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absurdthirst · 1 year

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The Dornish Sun {Oberyn Martell x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 18.1k

Warnings: Step Uncle/Niece relationship, slight age gap, fingering, oral sex (female and male receiving), loss of virginity, pregnancy, childbirth, angst, infidelity, heartbreak, war, murder, rape, threesomes, mff relationship, poisoning, revenge

Comments: Of course a love story with Oberyn Martell would be tumultuous. Especially when the Seven Kingdoms is in chaos and the Baratheon rebellion breaks out.

A/N: You know that scene in HOTD where Rhaenyra leaves her birthing bed to take the baby to see the Queen? That completely inspired this.

🚨🚨DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT - this story contains canonical events including murder and rape (Elia Martell)🚨🚨

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Oberyn Martell MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Doran Martell married your mother and took you as his own daughter when you were eight years old. Carrying you away from the moldering estates you were born on and you had finished growing up in the castle at Sunspear and then later the Water Gardens when your father had grown too ill to stay in the steeply staircased fortress with his wheelchair.

The day you met Oberyn, his youngest sibling and only brother, you had fallen in love. His chiseled jaw, uncaring demeanor and his delight in allowing you to follow him around had created a painful crush for you, your cheeks heating to near flames when he had picked you up as a towering teenager of fourteen. He was your handsome red viper as you heard others call him and you had decided then and there that one day, you would marry Oberyn and become his princess.

When you were a woman grown, your crush had not waned. Growing even deeper and embedding in your heart to where no one but Oberyn would do, you argued with your papa that you should be aligned with the second born heir to House Martell, solidifying your place in the family and your own succession if Arianne did not wish to take over when your father passed. It did not help that you could tell Oberyn wanted you, his eyes following you as you went about your duties, the small smirk on his lips far from familial affection.

“Give me one reason, a good reason why I cannot marry for love?” You ask, your jaw set in stubborn determination as you look over at your father, the subject of husbands ones that you are tired of talking about. You do not want any of the men your father has suggested would make good husbands. “You married mother for love.”

Doran sighs, rubbing his cheek, “that was different. Your mother…Oberyn is your uncle.” Doran argues and you shake your head.

“We are not blood. He is my uncle in name only.” You counter. Your own lord father had passed when you were aged six, meaning your mother was eligible to marry Doran and thus you have younger half siblings.

“It will not look good to our enemies. Allowing my daughter to marry my brother…they will cry out in protest.” Doran argues and you scoff.

“Like the Lannister rumors aren’t worse?” You argue and Doran shakes his head.

“I do not care about the Lannisters. You are my daughter and you shall marry to help our alliances. A lord from the North, a Stark, has asked for your hand. You will be marrying him.”

“I do not want to leave Dorne.” You frown, unable to even imagine living in the cold north with those joyless Starks. Duty and winter coming are all they care about, you had not been impressed when you had met them two years ago when Ned Stark and another had traveled to Dorne to speak with your father. “I wish to feel the sun on my skin, the sand under my feet. I belong here.”

“You belong where I tell you that you belong. You will marry the Stark boy. You will allow our alliances to continue and you will do your duty. Seven hells, I saved you and your mother from a destitute life and you shall repay me for that.” Doran’s tone is final, no longer the loving father you’ve come to adore, no, he’s a prince. A leader.

You hiss in anger, pushing away from the table with a loud screech from your chair and rushing away. Heartbroken and angry that your father would condemn you to a fate that in your mind is worse than death. Running through the halls towards the gardens, your slippers are silent on the stone floors and your floating dress flaps behind you. You will not marry a Stark, you will not.

Oberyn is walking down the hallway when he sees you running. He reaches out to stop you, his hands on your shoulders. “My sun, why are you running? Surely my brother has not been so cruel as to make you run away from the beautiful gardens?” He coos, cupping your cheeks when you look at him, tears in your eyes.

“Father is sending me to Winterfell.” You close your eyes and the tears slip down your cheek. “I am to be wed to a Stark, to live my days in the snows of the North where the sun freezes.” You swallow and open your eyes again, looking into his dark orbs. “I - I do not want to wed into that house. I wish to stay here, with you - and father.”

The look in Oberyn's eyes is harsh, soft gaze turns to steel as he imagines you in Winterfell, belonging to another man. No, he won't allow it. Despite his brother's urges that he should find a bride, Oberyn has been unable to move on from you. You - you are his niece by name but not by blood yet the guilt of wanting you, of loving you, has never waned. However, to imagine you with another...it's more than Oberyn can take. "Come with me to my rooms, we shall drink some wine and discuss what can be done to change my brother's mind." He cups your cheek before taking your hand, eager to guide you to his chambers.

You follow him willingly and will follow him anywhere. His exile several years ago had been hard to deal with and you had often come to his chambers to sleep while he was gone, the servants finding you asleep in his bed. Now, you spend less time with him since you are a lady, your father wanting you to appear more mature for your station and years. Despite the lax nature of Dorne compared to the rest of the Seven Kingdoms, you are still under scrutiny.

