eyes as your mind worked overtime to process what the fuck was going on. You fumble to undo your dress, pulling the fabric from your frame before letting it drop to a puddle on the floor.

Leto’s one brow arched sharply, Oberyn didn’t lie when he said you always did what you were told. You stood there, stark naked, the particles whirling from every limb, every curve as you began to shake.

“Look at me,” Oberyn said firmly.

Taking an index finger and thumb under your chin, he brings your eyes forward. You focus on him, eyebrows knotting as you can see something coming from him, a delicate steam.

His colour was noticeably different, Leto’s even more so.

“Some say it’s a projection of us,” Leto says.

You blink, “Like an aura?”

“Perhaps,” his lips briefly form a smile. “Maybe a little deeper than that, I’ve heard some say it’s like seeing into each other’s soul.”

“So indigo is?”

“Somewhere between the divine and clarity.”

“And Oberyn?”

“An expression of love.”

Oberyn shrugs, what can he say.

You brush the skin of your stomach and watch the light flutter into pieces of orange.

“Svandhisthana,” Oberyn chimes in.

Your eyebrows knot further.

“Sacral… Desire.”

Oberyn brings his hand to yours, intertwining his fingers and you can feel the heat, almost scorching to the touch. Your heartbeat steadies, your face relaxing as you look at his smile broaden in a childish nature.

Leto opens his arms, offering himself to you.

Oberyn give you a squeeze, a simple gesture to entrust yourself to him, to another lover. Your fingers slip from his hand as you saunter over to where Leto sits, nestling between his thick thighs and press a knee gently to his balls.

You both allow yourselves to admire each other in your most natural forms.

Leto is lean, soft ripples of a six pack present as you trail your fingertips over his skin, sparks of colour escaping. The muscles of his broad shoulders stretch as he rearranges himself to get a fuller view of you. His cock is still hard on his stomach, glistening in a mixture of Oberyn’s spit and his own precum.

His arm wraps around you, forcing you to his body with a gasp. You squirm just a little as a fire spreads across your breast and chest.

“Relax.”

Oberyn’s voice comes from behind you yet you can’t tell who he was referring to in this moment.

With his other hand, Leto trails down your back and over the curvature of your ass, fingers slipping between your legs. He hums with pleasure as he reaches your soft, soaking folds. Bringing his face closer, he brushes the tip of his nose against yours in a playful manner.

“You’re already nice and wet for us.”

He stifles your response with a kiss.

It was rough, heavy, his salt and pepper beard scratching delicate skin but you couldn’t fight him. His tongue prises open your lips as you willingly accept him into your mouth, tongues melding.

It’s clear that the drug in your system wants this but you’re not sure.

He locks an arm around your waist and though you push, you can’t escape. You moan, nails burying into Leto’s shoulders as you fought for air.

The sensation of another set of hands on you only fans the flames further.

“My love, relax.”

Leto parts and you gasp, trying to catch your breath.

“I feel like I’m on fucking fire.”

There were more poetic ways to explain what you were feeling but your brain wasn’t functioning. It was too preoccupied with the two men around you, the heat that radiated from them, the sweat that clung like condensation to an ice cold glass on a summer’s day. Their scent, their slick voices and fork-like tongues.

“This is what Spice does, you have to let it consume you.”

Otherwise it will hurt you, that’s what he left out.

Oberyn begins to rub the small of your back, just like he did when you initially met, when you opened yourself up to him, when he first took you to his bed.

“I don’t know how.”

Leto’s arm loosens, his frame relaxing underneath your weight.

“Maybe you do not know but I know you can, I’ve seen it many times.”

Leto’s fingertips graze your stomach, he can see it, you can feel it, the knot that has its hold. He glances over your shoulder and you sense the exchange between them.

“We’ll take it slow, we’ll get you where Leto wants you.”

The heat comes to your cheeks.

Oberyn wraps around you, his nose pressing into your back before he scoops you up from the other man. He flops onto the other half of the sofa, your body splaying over his, knees parting your thighs so you’re laid bare for his guest.

Leto shuffled, propping himself up for a better view.

Oberyn’s touch was soft, his hand rising from your hip and over your stomach, fingertips sweeping to the peak of your breast, your nipple a hard bud.

He took a finger and thumb, squeezing lightly and the spark travels down your nerve endings, settling low. Your head rolls into the crook of his neck with a sigh and you feel his jaw against your temple.

“Always so sensitive.”

You giggle.

“I love it,” he utters.

Leto watches on, cock twitching at the display. It’s torturous to watch that pussy go untouched but Oberyn was going to take his time, you’d unravel eventually.

Oberyn pinched your nipple harder, taking your whine in his mouth as he slipped in his tongue and yours danced in unison. His other hand teased at your thigh, drawing shapes with subtle fingers until he felt the tension fall. It inched nearer your pussy, gliding over the crease to meet your mound.

He held there for a few seconds before spreading his fingers down your slick outer lips.

You whimper yet your hips roll to his touch.

He stops kissing you to speak.

“I told the Duke that you were always wet for me and you didn’t let me down, did you?”

The sound of squelching seemed to fill the room and you cry as his fingers start to work you.

Leto clenched his hands into fists, his cock stiffening. He was resisting the temptation to edge, to lunge forward and take your cunt in his mouth. He had to behave himself, to control the Spice’s urges to have you.

Oberyn pins your head under his chin before pressing a finger to your clit.

He knows your every tick, stopping your legs from instinctively closing, your moan stifled in his neck. He shushes you, pressing his other palm to your stomach, flushing your back to his chest. 

Kissing your temple, he plays with you some more.

Leto has beads of sweat rolling from his hairline, the tip of his cock bright with a single drop of precum hanging.

Oberyn clocks his rigid appearance, taking his fingers away to the sound of your lose. He places the two fingers into his mouth, spreading the taste of you on his tongue before popping them out in an exaggerated fashion.

Dick, Leto thought.

You look up at Oberyn, dazed with heavy lids.

“How about we let Leto have a play, hm? As long as he plays nice.”

You nod timidly.

Leto doesn’t need anymore direction though he moves unhurried, fingertips on your leg with the lightest pressure. Oberyn returns his attention to you, locking his lips to yours. His hands glide over to your breasts, massaging your slick thoroughly into your skin.

Your thighs felt the tickle of Leto’s whiskers as he carefully analysed your muscle movement with a singular kiss. Your chest raised, your breath hitching as a new player entered the game.

He pressed another and another, each one climbing towards his final goal, you were even more messy up close. His breath teased, the peak of his nose grazing that sweet pearl that sent shivers up your spine. He flattened his tongue and licked your cunt in one smooth motion.

You broke away from Oberyn, the gasp you released throwing your head back.

Leto continues to clean you up, taking his time, listening to each noise to spill from you. Once he was done, he didn’t stop, plunging his tongue into you with ease.

You shudder.

He licks your inner walls, lapping up your juices and when you struggle, his hands pin you down.

Oberyn was kissing you wherever he could, finding the right spots to gently nip at you with his teeth, never hard enough to leave a mark.

All you could do was take them.

The room was beginning to spin, heart pounding as the colourful glimmers turned into spots of white. The fire was coming to the surface, prickling the areas where they touched, the knot in your belly tangling more.

Your legs begin to vibrate.

“Let go.”

And it’s not as if the knot snaps, instead it’s like Oberyn has one end and Leto the other. They both pull and the cluster becomes undone, smoothly and effortlessly.

Your muscles contract before going limp and you throw your head back in blissful euphoria without making a sound. The heat builds, an inferno spreading over every part of your body, your juices overflowing.

You can’t remember much of your release, it came fast and was more than enough to feed a hungry Leto. Oberyn, all the while, sung his praises quietly into your ear.

“Yes, that’s it, you’re being such a good girl for us… Look at how much you have to give him… Bet that pretty little pussy of yours is fluttering round his tongue.”

The more he spoke, the more you came.

You were numb down there but you knew he was right. Leto was lapping as you carried on gushing, your juices trickling down your butt cheeks. By the time he came up for air, his chest was taking deep inhales, whiskers gleaming with you and a crooked smile on his lips.

Slowly, your mind began to focus and you returned back to the room, Oberyn hard beneath you.

“Fuuuck.”

You can picture how he looks, his eyes dark and hooded, his lips parted.

You try to lift yourself up, your head struggling to stay up. The sofa was drenched between your thighs, joined with Leto’s creamy white cum that decorated the cushion though his cock remained hard.

You were still sensitive, your folds throbbing as you brought your legs together yet it couldn’t stop the flames from stoking again.

“Take me to bed,” you say breathily.

Leto didn’t need to be told twice.

Getting off the sofa, he grabbed you roughly on the hips and hauled you from the sofa. He threw you over his shoulder, smirking at your high-pitched yelp before bringing a sharp tap to your ass. 

Oberyn laughed at the display, chasing you both into the bedroom.

Chucking you onto the bed, you bounced on Oberyn’s incredibly soft mattress, your dewy skin gliding over silk sheets.You wriggle further up the bed, resting your elbows to admire the two men waiting to take you, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip. The colours remained around them, not as strong but soft and ambient.

“How would you like to do this?”

You look to Oberyn with doe eyes.

How were you supposed to do this?

You had never partaken in a threesome, out of the two of you, he was certainly more experienced in something like this. Your mind was still swimming from the effects of Spice, all you could process was the details of the well endowed men - how they tasted, how they were lean with softened muscles, how dark their eyes were as they continued to stare.

“Maybe you ask too many questions,” Leto brought his attention to Oberyn.

“Perhaps,” he replied, “I just want to ensure she’s ready for this.”

Your excitement pools between your thighs. You try to say something but nothing comes out causing the smile to return to Oberyn’s lips.

“I do love it when you’re lost for words.”

The men meet each other’s eyes with a hooded look. You felt the temperature rise in your cheeks and chest, nails sinking into the sheets as your body prepared for what would happen next. They pounced onto the bed, Oberyn wrapping his wide hands around your ankles, yanking you towards him.

The goosebumps decorate your skin as he kneels over you.

Dropping his hands either side of your head, he brings his face millimetres from yours and your heart skips a beat.

“You remember what I said to you on the first night?”

You nod, unable to speak as he engulfed all your senses.

“If it’s too much, say and we’ll stop.”

The bed shifted as Leto knelt next to you, you could sense what was about to happen and you nod again.

“I need you to use your words for me now.”

You swallow thickly.

“Yes, your highness.”

Oberyn stared longingly at your face, your flushed cheeks, the blue glow in your eyes, that ever present smile of a completely blissed out state. You always looked at him like that, even without Spice, as if you could never quite believe that you existed alongside the Prince of Dorne, let alone underneath him in the most vulnerable way a human can be.

“That’s it, my love.”

He kissed your lips gently at first, running his tongue along your bottom lip for entry, increasing his force when your mouth opened. Just as quickly as he gave it to you, he took it away.

You pouted as he inspected you one last time before he planted his lips on your chin and down your neck, teeth nipping as he continued over your body.

Leto brought his cock close.

You craned your neck, tentatively licking the cum that had gathered. Parting your lips, you took the tip in your mouth, running your tongue around the ridge. His length twitched, a gravelly groan coming from his chest as his hand reached for the back of your head.

He let you set the pace.

Oberyn and him had already discussed your inexperience before they offered for you to join them and though Oberyn had taught you more than you’d heard of, some things took practice. You couldn’t take Leto forcing his cock down your pretty little throat, much like how neither could take you in your yet to be stretched ass hole.

Oberyn pressed his tongue over your folds, a moan escaping you, bringing more pleasure to Leto who took a fistful of your hair. Oberyn toyed with your clit before straightening up, his light touch spreading your legs wider as he positioned himself ready. He held his cock in one hand, rubbing the tip along your entrance, collecting your arousal.

Your breathing begins to pick up speed, your tongue still leisurely working Leto.

Oberyn starts to push himself in.

Leto’s cock drops from your mouth as you gasp, Oberyn stopping, playfully swatting your thigh. You look up at him wide eyed, fluttering your eyelashes as if you’d done nothing wrong.

“Keep him in your mouth.”

You do as you’re told.

Mouth salivating, you return to Leto’s length, hollowing out your cheeks as you prepare to take him except you wait for Oberyn to make the first move.

He continues, your walls stretching to fit his girth and you match his movements, swallowing Leto inch by inch. His cock was a weight on your tongue, heavy yet holding firm, and you took him until you fell the tip nudge the back of your throat. You held there for a moment before drawing back, Oberyn fucking you in tandem.

The room fulls with pleasured moans, all of you in unison.

After a while, you felt Oberyn’s hand at your ankle. He guided your knee to your chest, bringing your leg over to rest on the opposite side. This was one of his favourite positions, it allowed him to bury his nails into the plump muscle of your ass and for his cock to glide over that one spot in your walls.

You drop Leto’s cock from your mouth with a pop to have a chance to breath.

He bends over you to kiss your cheek then your lips and somewhere underneath that thick beard of his, you see a soft smile. The effects of Spice seemed to have faded for him, maybe he was used to it. 

His fingers loosen from your hair, “How are you holding up?”

Indigo flares still sparked from him as you bounced from Oberyn’s impacts.

“Good,” you laugh nervously, “I think.”

“Hm.”

He trails his fingertips down your face, the matches striking, the heat rising yet again.

You meet his palm, the metal of his ring cooler in comparison to the temperature between you. The desire consumes you until you can’t take it anymore and find your mouth enveloping his thumb, sucking for his flavour.

He pulls it out, pressing it into your plump bottom lip.

“Do you want all of me?”

Your heart skipped a beat, Oberyn sighing as your cunt pulses.

“Yes, my lord.”

Oberyn groans, shutting his eyes from the scene that was unfolding. He was already holding back, ignoring the burn at the bottom of his spine because he didn’t wish for this night to end.

Leto chuckles, his beard scratching as he whispers in your ear.

“Show him what you can do.”

You smile proudly as he straightens his back, his cock ready for you to take.

Moistening your lips, you gradually begin to swallow his length. The gag reflex starts to kick in but you fight it as his tip pushes against the back of your throat. Your whole body convulses and Oberyn can’t help looking, ensuring you’re ok.

When he opens his eyes, Leto is already helping, one hand stroking his neck and the other plucking the damp hair strands from your face.

Oberyn slowed down for you.

After another gag, Leto pulled himself out, a strand of spit hanging from his tip. The two of you exchange simple gestures before he pushes his cock back into your mouth. He takes measured movements until he’s gliding in and out with ease.

Your sigh gurgles, the tension leaving your body.

Leto turns his head, “More?”

Oberyn smirks at him, rocking his hips harder.

You cry as they move in tandem, neither of them leaving you empty. A warm builds from either end, from one end of your spine to the other and you wished you could tell them how fucking good it feels.

Both admire how well you’re handling this.

Your arousal spills over Oberyn’s cock, sticking to the hairs at the base, the suction of your tightening walls getting stronger. The saliva dribbles from your mouth, over your chin, as your jaw aches. Tears prick in the corners, eyes glossy as you choke on the speed of Leto, each of the men chasing their release.

The Spice courses through Oberyn’s veins, a creeping sensation reaching his fingers and his toes. He knew he was close, the muscles in his ass clenching as he fought to keep going, to outlast the Duke.

Though Leto was resilient, he knew he could outlast both of you especially when he’d already found his release. He could fight the drug in his system, you two, not so much and he could see how the other man was flagging.

Oberyn hissed through gritted teeth as you clenched around him uncontrollably.

Your whole body was screaming at you and you dug into the mattress to stay upright. The vibration began at your legs before you were shaking, your heart racing. Your vision of Leto was blurring.

“Cum for us.”

He groans as the reverberations travelled through his cock, your eyes going crosseyed as the orgasm took you.

Your throat contracts as he draws his hips back, his length falling out of your mouth and you gasp, your words incoherent as your forehead meets the bed. You hear Oberyn growl as he fills you to the hilt, another jerk to pump more of his seed into you.

The atmosphere settles, Oberyn’s lips pressing delicately to the skin of your waist, your hip.

Turning your head to the side, you see Leto above you, cock standing proud.

“You didn’t cum,” your throat scratched.

“I’m sure the Prince can help with that.”

The two of them exchange a look of hunger.

Oberyn pulls out, his cum seeping out of your entrance and spreading over your legs. You groan as you pick yourself up in your cock drunk state, crawling up the bed to rest your head on the plump pillows.

Glancing past your feet, they’re both already entranced by the other. Hands skim over muscles, their bodies slotting perfectly together, the increasing smile on Oberyn’s lips as Leto grabs him roughly.

They’re ready to give you another show.

Except this time, though you’d very much like to watch, your eyelids grew heavy before you found yourself in the land of slumber.

[theetherealbloom]

AS GOOD A REASON - CH. 4 | OBERYN MARTELL

Chapter Four: I Will Be Your Executioner

Summary: You, who has made it her life's work to get retribution on those who mistreated and harassed you when you were a child. The scars on your body are a physical reminder of the suffering you endured at the hands of abusers, and they also provide the fuel for your years-long quest for retribution.

Paring: Oberyn Martell x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, MINORS GO AWAY, GoT is full of serious and harmful topics, mentions of SA, Rape (not the reader), Murder, Violence, Gore, War, Poison, Scars, Burns, Scratching, Su!c!de, AU, Age–Gap Romance, Angst, FLUFF, Eventual SMUT, Swearing, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, Flirting, Blood, War, Religion References, Nudity, Domestic Abuse, Incest, Prostitution, Weapons, Fire, Horror, Character Deaths, Rewrite Alternate Universe, Sex, Alcohol, Revenge, Panic Attacks, Anxiety Attack,

Word Count: 9k

A/N: OMFGGGGGG I’m actually writing non-stop. Wtf. Guys this part is heavily inspired by many quotes from the Glory. It’s so goooooddd! Go watch it. ALSO LMAO sorry for the chonky chapter. Hope you enjoy!

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: No Choir by Florence + The Machine

Previous Chapter → Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

THE WEDDING RECEPTION  

KING'S LANDING GARDEN, RED KEEP — AFTERNOON

The once-vibrant garden has turned into a scene from a nightmare. Joffrey’s lifeless body lies in his mother’s lap, the blood trickling from his nose and mingling with the vomit caking his lips. Cersei’s scream cuts through the chaos like a blade, her finger trembling as it points directly at Tyrion. 

"You did this! You did this!" she shrieks, her voice cracking with grief and rage.

Tyrion barely has time to react before three guards seize him from behind, their grip firm, dragging him back. The entire court is thrown into disarray, nobles scrambling, unsure where to look or what to say. The shock hangs in the air, heavy and suffocating.

Your eyes flick to Sansa as she watches, wide-eyed and frozen in place. Ser Dontos Hollard, the fool, sidles up to her, his face pale with urgency.

“We have to leave,” he whispers frantically, his hand tugging at her sleeve.

Sansa looks to you, her expression a mix of confusion and terror, searching for an answer. You meet her gaze and give the smallest, subtlest nod, speaking in the quietest voice that only she can hear.

"Run."

You keep your posture relaxed, every movement calculated, as though the chaos around you is nothing but a passing storm. Let it swirl, let them scream, none of it touches you.

Cersei’s piercing voice shatters the air again. “Take him! Take him!”

The guards drag Tyrion away through the crowd, his face a mask of resignation. You shift, sliding further to the edge of the gathering, your eyes tracking Sansa as she and Ser Dontos disappear, swallowed by the throng of horrified nobles. As Cersei’s head whips around, searching for a new target for her grief, her shrill voice rises again.

"Where is his wife? Where's Sansa?!"

Tywin's voice booms over the garden, commanding attention with the force of authority, “Find her. Bar the gates of the city. Seize every ship in the harbor.”

The tension mounts as Cersei, distraught and frenzied, clings to Tywin. “Where is she?!”

“No one leaves the capital!" Tywin's voice echoes like a decree from the gods themselves. "No one!”

The wheels are turning, but you remain steady, unmoved, watching everything unfold like a distant observer.

KING'S LANDING, RED KEEP — DUSK

The bells toll ominously across the city, signaling not just the king's death but the beginning of a lockdown. What had begun as a celebration of young love and power had spiraled into a suffocating horror—a wedding turned funeral. The streets were locked down, the gates barred, and whispers spread like wildfire among the servants. Every corner of the Red Keep hummed with dread.

You sat in the dim light of your chambers, fingers tracing over the pages of your journal. On the list of names you had scrawled, Joffrey’s stood out, now crossed out in thick ink. The weight of his demise did not lift your heart, but there was a cold satisfaction in seeing that line through his name. 

A knock on your door broke the silence. You didn’t even look up, your voice calm, measured. “Enter.”

Serena stepped in, her movements quiet and careful as she shut the door behind her, turning the lock with a soft click before coming to sit beside you. Her eyes fell to your journal, to the page you’d been reading, and her gaze lingered on the crossed-out name.

Her voice was soft when she asked, “Did you…”

You didn’t hesitate. “It wasn’t me who slipped the poison.” Your tone was blunt, matter-of-fact. Serena was smart—she could piece together the rest on her own. She nodded slowly, absorbing the truth behind your words.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said softly. “I’d still like to thank you. For doing this.”

Her gratitude was real, but it didn’t touch you. Nothing did anymore. You turned to her, your expression as unreadable as stone.

"I didn’t do it for thanks," you said, your voice as cold as the air before a storm. “I did it because people like him—people like them—will only understand one thing from now on.” You paused, holding Serena’s gaze, unblinking. “They will suffer, just as we have.”

Serena nodded, her lips tightening into a thin line. She knew. She understood.

And so, your revenge continued. Joffrey’s name may have been crossed out, but there were others. And as you sat there, cold and detached, you knew this was only the beginning of a longer reckoning. The suffering had only just begun.

THE NEXT DAY 

STREETS OF SILK, CHATAYA’S BROTHEL — DAY

The city pulsed with a nervous energy, the fallout of Joffrey’s death rippling through every alleyway, every corner of King’s Landing. It was rare for you to have a day free from the palace, but amidst the chaos, no one had cared when a few servants slipped away. The Red Keep had become a den of paranoia, each person trying to avoid the eye of suspicion. A perfect time to disappear—even if just for a while.

As you walked through the streets, your steps silent, deliberate, you overheard a conversation between two guards. Their voices were low, yet their words unmistakable. Tywin plans to confront Oberyn. The Hand of the King knew of Oberyn's frequent visits to Chataya’s brothel—it was no secret that the Dornish prince indulged himself openly. Tywin’s suspicions were spreading like wildfire, and you needed to be there to hear what he might uncover.

Pulling your cloak tight around you, you kept to the shadows, slipping between the narrow alleys that twisted like veins through the streets of silk. The map of the city was etched into your mind as clearly as the secrets you kept—memorized over years of service, of watching and waiting. 

You reached the brothel just as the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the cobblestones. Slipping through the back door, you moved with the practiced silence of someone who knew how to remain unseen. A shadow among shadows. The moans and laughter of the brothel’s patrons created a cover of noise, perfect for hiding in plain sight.

The scent of incense and sweat filled the air, thick and cloying, but you barely noticed. Your eyes were fixed ahead, scanning for any sign of Tywin or his men. You crept further into the brothel, slipping behind a large stone pillar that stood near one of the darker corners of the room. Hidden in the gloom, you were just another part of the architecture, unseen, unnoticed.

The dagger strapped to your thigh pressed reassuringly against your skin, a small comfort in the uncertainty of the moment. You had long since learned that in King’s Landing, secrets and steel were your best companions. One cut as deep as the other, and both had their uses. If anyone saw you, anyone grew suspicious—you would be ready.

You crouched lower behind the pillar, listening as Oberyn’s voice carried faintly from one of the rooms. His tone was as smooth and dangerous as ever, a man who never feared consequences, not even from Tywin Lannister. You stayed still, your heart steady but your mind sharp, waiting for the moment when Tywin would confront him. 

You could feel it—the unraveling was only just beginning. The tension in the city would soon give way to something far darker, and you were determined to be ahead of it, to see everything before it was hidden away in shadows again.

As footsteps echoed down the hall, heavier, more deliberate, you pressed further into the shadows. Tywin. You could not afford to be seen, but you could not afford to miss this either. Information was your weapon. And today, you would sharpen it.

Just in time, you watched as three naked whores and Ellaria Sand stepped out of one of the rooms. Her dark, wavy hair cascaded down her bare shoulders as she laughed softly, her gaze briefly scanning the room before she and the others disappeared down the hall. The guards trailed after them, though one remained standing by the entrance. Close, but not too close.

The door to Oberyn’s room was slightly ajar.