“Oberyn.” He squeezes your hand and you fall silent, entering the large bedchamber and watching as he lets go of your hand to walk over to the pitcher of wine that is ever present on a table along with his favored berries.

Oberyn pours you a glass, handing you the goblet before repeating the action for himself. “Sit.” He orders, pointing to the loveseat and he brings you the wine and sits down beside you. “Tell me why you do not wish to marry a Stark.” He wants to hear you say what he suspects but he won’t show his hand just yet.

Looking away, you take a sip of your wine. It would be better if you were a man and could be expected to speak plainly about such things. Even here you were not supposed to acknowledge the ache you have for a man, not while still being innocent. “Ned Stark is boring.” You whisper. “Too self righteous and I-“ you pause, glancing at your handsome uncle by marriage before you look down at your cup. “I love another.”

Oberyn isn’t dumb. He’s seen the way you look at him and he knows he should say no, that it’s foolish for you to want him…but he can’t. Not when he feels the same. He was exiled, returned home to no one but you. You talked to him, you listened to his stories and he fell in love with his niece by marriage. “Marriage is not always about love, my sun. Marriages are for alliances. Political purposes. Do you wish to put your father at a disadvantage for love? Is this love too great to ignore in favor of your duty?” He asks, having asked himself that same question many times when Doran tried to marry him off but he is far too stubborn.

“What about my duty to my own heart?” You shake your head, dismayed because you thought of all people - Oberyn would understand. “I would not be a good wife to a man I could not endure. How would I lay in his bed, under his rutting body and bear his children?” You bite your lip, sighing and lifting your cup to your lips again. “My father has other alliances, other deals he can make. My heart shouldn’t be a bartering tool.”

Oberyn’s cock twitches at the thought of you beneath him and the jealousy he feels at the thought of someone else touching you, having you. It makes his jaw clench. “You would rather have passion? A husband who wants to make you shake with pleasure? A man who will suck on your nipples until you are dripping wet, his fingers finding your bundle of nerves, making you moan until he buries his tongue deep into your cunt, working your tight heat until you nearly drown him. A man who will slide his cock into you with the aim to make you cum, make you clench around his length until your thighs are shaking, instead of purely to get you pregnant. Is that what you want, my sun?” He leans closer, his breath washing over your face.

You whimper pitifully at the vivid imagery he creates with his words. Breath hitching and you inhale the sweet scent of wine and berries from his too close mouth. Your eyes flit down, tracing the angel’s kiss on his lower lip and your tongue slides out to wet your own, having wanted to trace his lips so often that you swear you have done it before. You can barely look back up into his own dark eyes and you swear you see lust in their depths. “Yes.” You whisper, nodding and pressing your thighs together to quell the ache there. “I want y- that.”

Oberyn leans even closer, reaching for the goblet so he can set them both down on the table nearby. You exhale shakily as he moves away from you, heart pounding and you are upset he doesn’t want you, tears stinging in your eyes. Oberyn takes a moment, knowing this will change everything but he can’t hold back anymore. He wants you. He turns back, seeing the way your eyes avoid his and he tuts, surging forward to press his lips to yours but before he says “I want you, my sun.”

Melting into him, you moan into the kiss, allowing him to take over completely. Clinging to the edges of his robe, your entire body lights up with the glorious knowledge that Oberyn wants you. “Have me.” You beg when he kisses along your jaw. “I am yours.” You know you shouldn’t, that you should pull away but you don’t think about that. Too caught up in your dream coming true to act rationally.

Oberyn should pull back, he definitely shouldn't go any further than this but fuck, he has been keeping away for so long, it feels physically painful to pull back from you in this moment. His tongue slides into your mouth and he reaches for you to pull you into his lap, his breath mingling with yours as he methodically tugs on the strings that keep your robes in place.

You aren’t completely innocent. You know the reputation Oberyn has started to cultivate. It was one of the reasons why he was exiled for that dark time when you were younger. He has had lovers and yet you do not hesitate when you feel the warm air from the open windows on your skin. Your nipples are hard from need and you let him unlace your dress and strip you down with an eagerness that can’t be contained as you run your hands along his broad shoulders and slip them under the light linen brocade to touch his heated skin.

Your touch ignites something in him and he grabs your thighs, lifting you up as he stands and he throws you onto his bed. Shrugging off his robe to expose his chest and upper arms before he strides over to hover over you. “You have no idea, my sun, how many times I imagined seeing these tits.” He groans, leaning down to take a nipple into his mouth.

Gasping out his name, your eyes close in pleasure. Fingers digging into the silk sheets on his bed and twisting them in your hands while he sucks at your breast. The wet heat of his mouth is deliriously good and yet you want more, your dress pooled at your hips and you want to be bare underneath him. “P-please.” You beg, arching your back to offer yourself to him.

Oberyn isn’t in a rush, especially since he knows you are innocent. “Patience.” He tuts as he lifts up to switch to your other breast, leaning down to take it into his mouth, his dark eyes focusing on you while his hands caress your waist, one coming up to squeeze the breast he just abandoned.

You whimper, biting your lip and trying to just let yourself experience his touch. To not beg for more than he is wanting to give you right now. Your legs shift, thighs pressing together and you take advantage of him without his shirt. You had spent so much of your day drooling over his practices in the courtyards while shirtless and you touch his broad shoulders and back with a happy moan while he bites down on your nipple.

Oberyn tuts, reaching for your thighs to push them apart so he can press his body against yours, his cock hardening under his robes. He kisses your clavicle, up your neck until his body covers yours. “So eager, aren’t you? You want more?” He teases, pressing feather-like kisses to your jaw while his fingers slide under your gown, caressing your thigh.

“Yes. Please, more.” You whine, enjoying the way that his chest drags against your wet breasts. Your cunt clenches at the hardness that he is slowly grinding against you. “Oberyn.” You are in heaven right now, this is what you have always imagined and your nails drag down his back and you grab his ass in the leather breeches he is wearing, suddenly bolder than an innocent virgin should be. There is no fear, only want and need right now.

Oberyn chuckles at your eagerness, his fingers sliding higher until he finds your wet cunt, covered by the curls. “Mmm. So wet.” He groans softly, sliding his fingers through your folds a couple of times until he rubs your clit. “You’re so beautiful, my sun. Always - always imagined this.” He admits, knowing he’s tugged on his cock far too many times thinking about you recently. Or had another around him while he imagined it was you.

“I love you.” Your confession slips out unprompted, but you do. It has always been Oberyn since you have laid eyes on him. It will always be him. Your eyes close again and you let out a low moan while he rubs your clit as if he had done it a thousand times before. It was not like you hadn’t touched yourself before but it was so much more pleasurable with his fingers.

Your confession makes his heart thump in his chest and he knows you didn’t say it for him to say it back, you said it because it’s true. His fingers continue working your clit and he presses his lips back to yours, sliding his hand lower so he can push a finger into your tight cunt.

Gasping in delight and pleasure, your walls stretch around him, the thick finger curling up into your cunt. Grinding down on his hand wantonly, you know that this will be perfect. He is skilled and you love him, your walls clamping down around his finger while you turn your head to nip his jaw with your teeth like you have imagined doing a thousand times. You want to mark him, claim him as your own.

Oberyn groans softly at your nip, “my little sun has fire.” He chuckles, adding another finger as he pushes the digits inside of you. He wants you to feel only pleasure so he wants you dripping down his wrist. His thumb presses against your clit while his lips find yours again.

Whimpering against his neck, your arm tightens around him while he curls his fingers up. Taken beyond what you had ever been able to do yourself, you feel your legs start to shake while that tension builds up in your core. Hips meeting the thrust of his fingers on their own, your moans are uninhibited and you don’t care who would hear you beyond his doors.

Oberyn groans when your walls clamp down on his fingers when he presses his thumb against your clit a little harder, sending you over the edge. “So good, my sun. Can’t wait to be inside of you.” He murmurs, working you through it and he is determined to taste you too before he takes your innocence.

You cry out, back arching and colors burst behind your eyelids as pleasure courses through your body. “O-Oberyn!” You cling to him, shuddering and shaking underneath his touch. He keeps curling his fingers as he works you through it until you are panting out, completely wrung out.

Oberyn groans your name, loving the way you shake and the way you are already so spent. He chuckles, kissing your jaw and he shifts to kneel between your thighs, working on removing the rest of your gown so he can see all of you. “I want to see you, my sun. I want you bare. Mind, body, and soul.”

Lifting your hips, you have no shame as Oberyn strips you down to your skin. Laying in his bed as the evening rays of light shine through the slates covering his windows, you feel like this is where you are supposed to be. Watching as he rocks back onto his knees and looks down at your nude, virginal body. “I am yours.” You whisper, meaning every word.

Oberyn offers you a soft smile, nodding in understanding, and he caresses your calf before he shifts off of the bed to push his breeches down, releasing his aching cock from its confines. He desperately wants to slide into you but he can’t, he wants to taste you first.

You had not expected his mouth. When you had seen his cock, your leg had spread in anticipation of him climbing between them. Of feeling him deep inside you. Instead you gasp when his shoulders push your legs wider, his chuckle filthy when he winks at you and lowers his mouth to your dripping cunt to lick a long stripe through your folds. “Gods!” You cry out, head tilting back and fingers tangling into the silk sheets again.

Oberyn’s tongue is eager, sliding deeper inside of you and his nose presses against your clit. His fingers dig into your thighs, pushing them back towards your stomach so his tongue can slide deeper into your cunt. “You taste so good.” He smacks his lips as he pulls back for a moment before he dives back in.

If his fingers were magical, his tongue is even more so. Curling deep inside you to make you squirm before he is pulling out and flicking it against your clit, pulling another gasp out of you. Lewdly learning your body in a way that you had heard of but never imagined would be as good as it is. Quickly feeling your stomach clenching as he lashes your clit again and again with his tongue and pushing you towards another orgasm.