You slipped inside with practiced precision, the heavy scent of incense clinging to the air. The room was bathed in the warm, golden light of the midday sun, filtering through the heavy curtains. Oberyn Martell was seated on the bed, shirtless and glistening with sweat, his bronzed skin catching the light as he stretched with the grace of a panther. The gods must have shown you some favor—he was still clothed from the waist down. 

His gaze shifted lazily toward you, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as if your presence amused him. He knew you were there long before you entered.

“Would you like to sit?” he asked, his voice low, teasing. He gestured casually toward a chair in the corner, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

Tywin Lannister stood at the other end of the room, his expression as hard as stone, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of irritation. “No, thank you,” Tywin replied curtly, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

Oberyn’s movements were slow, deliberate, as he rose from the bed, his lean body practically dripping with confidence. He stepped toward a small cart by the window, where a tray of wine and goblets waited. “Some wine?” he offered again, pouring himself a generous amount, the dark liquid swirling in the cup.

Tywin, still standing near the door, remained unmoved. “No, thank you,” he repeated.

Oberyn, with a patterned towel draped over his shoulder, took a slow sip of the wine, his eyes never leaving Tywin’s. “I'm sorry about your grandson,” he said smoothly, though the sincerity in his tone was questionable.

Tywin’s lips twitched, barely containing his disdain. “Are you?” he asked, the question laced with accusation.

Oberyn shrugged, moving across the room like a predator sizing up his prey. “I don't believe a child is responsible for the sins of his father. Or his grandfather. An awful way to die.” His voice was casual, but his eyes—those dark, piercing eyes—were watching Tywin’s every move.

The tension in the room was recognizable, thick enough to choke on. You remained hidden in the shadows, every word falling like stones in a still pond, sending ripples of suspicion through the air.

“Which way is that?” Tywin asked, his voice sharp.

Oberyn tilted his head, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Are you interrogating me, Lord Tywin?” he purred, settling onto a plush bed of pillows, lounging with the practiced grace of a man who feared nothing.

“Some believe the king choked,” Tywin mused, watching Oberyn closely.

“Some believe the sky is blue because we live inside the eye of a blue-eyed giant,” Oberyn replied, his tone mocking. He took another sip of wine before adding, “The king was poisoned.”

Tywin’s eyes narrowed, the faintest hint of suspicion creeping into his expression. “I hear you studied poisons at the Citadel.”

Oberyn’s smile widened, like a cat who had caught the scent of a mouse. “I did. This is why I know.”

Tywin’s voice dropped, edged with danger. “Your hatred for my family is rather well known. You arrive at the capital, an expert in poisoning, and days later my grandson dies of poisoning.”

Oberyn didn’t miss a beat. “Rather suspicious,” he agreed with a chuckle. “Why haven’t you thrown me in a dungeon?”

Tywin's gaze hardened. “You spoke with Tyrion in this very brothel on the day that you arrived. What did you discuss?”

“You think we conspired together?” Oberyn raised an eyebrow, amused.

“What did you discuss?”

Oberyn’s playful demeanor faltered, as he moved to stand, approaching Tywin, his voice dropping into something darker, colder. “The death of my sister.”

Tywin did not flinch, though his eyes gave away nothing. “For which you blame me.”

Oberyn leaned forward slightly, his voice like steel wrapped in silk. “She was raped and murdered by the Mountain. The Mountain follows your orders. Of course I blame you.”

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken threats. You remained perfectly still, your heart a steady drumbeat in your chest as you watched the two men circle each other, both poised for an attack that would never come.

Tywin, calm as ever, gave the faintest shrug. “Here I stand unarmed, unguarded. Should I be concerned?”

Oberyn smiled, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “You are unarmed and unguarded because you know me better than that. I am a man of reason. If I cut your throat today, I will be drawn and quartered tomorrow.”

“Men at war commit all kinds of crimes without their superiors' knowledge,” Tywin said, almost conversationally.

“So you deny involvement in Elia's murder?”

Tywin’s voice remained steady. “Categorically.”

Oberyn’s gaze sharpened, his smile fading into something colder. “I would like to speak with the Mountain.”

“I’m sure he would enjoy speaking with you,” Tywin said evenly.

Oberyn’s lips curled into a grim smile. “He might not enjoy it as much as he thinks he would.”

Tywin’s eyes flickered with a dangerous glint. “I could arrange for this meeting.”

Oberyn’s brow arched, intrigued. “But you want something in return.”

Tywin’s voice was calm, measured. “There will be a trial for my son. As custom dictates, three judges will render a verdict. I will preside. Mace Tyrell will serve as the second judge. I would like you to be the third.”

Oberyn’s amusement returned, but his tone remained cautious. “Why?”

“Not long ago, the Tyrells sided with Renly Baratheon. Declared themselves enemies of the throne. Now they are our strongest allies.”

Oberyn shrugged, taking another sip of his wine. “Well, you made the Tyrell girl a queen. Asking me to judge at your son's trial isn't quite as tempting.”

Tywin stepped forward, his voice dropping low. “I will also invite you to sit on the small council to serve as one of the new king's principal advisors.”

Oberyn studied Tywin, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I never realized you had such respect for Dorne, Lord Tywin.”

“We are not the Seven Kingdoms until Dorne returns to the fold,” Tywin replied, his voice cold, calculated. “The king is dead. The Greyjoys are in open rebellion. A wildling army marches on the Wall. And in the East, a Targaryen girl has three dragons. Before long, she will turn her eyes to Westeros. Only the Dornish managed to resist Aegon Targaryen and his dragons.”

Oberyn’s smile returned, slow and sharp. “You're saying you need us? That must be hard for you to admit.”

Tywin’s expression didn’t change. “We need each other. You help me serve justice to the king's assassins, and I will help you serve justice to Elia's.”

The room seemed to hold its breath as Oberyn fell silent, his gaze turning inward, distant, as if he were calculating a hundred possibilities all at once. The tension lingered, thick and unspoken, between him and the absent Tywin. The delicate balance of power that had just played out was clear—two predators circling one another, masking threats with diplomacy.

You pressed yourself deeper into the shadows, watching Oberyn with a sharp, practiced gaze. His expression remained contemplative, still lost in the aftermath of his exchange with Tywin. Outside the room, the echo of Tywin’s footsteps faded into the distance, and the door clicked shut with finality, leaving behind an uneasy stillness that hung thick in the air.

But you had lingered too long. In a silent breath, you pulled back into the shadows, slipping toward the door like a shadow yourself. You moved swiftly, soundless, as you had been trained—disappearing without a trace. The world outside was teeming with noise and life, but none of it noticed your departure. You melted into the alleyways, your cloak drawn close, your steps swift and measured as you darted through the maze of streets that threaded King’s Landing. 

The market was alive with its usual chaos, the scent of spices mingling with the salt of the sea, merchants shouting over one another, selling everything from silks to stale bread. You wove through the crowds, your face hidden beneath the hood of your cloak, eyes scanning your surroundings. You had always known how to vanish in plain sight.

But then, the sound hit you.

A sharp sizzle, the searing of meat against hot metal. Your steps faltered as the scent of charred pork filled the air, thick and overwhelming, clinging to your skin like smoke. For a moment, the world around you seemed to blur—the market, the people, the shouts—it all dimmed. Your breath caught in your throat, your chest tightening as the memories surged, unbidden, unstoppable.

Flames licking at your skin, the scent of burning flesh, the sound of your own screams echoing in the back of your mind. The fire that had marked you, that had seared itself into your memory, now clawed its way to the surface.

Your hands trembled as you stumbled into a corner of the street, your back pressed hard against the cool stone of a wall. The sounds of the market seemed distant now, drowned out by the roar of the fire in your mind. The panic clawed at your chest, squeezing tighter and tighter until it felt like you couldn’t breathe. 

You gasped, desperate for air, the weight of your cloak suddenly too heavy, the noise of the market too loud. The edges of your vision blurred, and the ground beneath you felt like it was spinning. The world seemed to close in on you, suffocating, the past and present melding into one.

Burning.

You clenched your fists, nails digging into your palms in an attempt to ground yourself, to remind yourself that you were no longer there. But the searing sound, the scent—it was too much. The memories flooded you, pulling you under. You pressed your back harder into the wall, trying to fight your way out of the suffocating panic, trying to escape the fire that only existed in your mind.

But it felt so real.

Your breaths came in short, shallow gasps, and your vision swam. You had to get out. Away from the market, away from the noise, away from the memory that gripped you like a vice. You pushed yourself off the wall, your legs shaky but determined, and forced yourself back into the crowd, pulling your cloak tighter around you.

With every step, you fought to steady your breathing, to clear the haze from your mind. The streets blurred around you as you moved, each footfall feeling heavier than the last, but you pressed on. Away from the market. Away from the sound.

Away from the fire.

KING'S LANDING, RED KEEP — AFTERNOON

By the time you returned to the castle, fatigue weighed heavily on your limbs. The maze of tunnels under the Red Keep stretched out before you like a winding serpent, familiar yet suffocating. Each step felt heavier than the last, your breath shallow, as the cool stone walls seemed to press closer. 

As you rounded a corner, your thoughts interrupted by hurried footsteps, you almost collided with someone—Podrick Payne. His wide-eyed expression immediately softened when he realized it was you.

“Oh, my apologies,” Podrick stammered, stepping back in his usual bashful manner. 

You shook your head, waving off the apology. "No, it was my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going."

He hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Oh well…"

There was something about his awkwardness, a sincerity in the way he held himself. Podrick was kind, genuine—a rarity in King's Landing. You had a peculiar way of prying information from him without much effort. It wasn’t something you set out to do, but it was almost as though the right questions spilled from your lips, and he couldn’t help but answer.

You tilted your head slightly, eyes narrowing as you noticed the tension in his shoulders. "Are you heading somewhere urgent?"

Podrick blinked in surprise, glancing at the wineskin he carried. “Yes, I’m on my way to see Lord Tyrion in the cells.”

Your gaze dropped to the wineskin, lips curving into a faint smirk. "You’re bringing him wine?"

He nodded, looking somewhat guilty, as though he’d been caught red-handed. 

"The guards will take it from you, you know that, right?"

Podrick’s expression flickered with brief defeat, but he nodded again. The innocence in his eyes spoke volumes, but you weren’t fooled. Deep down, you knew he was smuggling more than just wine. You sighed, rubbing your temples as the exhaustion from the day wore at your patience.

"They've chosen the judges for his trial," you added, your voice soft but deliberate.

Podrick glanced around as if someone might overhear, then leaned in slightly. “I heard. Lord Tywin, Mace Tyrell, and Prince Oberyn of Dorne."

"Word travels fast," you murmured, more to yourself than to him. Your eyes drifted over his face, reading the tension etched into his features. His frown deepened, and you couldn’t help but ask, “What’s wrong? You’re frowning.”

Podrick’s sigh was almost inaudible, but in the quiet of the dimly lit tunnel, it seemed to echo. He lowered his voice as if confessing a secret. "There’s something else. A man—someone I didn’t know—came to me. He asked if I’d testify against Lord Tyrion. Said I’d be named Ser Podrick Payne if I told the judges Tyrion bought a poison called the Strangler.”

Your stomach twisted at the mention of the poison, but your expression remained impassive. You frowned, though, as the weight of his words sank in. Podrick, in his innocence, stood at the crossroads of something much darker than he fully understood.

"You…" You took a slow, deep breath, steadying your tone. "Lord Tyrion has been kind to you."

He met your gaze, his eyes filled with uncertainty. "He has."

There was a heavy silence between you, the kind that lingered just long enough to feel uncomfortable. The weight of your secrets hung in the air, unspoken, but Podrick wasn’t foolish. He knew you were holding back, but he never pressed. 

"Do you know what happened?" he asked softly, as though afraid of the answer. His voice was tentative, laced with the hope that you might offer him clarity. "Who did it?"

You blinked, your gaze distant, the apathy you had so carefully cultivated slipping back into place. His question lingered, but you gave him no answer—just a soft pat on his shoulder, a rare gesture of kindness in a world that had none to spare.

"You better be careful, Podrick," you said, your voice low, carrying a quiet weight. "You’re one of the rare ones out there who are truly good. Take care of yourself."

His lips parted as if to say something more, but you had already turned away, disappearing into the shadows of the castle, leaving him standing there beneath the flickering torchlight.

KING’S LANDING, QUAY OF THE PORT BY THE SEA OF THE RED KEEP — AFTERNOON

The salty breeze whipped across the sea, crashing waves against jagged rocks below as you crouched beneath the cliffsides. Hidden from sight, you watched with keen eyes as Jaime Lannister and Bronn sparred near the water's edge, the sound of clashing steel ringing in the air.

Jaime’s face was flushed, his breath labored, but his movements were sharper than before. He spun his sword with renewed vigor, pressing the attack against Bronn. But the sellsword was as sharp as ever, his parries quick, his footwork steady. They deadlocked, Jaime’s golden hand clashing with Bronn’s grip. With a wicked grin, Bronn swatted Jaime across the face, sending him sprawling onto the ground with an unceremonious thud.

Jaime let out a grunt, pushing himself up from the dirt. “What the hell was that?” he spat, wiping the dust from his tunic.

Bronn tossed Jaime’s golden hand back to him with a smirk. “That was me knocking your ass to the dirt with your own hand."

Jaime caught it, shaking his head. “You’re a rare talent. When you’re fighting cripples, anyway.”

“You learned to fight like a good little boy," Bronn quipped, his grin widening. "I’ll bet that thrust through the Mad King’s back was pretty as a picture. You want to fight pretty, or you want to win?”

Jaime’s jaw clenched. “You talk to my brother this way?”

“All the time. He got used to it.”

They sat together on a low stone wall, the tension easing between them. Jaime took a swig from a wineskin before handing it to Bronn.

“Do you think he did it?” Jaime asked, his voice low, hesitant.

Bronn shook his head. “No. Oh, he hated the little twat, sure. But who didn’t? Poison’s not his style. Or murder, for that matter. You want to know for sure, why don’t you ask him?”

Jaime remained silent, his gaze distant.

“You haven’t been to see him yet, have you?” Bronn probed, his tone carrying an edge of judgment.

Jaime stood abruptly, tossing the wineskin back to Bronn. “We’re done for today.”

As Jaime walked away, Bronn called out, “Your brother ever tell you how I came into his service?”

Jaime paused, his back still turned. “You stood for him in his trial by combat at the Eyrie.”

“Aye,” Bronn replied, his voice steady. “But only when Lady Arryn demanded the trial take place that day. You were his first choice. He named you for his champion because he knew you’d ride day and night to fight for him. You gonna fight for him now?”

Jaime’s silence lingered, the weight of Bronn’s words hanging in the air as he disappeared into the distance. 

Once Jaime was gone, Bronn stood alone, shaking his head. That’s when you emerged from your hiding spot, the faint sound of your boots scraping against the stone catching his attention. He turned, spotting you walking towards him, your loose long-sleeve tunic billowing slightly in the wind, trousers and boots practical for the sparring you had in mind. The sword sheathed at your side glinted in the afternoon light, a far cry from the ladylike appearance most would expect.

You let out a low whistle, drawing a chuckle from Bronn as you approached. “You really handed it to him, huh?” you remarked, eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Who knew today would be the day you make a joke?” Bronn quipped, his smirk never far from his lips.

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Might as well get a laugh in once in a while.”

Bronn gave you a quick once-over, his eyes sharp as always. “You here to practice?”

In response, you tossed a small pouch of gold coins at him, which he caught with a practiced ease. “It’s been a while. Was wondering if you were simply busy or if you’d run off.”

You shrugged, the weight of the past few days pressing on your shoulders. “Well, it hasn’t been quiet at the Red Keep.”

“Aye,” Bronn said with a knowing look, his expression softening for just a moment. Then, with his usual swagger, he added, “Well, let’s see if that sword of yours still works.”

The two of you squared off, the tension of the moment melting into the familiar rhythm of training. Bronn was a formidable opponent—quick, sharp, and never one to play by the rules. He tested you immediately, launching a fast strike aimed at your side. You parried it easily, the weight of your sword light in your hands.

"You've gotten faster," Bronn noted, his tone almost begrudging as he stepped back to assess you, his sharp eyes taking in every movement, every subtle shift of your stance. 

You shrugged, gripping your sword a little tighter, the weight of his words sinking in deeper than he realized. Faster—it wasn’t just speed you needed. Strength. Precision. Ruthlessness. All of it would be necessary if you were going to do what needed to be done. Your thoughts flickered briefly to him, to the Mountain, and the moment you had been turning over in your mind, rehearsing endlessly in the quiet of your own head.

One well-placed strike—that’s all it would take. You’d studied his movements, watched how he fought. Brutal. Unforgiving. He crushed his opponents like insects beneath his feet, but there was always a weakness. There had to be. You just had to find it, and when you did, the Mountain would fall.

But you didn’t say that out loud.

Instead, you offered Bronn a casual shrug, masking the storm of thoughts beneath your calm expression. “Learned a few tricks while I was busy,” you replied with a half-smile, keeping your voice light.

Bronn smirked, though his eyes still lingered on you as if trying to peel back the layers of your thoughts. "Busy, huh? Hope those tricks keep you alive long enough to show me more."

He didn’t press, and you were grateful for it. There was no need to tell him, not yet. The time would come soon enough, and when it did, you'd be ready.

A FEW DAYS LATER

KING'S LANDING, THE THRONE ROOM — DAY

You stand off to the side, shrouded in the shadows of the grand pillars, your eyes flickering over the scene before you like a predator studying its prey. The High Septon stands at the heart of it all, his voice booming as he leads the coronation of Tommen Baratheon. The crowd has gathered, a sea of nobles dressed in their finest silks, feigning respect and devotion. Your gaze drifts, settling momentarily on Ser Jaime Lannister, who patrols near the back, his golden hand gleaming in the soft light.

"May the Warrior grant him courage and protect him in these perilous times," the High Septon intoned, his voice heavy with ceremony. "May the Smith grant him strength that he might bear this heavy burden. And may the Crone, she that knows the fate of all men, show him the path he must walk and guide him through the dark places that lie ahead."

Tommen’s face, still soft with boyish innocence, betrays the weight of the moment. You can see it in his eyes—the bewilderment, the fear hidden behind a facade of calm. He’s a puppet, and the strings are woven through the hands of those more powerful. But he’s not the one you’re watching.

The High Septon finishes, his hands raised toward the heavens. "In the light of the Seven, I now proclaim Tommen of the House Baratheon, First of His Name. King of the Andals and the First Men and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. Long may he reign!"

"Long may he reign!" the crowd echoes in unison, their voices a rehearsed chorus.

Your eyes narrow as Tommen bows, exchanging a fleeting glance with Margaery Tyrell. The hint of a smile plays on her lips, barely noticeable unless you knew what to look for. It’s the look of a woman who knows exactly what she wants—and how to get it. Cersei sees it too, her expression tightening, though she maintains her grace.

You smirk to yourself. The plot never stops, not for a moment.

The grand hall is quieter now, though the air still buzzes with soft chatter. Tommen sits awkwardly on the Iron Throne, his small frame swallowed by its looming presence. Tywin Lannister stands beside him, commanding the room with nothing but his cold, stern silence. The line of courtiers shuffles forward, each taking their turn to bow and offer hollow pleasantries.

"Your Grace," Grand Maester Pycelle rasps, his aged voice grating against your ears.  

"Your Grace," Varys follows, his tone smooth, unreadable.

Tommen exchanges nods and small smiles, barely keeping up the appearance of a ruler. Margaery lingers nearby, her gaze soft but calculating. It’s Cersei’s eyes that catch yours, though, burning with possessiveness and suspicion as they land on Margaery.

Your fingers twitch at your side, the weight of your dagger pressing against your thigh through the fabric of your cloak. There’s no need for it now, but the comfort of steel is a constant reminder of why you’re here—watching, waiting, collecting secrets like coins.

The crowd parts as Cersei approaches Margaery, offering smiles to the onlookers as she moves through the room with the grace of a lioness on the hunt. You observe it all, taking in the flickers of power, the undercurrents that ripple beneath the surface of every interaction.

You sigh, stepping away from the scene and slipping back into the shadows. There’s nothing more to see here. The coronation is just another piece in the larger puzzle, and the trial—the real battle—is yet to come. Your secrets can wait, for now.

KING'S LANDING, THE GARDEN — DAY

The day was warm, the sun casting a golden glow over the lush greenery of the royal gardens. The scent of blooming flowers mingled with the salty air from the sea, but none of that registered as you went about your tasks. Servant duties, tedious and endless, consumed most of your time. Today, it was carrying supplies from the kitchen to the gardens—bundles of herbs, fresh fruits, a few linens. You balanced them carefully in your arms, eyes scanning for a spot to drop them off before you moved to the next errand.

As you passed through the garden's winding paths, the soft murmur of voices caught your attention. You stilled, instinctively pressing yourself into the shade of a tall shrub, out of sight. The voices were familiar—Cersei Lannister and Oberyn Martell. The temptation to eavesdrop, to gather just a bit more information for yourself, was too great to resist.

You shifted slightly, your heart thudding in your chest, trying not to rustle the bushes as you angled your body closer. From where you stood, you had a clear view of Oberyn sitting on a stone bench, writing on a scroll. He paused as Cersei approached, her guards flanking her.

"Your Grace," Oberyn greeted her, his voice low and polite as he stood.

Cersei’s cold smile barely reached her eyes. "Prince Oberyn. Writing letters?"

"A poem, actually," Oberyn replied, his tone light, yet unreadable.

Cersei’s eyebrow raised slightly, more curious than amused. "May I show you the gardens?"

Oberyn glanced down at the scroll he had been working on before standing fully to his feet. "I couldn’t very well refuse a royal escort."

"No, you couldn’t," Cersei said, a slight edge in her voice. You could almost see the power shift between them as they started walking side by side through the winding paths of the garden, their steps measured, calculated.

You trailed discreetly behind them, clutching your bundle tightly, ears straining to catch every word.

"I didn’t realize you were a poet," Cersei remarked, her voice laced with feigned curiosity.

Oberyn chuckled. "Not a very good one."

"For your paramour?"

"For one of my daughters," Oberyn corrected, his voice softening at the mention of his children.

Cersei’s eyes flicked toward him. "You have several, don’t you?"

"Eight," he said, a touch of pride in his voice.

"Eight? Eight daughters?" Cersei repeated, incredulous.

Oberyn nodded. "The fifth is difficult. I named her after my sister, Elia."

At the mention of Elia’s name, your heart clenched. You had always known the depth of his loss, but hearing it aloud, even in passing, reminded you of the storm that brewed constantly beneath Oberyn’s surface.

"Beautiful name," Cersei mused.

"Yes," Oberyn agreed, though his tone darkened. "But I can’t say it without turning sad. And after I turn sad, I grow angry."

"Perhaps that’s why she’s difficult," Cersei remarked, her tone dripping with cynical wisdom. "The gods love their stupid jokes, don’t they?"

Oberyn's gaze narrowed slightly, intrigued. "Which joke is that?"

Cersei’s smile was sharp, almost mocking. "You’re a prince of Dorne. A legendary fighter. A brilliant man feared throughout Westeros. But you could not save your sister. I’m a Lannister. Queen for nineteen years. Daughter of the most powerful man alive. But I could not save my son. What good is power if you cannot protect the ones you love?"

Her words struck like venom, her bitterness palpable. You watched Oberyn’s face shift, his jaw tightening as the memories of his sister undoubtedly flashed behind his eyes.

"We can avenge them," he said after a pause, his voice resolute, cutting through the air like a blade.

Cersei met his gaze, her lips curling slightly. "Yes, we can avenge them."

Oberyn tilted his head, watching her intently. "You really believe Tyrion murdered your son?"

Without hesitation, Cersei replied, "I know he did."

Oberyn’s expression remained calm, though you could sense his skepticism. "We will have a trial, and we will learn the truth."

"We’ll have a trial, anyway," Cersei muttered, her voice tight with impatience. "I haven’t seen my daughter in over a year."

Oberyn’s face softened slightly. "The last time I saw her, she was swimming with two of my girls in the Water Gardens. Laughing in the sun."

Cersei’s eyes briefly glistened with unshed tears. "I want to believe that. I want to believe she’s happy."

Oberyn’s tone was gentle now, sincere. "You have my word. We don’t hurt little girls in Dorne."

Cersei’s voice was a mere whisper, filled with more sadness than she would ever admit aloud. "Everywhere in the world, they hurt little girls. Would you bring her a gift for me? I wasn’t there for her name day. I don’t know when I’ll see her again."

Oberyn’s gaze softened as he nodded. "Anything at all."