Your thighs start to shake and press against his head and he knows you are close. He wants you to cum so he continues lashing your clit, sucking and licking until his jaw hurts and when you cry out, he buries his tongue into your walls, wanting to feel them flutter.

It was even better than your first orgasm. The rush of heat flooding your cunt makes him moan and you whimper at the way that he is eager to taste all of you, his tongue dipping back inside you. Your thighs try to close around his head but they can’t at his mercy until you are crying out again and shoving weakly at his shoulder to move him away.

Oberyn doesn’t move away right away, he smacks his lips, kissing your clit and chuckling at the way you whine so he backs off, kneeling between your legs and wrapping his fingers around his aching cock. “My sun, are you certain that this is what you want?” He asks, wanting to make sure you want him to take your innocence.

“I have loved you since I was a child, Oberyn.” Your eyes greedily stare at him, drinking in how perfect he looks hard and wanting you. You are not scared of his length or size, knowing that he was going to fit perfectly inside you as he slowly strokes himself. “I am sure that I want nothing more than for you to take my innocence.”

Oberyn nods, certain that he wants you, he has wanted you since your eight and ten name day, knowing you were a woman had shone a new light on you and he has wanted you ever since. “Tell me if it hurts. It will hurt to begin with but we will go slow.” He promises, shifting closer until he can notch his cock at your entrance, slowly pushing into you.

Your soft cry is mixed with tears as he fills you, but they are ones of joy. Lashes fluttering as you feel the weight of him starting to settle over your body and his cock butting up against the thin barrier of your innocence. His lips press against yours before he pushes through the thin barrier of your innocence and hums at the way your body locks up around him.

Oberyn leans closer to kiss away your tears, his heart pounding in his chest as he looks at your beautiful face. “Are you okay, my sun?” He asks, not moving while you adjust to his cock inside of you. You’re so hot, so tight, so wet, it’s hard to maintain control but he will.

“Perfect.” It’s a struggle to keep your eyes open but you want to see him. Reaching up and caressing his sharp cheek while he holds still over you. Wanting to commit this to memory since it is the perfect moment. “Move, my prince.” You beg him softly. “I want to feel every inch of you.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He starts to move, his dark eyes focused on you in case there’s any pain but all he sees is love in your eyes. It makes his heart twist. He shifts, resting his weight on his elbows so he can bury his face in your neck, kissing along it and breathing you in.

Every push of his hips makes you moan, your arms winding around his neck and your legs coming up to rest on his hips. He feels amazing and you don’t have any of the discomfort that you had secretly worried about with a husband. Oberyn is perfect and the love you have makes it even better. “Oh Gods, Obeyrn.” You whimper. “It’s so- so good.”

Your whimper spurs him on to make you cum. His arms sliding under you to pull you closer and his hips rock into you, hitting the back of your thighs. “So beautiful. So perfect.” His voice is raspy and he is desperate for you to cum for him one more time.

It is everything that you want, loving how he is starting to move steadily. Closing your eyes and moaning as he fills you again and again with the heavy stroke of his cock. Pushing you towards exquisite pleasure every time he touches deep inside you. “Oberyn.” You whimper softly.

“That’s it, my love. Cum for me. Please. Cum for me.” He grunts, pushing into you and dropping his hips so the coarse hair at the base of his cock brushes against your clit. You cry out and he knows he got the right angle. “Cum for me. Soak my cock, my sun.” He orders, kissing your neck as his breath is heavy in your ear.

When you go over the edge, your cry fills his ear. Giving into his order and your body shakes underneath him while you go exactly what he orders you to do. Soaking his cock in a hot rush of cum that sounds loud when he pushes through the resistance of your fluttering walls.

“Fuck.” Oberyn curses at how you soak him, gripping his cock in a vice but he can’t stop himself. He should pull out but the thought of filling you up, putting his seed inside of you and potentially his child has him falling over the edge within a half dozen thrusts. “Fuck!” He growls, pushing his cock deep as he cums, groaning your name while he paints your walls.

You whimper in delight at the warmth of his seed inside you. You know it is risky but you don’t care, moaning softly and stroking his back lightly while he continues to rock his hips as he rides out his high. Relaxing back into the bed when he is done and you can’t help but give a slight giggle, completely worn out by your new lover. “Wow.”

Oberyn chuckles at your reaction, glad you enjoyed it. He certainly did. “I love you, my sun.” He murmurs, lifting his head to look into your eyes. It’s true, he adores you, always has, and he has loved you since you blossomed into a woman. He kisses you, slow and deeply, his tongue sliding against yours.

You lean into the kiss, enjoying the intimacy of it while he licks into your mouth. Your fingers tangle into the hair at the nap of his neck and you sigh happily, knowing that you have gotten your wish and you will cherish it forever. When he pulls back you smile up at him. “Thank you, Oberyn. I love you.”

Oberyn caresses your cheek. “Let’s move you over and you can get some rest. You must be exhausted, my love.” He brushes his thumb over your cheekbone, “I love you too. Sleep. When you awaken, we will feast on fruits and cheese, I’ll send for some more wine.” He tells you, brushing your hair back.

Having sex for the first time is surprisingly exhausting. Turning over and curling up against the pillow that Oberyn sleeps on has your eyes fluttering closed within minutes. It doesn’t hurt that he is stroking your hair and shoulder, relaxing you more than you thought it would as you drift off to sleep with a smile on your face.

Oberyn caresses you until you are asleep, then he carefully, so carefully, tugs on the sheet beneath you, easing it out from under you before he redresses. Striding down the hall, he has the sheet folded up when he enters his brother’s chambers. “Oberyn? What are you doing here?” Doran asks, a weary smile on his face for his younger brother. He loves him but he is exhausting.

“Let me marry her.” He says, chin pointed in defiance as he awaits his brother’s response.

Doran sighs and runs his hand down his face, looking over to the door as if he expects you to peek around the corner like you had when you were a child. Obviously you had run to Oberyn but he was surprised that his younger brother was entertaining your notion of love. “She will wed Ned Stark.” He tells his brother. “You will choose a wife now? After all this time?” Oberyn had always scoffed at the idea of marriage, unless he was ordered to by his brother and Doran loved him enough that he hadn’t had the heart.

Oberyn nods his head, “I will choose a wife. I choose her.” He declares.

Doran sighs, “you are going to send me to an early grave, dear brother. She is promised to Ned Stark.”

Oberyn chuckles, shaking his head. “A man as noble as Ned Stark would surely want his lady wife to be pure. To not provide him with a Dornish man’s bastard.”

Doran narrows his eyes, growing suspicious. “Oberyn…what did you do?” He hisses and Oberyn takes the sheet from behind his back, opening it to display the blood on the sheets.

“Your darling daughter’s innocence…displayed on my sheets.”

“Gods be cursed!” There is a book in Doran’s lap that is quickly hurled at Oberyn, who merely ducks it. If his mobility has not seriously deteriorated over the last year, he would challenge the boy who had been the baby of the family. “You ruined her! For what? Your pride? Another conquest? You could have all the whores in the Seven Kingdom and you chose to make my daughter - your niece - your next whore?” Doran shouts, apoplectic with rage. Oberyn is not a liar, if he said he took your innocence, then that is what is staining his sheet. “Did you fill her?”

Oberyn nods, “I did. You do not wish for Ned Stark to be saddled with my bastard, do you? It will not shine well on Dorne. Dear brother, she loves me. She wants to be mine.”

Doran shakes his head, “she doesn’t know what she wants! She is a child!” Doran growls.

“She is a woman. You have to accept that. She knows her own mind, her own heart. She loves me. I - I love her. Marry her to me. No one need know of her predicament. We can protect her. A royal wedding will please the people. Brother, she is ruined if you send her north. We are ruined.”

Doran shakes his head, dismayed and yet there is truth to his words. “You will hurt her.” He predicts sadly, sighing. “Your selfishness has ruined my daughter and our chance to align with the Starks.” He turns his head and stares out the window for a moment before his shoulders slump in defeat. What’s done is done. “You will marry her before your bastard is showing in her belly.” He decides finally in a tired voice.

****

“You may now kiss your bride.” The priest tells Oberyn who grins, surging forward to kiss you while you are covered by the Martell cloak. His fingers caress your cheeks and you smile against his lips, unable to believe he is your husband. The crowd erupts in applause, the wedding pulled together quickly to account for the babe in your belly. One time was all it took to get you pregnant…perhaps. Oberyn has indulged in his betrothed many times before today. Still, you are with child. His child. So it was best to have a swift wedding. “I love you.” He murmurs when he pulls back.

“I love you, husband.” You are beaming with pride as the two of you turn to face the people gathered. Your father’s eyes are less than pleased but he plasters a smile on his face for the sake of the occasion. “Now we have nothing to worry about.” You murmur softly, aware that the raven had been sent to Winterfell concerning your engagement to Oberyn. Rumor had it that Ned Stark had already secured another bride. Catelyn Tully would be a good match for him.

Oberyn grins, pleased at his new bride, and he guides you through the crowd to the private room reserved for you both during the celebrations. “My sun, you look gorgeous. Edible. A gift from the gods.” He leans forward to press his lips to yours, pushing the cloak off of your shoulders so he can grab your ass through your beautiful sun embroidered gown.

“Husband.” You moan, delighted at being able to use that title with Oberyn now. Since that night he had taken you to bed, you’ve discovered how much you enjoy touching him, fucking him. Learning how he likes to have his cock sucked and how he delights in having you act like the sexual creature you are and not hide your lust for him. “I need you inside me.” You whimper, reaching between you to cup his hardening cock beneath his robe. “Since there is no bedding ceremony, I want to dance with you dripping your seed.”