Cersei pointed toward the bay, her eyes lingering on a ship. "The best shipwrights in King’s Landing have been working on it for months. Myrcella loves the open water."

Oberyn’s lips curled into a small, understanding smile. "I will have it sailed down to Sunspear for her."

Cersei turned to face him fully, her expression momentarily vulnerable. "Please tell her... her mother misses her very much."

She left then, her guards following behind as her regal figure disappeared from the garden. Oberyn stood still, watching her go with an unreadable expression.

In the silence that followed, Oberyn’s voice cut through the air, calm and composed. "You can show yourself now."

Your breath hitched, but you stepped out from behind the pillar, clutching the supplies you had been carrying, your heartbeat still racing from all you had overheard.

Oberyn's dark eyes, gleaming with that unspoken intensity, never left yours. The weight of his gaze made the space between you feel smaller, heavier, as though every unspoken word lingered in the air. He took a slow step toward you, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and curiosity.

"I still don’t know your name," he said, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips, though his tone remained casual, as if this was just another conversation, nothing more than passing the time.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you swallowed, straightening slightly. "It’s..." You hesitated for a second, then finally offered, your name.

Oberyn hummed in acknowledgment, his smirk widening just a little, as though your name now held a secret weight between the two of you. He moved closer, studying your face carefully. He repeated your name, tasting the name on his tongue like it was something to be savored.

A silence hung between you for a moment, but Oberyn had a way of piercing through it with his words. His eyes narrowed slightly, his head tilting just enough to catch your gaze again. "Tell me," he began, his voice soft but laced with a quiet danger, "did you poison the king?"

Your chest tightened at the question, though you knew it was coming. You didn't flinch, your heart steady despite the accusation hanging in the air. Meeting his gaze, you shook your head firmly, your voice calm but resolute. "No. I didn’t."

Oberyn’s intense gaze lingered on you, as if he was peeling away the layers of who you were, searching for the truth hidden beneath your calm exterior. His dark eyes burned with quiet judgment, tempered by curiosity. The corner of his mouth tugged upward, barely perceptible, when he let out a soft hum, the tension in his posture easing. "Good," he murmured, the single word carrying weight, as though it was meant to confirm something greater. Yet, behind his eyes, the storm never ceased, always swirling, always waiting.

You inhaled deeply, the air between you thick with unspoken things. For a long moment, you said nothing, your mind racing through the years, the faces, and the memories long buried under the weight of time and pain. The ocean waves crashed in the distance, steady and unyielding, much like the man before you. The ships bobbed on the horizon, their sails catching the wind as if they were fleeing toward freedom, away from all that was this city—this place of blood and betrayal.

You turned your gaze toward the sea, your voice low as you spoke, almost as if the memory itself had pulled the words from your lips. "You were right, your grace. I knew her… your sister, Princess Elia." 

Oberyn’s expression flickered, a subtle shift from curiosity to something more personal, more vulnerable, as he stepped closer to you. His presence was quiet but commanding, the warmth of him beside you drawing your attention. You didn’t look at him; instead, you watched the ships, the waves crashing against the cliffs in the distance. 

"It was a long time ago," you continued, your voice soft, filled with a kind of sorrow that time couldn’t quite erase. "I wasn’t a good person then… I don’t know if I am now." Your words hung in the air, fragile but true.

The wind whipped through your hair as the memory surged forth, pulling you back to that day—the day you first met her. You had been standing on the cliffs near Sunspear, staring down at the waters below. The waves had seemed so inviting, so final. You’d been ready to let go, ready to fall and end the pain that had gripped you for far too long. 

But then, you heard a cry. 

Princess Elia had been in the water, struggling against the currents, her graceful arms failing to keep her afloat. It was instinct, something primal within you that made you dive into the water, though you had been moments away from letting it take you. You swam with a strength you didn’t know you possessed, reaching her, pulling her to the shore. You’d saved her, though you had been prepared to die.

When you reached the sand, both of you gasping for breath, Elia had looked at you, her deep brown eyes searching yours, knowing, seeing far too much. "You were going to jump, weren’t you?" she had asked, her voice soft but piercing. 

You had only nodded, the pressure of your decision still clinging to you like the seaweed wrapped around your legs. 

Elia had smiled then, a gentle, sorrowful thing. "Thank you for saving me… even when you couldn’t save yourself." Her words had haunted you ever since.

The memory faded, and you were back in the present, the ocean still stretching before you, endless and indifferent. Oberyn stood beside you, silent for a long moment, absorbing your words. His expression remained unreadable, but his eyes flickered with understanding, with a shared pain.

"You were the one," he said quietly, almost as if speaking to himself. "The servant girl… the one who survived." His voice was careful, probing, seeking confirmation of a story long buried under the rubble of war and tragedy.

Your face remained void of emotion as you turned to meet his gaze, your eyes hollowed by the weight of the years and the scars you carried. "I haven't forgotten even a day," you replied, your voice eerily calm, devoid of the turmoil you felt. "Some hatred resembles longing. It's impossible to get rid of." 

Oberyn's gaze lingered on you, his expression softening, though the tempest within him still raged. His eyes, dark and intense, mirrored the turmoil that churned beneath your own surface. “I’ve also hit rock bottom before,” he said, his voice carrying a rare gentleness. “So, I understand the weight of your anger.”

His words hung in the salt-tinged air, a bridge between the two of you—both bound by memories of a woman long gone, and a shared desire for something that felt like justice but tasted more like vengeance. The sea continued its relentless assault on the cliffs, indifferent to your pain, your histories, and the scars neither of you could erase. The world moved on, as uncaring as ever, while you stood still in the face of it.

Oberyn turned slightly toward you, his expression more searching now. "Is that why you came to King's Landing?" His question was quiet, but the weight of it settled between you like a stone dropped into a deep well.

Without turning to face him, you let out a bitter laugh, the sound lost in the crash of waves. "Isn’t that why you’re here too?"

The words hit him with a force that made him pause, a flash of something unreadable passing across his face. Oberyn was silent for a moment, studying you as if trying to gauge the depth of your resolve. He shifted, his usual confidence tempered by something more cautious now. "You know what revenge does to people," he said softly, his tone laced with concern. "I’ve seen it. I’ve lived it. It devours you, bit by bit, until there’s nothing left but the anger. It’s… not something someone like you should carry."

You scoffed, the words cutting through you, sharper than any blade. "Someone like me?" you echoed, turning to face him fully for the first time since the conversation began. Your eyes locked onto his, challenging, as if daring him to explain what he meant.

Oberyn’s brow furrowed, a rare crease in the otherwise unshakeable mask he wore. "You carry enough," he said, voice low but firm. "You shouldn’t be the one to deal with this. It will change you."

His worry was unexpected, disarming even, and for a moment, you saw the weight of his own guilt reflected in his gaze—the burdens he carried, the losses he had never fully avenged. But there was also a flicker of something protective, something he wasn’t ready to admit to.

You turned back toward the sea, your heart heavy with a mix of rage and sorrow. The waves below crashed louder now, their rhythm matching the pounding in your chest. "I’ve already been changed," you whispered, your voice barely audible above the roar of the ocean. "There’s nothing left to take." 

Oberyn stepped closer, his presence warm beside you, though the space between you felt vast. “There’s always something left,” he murmured, his voice softer now, the edge of worry still lacing his words. “You just don’t see it yet.”

The silence between you stretched long, as the sea kept its pace, unbothered by the weight of two broken souls standing on the cliffs above it. Neither of you spoke again for some time, each lost in your own thoughts, but bound by an understanding neither of you had expected.

Both here for vengeance. Both already paying its price.

KING'S LANDING, RED KEEP — EVENING

The evening air clung heavily to the Red Keep, filled with the scent of the sea and the distant hum of King’s Landing. After leaving Oberyn by the cliffs, the weight of exhaustion settled into your bones, dragging you through the motions of the day. Each task completed, each conversation had, felt like a necessary distraction—an anchor to keep you from drowning in your thoughts. Yet, none of it could quiet the storm within.

Once your duties were done, you retreated to your small chambers, the flickering light of a lone candle casting shadows against the stone walls. You sat at the edge of your bed, a leather journal resting on your lap. The worn pages were a map of your thoughts, your plans, your vengeance. You traced a finger over the spine, staring down at the leather-bound book that held all the pieces of your story. It was here, in the quiet of the night, that you could feel the weight of everything you’d worked for, everything you had planned.

Your revenge.

You glanced at the drawer where your dagger rested, a constant companion in this journey, but tonight you would leave it behind. Tonight was not for the blade, but for something else entirely. Whispered words from the servants confirmed that Ellaria was out in the brothels, and that knowledge settled something within you. 

You changed swiftly into a nightgown, the soft fabric brushing against your skin, and draped a dark cloak over your shoulders. It shrouded your form as you slipped through the halls of the Red Keep, every step measured, your path taking you toward the guest quarters. Toward Oberyn.

MAIDENVAULT, GUEST CHAMBERS

KING’S LANDING, RED KEEP - EVENING

The corridors were dimly lit, and you moved like a shadow, slipping unnoticed through the Keep. The cold stone beneath your feet did little to deter you as you made your way to the door of Oberyn’s chambers. 

You hesitated for only a moment, then pushed the door open, slipping inside before the guards could take notice. The room was dim, lit only by the pale silver of the moonlight filtering in through the window. Oberyn stood near the bed, surprised by your sudden presence, his dark eyes meeting yours as you stepped into the moonlight, the cloak falling away from your shoulders. 

He closed the door behind him, his gaze flickering over you, curiosity and something else stirring in his eyes. "I didn’t expect company tonight," he said, his voice low, a touch playful as he stepped closer. "Is this what I think it is?"

You didn’t respond immediately. Instead, your fingers moved to the ties of your nightgown, pulling them loose until the fabric slipped down from your shoulders, falling in a whispering heap at your feet. Oberyn’s smirk faltered as the moonlight revealed the truth—scarred, burned, and marred flesh stretching across your body like a grotesque map of past pain.

"It felt like a white night, and sometimes it felt like a polar night, too."

His amusement vanished, replaced by horror, by understanding. "Gods…" he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper as he took in the damage that covered every inch of you.

“Ugly, right?” Your voice was toneless, cold. “My scars.”

Oberyn’s eyes darkened, but not with revulsion—only fury, a quiet, simmering rage that burned behind his otherwise calm exterior. He didn’t need to ask who had done this to you. The answer was written in the jagged lines that crisscrossed your skin. He knew. He had always known the darkness that resided in this city, but seeing it on you, it seemed to strike deeper.

“They’re not ugly,” he said softly, stepping closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “They’re injuries.” His voice was a mixture of defiance and sympathy, the edges rough with something dangerous.

You shook your head, meeting his gaze with a stark intensity. "I’m not looking for a prince," you said, your voice steady and without emotion. “What I need is not a prince, but a headsman who will join me in the sword dance.”

Oberyn’s jaw tightened, the weight of your words sinking into the space between you. For a moment, you could see the conflict in his eyes—the warrior who knew the toll of vengeance, and the lover who wished to shield you from it. But as he looked at the scars on your body, the decision seemed to solidify within him.

"Once your revenge is over, your world will also be in ruins," he said, his voice still holding the trace of concern, but it was quickly fading.

"I’m already in complete ruins with no dignity left," you replied, your voice like iron. "So, go back. I’d like to stay faithful to my rage and vice"

Oberyn exhaled slowly, the storm within him finally breaking. His fingers flexed at his side, as if already reaching for the hilt of his sword. “I’ll do it,” he said, stepping even closer until his presence was all-encompassing. “I’ll be your headsman. I’ll join the sword dance.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as his words sunk in, the finality of them sending a thrill through you. “I’ll do whatever you say,” he continued, his voice like a vow. “As if it’s a royal command. Anything at all.”

He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the violence in his words. “I’ll show you a wild sword dance,” he promised, his eyes locked on yours, filled with a deadly sort of resolve. 

In that moment, you both knew there was no turning back. The sword dance would begin, and neither of you would emerge the same.

TAGLIST:

@christinamadsen @greenwitchfromthewoods

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Move, baby

Gif credits

Pairing/Au: Oberyn Martell x f!reader x Ellaria Sand

Words count: 5768

Rating: +18, MINORS PLEASE DON’T INTERACT.

Warnings: threesome, reader is a sex worker, she is female and has hair and breasts and vagina but apart from that no other description is given, fingering, nipples play, oral sex (m and f receiving), face sitting, unprotected p in v (WRAP IT UP IRL, FOLKS), pet names (mostly honey), basically p*rn with very little plot lol

Notes: No beta reader, mostly written at night on my phone (I really need to stop doing this, GOD) and English is not my first language so excuse me for any mistake, Oberyn and Ellaria have always been one of my biggest fantasies, so I decided to write something about them. I'm a bi person, I want both, this is very personal to me and it's my first attempt at writing a threesome so please be kind. Title inspired by “Movement” by Hozier.

I really hope you’ll like it ❤️

I also just want to say thank you all for giving so much love to my last story, I’m so grateful and my heart is full of love for each one of you!

Archive tags: @pedrostories ♥️

When you move

I can recall somethin' that's gone from me

When you move

Honey, I'm put in awe of somethin' so flawed and free

So move me, baby

Shake like the bough of a willow tree

You do it naturally

Move me, baby

So move me, baby

Like you've nothin' left to prove

And nothin' to lose

Move me, baby

Oberyn and Ellaria are lying on the bed when you enter the room. You are intimidated, even though you have been doing this for years and have met many powerful people before. They have been here for a few days now and seeing them through the corridors of the brothel you couldn’t help but notice how majestic and beautiful they were. Oberyn is pervaded by a regal aura, he is like a feline who walks with a soft, elegant step and you immediately found him incredibly sensual.

His golden robe adorned with suns studding, the symbol of Dorne, almost entirely hides the splendor of his tanned skin, but leave his chest partially exposed and a large medallion accentuate the harmonious shape of his thick and incredibly attractive neck.

The fabric hug his torso and fall wider over his legs, framing his perfect figure. A large brown leather belt emphasize his narrow waist.

Rumors say that he is a formidable warrior with a spear and you can actually sense his physical prowess even under his clothes.

His face makes him look like a God, short black hair, high forehead and thick eyebrows, dark and piercing eyes, strong aquiline nose, voluptuous lips and sculpted jaw, covered by a strip of beard.

The signs that line his face give him authority and the appearance of a man who lives life to the full.

Ellaria is equally magnetic, some other brothel girl said to you that she comes from humble beginnings but she looks every bit like a queen who could have anyone under her feet.

A cascade of gorgeous black curls frame her face and falls over her bare shoulders, she has high, sculpted cheekbones and sensual lips, eyes like a dark night, deep and mysterious but shining like stars.

She wears a beautiful orange tunic that slides over her hips leaving little to the imagination, a wide neckline barely cover her décolleté and her tits are embraced by a gold bra.

She looked at you as you passed by her, and her inquisitive and teased gaze didn't escape you. You felt flattered, you never thought that a person like her could look at someone like you.

You saw her whisper something in Oberyn's ear and saw him nod with conviction, before putting his arm around her waist with a mischievous smile.

They walked away without speaking to you while you remained breathless for a few seconds as you watched them disappear together into one of the rooms.

You have experience, you never have this kind of reaction, even in the presence of the king who also frequents this brothel very often.

Most of the time you absolutely don't care about anything other than money you get at the end of the day but that feeling of being noticed by someone you actually like stayed with you and you spent the night torturing your clit because of them.

Today the brothel owner told you that Ellaria and Oberyn specifically asked for you. They previously require at least one man and a couple of women or more which perhaps would have helped you handle the situation better and be calmer. It wouldn't have all depended on you, you could have blended in with others, made yourself less noticed. Although when it comes to sex, it's impossible not to notice you.

You don't think so arrogantly, it's just that you do it every day, several times a day and you're good at it.

So damn good that some customers have fallen in love with you and became obsessed, forcing the brothel owner to kick them out and tell them not to show up again, so good that they often leave you extra gold coins before leaving the room.

You're an expert, but today you feel like it's the first time you've done it.

Your hand shake as you open the door, maybe they could have been wrong, it wasn't you they wanted.

You need to be detached in this job. You can't let your feelings influence you, at the beginning it often happened to you to be overwhelmed but now you've learned to leave the most vulnerable part of yourself outside the door.

There is no future for people like you in King's Landing other than doing menial work, this is the best paying job there is. It's certainly risky because you never know what can happen to you and often powerful men are also cruelly sadistic, you've found yourself in very scary situations at least a couple of times, fortunately much less than other girls who work here.

You saw with your own eyes the swollen faces, you heard the screams, you heard the cries. You've experienced bruises on your skin and not the kind you’ve been turned on by.

Your luck has been that the owner of this brothel cares about keeping you all safe, he is humane enough not to treat you like cannon fodder and let them do whatever they want with you.

He always says that it’s because he need to maintain his brothel the best one in King’s Landing but you know that there is a fund of goodness in him, after all you are pretty sure that he cares at least a little about all of you. You can see it from how he treats you, he never lacks clean clothes, decent meals, cleanliness and decorum of rooms and a maester to cure any ailment that may occur with this way of life. And he pays well, better than in any other brothel in the city, so you've always made sure to hold on to this job.

“We were waiting for you,” Oberyn says, sitting up in bed, his back leaning against the large red velvet cushions resting on the inlaid wooden headboard.

You hold your breath as you shyly step forward.

Ellaria is lying on her side next to her lover, her head resting on her right hand, while her other hand lies limply on her exposed side.

“Come closer, baby” she says “we want to look at you”

You take another step, exposing yourself to the dim light of the candles scattered around the room.

Ellaria's eyes sparkle, she glances knowingly at Oberyn and then back at you "It's really you, the one who looked at me in the hallway"

You feel her gaze wander over your body, you keep your eyes lowered to look at your bare feet on the wooden floor.

It feels like you're being seen for the first time in a long time, and you tremble slightly.

You are not afraid but you are in awe, fully aware of your exposed skin covered only by a light fabric draped over your hips and your torso, covering your breasts and pussy, leaving your shoulders and arms, your cleavage, your legs exposed.

“Are you ashamed?” Oberyn says “You don't need to”

Ellaria elegantly gets up from the bed and approaches you. She stops in front of you and places a finger under your chin “Look at me” she whispers “look into my eyes”

You do as you're told, her hand encircle your jaw, sweet and delicate like a caress.

She’s smiling at you “we've been thinking about you for days, you know? Since we've been in this crap city we haven't had many opportunities to relax, not as much as we'd like anyway. But today, we intend to do nothing else. And we hope you'll join us” It sounds like an invitation, one of the most tempting you've received in years. There is no obligation in her voice, there is kindness. And desire. The realization hits you in that moment, they weren't wrong at all, they want you at least as much as you want them.

Your gaze is fixed in Ellaria's reassuring eyes and you feel hypnotized by her.

“Do you want to stay with us?” she asks you.

You nod.

"Say it. Tell me you want us"

“Yes” you whisper

“Louder, babe, Prince Oberyn can’t hear you”

“Yes” you say, more convinced “I want to be here”

Ellaria's smile spreads softly across her face “Good. We’re glad to hear that, honey”

She moves her hand to your neck, stroking it, her fingertips like a breath on your skin, stopping at the edge of the fabric resting on your collarbone.

Oberyn is still sitting on the bed, Ellaria moves to your side, without taking her hand off your shoulder “what do you say, my love, is it time we got rid of this peplum?”

“Whatever my sweet paramore desires must be done”

She looks at him with so much love that for a moment you almost feel like you're not worthy of observing such an intimate moment between two people.

Then Ellaria returns to focusing on you, as if you were a gift that was delivered especially for her, making you feel part of the scene again.

She lowers the hem of your dress, letting it slide across your skin, revealing your breasts and then your tummy and letting it fall from your hips. It collapses at your feet like a white cloud.

She takes your hand and makes you take a step forward, letting you out of your dress.

You're naked.

And two of the most fascinating people you've ever seen are looking at you. They're looking at you.

A large number of your clients are impatient, rushed, they just want to satisfy themselves and leave.

Ellaria and Oberyn are calm and relaxed, and they seem in no hurry to send you away.

She admires you, you feel her gaze contemplating you and you fervently hope that she likes what she sees.

You truly want this woman to like you.

“She is beautiful” Oberyn says “my love, you really have impeccable taste”

Ellaria lets out a little laugh "it's no coincidence that you are my other half”

her eyes are languidly on him and then back at you.

She reaches down to caress your arm, your side, her fingers tracing the contours of your body so carefully.

You can literally feel the tension building in the room, pervading it entirely.

“She really is gorgeous”

Her hand travels up your stomach, barely touching you, while she continues to look straight into your eyes and reaches one of your breasts.

She cups it and weighs it for a moment "you have beautiful breasts" she whispers and then takes your nipple between her thumb and forefinger and pinches it, pulling it slightly.

A low moan escapes your lips.

You remain still, many have done it before but her touch is different, more attentive and graceful, it send you shivers down your spine.

She’s treating you like something precious, taking the time to tickle your body, looking at you like you're the only person in the room, the anticipation makes it all more exciting.

She does the same to the other nipple and then gets closer, she's so close that you can feel her scent of honey and flowers filling your nostrils.

She kisses you, her lips are luscious and velvety, she tastes like sweet grape, ambrosial and intoxicating.

She pulls away from you and runs a finger over your bottom lip and gently forces your mouth open, then kisses you again. You feel her tongue make its way, meet yours and caress your palate. She licks greedily inside your mouth, her hands squeeze your hips and caress them, her body adheres perfectly to yours, making you whimper and rock your hips to try to get more friction burying one of your hand in her hair, your fingers intertwined with her raven curls.

“Don’t be impatient, baby”

You try to calm down but when you look away from her you see Oberyn on the bed, in his golden robe, staring at you.

His eyes got even darker and are fixed on you, he is clearly turned on by what Ellaria is doing and that makes you even more needy.

“Eyes on me, babe” Ellaria gets your attention again “sit on the bed”

She turns you around and stands in front of you, making you walk backwards as she pushes you gently holding your hips.

The backs of your knees touch the bed and you sit obediently.

Ellaria caresses your cheek “spread your legs” she orders and you do.

She kneels in front of you, you already feel your skin getting hot.

Her hand runs along your inner thigh, her fingertips like feathers on your skin.

“You’re so good. Already glistening for us” she says quietly, eyes fixed on your wetness and you expect for her fingers to rise for reaching your folds but she doesn’t. She gets up instead and take your face in her hands again and gives you another kiss that leaves you breathless. It’s more urgent and sloppy than before and your mind goes blind.

You desperately want this woman to make you cry and beg for more.

Oberyn approaches you from behind while his lover deepens the kiss and put his hands on your shoulders, stroking, you whimper at his touch, his big strong hands expertly roaming on your skin. He lowers them to touch your tits, squeezing and caressing and then his lips are on your neck sucking, biting, licking your soft skin under your ear.

Ellaria has stopped kissing you and contemplates you melting under her man's touch, she has a pleased smile.

She then makes you lying on the bed and undress.

Her dress falls to the ground leaving her naked.

She looks like a work of art.

Her skin is smooth like silk and shines in the candlelight, her tits are perfectly round shaped, high and firm, her turgid nipples stand in the center of a dark rose areola, your eyes wander on her flat tummy and her flourishing hips and thighs, she has beautifully shaped legs, your mouth is watering at the vision.

She climbs up over your body while Oberyn is now on your side sitting on his heels, watching the two of you kissing again.

You whine in her mouth feeling her warm tongue dancing with yours.

Ellaria then whispers in your ear “Raise your arms for me, baby and stand still. Let me take care of you”

You do immediately, so eager to be pleasured by this stunning creature that now lay on top of you.

Her weight is deliciously crushing you.

She kisses your neck and cleavage and lowers herself on you leaving a trail of wet kisses on your skin.

She takes one of your nipples in her mouth sucking on it, making your entire body vibrate. Her tongue is swirling on it, licking all over your areola and then on your bud sucking again avidly.

You cry when she lowers one of her hand between your thighs, teasing your folds with just her fingertips.

She watches you with a languid smile “yeah, you like that, don’t you? Me sucking on your beautiful tits?”

And you nod, head empty, totally intoxicated by her.

You want more, more, more.

She’s on your tits again, mercilessly sucking, using her teeth to gently stiffen your nipples, humming low to your skin.

She dips her fingers into your glistening pussy, running them up and down, completely wetting them.

She put her index finger into her mouth licking it clean.

“Mmm you taste so good” and this vision only would be enough to send you over the edge, she is incredibly elegant even now, in a way that exudes pure sensuality.

She keeps sucking on your tits while teasing your pussy, until you find yourself begging “please, please fuck me”

She stop and look at you with a malicious smile “you want to be fucked by my fingers? You want that, honey?”

“Please, do. Please.”

“You’re so good for us. You should do me a favor, look at my handsome lover while I work my fingers into you, would you do that for me?”

“Yes. Yes, whatever you -“ your voice cracks in the attempt ‘cause she force your entrance with two of her fingers without waiting for you to reply “AH. whatever you want… my queen” you say breathily.

She’s deep into you.

“Well, technically I’m no queen but you can call me one if you want” she laugh heartily. “Look at my love, now”

You turn your face and next to you is a naked Oberyn. You don't know when he took off his robe, you heard movements around you but you were totally absorbed in Ellaria at that moment.

It never happens that you are not aware of what is happening in a room, you must always be vigilant to avoid dangerous situations when there is more than one person with you, you never let yourself be caught off guard.

He waited silently, he certainly enjoyed the sight of you two.

You can clearly see it in his hard, swollen cock in front of you.

He's jerking off slowly, a couple more strokes and then he finally speaks "Do you want to take it in your mouth, sweetie?"

You look at him for a second, filling your eyes with his beauty, while Ellaria continues to move in and out of you with her fingers and working on your nipples with her tongue.

You smile, pleased by his hungry eyes.

“Yes” you murmur “Yes, please”

He brings the tip close to your mouth and you instinctively stick out your tongue to lick it. It's already wet with precome, it's salty and musky and you wail at this, so eager to have it all into your mouth.

He enter your lips slowly, he’s bigger than most men you’ve met and you’ve met a lot of men.

“Yes, just like that, honey”

You take as much as you can of him through your lips, down your throat, filling your mouth with his hardened cock and mewl at his thick veins tickling your tongue.

You cup his balls with your hand, massaging them.

“Oh. You seemed shy before but you’re a little mischief, aren’t you?”

You pull out and a little laugh escape your lips “that’s exactly what I am” and you look at him “never underestimate a quite girl”

You’re challenging him, he knows you do things like that for a living so he shouldn’t expect you to be so innocent and naive.

You’re not.

“I knew it, honey, that’s why we wanted you. I know a little mischievous girl when I see her”

You stifle one more laugh and take his cock in your hand, licking his already sticky tip, swirling your tongue on his frenulum, then moving your tongue flat along his length, down to the base and back up again.

You fill your mouth again, taking him so deep that the head of his cock is now scraping at your throat.

You hold it still for a moment to get used to its size and the you begin to suck.

Ellaria is still circling your clit with her thumb while her index and middle fingers slowly pumps in and out of you.

You suck greedily on Oberyn cock and pride raise in your chest at his praises “you’re doing so good, babe, so good for me, keep going”

For the first time in years, you are a third person enjoying sex with others and not only a whore at their commands.

You're almost at your peak and rock your hips into Ellaria's hand, seeking more and more friction.

“Come on baby, flood my hand with your cum”

Your body shakes and you feel a heat rise from your core and invade you as you release your orgasm on Ellaria's hand.

She’s looking at you eagerly, you still have Oberyn cock in your mouth, you hold onto the sheets with your hand to maintain the position while you don't stop taking his cock.

“You have the most exquisite nipples I’ve ever seen, and they taste so sweet, god, I’m obsessed” she says, stroking your hair, making you feel tenderly spoiled.

Oberyn explode in your mouth a few moments later groaning loudly, you swallow everything you can and smile at him while a little ripple of cum runs down your chin.

“Such a good babe” Ellaria strokes your cheek and lick the cum that is making its way onto your neck.

The room is quiet for a while filled only with your sighs.

“What do you want now, love?”

She says to Oberyn that is now lying on the bed right next to you with a hand splayed over your tummy.

“I was thinking…what if you sit on her face while I eat her pussy?”

“Mmmm you always have the best ideas, my prince”

You're lying between them, they sit up for a kiss and you see their mouths come together and their tongues meet passionately right above you, you quietly enjoy the show.

Oberyn climbs on top of you, starting to kiss you and you immediately realize how different his touch and kisses are from Ellaria's, he is more urgent, less delicate than her, but no less exciting. His hands are bigger, his fingers longer and as he caresses and teases your nipples and kisses you you wonder what it would be like to have them inside you.

His tongue is voracious inside your mouth, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip, his kissing overall more demanding and authoritative but still kind.

Oberyn certainly knows how to let the love of his life take center stage but he also knows exactly how to take it back.

He wastes no time tasting your nipples after all of Ellaria's glorification, running his tongue flat over one of them and grunting in approval and then sucking like he’s starving.

“Fuck, they really are delicious, you’re so right, my love”

Ellaria smiles as she settles in to straddle you, her pussy is an inch from your mouth, you can smell it and you pant in anticipation.

“Lick me, dear, lick me deeply and fuck me with your tongue”

and she lowers herself into your face, your nose colliding with her clit making her gasp, your tongue is flat on her folds tracing them thoroughly, you taste her spicy savory flavor that instantly drives you wild.

You lick right in the middle, her folds caressing your tongue at the sides while you caress her center, alternating longer laps with small ones like a kitten, just the tip of your tongue on her clit.

And then you take it into your mouth, wrapping it with your tongue and then sucking it.

Her pussy clench and she grinds into your face “Yes, oh my gods, you’re fucking great” she mutters, hitting your nose again and again “keep doing that”

You try to focus on her even if you feel Oberyn moving on your body, licking and sucking your skin, probably leaving some light bruises that don't intimidate you anyway, he reaches your mound and continues kissing, attentive and caring. He is rough but also sweet, you can feel his beard scratching you delightfully, he makes space between your legs to settle on his stomach on the bed.

You continue lapping on her clit burying your face in her pussy when you feel Oberyn spread your lips with two fingers and give a long lick to your center and then sink his fingers between your lips, covering them completely in your juices, teasing your entrance while he swirling on your clit.

His fingers are thick, much thicker than Ellaria's, and even just a little force at your opening makes you feel full.

Ellaria is still rocking her hips into your face, squeezing it between her thighs. You stick your tongue right at her entrance, making her moan your name “yeah, baby, just like that, keep pushing your tongue inside me”

You do as she wish, darting your tongue in her hole.

She cries out loud, quivering, calling your name again, pushing her cunt into your face.

You’re almost breathless but you don’t stop, you want her to come all over your mouth and chin and you want to savor every drop of her pleasure.

You feel Oberyn’s fingers deep down into your pussy, curling up and reaching that pretty spot inside of you that always gives you fireworks, while he devours your clit. You can feel his nose deepening through your folds and it feels heavenly.

He’s great.

Really amazingly great.

You push into Ellaria’s trying to keep the same pace with he’s pushing into you and you’re pretty sure you’ve never had anything like that, even if you’re a prostitute and you do it all the time.

Ellaria is riding your face like there’s no tomorrow and Oberyn is eating you out so frantically that you feel a little bit overstimulated but you wouldn’t want to stop for any reason.

“You’re really making my sweetheart a big mess, don’t you?” He looks up at you, grinning as he watches his lover taking every bit of your tongue into her.

There's not even a hint of jealousy in his voice, he seems impressed by you, pleased by the fact that you're making the love of his life enjoy every moment.

“I understand that you are so eager to give her what she wants, it's the same for me. My woman is too precious to leave her unsatisfied, she needs to be worshipped” he says it slowly, sweetly, it reaches your ears muffled but still effective and unmistakable.

His fingers still move inside your cunt, and his tongue is on you again licking your clit rapidly, almost jerking it.

You see stars again, while you keep moving on Ellaria’s folds.

Your entire body is on fire, your legs shaking and your heart pounding in your chest so fast you feel like you’re on the verge of no return.

Ellaria comes a few moments after, whining and holding on to the sheets to maintain balance, releasing her cum all over your lips, on your tongue, in your mouth and you drink on her, all you can, continuing lapping her.

Oberyn is caressing your folds with two fingers, gently, letting you cool down.

When Ellaria moves from your face you try to suffocate a disappointed moan which does not escape Oberyn's ears “Oh, you still want more, honey? Yeah, my woman is addictive, I know” his mouth curve into a smile.

“So are you” you say, pulling you up to sit up in bed to give him a kiss.

His lips taste like you, you linger on his bottom lip sucking it gently to get the more of it.

“You’re such a horny little thing”

“Yes, I am” you whisper on his lips

“Good. We like that”

Ellaria is right next to you, palming the back of your head with her hand, stroking your hair.

“Naughty girl” she winks at you “you’re giving us great pleasure so we allow you to choose what to do now. What would you like, sweetie?”

“I would like..." you stop because you don't want to offend the splendid woman next to you.

“What? Speak, babe, whatever it is it’s fine with us” she smiles at you and Oberyn nods.

“I really want to be fucked…by Oberyn”

Ellaria laughs, a joyful laugh that makes your pussy throb

“Why were you afraid to say it?” she gently pinches one of your lobes, then tracing the outline of your ear with the tip of her finger.

“I didn't want you to feel left out”

“I don’t feel like that at all, honey. I know that you want to be fucked by this handsome prince, no one understands you better than me” her voice is low, tender, like a caress.

“It gives me great pleasure to see him enjoy it, you know? And who tells you I won't participate?”

“Oh. Okay” you feel relieved

“Don’t worry, hun, just take what you need. Haven't done this in a long time, right?”

It's true, you haven't been doing this for long, your job doesn't require you to think about your own needs, you have to dedicate yourself entirely to satisfying others.

Oberyn is between your legs again as Ellaria rests your head on her thighs.

“Spread your legs wider for me, babe”

He comes closer to you and slides his cock over your clit, up and down your folds, you get wet immediately, it slides so smoothly it feels like silk on you.

Ellaria is looking at you sweetly, she’s stroking your hair while your head is perfectly nested on her legs.

“You’re going to feel so good, honey, there’s no better cock than his”

And you actually think she’s right, despite all the other ones you’ve seen since you’re doing this.

He aligns himself with your entrance and you can feel the tip entering you, already stretching your crevice.

He’s careful and goes inch by inch with an incredible calm.

He stops when he’s entirely inside you, it fills you all up and you squirm at the sensation, arching your back to feel it even more.

“God it feels amazing” you moan “move, please”

“You ready, sweetheart?”

“Yes. Yes. Never been so ready in my life. Give it all to me, please”

Your pussy is dripping all over his cock and he starts thrusting, a grunt escapes his throat as he slides so easily into the deepest point of you.

He’s slow, really agonizingly slow and this makes you feel every single movement, every rolling of his hips, every rhythmic thrust so amplified that your mind starts going numb, completely drunk on him.

His hands hold your hips tightly, his fingers dig into your flesh and will probably leave marks but you don't care a bit.

It's like a dance, he’s dancing with your body, setting a leisurely pace that is giving you the freedom to simply feel center stage for once, like you didn’t even know it was possible anymore for you.

They say that's what he does even while fighting, dancing. It's light, nimble and agile like a panther, so they tell you.

Now he's not fighting, he's following your body and you do the same by moving your hips in turn at the same rhythm.

Ellaria was right, there's no cock like his, because what's going on now is him thinking of you first unlike the majority of men you’ve met.

He’s hitting that right spot inside of you again and again, so naturally that you could say that your cunt is meant to be his.

All is silent except for his grunts and the squelching sound of your fuck, every lewd noise from your pussy as he sink into you makes your head spin.

The candles light up the room enough for you to see his face and you fixate on his every little expression, on the vein on his neck swelling, on his clenched teeth, on his eyes squeezed shut with effort.

Ellaria holds you by the shoulders, you bounce on her legs deliciously.

You look up at her for a moment and she has the most delighted smile you’ve ever seen.

“Keep going, hun, you’re doing so well”

she whisper and you’re unsure if she’s speaking to you or his lover but she sounds so sweet and nicely aroused that you get even more turned on by the situation and you didn’t even thought it was possible.

You entwine your legs behind his back, pushing him further against you, he gasps as he tries to push your orgasm just right.

“Fuck, baby, you’re drenched”

“I know I know ..I’m so close Oberyn, please , don’t stop”

He places his thumb over your clit circling it frantically and doesn’t stop pushing into you until your orgasm washes over you leaving you breathless and worn out.

He pulls out of you coming on your tummy, thick streaks of his cum painting your skin as he moan loudly.

You look at him in ecstasy, every expression on his face captivates you as he fists his cock releasing his pleasure on you.

He falls onto the bed panting hard while you also try to catch your breath.

Ellaria moves from underneath you and puts a pillow under your head, goes back between your thighs and reaches down to lick your pussy clean.

Her tongue laps at you gently, caressing your lips until you calm down.

When she's satisfied, she lies down on the bed next to you, wrapping her arms around you, cradling you.

Oberyn kisses your neck, then stands up and grabs a bowl from the table at the side of the room.

You turn to see what he has and he takes a blueberry, runs it across your bottom lip before feeding you.

And then another one.

And one for Ellaria too.

A prince is feeding you blueberries.

You’ve never felt so spoiled in your entire life.

This has to be one of the best days you will ever have, something you thought you could only fantasize about just happened. There isn't much joy in your life anymore, not since you realized that every day would be the same. Not today.

“We leave tomorrow” Ellaria whispers

“Oh fuck, no” you find yourself saying, hiding your head on her chest, lost in the softness of her tits.

“Don't you want us to leave?” Oberyn tenderly rubs your back.

“No” you whine shyly on Ellaria’s skin.

“You’re so cute, honey” she says, hugging you even tightly.

“We’ll be back, don’t be sad” Oberyn says and he pauses for a moment “Actually, wait, have you ever been to Dorne?”

“I never left King's Landing”

"Come with us. What do you think my love, can she come?”

“Of course, she can, why not. When it comes to pleasure you know I have no sides and she’s the perfect addition to our bond”

“It’s a deal then. You want to come, baby?”

You can believe what’s happening, they are really offering you a different life, far from this cesspool of a city.

“Are you sure? I mean, it’s gonna cost you a lot, the owner won’t free me for a little price”

“Babe… I’m a prince. Money is not a problem for me.”

You can feel tears poking through your eyes, you look at him and it seems to you that it is a dream from which you will wake up soon.

“Thank you” he approaches you and you give him a grateful kiss.

“Your new life begins tomorrow”

For the first time in a long time you can't wait for the next day.

[popcornforone]

So Golden

Day Seventeen of the Seasons of Life Drabble Challenge

An Oberyn Martell Fic

MASTERLIST

Day 17 prompt of Lake from @fanfictionoverload @lady-bess @berryispunk I knew I wanted to be glorious & seductive. So it had to be getting someone time with Oberyn.

Synopsis:- You & Oberyn admire the view & each other.

Word Count:-450

Warnings:- there is sex but it’s more it’s just mentioned that they make love no real description of it.

Thanks for the read peoples

The summer sun draped itself lazily over the shimmering waters of the lake, casting ripples of gold across its surface. Oberyn lounged by the water’s edge, his bronzed skin glowing under the glorious light, a goblet of Dornish red in his hand.

“You’re staring,” he said, not looking up but smirking nonetheless. You tore your gaze away, though it was impossible to ignore the picture he made, a loose linen shirt open at the chest, revealing the faint scars earned from battles & duels, each one telling a story.

“I’m admiring,” you corrected, setting down the basket of fruit you’d carried from the villa. The walk had been long, but the promise of a quiet afternoon with him made the journey worth it. He finally turned his attention to you, his dark eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Good. I would be offended if you weren’t.”You laughed, sitting beside him & feeling the warmth of the earth beneath you.

“Do you always think so highly of yourself?”

“No,” Oberyn replied, his tone softening. “Only when I’m around you.” Your breath caught as he reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His touch lingered, his fingers tracing the curve of your jaw.

“I didn’t bring you here just to flatter you,” you teased, trying to steady your voice. He always makes you weak at the knees

“No?” His smile widened, but he set his goblet down and leaned closer, his knee brushing yours. “Then why did you?”

“To enjoy the quiet. For once.”

Oberyn laughed, the sound rich & unrestrained.

“You think I can be quiet?”

“I think,” you said, tilting your head & meeting his gaze, those brown eyes glistening like the lake, “that you enjoy pretending to be larger than life. But here, with me, you don’t have to.”

He paused, his expression unreadable, before leaning in. His lips brushed yours, tentative at first, then with the fire he was known for. The world around you seemed to still, the rustling leaves, the singing birds, even the distant murmur of the lake became calm. When you finally pulled away, his hand cupped your face, thumb brushing your cheek.

“You undo me,” he whispered, his voice raw.

“As do you,” you replied, leaning into his touch, “you remind me what it means to feel alive.”

The sun sank lower, the golden hour painting the world in the most glorious golden haze. But neither of you noticed. Making love to Oberyn was always easy, but as the sun glowed across the lake as you orgasmed, the quiet & serene scene you originally had, burst into life. The ripples of pleasure trickling over the both of you, not just the water.

[yandereunsolved]

Daenerys targaryen is not ready for the kind of devotion and my freak at all, i am crazy about her and no one else can take her place in the asoiaf world

Oberyn would 100% apreciate my freak and the things we would do on those dornish quarters would be unholy

I thank you for your service in being a freak for both Danny and Oberyn.

[yeollie-plz]

Lords A Leaping

Day 10 of Pedromas! | Masterlist

Oberyn Martell x F! Reader x Ellaria Sand

Synopsis: Oberyn lets you and Ellaria take control.

Genre: smut

Warnings: sub! Oberyn, power bottom! reader, dom! Ellaria, pegging, oral m! receiving, anal sex, blindfolds, bondage, kissing, fingering, hickeys, f! masturbation

Gif credits to owners!

When Ellaria first suggested you to take more control in the bedroom, you were a bit taken aback. Oberyn was usually the one in the dominant position. Ellaria sometimes would take it as well. But you? Never.

After a bit of convincing, though, you agreed. Especially when she came to show you what she had made for you.

You weren't sure how she got it but as she removed the silken covering, you locked eyes with a replica penis. It was attached to a sort of leather buckle system as to attach it to you.

Your jaw dropped at the sight, it was very similar to Oberyn's own member. Almost down to the vein. It was gorgeous.

Ellaria showed you how it worked that night. Attaching it to herself and letting you feel it, fucking you with the crafted dick. You had to admit it was was very nice, not as warm as a real penis but it sure did the job. Oberyn might just like this.

That night as you made your way to his chambers, you had the fake cock tucked away in your bag, along with a few other special items. Opening the door you saw Oberyn laying sideways on the bed. He was perched on one elbow, stark naked, already ready for you to join him.

You smiled to yourself, loving the fact that he was already so pliant for you. As you glanced to the corner of the room, Ellaria sat there watching you carefully. She nodded to you to continue.

You set the bag down on the floor at your feet. Stripping yourself down as well, swaying your hips a bit as you did. He looked at you like he wanted to devour you.

You leaned down, letting your breasts push out to tease him a bit as you did. Grabbing the blindfold and the rope from your bag, holding it out to him so he could see what it is.

His eyebrows furrowed as his eyes squinted, trying to see what you had. He reached out to touch the soft fabric finally realizing what it was. Smirking, knowing what you were about to do, he leaned forward just a bit to allow you to fasten the blindfold around his eyes.

"Tie his hands too, love." Ellaria says from where she's sitting. You follow the orders without question.

Now that Oberyn is fully constricted, you can begin the main event. Well the lead up to the main event. Starting at his thighs, your fingers ghost across his skin. His body bucks up at the ticklish feeling. Upwards you go, gaining more and more reactions, he's already so sensitive. Must have been waiting for this, for you.

You swallow, almost nervous. When your hand finally makes it high enough to the soft skin of his neck, you put a bit more pressure there. Gaining a gasp of shock from him, you know he's sensitive there. Smirking to yourself, you bring your lips down on his neck. You lick stripes over his Adam's apple and towards the shell of his ear. Now his hips are bucking up, the feeling going straight to his dick.

Loving what you are doing to him, you continue to suck at his neck, leaving small bruises behind. You lick up his chin and across his bottom lip, his mouth opens in anticipation. Kissing him, you push your tongue into his mouth, fighting with his.

He's all but begging at this point with how easy his body is reacting to yours. Then there's the annoyance of not being able to use his limbs and touch you. Oh, to feel your warm skin under his fingertips.

As you pull your mouth away from his, a string of saliva still connects you two. It gives you an idea. You lick down his chest, across his stomach, and down his happy trail. Oberyn's hands pull at his restraints. He needs to feel you.

It's almost as if you can hear his thoughts because right after he is thinking that, you sinking your mouth down onto his cock. Taking almost all of his throbbing member into your mouth. You gag just a bit as his dick hits the back of your throat. But of course, Oberyn loves the feeling of you choking on him and moans.

You don't suck him fast, you take your time. Pulling off his dick slowly, making sure to run your tongue along the underside of it, as you make your way to the tip. You kitten lick his sensitive tip, his body tenses. Smirking again, you sink down onto his dick again, moaning at how much control you have over him. You continue this for a while, keeping it slow and steady. You don't want him to cum yet, but you also want him to be pleasured.

"Why don't we have some real fun with him?" Ellaria questions you. You had almost forgotten she was there and when you glance over at her through your lashes you are drooling at the sight. Her hand is playing with her soaked folds as the other is massaging her breast.

With one last deep swallow of his dick, you are pulling off of him. The cold air mixed with your leftover saliva, causes him to shiver. You left your hands tease up his body again, but this time a bit faster.

"Bend over for me." You whisper in his ear before licking the shell of it again. He gulps in anticipation, he really has no clue what you are about to do with him. And since he has a blindfold on he doesn't physically see you get up off the bed and retrieve the replica penis.

With a bit of resistance from his tied hands, he figures out how to flip himself over for you. Ass now in the air, hands gripping the woven material of the headboard to keep his body up for you. You encapsulate his body with yours, despite yours being smaller, and grip his dick from behind him. You stroke it twice before trailing your hand up his chest and pushing two fingers into his mouth. He licks them greedily.

Now that they are properly coated, you bring them back to his ass. Pushing them past the ring of his asshole, slowly, knowing it probably hurts. But he welcomes the stretch and moans at the feeling.

"Please." Now, he is begging.

But you give him what he wants, pulling your fingers out of his ass and pushing them again, matching the pace you once were using on his dick. You curl your fingers inside of his cavity, hoping to stroke his prostate. Although it obviously feel good, you don't think your fingers are quite long enough to reach it, but soon you will be able to.

His hips are bucking into the sheets, you know he is loving the feeling of his dick stroking against them. Usually, Ellaria would stop this sort of disobedience from someone, but she isn't so you don't either. He should get a bit more pleasure if he wants, anyways.

You push a third finger into him, it slides in easily with the other two and you know he is ready. Pulling your fingers out you move to grab the device. He lets out a sound of confusion at the loss of your touch.

You stroke his ass in reassurance, "Patience, you'll love this."

A sound of tentative agreeance. You buckle the device to your hips, it surprises you when it presses lightly onto your clit. You weren't expecting that. You were getting off enough by pleasuring Oberyn, but this was an excellent bonus.

You spit into your hand and stroke the phallice, coating it. As you press the tip to his prepared asshole, it slides in easier than you expected it. And Oberyn sure isn't expected that stretch because he lets of a surprised noise. Sure, he's been fucked in the ass before, but not with a device like this.

It's a new sort of feeling for the prince, it isn't as warm as a real penis and a lot stiffer, but not unpleasant. With a bit of a learning curve, you push the entire fake cock into him, now hitting his prostate. The instant pleasure of this action causes him to lose his balance a bit.

You start the thrust in and out of him, hitting his prostate each time you do. Oberyn never lasts long like this, and you are kind of grateful because your hips already burn. Knees scrape the soft sheets, as you aren't used to being the one fucking someone.

Oberyn has now let go of the headboard and is using his elbows to prop himself up. This helps you hit even deeper into him, the sheets around his dick are now fully helping to bring him closer to his peak. You are fucking him and he is basically fucking the bed.

Hips meet yours as he fucks his ass back onto the replica dick, needing to get off. You let him, hands grabbing him to pull him back even harder onto it. Pace now faster than you have been going all night as the fake cock is also hitting your clit. You now need the pleasure as much as he does.

One last snap of your hips and he is shooting ropes of white cum into the sheets, staining them with his spend. Moaning out your name like it is a prayer.

<- Previous Day | Next Day ->

Taglist:

@britlord @kittenlittle24 @godlypresley @amyispxnk

[whxtedreams]

When they’re ill / injured 

Summary: Small drabbles about how they let you help them when they're ill or injured.

Word Count: 1.3k

Tags: Injury, knife wounds, blood, fear, drug use, fluff.