Oberyn hisses in delight at your words. So naughty and he knows he will want to lick it out of you later. Guiding you back towards the wall, he presses you against it and slides his hand under your gown, fingers quickly finding your clit. “Did getting married make you this wet, my sun? Did it turn you on becoming my wife?” He teases and kisses along your neck.

“Yes.” You pant, closing your eyes and moaning as he slides two fingers inside your wet cunt. “I am yours.” Those words were never more true than right now, reaching into his breeches and wrapping your fingers around to him slowly start pumping him just like he taught you. “Tonight- after other are asleep, I want to suck your cock while you are seated in the grand hall.” The wedding had been performed at Sunspear, the seat of power and Oberyn often acted in your father’s stead. You want to suck his cock while he sits on the Lord’s cushion and pleasure him.

“Naughty girl.” He teases and his cock twitches in your grip, “wanting to desecrate your father’s throne because you are so hungry for cock. I love it. I love you.” Oberyn growls, leaning closer to press his lips against yours. “Wanting to please your husband. It’s beautiful. I want to please you too but right now, I want to fuck you.” He withdraws his fingers, pulling your hand from his breeches and he pulls his cock out. Pressing you up against the wall even more, he gathers your gown and lifts your leg to notch on his hip. “Gonna make my bride cum.” He promises, pushing his cock into you with a low groan.”

Your head bumps back against the wall and you moan out his name. Your condition makes you eager and sensitive. “Oh fuck, Oberyn.” You whimper, looping your arms around his neck and grinding your pelvis down as he starts to move. “Fuck your wife,” you beg, loving how that sounds. “Please make me scream your name for all the guests to hear.”

The smirk on Oberyn’s face is wicked as he attempts to follow through on that challenge. “Yeah? My beautiful bride wants to cum so hard, she lets everyone out there know she’s no longer innocent? They will know tonight you’ve experienced a cock buried deep inside of you. They will know that I’ve spilled inside of you. Our babe shall be born early according to them but we will always know that my naughty wife wanted my cock before it was deemed appropriate.” He chuckles, kissing along your neck as his hips slam against yours.

You cry out, loving how wickedly he looks at things. It’s perfect, he’s perfect. Clinging to him while he drives into you over and over again. His mouth devours yours before he kisses along your throat and nips to make you gasp and clench around him. You know about the bastards he has, both girls. You can’t help but know about them since they live here. You love them as if they were your own. “Your next babe. Maybe a son.” You whimper when his cock pushes up against that sweet little spot inside you.

“My beautiful wife is going to provide me an heir? Fulfill her duty?” He hums. You know he hates the societal standards imposed but he is playful and you know he doesn’t care about a boy or a girl. He wants a healthy child. His fingers dig into your thigh, “a beautiful son. My beautiful wife gives me a son.” He muses with panting breaths. “I want my wife to cum. Squeal so loud they all know I am inside of you.”

It’s not hard to do, Oberyn is an amazing lover and you know you are lucky to have a man be concerned with your pleasure. “Obe-Oberyn!” You cry out as he cock continues to hammer against that spot over and over again until your toes are curling and you are squealing just like he ordered you to, your cum soaking his length and dripping down his thighs.

You squeezing his cunt has him groaning, kissing along your neck, and he thrusts a few more times before he buries his cock deep. Knowing you are his, his wife, the mother of his third child, has him cumming quickly. “Fuck.” He growls, painting your walls with his seed as he presses you further into the wall.

A few moments and lazy kisses later, Oberyn is pulling back, your leg lowering to the floor and your dress falling back into place. “Always so good.” You pant quietly, giving a small giggle of happiness as you catch sight of the beautiful gold ring he had put on your finger. The chain around your neck carries the symbol of the house Martell and declares you a princess. Which you had already been before, but now it is as a wife rather than an adoptive daughter.

****

“Push, princess!” The maester orders while your hand maids wipe your sweaty brow. The baby is coming, one more push and your baby is born. Yet Oberyn is nowhere to be found. No one has been able to alert him of the birth and the labors were quick despite this being your first. You scream as you bear down, feeling like you will pass out from the pressure and the pain but a cry fills the room and you chuckle in relief. The maester quickly inspects the babe. “You have a boy, princess.”

The women set about to help you deliver the afterbirth, the maester tying off the baby’s umbilical cord and cutting it before wrapping him in a soft cloth to hand him to you. “Is there any word of my husband?” You demand, looking down and immediately falling in love with his smooshed face and crown of dark hair.

“No, my princess.” The young servant who will look after the babe as a wet nurse if you wish it, shakes her head, looking down. “None knows where he is.”

You grunt, whimpering when the afterbirth passes and the women are still cleaning you as you start to move towards the edge of your birthing bed. “Dress me.” You demand, completely naked for the birth. “I will find him.”

“Princess. I- I wouldn’t recommend - you need to rest. Spend time with your baby.” Your hand maid tells you and you shake your head.

“I have performed my duty. I wish to show my prince.” You grunt defiantly and the handmaids reluctantly dress you, trying to clean off the blood as you stand on shaking legs.

“Princess. I do not recommend-” The maester tells you but you ignore him, sliding on your shoes as you shuffle down the hall.

It hurts, your stomach still cramping with the birth and every step feels like agony, your cunt swollen and sore from pushing out the Prince’s son. Blood runs down your legs but you ignore it. Your baby is in your arms and he squeaks and settles back down when you open your loose gown and offer him your breast. Having to stop in the middle of the hall to let him root around hungrily before he latches on. Your old rooms is your destination, having an idea that he might be there since you had been in the chamber you shared with your husband.

Oberyn groans as the man takes his cock into his mouth, the woman kissing along his chest and playfully nipping on his nipple. You’ve been distant lately, not wanting him due to your discomfort of carrying the baby inside of you and he has respected that, seeking his pleasure elsewhere. He’s been in this room for gods know how long, enjoying the man and woman he paid for. You are due any day so he is seeking his pleasures before he is a father for the third time. “Fuck.” Oberyn groans, head tilting back as the man takes him down his throat and the door is swung open.

Fury boils in your eyes when you see the man and woman naked in the bed with your husband. The man quickly pulls off Oberyn’s hard cock with a wet pop and the woman gasps at your appearance. Angry that he has not spoken to you about pleasure and needs, that he just decided to do this so selfishly, your heart breaks when you realize your husband missed the birth of his son, his heir, because of his cock.

You straighten your spine, bringing you to your full height and shoot all three of them a withering glare. “My su-“ You cut Oberyn off.

“You have a son, my Prince.” You manage with as much grace as you can possibly manage, sweat still rolling down your cheeks from where you left your birthing bed. “Congratulations.” With your announcement made, you turn to start shuffling back to the rooms you have been living in with your husband.

Oberyn’s eyes widen and he scrambles to get off of the bed, reaching for his robes to dress and the man and woman watch him in confusion. “Coins are on the side.” He points at the chest of drawers and rushes down the hall, catching up with you when you are still stumbling down the hallway. “You shouldn’t be walking. My sun, you should be resting in bed.” He tuts, looking down at the babe who is suckling at your breast.

“I should be resting in bed, but I had to track my husband down.” You hiss, furious with Oberyn and he reaches for you. You jerk your arm away from him, unwilling to let him touch you with the stink of sex on him. “The servants could not find you when my time had come but they should have just followed the smell of whores.”

“You- you said you were fine with my extramarital activities.” He huffs, walking alongside you.

“Yes but not when our son was being born.” You hiss and he shakes his head.

“No one came to find me. I would have been there, my love, you know I would have. I didn’t - I didn’t know.” He argues and you shake your head.

“No one could find you because you were in the whorehouses until you brought them back here. I know you know how to not be found. You should’ve checked in first.” You argue, hissing at the way your body aches.

“Please, forgive me. I - we have a son.” He coos, looking at the baby.

“I have a son.” You are angry, disappointed and for the first time since you have been married, tears slide down your cheeks. “Go back to your pleasure, Oberyn.” You tell him hollowly. “There is none to be found here.”

Oberyn stops walking, watching as you waddle back to your chambers, and his heart breaks. He knows you need to have time to process this and he will give it to you. He knows you need to be alone and despite his desire to see his son, he walks back to your old room, deciding to write to Doran and announce the birth of his son and heir.

****

“Daughter, you need to give yourself time-“

You shake your head, your baby sleeping in your arms as you look down at the sleeping child. It has been a week since you have given birth and you have not seen Oberyn once in that time. “I have decided.” You murmur quietly, unwilling to see the disapproval in your father’s eyes. “I wish to go be with Elia. I- I need time away.” You blink back tears and shake your head. “You were right, father. He has broken my heart and I - I need to leave. Please, please send me to my aunt.” She was technically your sister in law as well, but you are begging him as his daughter and not as Oberyn’s wife.

Doran sighs, hating to see the hurt in your eyes and he wishes he could take it away but you created this. He knew his brother would break you eventually, he’d warned you, and you paid him no mind. “Very well. Go. I shall arrange for your transport. Do you wish to bid your husband goodbye before you leave?” Doran asks, wanting you to remain here in Dorne and not allow you in the grasp of the Lannisters.

You shake your head, having already packed your trunks before you ever left Sunspear because you would have hired a ship yourself if your father had not approved. “There is no need.” You straighten your spine despite your heartbreak and try to give your father an unconcerned smile. “No doubt Oberyn has not missed my presence and will have no need for drawn out goodbyes.” You feel slightly guilty for not allowing Oberyn to be around your son, but he had chosen to spend time with others rather than you, and your son was too small to be apart from you.

****

Oberyn growls as he opens another door, unable to find you or his son. When an unsuspecting servant walks past, Oberyn grabs them. “Where the fuck are my wife and son?” He demands to know and the servant shakes at the fury in his eyes.