Characters: Joel Miller, Din Djarin, Prince Oberyn, Javier Peña, Agent Whiskey, Frankie Morales

a.n. yeah, so I'm a health worker (admin) and literally thought of this at work while going over forms, wrote dot points on sticky notes and smashed this out in my lunch break. Enjoy!

Joel Miller

Main cause for concern: Injury: lower back  

Joel hides his pain from you for all of three hours. When you finally realise, he doesn't actually know you’re in the room. He gets up from a chair and grunts in pain, his hand shooting to his back as he supports himself on the dining table with his other hand. He jolts when he hears your voice when you ask if he’s okay, only making him hiss in pain when he moves. He tells you he’s fine, of course he does. You know he’s not. After multiple attempts to convince him to go to the clinic in the Q.Z., he finally gives in with a grunt. He huffs, mutters and grumbles the whole time he’s there, making sure he lets everyone know he’s fine. He’s not though: his back is fucked. 

Summary: the poor guy just lifted something.  

Din Djarin 

Main cause for concern: Injury: Knife wound; left arm 

Din shut himself in the refresher the moment he got back to the ship. Normally you would let him do whatever he needed to do after hunting a bounty, but the small blood trail he left in his wake worried you. You knock on the door but hear nothing but the clatter of Beskar falling to the floor. You knock again and ask if he needs any help but he just tells you to leave him. You don’t, though; you can’t. You sit with your back to the refresher door and wait. Wait, just in case he needs you. 

When the door finally does open, you look up from where you sit on the floor and he kneels in only his flight suit and helmet. He softly grabs your chin to look at his shielded face. He assures you he’s okay, but you can’t be sure. You lift the sleeve of his shirt to see the wound for yourself, your eyes softening with worry. A painfully long, jagged cut from his wrist to elbow scars his skin, and you hear the hiss from under his modulator as you reach up to touch it. You suggest that maybe this time he goes to a medical clinic. His fingers rest on your cheek as he sighs, telling you that you know why he can’t. He lets you patch him up after that after he wipes a tear from your cheek. 

Summary: just another scar for you to trace later.

Prince Oberyn

Main cause for concern: Illness: flu

He’s been in isolation in his chambers for four days now. You’ve stopped by his door each morning and night to check on him, only to be turned away by his guards. You were worried. But finally, on the fourth night when you arrive at his door, he calls for you. The guards let you in and your heart aches as you see him struggling to breathe and blankets sprawled over his body. He missed you, he tells you before he coughs. He motions for you to stop as you walk towards his bed but you do not care if he gets you sick, you just want him to feel better. You gather washcloths and wet them with cold water and lay them on his face, a soft sigh of relief settling in his chest. My sweet little dove, he calls you as his wrist weakly curves around yours as you sit beside his naked, shivering, sweating body. You end up in bed with him, running nails up and down his back as he grips onto your body heat, slowly lulling him to sleep. You pray to the gods that he’ll be better soon. You miss your Prince. 

Summary: it’s literally just a basic ass flu, he’s fine. But everyone deserves to be cared for. 

Javier Peña

Main cause for concern: Injury: gunshot wound, shoulder. 

He desperately tried to hide it from you, even as he began to dial your number multiple times throughout the night, only to throw the phone across the room. He didn’t want you to worry, didn’t want to see you panic. He spends the night in hospital before Steve eventually tells you the next morning assuming you already knew. You didn’t. You rush to the hospital, thinking the worst. You find his room and when you arrive your chest is heaving as your eyes frantically search him for injury. I’m okay baby, really, he whispers as you fall into a hug. And he does feel okay as he takes in the smell of your hair, the comfort you bring him as you hug him. You’re angry at him, furious at him for keeping you in the dark. But that feeling is only temporary, because he’s okay. He’s breathing. He’s alive. 

Summary: Hugs are healing.

Agent Whiskey 

Main cause of concern: Injury: Lasso burn 

He’s a fucking idiot and you make sure you tell him that after he tried to show off a new move. He was trying to impress you, and god, it would have if he didn’t whip himself and burn a massive line down his leg. He had shouted out in pain but tried to down play it as he came limping back over to you like a wounded puppy. Of course he was still flirting with you as you tried to assess the wound, asking you to kiss it better. You roll your eyes and kiss his leg beside his wound and the idiot tells you he’s healed, that your mouth is all he needs. It is in fact not any better when you drag him to the Kingsman med bay. As he lays on his stomach with your hand in his and the nurses have patched him up, he asks you to kiss him better again. You do. 

Summary: He’s an idiot. But he’s your idiot.  

Frankie Morales

Main cause for concern: OD poisoning

You get the call at eleven at night while you’re soaking in a bath. When you answer Fankie is freaking out, blabbering about brownies. You tell him to slow down, and he takes it literally. His words are dragged as he mentions the brownies again, how he feels poisoned. You sigh as you pull yourself from the bath, you let him know you’ll be over as soon as you can. 

When you do arrive at his house, he's laying on the living room floor. You stand above him, arms crossed over your chest as you raise an eyebrow. His hands are in the air as his eyes are fascinated by his fingers moving. He tells you he ate half a tray of “special” brownies and he honestly thought they were weak because they didn't do anything but then it just hit him like a truck and he can now both feel every bone in his body and also nothing. He laughs then, and then doesn’t stop. Somethin’ wrong with those brownies, he laughs and you smile, trying not to laugh. You look over at the tray as he goes to take another and you quickly rush to pick up the tray and he actually pouts at you as his fingers wiggle for the tray. Ah-no way, you scoff as you toss them in the bin. You end up pulling him off the floor and he pukes on the floor beside you, just missing you. Taking you to the ER, you sigh as you take hold of his hand and tug for him to follow you. 

When you do get to the ER, he sits beside you in the waiting room and his head rests on your shoulder and his arm wrapped around yours as you wait. A soft content smile is plastered on his face and you carefully run your fingers through his hair, pulling soft sighs from him. Feel funny, he sighs and you hum. Love you so much, he says as he nestles himself even further against your body. When he’s finally taken in to be put on a drip, he tugs you along with him, muttering he needs you.   

Summary: Eating half a tray of pot brownies was probably not a good idea. Actually –eating half a tray of normal brownies probably isn’t a good idea either tbh.  

[softpascalito]

Pedro Pascal Kinktober Day Twentytwo

Washing hair - Oberyn Martell/F!Reader

Summary: A few weeks after you and Oberyn begin to try conceiving and days before he leaves for Kings Landing, he finds you cooling down in the baths during a hot day.

Relationships: Oberyn Martell x F!Reader

WC: 1700

Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Mild Smut, Bathing/Washing, Hair Washing, Established Relationship, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Mentions of Pregnancy, Kissing, Female Reader, Oberyn Martell Lives, this turned into a fix it fic along the way

AO3 LINK

notes: this is a direct continuation of kinktober day eight - breeding. highly recommend reading that one first! :)

_________________________________________

It had been a few weeks since that night, since she had first tasted the red tea leaves that were supposedly going to help her conceive, that Oberyn had had shipped to Dorne for that sole reason. It hadn't been until the next day that he had admitted to her that he had ordered a large quantity of them and that, if she chose to, there would be enough for several months.

So, every night, next to her dinner, a steaming mug sat waiting for her.

Most nights, it was followed by Oberyn waiting for her in their chambers afterwards. Though there had been several occasions where he hadn't waited on their bed or balcony or even the baths. He had waited at the table in the dining quarters, sitting next to her, his hand on her thigh and his gaze fixed on her movements. He watched, ready to pounce, just like a viper. And he did.

As soon as she would get up, he would be there, by her side, leading her out of the dining room. She felt his gaze on him in those moments and they were both thinking the same way, causing them, more than once, to not even make it back to their chambers before giving it another try.

He had taken their conversation to heart, the way she had mentioned that it was a lot of pressure to “ be his ” and so he had made a point to not bring it up too much, never asking if it had taken or if she felt any different.

Still, the man had noticed that she hadn't mentioned bleeding in a while and maybe, just maybe, he hoped it could mean something had shifted.

Oberyn found himself wandering the palace on a hot summer midday. The sun had been shining relentlessly on Dorne for days now and despite the Southerners being used to heat, even they had started hiding from the sun in the afternoon, not wanting to get burned. While nothing compared to the water gardens with its many chances for one to cool down and wade through the shallow pools, there was a small, closed-in pool at the palace in Sunspear as well. The outer wall was missing, replaced by thick columns and a beautifully crafted balustrade. One could bathe while overlooking the sea but without being burned by the sun. Over the years, plants had grown up the walls and columns and spread over the once open beams of the ceiling. Now, the greenery served as protection from the heat, only occasionally letting one or two rays of direct sunshine filter into the small pool.

Oberyn could smell the spices that hung in the air, the scent mixing with that of the salty sea as he stepped into the shade around the pool. And there she was.

He smiled as he watched her. Her back towards him, her hair tied up on her head, her naked body glistening under the water that was completely still around her. He stood for a moment, simply admiring the scene before he approached, silently letting his shawl and pants fall to the floor. The prince let himself glide into the water and reached out to touch her. Just then, feeling the ripple from him moving behind her, she turned her head towards him. A small smile formed on her face, matching his own.

“Greetings.” She mumbled as he closed the distance between them, ”What is my little sun doing out here, all by herself?”

“Hiding from the big sun.” That earned her a small laughter from Oberyn, ”I see.” His arms came to lay around her waist, his lips quickly finding that spot on her neck that made her whimper softly.

“Tell me, are you teasing your prince?” It was her turn to smirk, ”I would not dream of it, your highness. I am quite sure that would be a rather … unhonorary offense in Dorne.”

“That is right.” Teeth scratched over her neck lightly and she let out a surprised gasp as Oberyn continued, ”I should have them lock you up for such an offense. Or at the very least, I should tie you up.”

She smiled again but this time, it didn't quite reach her eyes. Oberyn sighed at that, stopping the assault on her neck and he let her head fall back against his broad chest. She watched the sea they were facing, the waves far below them building and crashing in a never ending circle. How powerless the water must feel, she thought.

Oberyn's gaze was trained on her, watching the slight crease between her eyebrows that told him something was off.

“What is it, my love?” He asked quietly. He did not care for small talk or for sneakily trying to get something out of her. He wanted her trust. And if something was wrong, he expected to know.

She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment, ”I would rather not speak about it.” Her voice was quiet and soft and Oberyn felt like there was a small tremor in it.

One of his hands came up to her face, caressing her cheek, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw, ”And I would rather you did. Please tell me, my love.”

She opened her eyes again at that, slowly turning so that she was facing Oberyn. Almost automatically, he brought one strong arm under her to support her in the water, her legs wrapping around his hips. Their sexes were touching and at any other moment, the red viper would have made his move, slipped a hand onto her bundle of nerves or squeezed her round behind- but not now. He could feel that this was important to her and therefore, by extension, to him.

The woman took a deep breath, working up the nerve to say what she had not wanted to yet reveal, ”You're leaving for Kings Landing tomorrow.”

He gave a small nod, ”I am. It will be a rather boring trip, truly. A few council meetings, a wedding. Two events where every minute spent with the Lannisters will feel like one minute too much.”

Her gaze shifted slightly at that and he fell silent, sensing that this was not what she was referring to. She opened her mouth to speak but he was faster, ”You do not wish for me to leave.”

Oberyn's gaze softened slightly, ”Do you?”

Her mouth closed again as her gaze fell and she gave a small shake of her head, confirming his guess, ”No. I wish you would stay here.”

The viper took her face in for a moment, his free hand still gently caressing her cheek, ”I asked you a while back. You said it was alright with you if I left for a few weeks.”

He had had doubts too, never having been separated from her for so long. Even knowing that he left her in a safe place like Sunspear could not cancel out all the doubts he carried about leaving her alone.

“I thought-” He started once more but she cut him off.

“I think I'm pregnant.”

Oberyn stared at her, his eyes softening as a smile played around his lips, ”My sun, you-”

The legends that would speak of the Red Viper, of the prince of Dorne, of Oberyn Martell years and years later, would claim that he had never been speechless. They were wrong.

He was speechless now.

It took him a few moments to gather the words, his own voice now shaking slightly as he spoke, ”Are you certain?”

“I think so. I mean, I have never been before but- I have not bled in two moons,” she said quietly. His expression changed slightly, his smile faltering, ”Why do you not sound happy about it?”

“I am,” she quickly reassured him, ”I am, it is just-” Finally, she let the strong facade fall and as her shoulders slumped, tears sprang into her eyes, ”I am just so scared, Oberyn.”

His heart broke at the sight in front of him, her round eyes looking up at him with so much uncertainty in them, “Is that why you did not tell me before?”

Her look was confirmation enough and he quickly pulled her closer, hugging her naked body. “Oh, my sun,” he whispered, ”You do not have to be afraid. I will take care of you. Of both of you. You are not alone in this nor will you ever be.”

She hiccuped softly, ”But you said-”

Oberyn shook his head softly, ”I will not go. I will stay here. With you.” His hand left her cheek and wandered to her stomach, gently caressing the curve of it, ” And with our little Martell. ”

She looked at him, her lip quivering slightly, ”Oberyn, you said it was important that you go to King's Landing. You said that because of Elia-”

“Shhhh,” he mumbled, his hand rubbing small circles into her skin, ”That was before. Besides, Elia would want me to stay. To take care of you.”

It became clear to her then, that Oberyn had lost a child before- two, in fact. Despite them not having been his own, they had been his sisters and that had meant they had been as good as his. He was never going to let the same thing happen to his little sun.

She nodded softly, raising her head to get a better look at him and Oberyn kissed her gently, using his hand to push a strand of dark hair behind her ears as he smiled at her, “Come here. Let me take care of you.”

He reached for the soap bar that was resting on a small plate at the side of the pool, rubbing it over her hair for a moment before he placed it back in its spot and brought both hands to her head, massaging it gently.

Oberyn washed her hair and told her about his plans for the future. The things he would buy for the baby before it even saw the light of day, the things he had already ordered to hopefully lessen her discomfort during the pregnancy, the things he wanted to teach their child, the books he wanted to read to them to put them to sleep.

She smiled, listening to his plans for their future as he rinsed her hair.

It didn't seem so scary anymore.

[hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall]

The guard till the end

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x F!OC

Words: 7 543

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! angst, hurt/comfort, themes of grief/death/mourning, some blood/gore, fighting, swearing, a bit of fluff if you squint

Summary: Talia, an ex-assasin, and Oberyn Martell were sent on a mission together. A mission to the past for the girl.

A/N: This little piece is for the amazing @almostfoxglove and her #almostfoxgloveangstchallenge. This is the first time writing for Oberyn, so I hope it worked out. I am actually proud of this so I hope you all will like it.

The beautiful moodboard is also made by @almostfoxglove <3

The sun-kissed strands of her blonde hair swirled in the seaside breeze, moving in rhythm with the ocean's undulating waves. Her actions seemed to echo the water's rhythm, and in spite of her strenuous efforts, her breath stayed regular. Her gaze was locked onto something unseen, a spectre only apparent to her. Her hands, firmly yet flexibly clutching her weapon, were primed for any sudden change in combat dynamics. Her footfalls were soft yet assured, making her deadly battle routine appear like an elegant ballet to an untrained eye. 

A man observed her from a distance, a tender smile gracing his lips. She was his sword and his shield, a creature of terror to some, a vision of beauty to others. He was privileged to witness these intimate performances whenever he chose to visit her training grounds.

He was a beast in his own right, but his first encounter with her had instilled in him an unprecedented fear. He had been sure, for the first time in his life, that he would meet his end. Her lethal combat skill was as bewitching as it was horrifying, especially when the cold steel of her blade brushed against his throat.

And yet, here he stood, still among the living, watching the same formidable assassin execute her lethal dance. He remembered the change in her gaze when their eyes had first met. His dark orbs contrasted sharply against her gentle blue ones.

He'd asked her numerous times about what had transpired in that single moment when their gazes had locked. She always cleverly dodged the question, promising to unveil the truth when the time was right. However, that moment still hadn't arrived.

"Do you not have more pressing matters to attend to, my Prince?" Her voice softly interrupted his thoughts. Of course, she had sensed his presence. Nothing ever slipped past her. That was why she was the only guard he truly trusted, the only one he regarded as his equal.

"How many times must I request you to address me as Oberyn, my dear?" He watched as she turned to glare at him. She had never been one for sweet nothings. Yet, he derived immense pleasure from pushing her buttons, from eliciting a response.

"And how many times have I informed you that I would honor your request the moment you best me in combat?" His scoff was met with a soft chuckle from her. Talia, sheathing her weapons, approached him. Despite her petite frame, she held herself with an air of dignity, never allowing anyone to belittle her. "My Prince," she added, provoking a growl of mock irritation from him, which only elicited another chuckle. "I'm surprised to find you awake at this early hour. I presumed the men and women of the court would have kept you entertained till the wee hours."

"Are you envious, my rose?" His question was met with a hearty laughter. "I believe you are the only woman in all of Dorne who rejects me."

"I haven't rejected you, my Prince," she retorted, her gaze locked onto the ocean.

"Then honour me with your company tonight. I can make the necessary arrangements." He moved in closer, their faces mere inches apart. 

"I refuse to be another notch on your bedpost, my Prince." Her words made him recoil slightly, his gaze dropping to her lips. His attraction to her was no secret. "I'll consider your proposition when you make a genuine one," she added.

"I'm not the kind who settles down," he whispered, his lips perilously close to hers.

"And I'm not the kind of woman who indulges in frivolous dalliances." She shrugged and took a step back. "Not anymore, at least." His smile in response signified his acceptance of yet another defeat.

***

"You called for me, your Highness," she said, kneeling before the frail Prince. It was unusual for him to request her presence in his office. Their discussions usually took place in the gardens or his private chambers, where he felt most comfortable. As such, today's summons was likely a matter of business rather than personal.

"Stand, and please have a seat." He was a kind ruler, deserving of the utmost respect. After years of spy work and assassin training, she valued a place where power wasn't the only measure of a person. "How is my brother faring?"

"He's living life in his own unique way," she replied. The Prince chuckled, and she joined him with a soft smile. "He mentioned something about travel."

"Naturally," she quirked an eyebrow and he shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. "You two are inseparable, sharing every secret."

"I am his weapon, his shield. His guard, the last line of defence against those who dare to harm him."

"Yet he refers to you as the strongest," she offered a warm smile at that. Oberyn Martell was renowned as one of the mightiest warriors in the Seven Kingdoms, yet he considered her his equal.

"He has never truly sparred with me, never unveiled his full power. I doubt I could withstand his spear." Doran nodded in agreement, taking a sip of his wine, and gestured for her to do the same with her cup, always ready for her when she visited.

Her life in Dorne had been full of first experiences. It was the first time she had disobeyed orders, the first time she had turned her back on her master. The first time she had shown her face to someone who didn't own her, and the first time she had tasted liquor. After a sip of Dornish wine, nothing else could compare.

"He entrusts his life to you as much as I do," Doran paused, gazing into the distance with a sigh. "We've discovered a small town violating our agreements." She furrowed her brow but said nothing. "We dispatched men, but none have returned. We suspect it might involve someone you know."

"Scorpion," she murmured, a chill running down her spine. The man who had forged her, imparted all her skills. The man who had sold her to a buyer who sought Oberyn's death.

"I need him gone." She met his eyes, understanding the significance of his decision. Doran Martell favoured peace over violence, resorting to the latter only when necessary. "You know him best. However, I can't send you alone. The kingdoms must know that we handle our own problems personally."

"So, Oberyn will accompany me?" She finally asked, to which he nodded.

"I see the way you look at him." Her head jerked up, but he stopped her before she could protest. The Prince of Dorne was more perceptive than most realised. "Personally, I would be thrilled to call you my sister, but we both know my impulsive younger brother." She looked away, swallowing hard. "I don't need to tell you, but please keep him safe. This might be the most perilous mission I've ever sent him on."

"Certainly, your Highness. I will ensure his safe return, even if it means my own life." That was his biggest concern. He had a sinking feeling that he might lose either his reckless brother or the woman he had come to consider a sister.

***

"I could use some wine." She fought back the urge to roll her eyes at his petulant complaint. They had been journeying for quite some time, both of them garbed in the traditional attire of the desert dwellers. Black robes that concealed everything but their eyes, a necessary shield against the harsh desert climate and a safeguard for their identities. It was safer to merge with the locals than to draw attention as foreign travellers. Besides, Oberyn was too well-known to go unnoticed. "And a comfortable bed with…"

"A willing partner to share it with," she completed his sentence, smirking as he arched an eyebrow at her. "You forget, my dear Prince, that I know you better than anyone else out there. Maybe even better than you know yourself." He laughed at that, unable to deny it. It was true. She had seen him in the most compromising, unflattering, and downright ridiculous situations. She had listened to his drunken babbling more times than she could count. If anyone on this planet knew him thoroughly, it was her.

However, the same couldn't be said about her. He knew only the basics. He was aware of her past - to some degree. He knew of her fighting style, her weapon preference, and the fact that she had never touched alcohol before coming to Dorne. He also knew of her strangely reverent faith in his older brother, as if he were some deity. He knew her waking and sleeping times - unless she was occupied taking care of him. He knew all this, but still felt like he knew nothing about her.

No, that wasn't accurate. He knew that her touch was the gentlest he'd ever experienced. Despite having claimed more lives than any of them could count, her touch when she cared for him was softer than the most exquisite silk in the palace. He had always thought her touch was as tender as a calming breeze that incessantly pacified his tumultuous inner storm. She was the only one who could quiet his restless spirit with nothing more than a caring touch and a gaze as soft as the morning dew, acting like a lullaby sending his fatigued soul to sleep. The concern in her starry eyes always dissolved his fears, giving any doubts he had a new perspective. Giving his life a new purpose.

But that wasn't sufficient for him. He selfishly wanted more. He wanted to know her dreams, her likes, and dislikes. It was truly pathetic. He was Oberyn Martell, for goodness' sake. He was a man whose heart roamed from one bed to another, seeking delight in temporary affairs, never really looking, never longing for any kind of consistency. Until she arrived.

Talia wasn't one for short-lived pleasures, she was a constant, the only constant in his desire-ridden life. She was a puzzle, a beautiful mystery shrouded in the brilliance of her devotion. A devotion he imposed on her. She guarded her heart just like her emotions, deeply within the armour of her resolve. She was like a fortress that was impregnable and firm, something so alien to the Prince of Dorne. He found himself attracted to her mystery. He wanted to understand. No. He ached to understand her, to decipher this puzzle, this mystery that she was. But she never let him. She kept him at a distance, her fortress standing tall and her armour still unyielding.

"I can see the town," he was jolted out of his daydream and looked up to see the first signs of the small town that bore the scars of its bloody past. It wasn't easy to reach. It was hidden from the world by a daunting, ominous desert that seemed to choke the last bit of fresh air that was still left untouched. The buildings were made of hard, cheap stone, grey and decrepit, arranged in gloomy, narrow streets. The windows were dark and vacant, much like the hollow eyes of the dead. 

This wasn't a place where people came to start anew, to find new hope. It was a place where hope came to die, dragging the unfortunate with it. Every corner echoed with the whispers of the dead and the murdered, and those unfortunate souls who were forgotten even by death itself. The people moved about like ghosts, their faces pale and haggard, their eyes lifeless and dull, filled with their own pain and despair. There was no laughter here, even the children seemed mournful, deprived of a life they never had the chance to live. The days rolled on, and the customary laughter in their lives was replaced by the bitter tears of those who became orphans.

"You grew up here?" He asked quietly, unable to tear his gaze away from the pitiful sight of the people and orphaned children who looked like they hadn't had a proper meal in their lives. He didn't even want to imagine her living like that, enduring that kind of life.

"It wasn't always like this," Talia answered, scanning the streets for someone desperate enough to offer them assistance. "Before Scorpion arrived, Villion was like any other town." She bit her lip as the townspeople started to take notice of them. Not what they wanted. They needed to blend in. Ditch the horses, discard their travelling attire. Become one with the locals here. "Let's go, we need to blend in." Oberyn nodded and followed her, his eyes still glued to the streets.

***

The "Crooked Paw" was tucked away in a secluded alleyway, its dilapidated structure jarring against the town's overall sombre ambience. It looked more like a ruin than a refuge. The thatched roof was a mishmash of patches, with prominent holes that would offer no protection against the elements. 

Windows, if they could be called that, were broken, their sharp edges coated with layers of grime and dust accumulated over the years. A massive, neglected oak door served as the entrance to the inn, its creaking, rusted hinges discouraging anyone who dared to enter. The entire building seemed to stand as a stark warning about the dangers that lurked within the town. 

The innkeeper, a bent old man with a missing eye and a malicious glint in the other one, sat at the bar, observing his patrons with a predatory look. As his gaze landed on the newcomers, his face contorted into a grotesque grin that silenced the room. 

"Who do we have here?" He paused, looking at Talia. She hoped she still had some allies in this forsaken town. "Some travellers who've lost their way, I reckon, if they've stumbled upon my humble Inn." She sighed with relief and smirked at the man, signalling to Oberyn that they should approach the bar. 

"I need a place to stay," she said, rolling her eyes at the innkeeper's raised eyebrow. "I'll pay." 

"You've got quite a bill to settle, girl," he muttered, his eyes darting to Oberyn, whose face was concealed by his desert mask. "I have a room with a bigger bed. But there's only one." 

"We'll take it," The Prince interjected before she could respond. "The smaller the bed, the better." 

"Do you know this bugger, or do you want me to handle him?" She chuckled and shook her head. 

"I'll pay the bill and give you twice as much for a room where we won't be disturbed." The innkeeper nodded, understanding her meaning. 

"He'll kill you when he finds out you're here," he growled, handing her the keys to the room. 

"Not before I find him," she murmured, pulling Oberyn by the sleeve and guiding him to the room she knew all too well.

***

"Quite the friendly bloke," Oberyn muttered, finally able to shed his stifling clothes. The traverse through the desert had been both tiring and filthy. "And this place is quite delightful. Where exactly are we?" 

"My home," she replied, halting in her actions to turn and regard him. "Before Scorpion took me under his wing and trained me, I was brought up here." She sighed, clearly reluctant about divulging this information. "I can't recollect how I ended up here. I was too small to remember. But Hilt was the only person I could think of as family. He was home, and this room was a haven for me. Even when I joined Scorpion." 

"So, that's where you get that sulky demeanour from," he said, his grin broadening at her reaction. 

"I am not sulky!" 

"Of course, you're not." He laughed and ambled towards the window. "So, what's our move?"

"We can't delay. He will know we're here. He will know I am here." Her brow furrowed, unease welling up inside her. She had hoped she would never have to return here. The town stirred a flood of memories, each corner of each street holding a fragment of her past. Each memory was more powerful and painful than the last. 

Her heart twisted as memories played in her mind. She could almost hear the echoing shouts of her trainer, feel the lash of the whip on her skin, see the harsh disappointment in his eyes each time she didn't meet his expectations. Those days had instilled nothing but insecurity in her, the terrible sensation of never being enough wrapping a vice-like grip around her young, solitary heart. 

That constant nagging in her head made her feel unvalued until when she completed her first successful mission. The hours of gruelling work and painful training faded into insignificance as she stepped into the role she was created for. She felt invincible. She felt like nothing could defeat her again. She learned to handle her emotions by suppressing them. She didn't need them. Her life became void of meaning, her eyes devoid of life, because it was easier that way. It was easier not to feel anything since it was easier to die that way. It was easier not to form attachments, easier not to lead a life worth living. 

However, that all came crumbling down when she met him. It was a mission like any other - a name, a face, a life to be snuffed out. But this time, it all felt different. She was prepared to slit his throat, ready to extinguish another life, until she looked into his eyes. They were so full of life, brimming with joy and passion, something she had never seen before in her hometown. It stirred something within her, a feeling she couldn't quite understand.

She had him at her mercy, and could have ended his life with a single stroke. But she hesitated, for the first time in her life. Her hand quivered on the hilt of her dagger. His eyes never left hers. They were so pure and full of life that they pierced through her heart, a heart she believed she no longer possessed. 

When he asked her to come with him, to stay in Dorne instead of killing her, she was astonished. The only reason she had a chance against him was because she had observed him for a long time and learned his every pattern. She had been diligent and it had always paid off. She did not expect him to ask her to become his bodyguard. A man like him didn’t need a guard. He was the Viper. She was an assassin, a spectre of death. But as she looked into his eyes and saw nothing but trust and respect, she found herself accepting his offer. She found herself wanting to protect him, to keep him safe.

For the first time in her wretched life, she felt something powerful, something she had never felt before. Happiness, a profound happiness of being needed. Of being desired. It made her feel lighter than she had ever felt and yet it terrified her because he was tearing down all of her fortified walls, the walls she had learned to build. 

She looked up, recoiling when she felt his hand on her shoulder. Her name sounded so soft coming from his lips. The concern in his eyes twisted her stomach in self-reproach. She was supposed to be strong for him. She was supposed to be his pillar and not the other way around. 

"Forgive me, my Prince," she said, stepping back and letting his hand drop from her shoulder. "We rest today, and act tomorrow."

"You're behaving oddly," he said, his voice filled with concern. He rarely spoke to her like that, rarely showed such seriousness. "Are you sure you…"

"Do you question my abilities, your Highness?" His eyes hardened at the formal title she used, which she knew he detested. "I am more than capable of carrying out the mission your brother entrusted me with." She held his gaze steadily. "Pardon me for not behaving like an entitled child when I am fully aware of the perils that await us." She had never been so direct with him before. She had corrected him when he acted spoiled, but she had never been so forthright. After all, he was a Prince of Dorne, one of the most feared men not just on the continent but across the globe.

Oberyn's facial expression mirrored his current state of mind - a blend of irritation and worry. His eyes, usually lively and playful, were now clouded with annoyance. The twinkle that typically danced in his eyes was replaced with a glint of unease, a clear sign of his displeasure. His eyebrows knitted together in a tight frown. The crease on his forehead deepened, symbolising his concern. His eyes, often warm and inviting, were now cold and distant, indicating his preoccupied thoughts.

His lips, quick to form a grin or a smirk, were now pressed firmly together. His jaw was clenched, the muscles taut. It seemed as though he was grinding his teeth together, forcing himself to remain silent, to keep his composure.

"Talk to me," she said, surprised by his unusual calmness. Despite his apparent frustration, there was a gentleness in his demeanour, a compassion that was hard to overlook. The way he looked at her made her realise the depth of his feelings. He was willing to move mountains if it meant easing her pain and the turmoil she was experiencing. It was this kindness, this readiness to assist, that gave her a glimmer of hope. It reassured her that she wasn't alone in her battles, that she had someone who was prepared to stand by her side. He held that power over her, a power that frightened her.

"He is ruthless," she began, tearing her eyes away from his as she tried to choose her words carefully. Attempting to alleviate his concerns for her, to demonstrate her resilience, despite the haunting memories and the looming future. "He doesn’t allow anyone to escape. He always finds them and ensures they pay, and I am no exception." As she met Oberyn's gaze again, her eyes were a maelstrom of emotions. Her eyes, usually so full of resolve, were now a stormy sea of fear and defiance. They held a chilling portrayal of her ordeal, a silent plea for understanding seeping through her gaze. Yet, despite everything, a spark of defiance still burned brightly in her eyes. It spoke of her determination to fight back, her refusal to let anything happen to him. And it was this spark, this indomitable spirit, that only increased Oberyn's respect for her.

"You’re not an easy target, darling," he smirked, his expression turning serious when she shook her head.

"For him, it would be too easy," she held his gaze, unwavering. "It’s not his style. Torture is his delight, but more than physical pain, he revels in mental torment. He... " Her voice wavered slightly, but she never looked away. "He finds the one thing, the one person you love the most, and destroys them before your eyes."

"Well, thankfully you don’t have anyone you love, so no worries, sweetheart." He chuckled, but his eyes widened when she didn't break her gaze. It was as if she was challenging him, daring him to look away, daring him to understand what she was implying and to flee.

She shook her head and retreated a step, when he whispered her name. So gently, so affectionately that she couldn’t bear to look at him any longer. She had lost again, this time in this emotional game.

"It doesn’t matter," she finally said, not allowing him to say anything else. "Tomorrow, we need to strike first. I will operate from the shadows, and I need you to gather information. Try not to draw too much attention. It wouldn't be wise to have all of Scorpion’s men on our..." But she didn't get a chance to finish, as he closed the gap between them in one swift stride. His hand reached out, gently cradling her cheek and tilting her face up to meet his gaze. His touch was warm and gentle, in stark contrast to his usual intensity.

"My Prince?" she started, her voice barely a whisper. But he silenced her, pressing his finger to her lips.

"Do you ever stop talking?" He smiled softly, before continuing. "I need you to grasp one very crucial fact." He murmured, his gaze still locked with hers. She had never seen him like this. His eyes were a pool of emotions - fear, determination, hope - all intertwined. The intensity of his gaze was almost overpowering, yet she couldn't turn away.

And then he leaned in, his breath wafting over her lips, just a moment before his own brushed against hers. It was a surprisingly gentle kiss, hesitant and tender at first, but it quickly gained intensity as he wrapped his other arm around her waist, pulling her dangerously close to him. His lips moved against hers with a passion that left her breathless, his kiss a clear testament to his feelings.

When they finally parted for air, she was panting slightly, her eyes wide with surprise and something else - something that mirrored the intensity in Oberyn's gaze. He looked at her, his gaze softening as he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face.

"I care for you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. The words lingered in the air, their weight undeniable. As he looked at her, his gaze unwavering, she knew he meant every word. And before she could say anything else, she was kissing him back, slowly moving towards the bed behind them.

***

The room was dimly lit, the soft glow from a nearby candle casting long shadows against the stone walls. Oberyn found himself a world away from their troubles.

Lying on his back, Oberyn's gaze was fixed on the ceiling, his thoughts in turmoil. His chest rose and fell with each controlled breath, the rhythm a calming melody in the quiet room. The flickering flame reflected in his dark eyes, dancing in the depths of his gaze.

Beside him lay Talia, her head resting comfortably on his chest. Her body nestled against his side, drawing comfort from his warmth. Her fingers traced lazy patterns along his bare chest, a silent communication of her gratitude and love.

Turning his head to look at her, Oberyn's hand moved to gently brush a stray lock of hair from her face. His fingers lingered, tracing the curve of her cheek before tucking the strand behind her ear. His touch was gentle, conveying a tenderness that words couldn't express.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. The concern was evident in his tone, his gaze never leaving her face.

She nodded, her eyes meeting his. The resilience in her gaze was inspiring, a testament to her strength. "I am," she replied, her voice soft yet firm.

They lay in comfortable silence for a while, each lost in their thoughts. The flickering candle, the rhythmic sound of their breathing, the warmth of their bodies against each other - everything seemed to blend together, creating a cocoon of tranquility around them. In that moment, they were just two people – two souls seeking comfort in each other's presence.

***

In the hushed stillness of the room, the only light came from a thin slice of moonlight filtering through the heavy drapes. Oberyn lay asleep, his breaths slow and even in the tranquility of slumber.

She knew she had to depart. There was a past she needed to face, a journey she had to undertake alone. The thought of endangering Oberyn was unthinkable. She couldn't bear to see him ensnared in the web of her past.

With careful movements, she eased out of the bed, ensuring not to disturb him. She dressed in the dim light, her fingers deftly manoeuvring the familiar straps and buckles of her leather gear. Her weapons found their usual spots at her side. Pausing for a moment, she cast a final look at Oberyn. His peaceful face tugged at her heartstrings.

He looked so serene in sleep, his features softened, devoid of the usual intensity. She longed to crawl back into the warmth of the bed, to lose herself in the comfort of his arms. But she knew she couldn't. Not when so much was at stake.

Tears threatened to blur her vision, but she wiped them away, bracing herself for the inevitable. She leaned over him, whispering a faint "I'm sorry, Oberyn. I can't let you get hurt because of me."

The weight of her choices hit her then, leaving her feeling surprisingly hollow. She wanted to confess her feelings to him. She wanted to let him know how much he meant to her. But she didn't. Love was a luxury she couldn't afford. It was a weakness she couldn't risk. So she lay with Oberyn until he drifted off, treasuring the feel of his touch.

"I love you, my dearest Prince," she confessed in a whisper.

With those words, she turned towards the door, her footsteps barely making a sound. As she stepped out into the frosty night, a pang of regret washed over her. But she knew she had made the right decision, for both her and Oberyn.

And so, she melted into the darkness, leaving behind the warmth of Oberyn's bed and a possible future they might not have a chance to explore. She had a mission to complete, a past to confront. But as she walked away, she held onto the hope that one day, she could return to the man who taught her the true meaning of love.

***

The morning sun seeped through the weather-beaten shutters, casting a warm glow across the room. Oberyn Martell, stirred from his sleep, his mind still foggy from the night before. His eyes fluttered open, the room coming into focus. His gaze fell on the empty space next to him, the bed cold and untouched. His brows furrowed in confusion, a sense of unease settling into his chest.

Her scent still lingered in the room, a sweet and intoxicating mix of wildflowers and the sea. The night before flashed before his eyes, a whirl of passion and laughter, secrets whispered in hushed tones and shared smiles. But the tranquillity of the memory was quickly shattered by the harsh reality of her absence.

His heart pounded in his chest as he saw the note perched on the bedside table. It was hastily written, the ink smeared in places. He scanned the words, her familiar handwriting causing a lump to form in his throat.

"I'm sorry. I had to. Don’t follow me."

His heart sank. He knew what she had gone to do. The man they were sent to kill, the man who had trained her, twisted her into a weapon. He was dangerous, a viper in the grass, not unlike Oberyn himself. But she had gone alone.

His fists clenched, the paper crumpling under his grip. Anger flared inside him, hot and unyielding. She was stubborn, reckless, and brave. Too brave. He admired her spirit, her strength. But this... this was folly.

"How could you?" He thought, frustration seething in his veins. “You can’t just touch my soul and leave!” His mind raced, formulating a plan, a way to find her before it was too late. 

But what then?

Would she welcome him with open arms? Or would she see it as a betrayal, an invasion of her trust? He didn't know. He didn't care. All he knew was that he couldn't let her face the man alone.

In a flurry of motion, Oberyn was on his feet, hastily dressing in his usual attire of black and gold, forgotten the desert clothing from the day before. His heart pounded in his chest, the anger giving way to fear, fear for her safety. But he pushed it down, steeling himself for the task ahead.

He had a girl to find, a man to kill, and a promise to keep.

***

"The prodigal daughter returns," he sneered, stepping into the faint moonlight to reveal a face marred by battles - the Scorpion.

He was a formidable figure, an entity that inspired fear and commanded the shadows of the underworld. As venomous as his namesake, he was a sinister whisper in the dark corners of the Seven Kingdoms.

His face was a testament to battles fought and won, etched with scars that indicated a life steeped in violence. One prominent scar, a vicious slash, ran diagonally across his face, distorting his features into a grotesque mask that instilled fear in the bravest hearts - including hers, even after all these years. His eyes, however, were his most terrifying feature. They were cold, cruel, and devoid of any humanity, reflecting the icy void where his soul should have been.

His physical strength was prodigious, honed by years of relentless training and ruthless combat. Every muscle in his body was a testament to his lethal prowess. He moved with the grace of a predator, his every motion a dance of death.

As an assassin, his skills were honed to perfection over the years. He was a master of the shadows, able to vanish and reappear at will. His fists were extensions of his arms, lethal and swift, pushing down his enemies with terrifying efficiency.

But his most dangerous weapon was his mind, as sharp and deadly as his blades. He was a strategist, a manipulator, a puppeteer who orchestrated events from the shadows. His cunning was as legendary as his ruthlessness, a combination that made him one of the most feared men in all of Westeros.

This was the man who had trained her, who had moulded her into the deadly weapon she was today. The Scorpion was a harsh mentor, pushing her to her limits, honing her skills until she became a mirror of his deadly efficiency. But she was more than just his protege - she was his greatest masterpiece, his most lethal creation. And now, she was his greatest threat.

“I doubt you came back because you missed me.” he mocked, revealing his yellowed teeth. His eyes roved over her form dangerously. 

“Reneging on deals with the Prince of Dorne isn’t your smartest move, Scorpion.” His grin widened, and he broke into a loud, sinister laugh that echoed around the training ground where he had once trained her. She knew he had been expecting her here. He had eyes and ears everywhere.

“Oh, of course, you work for him now.” Something in his gaze darkened. The air around him grew thick with tension. “Like a whore changing patrons. What did he give you that I didn’t?” His towering figure cast a menacing silhouette against the backdrop of the training ground, pulsating with raw anger. The air, heavy with the scent of sweat and steel, vibrated with tension, each passing second ticking by like a countdown to an inevitable clash. His icy blue eyes, typically cold and calculating, now blazed with chilling fury – a deadly storm brewing within his ruthless soul.

His protegee stood defiantly before him, her gaze unwavering. She had been his finest creation, moulded into a weapon of lethal beauty under his watchful eye. But now, she was a traitor, having left him for the Prince of Dorne and Oberyn. The bitterness of her betrayal was like a festering wound, gnawing at his insides, fueling his wrath.

“Respect. He doesn’t see me as just a weapon he can use.” She retorted, her hands slowly reaching back, searching for her knives. She knew he would attack any minute now. It was only a matter of time before his temper flared, as it always did.

“I didn’t raise a fool,” he sneered, irritation lacing his voice. “Pathetic, that you believe in that. I can take you back, you know,” a dangerous glint shone in his eyes. “Of course, I would have to punish you first, but it would be nothing you haven’t endured before.”

“I’d rather die!”

“That can be arranged!” His low growl echoed around them as he lunged at her, his movements a seamless blend of raw power and deadly precision. His fists, hardened by countless battles, were like iron battering rams, each strike aimed to incapacitate, to punish. His wrath was a tangible force, an unstoppable storm of violence and fury.

Yet, she stood her ground, her lithe figure dancing around his brutal onslaught. She was a wisp of a girl, nimble and swift, her movements a mesmerising spectacle of agility and grace. Her strikes were sharp, precise, aimed to hurt, not to kill. She was his creation, after all, shaped by his hand, and she would not be easily defeated.

Their battle was an electrifying exhibition of strength and skill, a deadly dance of fury and betrayal. The Scorpion, a hulking beast of raw strength and ruthless determination, clashed against a swift and agile force of defiance and resilience of hisprotégée.

With a swift, unexpected move, he swept her off her feet, sending her crashing to the floor with a bone-jarring thud. He towered over her, his icy eyes devoid of any mercy, his breath coming out in harsh, ragged pants. His scarred face was a mask of rage, the vicious slash across his cheek seeming even more grotesque in his fury.

Yet, even as she lay there, pinned under his merciless gaze, her spirit remained unbroken. Her eyes, defiant and proud, met his without flinching. He could see the resolve in her gaze, the determination that he himself had instilled in her. It was a testament to his training, a silent acknowledgment of his mastery.

But even as a hint of pride flickered in the depths of his icy eyes, the Scorpion’s fury remained unabated. He was a beast of wrath, a creature of retribution, and he would not be denied his vengeance. His roar echoed through the chamber, a chilling promise of the fury that was yet to come.

The Scorpion towered over the fallen girl, his colossal frame casting an ominous shadow over her. His breath, a harsh, ragged symphony of fury and betrayal, filled the air around them. His fists, hardened by countless battles, clenched and unclenched in anticipation, eager to deliver the crushing blow. His icy eyes, a chilling mirror of his ruthless soul, bore into her with a merciless intensity.

The room hummed with the anticipation of the kill, the tension so palpable that it was almost a physical entity. Talia sprawled on the cold, hard floor, defiant in the face of imminent death, met his gaze without flinching. Her eyes, a resolute blaze of defiance, mirrored his fury with her own determination. 

As the Scorpion drew back his fist, ready to end her life, a sudden whirlwind of movement caught his attention. Through the dim light, a figure moved with the grace and speed of a viper, intercepting his deadly blow.

Oberyn, the Prince of Dorne, stood between the Scorpion and his own private guard, his dark eyes blazing with fury and concern. His slim, agile form was a stark contrast to the Scorpion’s hulking figure. He brandished a slender spear, its tip gleaming menacingly in the low light.

His anger was palpable, not merely at the Scorpion, but also at the girl for leaving him and wandering into danger. Yet, his love for her was evident in his protective stance, in the way his eyes never left her even as he faced the Scorpion.

The Scorpion roared in fury, his wrath a palpable force in the room. However, Oberyn remained unflinching, his gaze steady, his stance ready for combat. With his love still alive behind him, he lunged forward, spear leading, his movements a blur of lethal precision.

Their battle was a breathtaking spectacle, a deadly dance of strength, speed, and skill. The Scorpion’s overwhelming raw power clashed with Oberyn’s swift agility, their weapons clashing and sparking under the strain. The room echoed with the sound of steel against steel, the harsh gasps of exertion, the grunts of pain.

Meanwhile, the woman, undeterred by her fall, rose to her feet, her eyes never leaving the brutal spectacle unfolding before her. She was battered, bruised, but not defeated. She was a warrior, trained by the best, and she would not stand idle.

With a sudden surge of adrenaline, she joined the fray, her movements a seamless blend of strength and grace. Together, they fought the Scorpion, their combined strength and skill a formidable force against his raw power. The training chamber, once a place of instruction and discipline, was now a battleground, echoing with the sounds of a furious struggle for survival.

She was a force to be reckoned with. Her every movement was a perfect blend of strength and grace, her strikes sharp and precise, her evasions a dance of agility and speed. Her eyes, alight with courage and determination, were fixed on the Scorpion, her spirit unbroken by the intense battle.

Their dance was a symphony of chaos, a ballet of death and survival. With Oberyn they moved as one, their actions a harmonious blend of speed and strength, their strikes and parries in perfect sync. Their eyes met in fleeting moments, silent exchanges of assurance and love amidst the brutal battle.

The Scorpion roared, a guttural bellow that echoed through the chamber, shaking the very walls with its intensity. The Scorpion, a monstrous beast of a man, lunged at Oberyn, his eyes gleaming with a lethal intent. Oberyn was ready, his spear poised to strike. But before he could move, the girl stepped in between, her weapon raised in defence. The Scorpion's fist descended upon her, a brutal blow that sent her crashing to the ground.

Oberyn roared, his heart clenching at the sight of his beloved falling. But she was not defeated. With a grunt of pain, she rose to her feet, her face a mask of determination. Her body was wracked with pain, her blood staining the cold stone floor. But her spirit was unbroken.

"Talia..." Oberyn's voice was a whisper, a plea. But she silenced him with a look. Her eyes blazed with resolve, her gaze steady and unwavering. "Finish this," she mouthed, her voice barely a whisper.

With a roar of fury, Oberyn lunged at the Scorpion. His spear was a blur of steel, each strike aimed with deadly precision. But the Scorpion was a formidable opponent, his movements a brutal dance of raw power.

Talia, despite her injuries, moved with a relentless resolve. She staggered towards the Scorpion, her weapon a gleaming promise of retribution. With a primal scream, she lunged, her weapon sinking into the Scorpion's back. The beast of a man roared, his body convulsing in pain.

The distraction was what Oberyn needed. With a swift, lethal move, he thrust his spear into the Scorpion's heart. The Scorpion staggered, his icy gaze meeting Oberyn's. A moment of surprise, a moment of realisation, and then he crumbled to the ground, defeated.

Silence fell upon the chamber, the brutal symphony of their struggle replaced by the harsh panting of the victors. Oberyn rushed to Talia, his hands cradling her face. Her eyes were dimmed with pain, but her spirit was as fierce as ever.

"We did it," she whispered, her voice barely a breath. She managed a weak smile, her hand reaching up to touch Oberyn's face. "We did it, Oberyn."

Oberyn nodded, smiling even as tears filled his eyes. "You finally called me by my name, you stubborn woman.”

“I did make a promise," she responded. He chuckled at that, his hand moving to stem the blood seeping from her stomach, the aftermath of Scorpion’s punch. “It was your eyes," she said, her voice quiet, just above a whisper. Her hand gently caressed his cheek. “I have never seen such beautiful eyes. Eyes that radiate the joy of life. Eyes so soft and gentle. How could I kill someone who loves life so much?” She pulled him closer and kissed him tenderly. “You defeated me completely, my love. I never thought I would be able to fall in love with someone. I never thought I had it in me, to care for someone as deeply as I care for you.”

“You really don’t know when to stop talking, do you?” She chuckled at that, wincing at the pain in her abdomen. “I have never and will never love anyone as much as I love you. If I defeated you, what does that make you? I’m ready to settle down, but only if it's with you.” Tears slipped down his cheeks, but a smile still played on his lips. “You turned the biggest bachelor in the Seven Kingdoms into a sentimental fool, my love.” 

“Will you take me home?” Her question brought a wry smile from him. “Will you still love me when we’re back?”

“Always my love.” 

As Talia's eyes fluttered shut, her breath slowing, Oberyn held her close, his tears a silent testament to their victory. They had triumphed, but the cost was heavy. Their love had been their strength, their bond unbroken by the storm of battle. But it was also their greatest vulnerability.

He stood, her body cradled in his arms, ready to return home. Back to Dorne. Together, no matter what.

[acjrven]

The Red Viper and The Wolf (Oberyn Martell/Dyron Stark) 18+

WC: 4.1K (upload from my AO3)

SUMMARY: (A GOT AU) Dyron Stark has fled from King's Landings and the Lannisters' grasp before he is captured in Dorne and placed in front of Prince Oberyn where he is given a chance to live in freedom alongside Oberyn Martell. (If requested I will add to it!)

WARNINGS 18+: Capture to SunSpear, Mild violence (swords), Oral Sex, Teasing, Mild smut.

AO3 / Request Form /Updates at @acjrven / MASTERLIST

Horse galloped rapidly behind.

Bannerman and knights shouting.

The borderline trees seemed to narrowly disappear as Dyron Stark desperately ran through. He instantly regretted the fact he crossed the Dornish border a couple of hours ago. Almost as if when he touched the borders, his foreign scent was picked up and now he was notoriously being chased by the sun-speared bannermen.

Dyron knew why.

By rumours, he was now part of the Lannister family even with his title still pronounced as Lord Stark.

Part of him should have known of the hatred the land of Dorne has towards the Golden Lions.

Yet, the other part of him knew that the Dornish were notorious for welcoming people into their lands.

But for someone like Dyron

Fleeing from King's Landing?

Now that his name is now known for being betrothed to a Lannister.

For him?

Odds were slim of a ‘warm welcome’

His feet ached in pain as he navigated the emerging sandhill deserts.

The sand swept into his eyes blinding him as if sensing his non-Dornish blood before engulfing his feet making his knees cry out giving into resistance.

His face crashed against the sand, and the few horses, which felt like hundreds, surrounded him pointing their spears at him.

A single knight dropped down his feet walking towards his lying body.

“Pick him up!” the commander ordered as Dyron felt his arms encaptured into one ball. Before his legs were picked up and thrown over one man's horse.

The motion of the horses started slowly following their commander’s horse.

“Where is my commander?” one guard spoke up holding the reins of his horse. The dread was already washing over him just by the question.

“To Prince Oberyn” The lord commander spoke. Since those words left the commander’s mouth. Dyron felt his eye bore onto him, holding eye contact watching a sniggering smirk plaster over his face. Whilst the Dornish sun speared against his skin.

****************************************************

After what felt like hours, Dyron was forced to his knees. His eyes were blinded by the bag over his head being ripped off.

His hands were still tied in a tight knot, almost burning him.

His gaze faltered over the Prince. The decorated mustard robe complimented his tanned Dornish skin. Brunette hair was almost perfect as his steps towards Doryn were long and heavy.

The Dornish throne room was vibrant with warm colours, the stark opposite of how he felt waiting on the cold stone floor.

His fingers curled under Dryon’s chin,

“Speak. Why did you cross our borders?” His voice was laced with venom.

Dyron’s mouth stays closed. Forcing his hands to stop trembling. Not because of fear but because of dehydration. Oberyn chuckled before crouching and looking at Dyron directly, “Speak! Lannister.”

Dyron’s ears perked before the blood within him burned. Being associated with his name to the Lions?

“Lannister?” Dyron mumbled before staring at the Prince directly as his eyes flickered with anger. Oberyn had not looked away from him once, smirking as his Dornish accent sliced.

“Aren’t you? No?” his grip found its way to his chin forcing him to stare directly at his gaze and not letting go.

His Northern snark overcame him, “I am Lord Dyron Stark no Lannister, my prince.”

“But you are betrothed to one?”

Dyron stayed silent.

“Listen, Lord Stark. I will not ask again… Why did you cross our borders”

The Red Viper glanced at his commander before back to the Stark clutched onto his knees. The cold press of metal glazed against his neck. Inch by inch it pressed closer to piercing his skin.

His mind paced back and forward with options. Imprisoned in a Dornish prison for years and years of serf work or beheaded.

He knew the Prince was wearing out his patience by his pacing.

Dyron felt the blade gently deepen against his skin. A prick of blood shows a warning.

“Why shouldn’t I cut your head off? Lannister”

Dyron sighed.

“I am no Lannister!” his voice rising at the hiss of the prince's hand gripped tightly onto Dryon's shirt.

“Then tell me Stark, why did you cross into Dorne!” his sworn tightened grip dropped suddenly watching as Dyron slumped to the floor forcefully.

At first, he was reluctant to tell him the truth, why should he? He knew none would take him seriously.

Dyron sighed, going with the option to make it believable, “I fled because I did not want to join the two houses! The Lannisters and Starks conjoined!” Dyron spoke, his voice barking with his northern accent.

The prince laughed, amused, “Do you know how much of a price is on your head little wolf? Hm?”.

Dyron should have anticipated that the Lannisters would have placed a bounty on his head the second he disappeared from the tight grasps of Kings Landing.

Stark sighed, defeated not knowing the best of the two options, “Behead me, if you wish to dip your fingers into Lannister gold. I would rather be dead than live upon Kings Landing again.”

Dyron could have almost heard the small laughter from the Red Viper as the shift of the Prince's feet echoed through the room. Almost adding to the silent pondering of Prince Oberyn’s decision.

“Take him to the cells whilst I think about what I want to do with him.”

Within not even a click Dyron was wished away being forced into the Sunspear cells.

Keys rattled as the lock turned before the guards took their watch right next to his cell door.

Claustrophobic, dingy and unclean.

Dyron shifted towards a corner furthest away from the bars. The heat crisped through the tiny metal bars, almost burning his skin.

Even he knew that a Northern man did not belong in the South.

****************************************************

Days had passed and no news came to him. No guards, no prince and no papers.

Even the sun kept piercing his wolf skin while he lay on the sandstone. Becoming more pink rather than pale whilst his smell invaded and rotted his nostrils.

It was oddly silent throughout the day before the rattle of the keys jangled on his cell door.

“Stand Stark” the guard demanded before the Red Viper crossed through.

Dyron stayed there staring at him with almost a drop of hate in his eyes.

He watched the prince lean against the wall with a smile trying to encourage him to speak.

“Enjoying your home?” the Viper spoke an inch of mock hitting him.

“Partly, it could be cooler.”

Oberyn grinned playing with his ring, “I should send you back to the Lannister. Hm. But I rather loathe the Lions and send back their precious little wolf? Well, I see holding you here in Dorne as part of my revenge.” He shifted closer to Dyron smiling.

“Stand up Wolf” he ordered.

He found his feet off his knees with his arms still tight in a lock.

Oberyn stood there ominously, “Walk with me, Lord Stark.”

He wandered over to him wearily as he followed his order as they stepped out of the cell, “Release him” the tight shackles dropping into the guard's hands.

Oberyn led him out of the chambers, “Come with me, let us talk to Stark.”Oberyn led Dyron into the gardens, backing off to his home. In truth, the gardens were much cleaner than the ones in King Landing.

Flowers were bright and colourful melting with orange and yellow as the red ones bloomed from the seeds of the flower bed. The smell was better than King Landing but the sun kept burning his skin. Oberyn gestured to a stone bench in the shade where they watched people pass by.

The humid air blew against his hair. Whilst to his side, Obyern sat there pondering what to do with the Stark alongside him.

Silence filled the air until Oberyn spoke, dropping what Dyron needed to hear. “You have two choices. Have your own chambers, I heard you are a trained knight, therefore, I will train you to be acquitted with a spear and serve in the army” he paused, “Or I can pack you up and turn you in for gold”

Dyron lifted his chin as his eyes rested on him, “I will be fine with acquitting you with my services, Prince Martell”

“Good, very good,” Martell replied.

Birds chattering filled the silence as both men waited for the other to speak. A small laugh escaped from Dyron’s lips, “Forgive me for asking my prince, do you have any oil?” as Dyron butted into the deafening silence.

He watched the prince's head turn looking at his bare arms.

“I might. You are turning pink from the sun.”

“The sun must know I am foreign.”

Oberyn gave out a small laugh before standing up.

“Come let us find you some oil for your northern skin”

****************************************************

Oberyn led Dyron into the maesters office where he sat alone watching the elderly man rummage around the endless bottles,

“Aha. Palm oil mixed with aloe vera” he hobbled over to where Dyron sat.

“Put out your arms” He complied as the maester rubbed oil into his peachy red-turning skin. It was cool, a complete contrast to how hot his skin felt.

Maester turned to him holding out a little jar, “Keep applying this when you feel the sun pricking your skin.”

Dyron took the jar inspecting it more closely, “Thank you maester”

Upon exiting, he saw Oberyn waiting for him outside his arm dropping to his side as he inspected the jar before asking him, “Come along, you must be hungry. I suspect?”

“That I am my prince”

They made their way to the dining hall where the cooks brought over their lunch, bread with some mutton and potatoes. Dyron had not eaten a full meal in what felt like years.

Warm mutton that was cooked? Fresh bread freshly baked. He felt he was treated like royalty here. Unlike in King's Landing, where even if he was betrothed to a Lannister, he was feeding off scraps like the wild dire wolf he was.

Even now sitting in front of Prince Oberyn, his hunger was making him eat like a savage. Oberyn watched keenly as part of him found it sickly how barbaric the Stark ate in front of him and how the meat dripped down the sides of his mouth.

Oberyn sat there cleaning his mouth before his eyes darted to the Stark-born, clearing his throat and whipping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Disgust ran through him before he forced a smile,

“I assure you are not hungry now?”

Dyron lifted his head and smiled,

“No, my prince, Thank you for the food.”

Oberyn’s chair dragged against the floor, “Good now come along. No rest for you Stark”

Even with it being hours since he got out of the cell he followed him like he was Oberyn’s hound.

Even if it was out of fear of being turned back to the Lannisters.

****************************************************

As the afternoon sun blazed upon them both. Oberyn chucked him a blunt spear entering the drawn circle.

“I trust you are acquainted with a sword Stark” he grinned as if he was excited to bite him with his spear. “But let us see how you handle a spear”

Dyron gripped the weapon in one hand as he adjusted his temporary armour and he joined Oberyn in the circle.

They both taunted each other by circling showboating and dragging the spears along.

Dyron noted Oberyn's light and elegant footwork complimenting his fighting style.

He estimated Oberyn’s lung forcing his spear into the air to jock it.

“Good! Now try to strike me”

Dyron struck forward jousting at him but with ease, Oberyn slashed back at him defending every movement he shot at him, daring him to go further.

His arrogance blowing, as in the north he was one of the best swordsmen. Yet he was merely average against the great warrior known as Red Viper. Even if deep down he did admire Obeyrn’s quick agility and balance.

Moving his hair out of his face, Dyron slashed forward again as the spears clucked and slid against each other. Oberyn matched his spear against Dyron’s and he pushed him making his footing slide throwing him off balance.

The viper stroked him again making sure he fell to the ground, pointing the end of the spear at him.

He left him there for a moment before he reached a hand out to a panting breath Dyron.

As Oberyn pulled him up, he chuckled.

“Now, my wolf this is only the start of training” he spoke as his hand gripped the side of his shoulder smirking.

****************************************************

A few weeks had passed since his capture to Sunspear.

Dyron was adjusting to the Dornish way of life. He made lighter fabric clothes before spending hours and hours in training with a spear whilst the heat still blistered him. As well as feeding on as much food as he could in case Prince Oberyn changed his mind.

He spent most of the afternoon training with the Red Vipers' sparring partner. He sat on the bench, sipping his water before he jumped up grabbing the spear. He must admit over the weeks he had to learn to become more skilful and creative with his combat.

The clinking of metal spears whilst the shifting of feet ran across the sand.

Dyron’s strength and agility always end up in him winning as he pushes with one kick, pointing his spear at him. He let out an amused laugh helping him up.

“Do you think I am getting any better?”

“I think you are, my Lord” the other replied, shaking off the sand and dust from his armour.

Dyron looked over at the emerging serf holding a roll of parchment,

“My Lord” He spoke out, holding it out. Dyron gently took it, unravelling it.

After studying it for a moment he let out a quiet laugh, turning to his fellow sparer,

“Forgive me, it seems Prince Oberyn has requested me to dine with him.” A few ideas ran through his mind about what it could be, most on the pessimistic side. “Take me where he is” were his last words before he disappeared with the serf.

Upon arriving he was met by Oberyn sitting at the table with his lovers upon him. Kissing them like some wild hungry beast.

Dyron let out a clear grunt letting him know he was there. Oberyn’s mouth did not stop kissing. Dyron wasn’t even surprised, countless times he had been made to report to Oberyn and he just watched him kiss his lovers more than he wanted to.

He shifted to the seat, picking up his wine glass and clearing his throat again, “Prince Oberyn?”

Oberyn's lips parted from the woman's tapping her thigh commandeering her to leave.

He dug at his food before Oberyn spoke, “How are you finding training?”

“Fine, my lord”

Oberyn studied him for a moment, “Forgive me for taking you away from your training I merely just wished to speak to you”

Dyron's ears perked up, “About what, My Lord?”

“If you accompany me to this feast for the tournament, we hold it here in Dorne sometimes”

He knew he had no choice, “that I will My Lord”

“Good, we leave at sunrise. I’m sure you know how to ride?”

“I do My Lord”

He watched Oberyn dig into his food, “Eat up, it will make you feel better for the ride tomorrow”

****************************************************

It Must of felt like hours.

But it was not the hot sticky heat clamping Dyron’s clothes to his skin.

Oberyn rode close next to him for most of the journey and when they arrived he stuck close to Oberyn like the good wolf he wanted him to.

The feast itself was a treat, tons of highborn mingled with those who weren’t yet still were invited around tables. Dyron stood next to Oberyn as he watched him progressively drink more and more wine with a lover sitting on his lap.

He had never seen the man so drunk in his presence.

Oberyn sipped more wine, “Shame, shame a real big shame that my brother does not have it in him to indulge in such a beauty” he kissed her lips before she pressed the wine glass to his lips.

Dyron had never felt so out of place.

Without warning, Oberyn snapped his head at Dyron almost sensing his discomfort.

“Wolf, haven’t you seen such a beautiful whore?” his words fuelling the fire of his discomfort.

He cleared his throat, “No, my lord she is quite the beauty” he muttered loudly just to appease him.

His ears heard the amused chuckle from Oberyn before he kissed her cheek, “Or maybe he just prefers the savage whores from the north?” he spoke as the lover wrapped her arms around his neck kissing him deeper and deeper.

In truth, Dyron couldn’t tell if Oberyn was mocking him or just stating the truth.

But as he watched his prince get drunker and more fuller with food the more brazen and hunger for something else grew.

Oberyn pushed up watching his lover run off,

“Escort me to my chambers Stark”

Dyron nodded, helping a stumbling and smiley Viper to his chambers.

The corridors echoed Oberyn's laughter and constant yap of his tongue.

Dyron opened his chamber door for him,

“Goodnight my lord” he went to turn away but Oberyn grabbed his hand.

“I wish to have company”

“I can send a few whores here if you like?”

Oberyn hummed for a moment, “No, I would rather you accompany me, Lord Stark”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes now stop keeping me waiting”

Dyron timidly walked into his chambers, hearing Oberyn shut it behind him.

He felt the other man walk over to him, finding it entertaining at his on-edge aura.

The shifting of pillows emerged from the bed followed by Oberyn’s order, “Come sit, take the armour off you won’t need it”

Dyron slowly removed his guarded metal armour leaving him in just his linen tunic and trousers. He shifted to wear Oberyn, his scent intoxicating his nostrils.

He didn’t know what Oberyn wanted and he probably never will. His eyes watched over Oberyn as he drank some wine before offering him, which his fingers took with ease acceptance, “You never did tell me why you fled from the Lannisters”

The wolf shifted a little, taking another sip before sighing, “Trying to loosen my tongue?”

“I would say, more like trying to understand why a wolf likes you. Came into the hands of the Lannisters in the first place”

Dyron wasn’t sure how the Viper would act. He had heard rumours about him, but deep down the fear of his tongue being cut off or worse rose within him or it was just the smooth wine loosening his tongue.

He rubbed his temples, soothing his throat with some warm wine,

“I came into the Lannisters' hands after my father died, they held me there and slaved me in their castle walls… Then the queen found someone, her daughter, to be married to me. I didn’t want that. Let’s say…” he groaned a little before continuing, “whilst I was at Kings Landing I practically made acquaintances with the brothels there. Not for the women, the men…”

He practically felt the small grin plastering Oberyn's face mixing more anxiety but he continued, “My lover told me I should flee south to Dorne to escape, I tried to bring him with me but I could not.”

Oberyn shifted onto his side looking at Dyron, “I am sorry about your lover”

“Don’t be, I do not need your pity” Dyron drank again, “anyway he is happier in King’s Landing”

Oberyn’s eyes fell over onto him, “Hm but what about you?”

He couldn’t deny his weeks in Dorne had been some of the best even if it was him being Oberyn’s serf knight,

“Well, I do miss home… I miss my brothers. But Dorne hasn’t been so bad”

“I am glad to hear little wolf.”

Dyron lay there, staring at the ceiling thinking deeply, not speaking a word as his mind crossed and teased the thought of stepping his feet in snow rather than sand.

The way the cold nipped against his ears and blew his long black curls.

His breath hitched, being forced to crash into reality. His eyes checked to his arm now where Oberyn’s fingers gently touched his arm, dragging it slowly to his palm before going back.

“What are you doing?” Dyron asked, watching Oberyn tease his skin.

“We all deserve to be touched don’t we?” the Prince murmured

He gave into the touch like couldn’t help it, it had been months since he had laid with someone let alone a man.

He turned onto his side leaning into Oberyn's touch before Oberyn let out a small laugh.

Dyron raised his eyebrow, “What? What's so funny?” a smile betraying on his face listening to the Prince’s teasing tongue, “The wolf letting the Red Viper poison him with his touch” His breath picked up as Oberyn's hands dipped under his shirt pulled off his tunic slowly,

“You must be warm? Riding in the Dornish climate all morning.” Dyron’s shirt disappeared falling onto the ground, whilst Oberyn’s hands grazed over the other toned body. His voice dropped low in a murmur, “Standing next to me all afternoon… getting all sweaty and bothered under that armour,” he continued as he kept overwhelming Dyrons skin. Breaking him out into goosebumps as his muscular stark body was on show for a prince to see.

Oberyn’s fingers danced along pulling him closer before their breaths mingled and noses crashed into each other. Dyron swore he would never be mesmerised again by another man, but here he was melting into his touch like he was for his ex-lover. His weakness.

He growled when he stopped, “Don’t tell me that teasing is your thing?” he called out to him.

“Hm, what do you want, little wolf?” his eyes trailing over his body. As the desire overcame Dyron’s body he leaned closer to Oberyn lingering their breaths together. Without warning, Oberyn leaned in kissing the wolf's callus lips in one gulf.

It was hungry and desperate.

His hand grasped Oberyn's curls pulling him closer to his body and raising the temperature between the both of them.

The loud groan escaped from Dyron when he found the Viper's fingers pulling at his trousers leaving him in skin and flesh only.

Oberyn kissed down Dyrons body looking up at the world and sighing in pleasure, “You, little wolf look so desirable right now”

Dyron's smile grew lazy and pulled him up, “Kiss me then.” his lips found the other man’s as they devoured each other roughly. The wolf’s hand gently untied Oberyn’s mustard robes and smiled, “How do you like it?” the wolf asked as his hand reached his lap palming his hardening length.

The viper's hand rested on top of Dyron’s, “My way” he reported pushing Dyron to the bed pinning him there as his lips kissed down his body finding his cock already hardened.

Oberyn loved nothing more than teasing his lovers in cruel ways. His tongue lavished the tip.

Teasing him, making sure Dyron was grasping at the sheets before he engulfed the other man in his mouth.

Dyron's head ran back against the pillow and he laughed, “Fuck” he grumbled.

Oberyn kept bobbing on his cock. His hand massaged the jewels at the base of his cock, and Oberyn pulled out Dyron’s throbbing cock, “You like that Stark?” he cooed, tipping Dyron closer to where he wanted him.

All Dryon could reply was a loud grunt as Oberyn quickly engulfed him, taking him deep and deeper into his mouth and holding back his gag. The wide smirk emerged on his face as Dyron’s hips thrust into Oberyn’s mouth, almost testing the Prince’s non-existent gag reflex.

The Viper's masculine hands grip down his hips willing him to stay in place almost asserting that dominance over him. His cock throbbed needing release.

“Oberyn… please” Dyron begged to unleash Oberyn’s self-control to leave his body.

His mouth moved rapidly as his fingers wrapped around what he couldn’t take in his red swollen mouth.

Dyron couldn’t last much longer. Hand gripping his Dornish curls before his cum shot out coating Oberyn’s throat.

Oberyn's head pulled off swallowing his load before dipping his head to Dyron’s stomach. Placing a gentle few kisses there before kissing back up to make him taste himself.

“You tasted wonderful Stark” Oberyn exalted before lying next to him, his fingers gently soothing him with his touch.

“Hm? But what about you?”

Oberyn smiled at the Starks's willingness to return the pleasure to him.

“Oh my little wolf, the night is only young and so much more pleasure to be found” he smiled taking Dyron’s chin and gently kissing him.

————————————————————————Authors note:

this is upload from my AO3!! Thank you so much for reading it means a lot <3

I don't really like how this turned out but hey ho.

(let me know if you want me to add any more as i can think of some future things, just focusing on other works atm)

[sarcasmismyonlydefense24]

@ Pedro Pascal pls reject me so I can move on🙏🙏

[msmorningstaarr]

Holy and Heathen - Chapter 11 (Moans and Lullabies)

Pairing: young!Oberyn MartellxF!Original Hightower Character

Word count: 5.7k

Chapter Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI

ao3 | masterlist

SUMMARY: Lady Melara Hightower is the youngest daughter of Lord Leyton Hightower and has a distinct, serious and pious personality. She is sent to serve the Faith as a Septa, but her destiny suddenly changes once she becomes betrothed to the heir of Dorne, Prince Oberyn Martell. She sees herself living in a land far from hers with distinct habits, dealing with many divergences and a husband far more wild than she could ever expect. Would she be capable of lighting the way of her mind and heart?

a/n: comments, likes and shares are always appreciated 🩵

(Except for Melara Hightower, all characters do not belong to me but to George RR Martin, author of the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' book series.)

Taglist: @princessanglophile @hiroikegawa @hiraethrhapsody @martellspear

Melara

It was a calm evening. Oberyn had decided to end his duties around the castle earlier to be taking care of Melara, who still had not overcome her sickness and tiresome. The Gods seemed to finally open Oberyn’s heart and since that day where they decided to put their differences aside to build a relationship, everything changed. When both discovered that the blonde princess was with child, a new spark was born in the eyes of her husband. The Father was just and listened to her prayers. Being with child at first was quite the distressful news, in all honesty. Melara could not fathom the feeling of yearning for something so much and still dread it to its core. There would be nights where her nightmares would haunt her sleep and she would dream of a bloodshed where the maesters would cut her in half to take the babe out of her, just like it was done to her mother. 

Lady Rhea told her the story of her birth when she was no older than seven years of age and her mind graphically imagined the bloody moment she was born. Guilty often dawned on her to think that her life was possible at the expense of another person. Was I worthy of it? She thought. 

The words of her stepmother tormented her mind and now, more than ever, the fear of being a disappointment grew stronger inside of her. Could she ever be a good mother to the child growing inside of her? Could she even survive the childbirth to be anything to this child? For a pregnancy in the mild stage, her bump was huge. Word spread throughout the castle that Melara could be expecting twins, given her current size and stage of expectation and the intrusive thoughts were dreading her again. That is when she felt close to faint when she was listening to Septa Lorna give her recommendations to maintain a good health besides her current state. 

Melara still felt bothered by the constant fuss over her, it was not something she was used to having in the Starry Sept and not even in Hightower, but after sharing many conversations with her husband, he convinced her to be more welcoming to this kind of treatment.

Oberyn smiled at her once he entered their quarters and found Lya, Megga, Lys and Melessa surrounding her. Lys fed Melara with grapes and Lya took water to her lips. Melessa and Megga massaged her feet while two other servants fanned the princess. Melara briefly stared at Lya and noticed a certain blush spreading across her cheeks and her eyes lowered quickly once Oberyn entered the room whilst Lya used her own hands to caress her also pregnant womb. 

The servants immediately bowed to the salty prince and waited for their commands. “You can leave us now.” He said, calmly. His gaze never left Melara’s. The prince and princess have not even noticed how quick to disappear the other ones were.

There was a time where any kind of eye contact would make her embarrassed, ashamed. None of this was real around her lord husband from now onwards. He had made a mother of her, once her wish was given by the Mother and her infinite kindness. Everything was different, Melara felt different. She felt comfortable around him. There was no fear or displeasure, only sympathy. “I came the second someone told me you were on the verge of fainting again.” He said, slowly approaching her.

Melara just pouted her lips and arched her eyebrows. “I was not, husband.”

“Many moons have been gone since the day I took you as my wife and I can count on my fingers how many times you have called me by my name. You must call me Oberyn, my fallen star.” He softly commanded, grabbing her feet to massage it. His hands were callused as it would always be, but Melara could feel the heat of his large hand spreading throughout her body and tingle her intimate parts. An unusual side effect of her pregnancy was the constant urges for bedding. 

Although Oberyn seemed more than satisfied to take her whenever the time was needed, Melara still felt shame for this, it felt so unladylike to take initiative in this matter. Melara had her cheeks rosy and her pout turned into a sly grin. “Very well, Oberyn,” Melara wrinkled her eyes in a silent giggle and her hands reached her swollen belly. “We are fine. There is no need for all of this.”

“You carry my heir, my silver star. I should take good care of you. I could not do this to the mother of Obara, but I did it to the mother of my littlest Nymeria.” Her body felt tense by the thought of his bastards. It was still a rather sensitive topic within their relationship, but Oberyn was straightforward and had no issue exposing the wounds of it before it would fester. Yet, Melara felt not even close to being fond of having his bastard daughters around. 

At times, Melara would feel repulsive for desiring the death of small children, however, that was the truth of her heart: could she hold any little power over it, Nymeria and Obara would be away from Sunspear or even Dorne, where their little shadows could never reflect behind her ever again. Her eyes lowered as her expression grew bitter and Oberyn seemed to notice, curling his lips before changing the subject.

“You are my princess, my silver princess,” He hummed and kissed her belly as he made his way over to her face and kissed her lips. “Must be treated as such.” 

Melara looked at Oberyn and her fingertips traced patterns as she silently shared a moment with him. His brown eyes had a strong effect on her, it was bewitching. Melara always had in her mind that Oberyn has a charming, enchanting and involving persona, even when she had no trace of true feelings for him. Now, when she could finally see the caring and loving Oberyn that Elia spoke so much that day when she departed from King’s Landing to Dorne, those feelings inflamed within her heart and her head lacked words to explain what she was feeling for him. Not even when she was training to be a Septa she felt so close to the Gods in the way she felt by just staying by the side of her husband.

“Sing for us, hu-… Oberyn.” She corrected herself after breaking the brief silence between them. The salty prince smirked and lowered a bit to kiss her bump slowly and gently.

“High in the halls of the kings who are gone, Jenny would dance with her ghosts…” Besides being a great politician and quite skilled at fighting and extraordinarily smart in the arts of alchemy and philosophy or history, Oberyn was also a great artist. His voice was smooth and powerful, capturing the sensibility of that song.

“… The ones she had lost and the ones she had found, and the ones who had loved her the most…” His hand caressed her belly gently and Melara would feel the strange feeling of her babe and their little legs kicking her belly from inside every time they would hear any sign of Oberyn’s presence.

“… The ones who'd been gone for so very long, she couldn't remember their names…” he kept singing, loud enough for them only to listen. Moons ago, Melara would never have the idea that her life would turn to this. Oberyn could be quite the difficult figure, but once he opened up his heart, things swiftly began to change within their relationship and even if the silver princess could not consider herself fully loving Oberyn, the sentiment of being cherished, appreciated and pampered felt good. No one has ever been this affectionate towards her, not even her lord father.

“… They spun her around on the damp old stones, spun away all her sorrow and pain…” The princeling stared at Melara and caressed her belly tenderly, his voice lowered calmly and his fingertips traced gentle patterns over the fabric of her dress, feeling the fussy babe inside of her kicking as a reaction to the presence of their father. 

“… And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave…” Oberyn kept singing and smiling to the reaction of their babe. Melara found an odd satisfaction and a certain pride in the sensation of what it means to create life. In the Sept, she learned everything regarding the seven-faced God and its virtues - the Mother, ever so caring and powerful, blessing the path of motherhood felt much more real to her. Right there and then, Melara could understand what it means to be the true embodiment of the Mother, once Oberyn knew exactly how to worship her. Which is odd, hence the fact that her lord husband is far from being a holy man, but quite the heathen in truth.

“… They danced through the day, and into the night through the snow that swept through the hall, from winter to summer then winter again…” As he sang, Oberyn began to roam his hands on her lower body and squeeze her rear, hips and thighs, all over the thick fabric of her dress. Melara felt her cheeks burn and flush, body increasing the heat as Oberyn furtively revealed the skin of her legs by lifting the skirt of her dress and showing the underpants she wore. Melara bit her lips to the ache in her entrance, anticipating and fully desiring Oberyn to take her right there.

“… 'Til the walls did crumble and fall …” The smug smile rose on his face to see the fluster on her face. His lips kissed her thighs over the fabric of her undergarments and Melara could not help but let out a small moan. After the beginning of her pregnancy, her skin would crowl and be extra sensitive at any slight touch on any part of her body. Right now, her intimacy was drooling and covered by her wetness caused by Oberyn. It was odd and a wave of shame still crossed her mind, however, it felt rather difficult resisting Oberyn, once he knew exactly how to take Melara to the edge and reach her peak.

“… And she never wanted to leave,” he sang, intercalating the music with soft kisses on her inner thighs. “never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave…”

“… High in the halls of the kings who are gone, Jenny would dance with her ghosts…” His hands squeezed her thighs and shuddered the thin hair on her legs as his smooth voice breathed against her legs. Slowly, his lips were getting closer and closer to her centre, raising the tension within her body.

“… The ones she had lost and the ones she had found…” And then, Oberyn deposited a soft kiss right there, causing Melara to squirm and arch her head back, involuntarily pulling his face closer to her privates.  

Oberyn smirked and was eager to take her hands from his curls. “Too eager, my fallen star,” he stopped singing and touching Melara for a while, making the silver princess whine before he would finish the song. “… And the ones…” 

Both of his hands levelled up to her waistband and started pulling off the underwear she was wearing, slowly revealing her bare lower body to him until there was nothing left to cover down on her body. “… Who had loved her the most.”

His eyes darkened to the sight of Melara almost exploding and shattering her body into pieces, just for him. “Please, husband…” Melara said, breaking the silence after the song ended. Oberyn smiled even more.

“Please what, my silver princess?” her husband asked. 

Her cheeks felt so close to catching fire, Melara had to gather her strength to reply to his question. “Touch me, please.” she muttered.

Oberyn gazed at her from downwards, mischievously grinning and biting his lips, with his smug attitude of always. “Touch where?” Melara could never say that word out loud and yet, here he was, pushing her to the edge to say it. Timidly, she tried to guide his hands towards her wet spot, however, the salty prince dismissed her attempt of silently guiding him. “Use your words, Melara.” 

“My… intimacy…” Melara replied in a whisper, hiding her face from Oberyn after saying the naughty words her husband required. He kept smirking at Melara and gently, he traced his index over her sensitive bundle of nerves, causing another squirm on her back.

“That is quite the unholy word for my little lady to be speaking,” he purrs, circling his fingers around her sweet spot and driving Melara to madness. “I am proud.” 

And then, Oberyn dived into her intimate part and his tongue worked intensely on her pleasure. Melara felt her heart beating fast and her mouth going dry, which is the opposite of the lower part of her body. The heat was high and her entrance still ached with anticipation for the moment she waited mostly: when he would be inside of her. His lips were soft and suckled her button, focusing on it. Melara had her legs shaking excessively and her thoughts were everywhere. It was such a conflicting sensation to enjoy something she grew up hearing that it was wrong and unladylike. Yet, it could be the most sinful feeling to be quite sure she reached Seven Heavens everytime Oberyn licked, suckled and touched her intimacy with so much passion and hunger.

Her hips involuntarily moved towards his head, pressing his lips against her core and her head fell back, crying out and in readiness to release. Oberyn went forward with his head when Melara bounced her pelvis against him, his hands squeezed her hips and the bright princess bit her lips, trying to muffle her moans. Melara grabbed his hair when a desperate whimper left her lips and her body began to tremble, announcing her undeniable climax. Melara pressed her hand over her chest, trying to recover from the whirlwind of sensations Oberyn just provoked on her, trying to readjust her heart beating. Still, the dornish prince felt restless and eagerly went straight to her lips, kissing her with more hunger this time.

“Gods, if I knew earlier you would be this beautiful when you are with child, I’d have built another Great Sept just for worshipping the Mother and bless us with an army of our children.” He said between the kisses. She could feel the salty taste of her wetness mixing with both salivas and her cheeks kept flushing, but her body yearning for more. “Maybe I shall do this, my dear wife.” He continued and took a flush on her cheeks, which she fastly covered with her callused hands.

With not much time to lose, Oberyn released his hard member and positioned on her entrance. Melara tried to look away, but her husband grabbed her chin and locked their gazes together. “Keep looking at me, silver princess.” he softly commanded and so she obeyed, biting her lower lip as Oberyn made his way inside of her slowly. Melara could not help but scream alongside her salty husband, who grunted to the sensation of entering her warm walls. Her insides were filled up with him and his thrusts were strong and steady, but slow. Oberyn grunted and his greedy hands squeezed both sides of her hips, yet, he was ever so careful to his wife in order to not hurt her or the babe.

He held her hips to control her body and his pace, but Melara wanted more. She could feel her inner parts clenching around Oberyn and gently, he got his face closer to hers as he kept pushing himself inside of her and kissed her forehead. Melara locked Oberyn by involving her legs around his waist and digging her nails into his olive skin, opening space on her neck so he could kiss there, and so he did. He suckled and nibbled her neck, passing his hands from her hips to her hair, holding the silvery gold cascade in a strong grip. “More, please.” she muttered and Oberyn felt as if someone lit wildfire inside of him, taking up his speed and thrusting within Melara faster.

The young woman was lost in a daze, the world around her faded and all there was was her and Oberyn. Her nails gripped into his skin, her legs gripped him tighter. She let out a moan as her eyes fluttered and rolled upwards inside her skull. The princess shivered, inclining her head to kiss his shoulder as his hands took her waist, her legs wrapping around him in a desperate embrace of her lover’s body as he made her his own. Melara’s lips were parted as Oberyn kissed her neck, her arms holding him by his shoulders as he increased his pace, each thrust taking the princess to new heights of pleasure and very soon, another peak was being close to reach. 

“My silver princess takes me so well…” He said amongst grunts and moans, Melara coyly smiled, intertwining with soft whines and wiping the traces of sweat from her face.

“Oberyn…” her words were a gasp, soft and breathy, filled with the sweetness that she rarely felt. Each word had a soft purr to it, each breath an inhale as the Prince took her, each moment a sigh as the two enjoyed each other's bodies. The two kissed. Melara could feel the warmth of her skin growing hotter, her breath growing shorter. She could feel her prince throb inside of her and his breathing getting heavier as his own climax seemed also close, her back arching slightly as she moaned softly, her heart beating faster. The young lady’s breath was coming in soft gasps between kisses, her words filled with a soft, quiet purr.

“Yes, my little lady…” He replied, pounding her aching core. Her lips were parted as she leaned her head back, breathing slightly harder as she sighed and her heart beat more quickly. Her thighs were tightening around the Prince's body, her body responding to his touch in a way she never could as her body began to quiver. 

"Oh-" she sighed before exhaling a loud, breathy moan and Oberyn smiled, presuming what was happening to his lady wife.

“Use your words, Melara.” He coos reminding her, giving hints that his own climax was building inside of him as well.

"I am..." she whispered, trying to catch her breath as her body began to shake. The lady was nearing her peak, her face flushed as she pushed her body into Oberyn's, her hands squeezing his hands tighter as she grew closer and closer to her release.

“You are what, Lady Melara?” He provoked her, thrusting slightly harder.

"I'm close..." she breathed, squeezing the Prince's neck. Her breathing grew faster and faster as she began to writhe below him, her back arching slightly as her muscles began to shake, her face flushed as her body reached its pinnacle. Oberyn, on the other hand, gave his final grunt once she finally released her pleasure, he could not hold himself and found his own climax, coming inside of her in full strength and lust.

“Oberyn…” she repeated again, this time more breathless than before, taking a moment to pause and catch her breath, her teeth slightly bared with each moan. “Oh Gods.” she muttered, her voice quivering ever so slightly as she felt her body grow tighter. “Oh.” Oberyn fell beside her, laughing and biting his lip with a satisfied and relaxed expression. He immediately held Melara, who even overwhelmed by physical touching learned to enjoy how much Oberyn liked to be affectionate with touching, embracing and caressing. The dornish prince kissed her temples, caressed her belly and wiped her carefully with a washcloth before going back to lay close to her.

“My fallen star is growing more and more keen on the sexual arts.” He whispered in her ear as he placed beside Melara, who had her cheeks burning even more red with his comment, still recovering from the aftershocks of their momentum. “Yet, you are as shy as ever.”

It was true, although having intercourse had become something more interesting for her and the company of Oberyn had turned to be congenial afterwards, years of a strict conduct still endured on her mind, always taunting the moments after the pleasure experienced. Oberyn leaned his index finger on her chin and lightly squeezed it, with a tender smile and Melara felt her heart burning by looking at him and their bodies facing each other in that bed. Half of her heart burned affection and the other half burned in shame. Her mind still had not detached from the idea she was no longer a Septa, even being in Dorne for what felt like ages and married, with a child on the way. 

Oh, Mother above, with your comforting gaze,

Lead me back to the path of your righteous ways.

Forgive my transgressions, and grant me your peace,

In your endless love, may my soul find release… her mind repeated the prayer again and again.

”This is a subject I am still working on, hus-… Oberyn.” He smirked at her and kissed her temples once more, bringing her closer to his body. She laid her head and both stood there for some brief moment, enjoying each other’s company. 

The salty prince looked at Melara again and smiled at her, faintly. Then, Melara watched her husband fetch water and wine. Wine for him, water for her. He gave her a glass and raised his cup to cheer silently before starting his drinking. “I wish I was allowed to take you to the place where I keep my poisons.”

Melara raised her eyebrows calmly and looked at her window, always caressing her belly. “Am I not allowed to visit it in such conditions?”

“The maesters avidly recommended not to. Won’t risk endangering the mother of one of my children.” It was a hardship not to feel a pang of jealousy everytime she would remember Oberyn already had two children and none of them belonged to her.

“Then you will only take me once I deliver the baby.”

“Or babes.”

Melara sighed heavily once she heard her husband correct the sentence from singular to plural. This prospect had no chance of being seen in a positive light at all for her. “Do you think I might be carrying twins too?” She asked, apprehensive. 

Oberyn nodded and kneeled by her side, kissing her belly. His widow’s peek stared at her ever so solemnly and his warm, callused hands touched her waist with care. “I indeed think you carry more than one babe in your belly.”

Melara felt numb. Her heart beat faster in angst and suddenly tears scrolled down her face, nervously as she tried to wipe them quickly. Melara kept her thoughts mostly to herself all this time from everyone but right then, it was hard to hide her fear over her childbirth. Being vulnerable to someone human and not the Gods was proving to be quite the humbling experience, for the thought of letting Oberyn see her fears reminded of a time where no secrets were maintained amongst sisters and shame would hover her body every time Lady Rhea would betray her trust, for a small confession her step mother would turn to a great judgement of her character and belittle her feelings. However, now it was different. Oberyn was patient with her and let her be vulnerable in her own time and although a rough young man, he was proving to be loving as Elia promised her. “What is happening?” Oberyn asked, concernedly trying to wipe her tears. Melara nested her body on his, seeking comfort. “Tell me, fallen star.”

Melara lowered her head and tried to speak, feeling her mouth going dry and her heart exploding within her. No words would leave her mouth, a small part of her head still felt scared to tell him her true feelings over that possibility. “Melara…”

“I am scared of childbirth.” She spilled the words in a mutter in low sobs. Oberyn furrowed his eyebrows and narrowed his eyes, taking her hand gently.

“You are scared of giving birth?” He asked, sternly. Suddenly, Melara was a child again, being in front of her older sisters and step mother saying some random feeling roaming her mind, to be mocked by them or reprimanded immediately. Anxiety consumed her mind and her hands trembled, tears went down faster and the princess shrunk her body, which turned Oberyn to extreme worry with Melara. “Listen to me,” he spoke to her, cupping her face with his hands and forcing Melara to look at him. “I will not allow anyone to murder you in childbirth. I promise to be by your side, protecting you.”

Oberyn cupped her face and his eyes turned tender whilst facing her. His fingertips traced her lips gently but no arousal rose on his face, only something Melara could not categorically name that moment. It was magical the manner that man could be fiercely dangerous and so unwaveringly charming and loving. Her heart burned again, but in that strange feeling her heart insisted to feel whenever she was around him after that eventful day when she allowed him to get into her intimacy. Melara also felt calmer, her tears had dried for a while, her eyes sparkled looking at Oberyn. “My handmaidens will help me too.” She completed, calmly. Oberyn lowered his eyes and Melara noticed the change of expression. It went from bubbly to numb, instantly. A certain dissatisfaction rose and he moved his lips uncomfortably and he fixed his posture on the mattress.

“There is a matter I have been wanting to talk to you about, in fact.” The olive skinned prince broke the silence, brushing her hair with his fingers.

”Speak.” She replied.

”Your new handmaiden…”

“What about Lya?” Melara asked, confused. Oberyn had never paid attention to any of her personal servants at point of talking about them, but due to her latest condition, Melara found it could be anything related to her imminent pregnancy and current work serving as her handmaiden. Although Melara never thought of Oberyn as a judgemental man, she wondered if her state could bother him at any instance.

“Do you believe she is suited enough to be your handmaiden? I don’t think of her as an appropriate company for you.”

Melara furrowed her eyebrows. “Said the man who walks amongst the smallfolk and goes on to have two bastard children? Is it because she is carrying a bastard of her own?” 

“I could not care less if she is carrying a bastard or the next King of the Seven Kingdoms,” He said, serving himself a glass of wine and pouring water to her. “She is none of our trust.”

She drank a bit of her water after sitting down on their mattress. Of course, Melara did not approve at all once she received the news of the upcoming of her handmaiden and thought of sending her away, as a manner of not raising a bad influence over her other servants, however, she felt as the one to blame of Lya’s destiny once the girl dropped the Sept on a promise to be held safe in her new castle before her departing from Oldtown. Melara held a sense of responsibility for her future once her mind rumined about what Lya had to endure to survive outside the castle and on her travels from the Reach to Dorne. Besides her pious reasons, part of embracing Dorne as her home was to understand that her unmarried pregnancy was no reason for judgement to the dornish.

“Why would she not be of trust?” Melara asked and Oberyn pouted his lips and sighed, his black viper eyes seemed slightly lost, contemplative for a moment before replying to Melara.

“Your handmaidens carry your secrets, your most intimate situations, they are with you from the moment you wake up, and for a moment even guard your sleep. This girl… she came from nowhere and now she is here, carrying a great deal of honour.”

Lya was trustable, she wanted to believe it. Oberyn indeed carried a point but Lya was one of the nicest people she ever had in her life and she could not fathom sending a person like her away, even with her eccentric personality and sharp tongue. “When I was in the Sept,” Melara started, holding her belly and turning her gaze at her husband. “There was one day right in the beginning of my journey where I had to clean one of the worship rooms and scrape the rest of melted candles in the altar, to right after sweep the dust in the room. I had no idea of how to hold a broom and a shovel, the elder Septas joined to make me the object of their mockery over the fact I could not even do such a simple task as cleaning one room. Lya joined me and taught me how to use those items. Lya defended me when I needed her the most. Nothing she would gain but my silent company and stern behaviour, yet, she chose to be my defender and friend. I could not do such a thing as leaving her behind because you find her not worthy of my trust and company.”

Oberyn, as always, looked defeated after her brief, yet incisive words. Melara noticed the taciturn moment between them and how awkwardly dissatisfied Oberyn turned out to be. “Does it bother you?”

”Yes. I do not trust her and neither should you.” He responded, joining his hands while making his body comfortable on a chair. Melara was instantly annoyed by his words and scoffed, rolling her eyes in discontent. Oberyn raised his eyebrows, seemingly surprised by Melara and her attitude.

Melara's frustration simmered beneath the surface as she listened to Oberyn's concerns about Lya, her trusted handmaiden. The notion that Oberyn doubted Lya's loyalty and suitability irked her, especially given the personal bond she had formed with the young woman.

"Oberyn," Melara began, her tone measured but firm. "Lya has been nothing but loyal and supportive to me since she arrived. She stood by me when others mocked and belittled me in the Sept. Her loyalty isn't something I take lightly."

Oberyn's expression remained stoic, but Melara could sense his underlying apprehension. The bright princess understood his need to protect their household and maintain trust among their staff, but she couldn't bring herself to dismiss Lya based solely on suspicions.

"She has earned my trust," Melara continued, her gaze unwavering. "I appreciate your concern, but I believe in giving people a chance to prove themselves. Lya has proven herself to me time and again."

Oberyn sighed, his features softening slightly as he regarded his wife. "Melara, I only want what's best for you and our household. I would not forgive myself if I allowed anyone to harm you, dear wife."

Melara nodded, acknowledging his concerns but remaining resolute in her decision. "I understand, Oberyn. But I ask that you trust my judgement in this matter. Lya has been a friend when I needed one most."

The prince studied her for a moment, his gaze lingering with a mixture of frustration and affection. Eventually, he relented, knowing that Melara was steadfast in her convictions. Still, an evident distress was formed in Oberyn's eyes. Melara would question herself what harm could Lya ever do to deserve such mistreatment and suspiciousness from her husband.

"Very well," Oberyn conceded, a hint of resignation in his voice. “She is allowed to stay, my silver princess. You are entitled to choose your companions and I apologise for my words. But if there are any concerns or issues, promise me you'll come to me."

“No need for apologies, husband.”

Melara nodded, relieved that he had acquiesced. He was proud, but Melara appreciated how Oberyn accepted to compromise for her, even when he was not very fond of her. With that, a semblance of peace settled between them, though Melara knew that tensions could flare again if Lya's presence continued to be a point of contention. For now, she would stand by her decision and uphold her trust in Lya, hoping that Oberyn would eventually see the value in the bond she shared with her handmaiden. Yet, a sense of confusion rested in her mind, wandering the reasons behind such an open campaign against a simple handmaiden of hers. Melara reassured herself, Lya is of my trust, she is my friend constantly in her head with an intonation close to her matutine prayers. She was sure the Gods had blessed her with a true companion through her marital journey. Her olive prince put his glass aside and embraced his wife from behind and pulled the little princess to bed. Melara entangled her fingers on his, sighing briefly to the warmth of his lips throughout her neck tenderly. 

“Let us rest now, princess.”

“Let us rest then, prince.” With this, Melara closed her eyes and leaned her head on his chest to finally fall asleep.

[theetherealbloom]

AS GOOD A REASON - SERIES MASTERLIST

Summary: You, who has made it her life's work to get retribution on those who mistreated and harassed you when you were a child. The scars on your body are a physical reminder of the suffering you endured at the hands of abusers, and they also provide the fuel for your years-long quest for retribution.

Paring: Oberyn Martell x Fem!Reader

Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, MINORS GO AWAY, GoT is full of serious and harmful topics, mentions of SA, Rape (not the reader), Murder, Violence, Gore, War, Poison, Scars, Burns, Scratching, Su!c!de, AU, Age–Gap Romance, Angst, FLUFF, Eventual SMUT, Swearing, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, Flirting, Blood, Religion References, Nudity, Domestic Abuse, Incest, Prostitution, Weapons, Fire, Horror, Character Deaths, Rewrite Alternate Universe, Sex, Alcohol, Revenge, Panic Attacks, Anxiety Attack,

Main Song: as good a reason by Paris Paloma

dividers by @saradika-graphics

CONTENTS:

SEASON 4

Chapter One: The Devil's Trumpet

Chapter Two: Let The Dance With The Devil Begin

Chapter Three: There Will Be No Glory

Chapter Four: I Will Be Your Executioner

Chapter Five: Witness The Wreckage Of My Life

Chapter Six: There's Blood On The Side Of The Mountain

Chapter Seven: I Vowed I Would Always Be Yours

Chapter Eight: Coming Soon...