“They - they are gone, my prince.” He answers and Oberyn narrows his eyes.

“Where the fuck have they gone?” He demands to know.

“To - to King's Landing.” He answers and Oberyn slings him across the hall, making his way to Doran’s quarters.

“You let my wife and son go into that fucking lion’s den?” He growls as he enters, no announcement other than the door slamming against the wall.

Doran looks up from the book he has been reading and sighs as he closes it. “I allowed my daughter, the princess, to go and assist her aunt with her children.” He tells his brother flatly. “To let her heal from the heartbreak of your actions.” He frowns in disapproval, knowing that Oberyn had left you to give birth alone and he was not happy with his younger brother.

“Heartbreak? She hasn’t - she hasn’t allowed me to properly meet my son. She has locked me out because I did what she knew I did. It’s not fair, brother, and now you have let her run away and to be in that cesspool with the Lannisters. It’s bad enough that you let Elia go there. Now I have to worry about my wife and son. Fuck.” Oberyn slams his fist against the wall, furious at himself for allowing this to happen, at Doran for allowing this to happen.

“Your wife suffered her birthing pains alone while you were fucking!” Doran roars, the book in his hand aimed at his brother’s head as he launches it at him. “What if she had died? Alone and calling for you? By all the gods old and new, you should think of something other than your cock!” Doran shakes his head, angry that the bastard had ducked the book. “You will not follow her.” He orders the headstrong brother. “Elia will soothe her heart and send her back when she is ready to forgive the hurt you have done.”

Oberyn glares at Doran, knowing that the order will be enforced if he tries to leave plus he knows you need time. He will write you a letter and have it sent to King's Landing, hoping you will soften and return home sooner rather than later. He hates not having you here where he knows you are safe. He loves you, he truly does, and he knows he has needs, you know this, but he shouldn't have let them interfere with his duty to you. With a sigh, Oberyn nods and makes his way back to his quarters to write his letter.

****

Tears burn your eyes and your throat is thick with emotion, eyes skimming across the ornate scrawl that Oberyn produces when he puts quill to paper. “My sun, my heart is heavy without you in Dorne, the sun in the sky does not shy as brightly as it does with your presence by my side.” You close your eyes and shake your head slightly, not wishing to say something out of bitterness as Elia rocks your son in her arms, listening as you read your husband’s letter aloud. “I was foolish, irresponsibly so and I regret that it caused you the pain and heartache you suffer. I wish to make amends. To have your smile brighten the halls of Sunspear and your laughter to ring out through the Water Gardens again.” You sigh, and lift the paper back up with a trembling hand. “Come home, my Princess. You told me that you wished to be in Dorne and she misses you. I miss you, my love.” You look over at Elia in exasperation. “Am I wrong? Should I have stayed?” You ask, knowing that she and Oberyn had been the closest out of all of them and needing her guidance. She has been a Godsend since your arrival in King’s Landing, even with the current turmoil that echoes in the palace halls.

Elia sighs, looking down at your son who has the same features as his father. “You did what you thought was right for you at the time. If I am honest, I think you should return home. You are needed there and I am certain you wish for this one to be raised in Dorne and not this…this hell.” Elia has confided that she loathes the Red Keep. It’s like a prison and she longs for the warmth of the Dornish sun. “You need to go home, my darling, but selfishly? I wish for you to stay. I barely speak to anyone here. My husband is away…the king loses more of himself every day and I long to keep our children safe…even from him. I wish you could stay but my brother needs you.” Elia smiles sadly.

“Come with me.” You reach out and take her hand, squeezing gently. “Dorne will love to have their princess back for a visit. It will do you good to visit with your brothers.”

Elia shakes her head, “I have a duty to the people as their future queen. I cannot abandon them now. My darling, stay until the end of the week and then I shall arrange travel home for you. Besides, I still have to spoil my nephew rotten.” Elia grins, cooing down at the baby in her arms. “Write to Oberyn. Tell him you shall return home soon and give him hope. Absence makes the heart grow fonder so I am certain I shall have another nephew or niece to dote on by the time I visit Dorne once more.”

****

Screams awaken you in the middle of the night, jolting you from your sleep as you immediately reach for your son in his cradle. The sounds of clashing steel and fighting can be heard in the Bailey below your window and you panicked, throwing on your robe and bundling your son against your chest as you rush out the doors of your chamber to seek Elia. The news of the Baretheon rebellion has grown steadily dire and your ship is set to sail when the sun rises.

Servants scramble in the halls, pushing past you in their haste to flee the danger. Dread pools in your belly, hearing the screams grow louder as you race towards the chambers. They are here, the rebellion has reached the keep and they are coming for all who are in line for the iron throne.

Elia screams, her children clinging to her robes when you come into her chambers. “It’s only me. What’s happening?” You ask, terrified and the baby begins to cry in your arms. “Shhhh.” You coo, rocking him.

“It’s the rebellion. They have breached the Red Keep. My - my - the King will be killed. I have to protect the children. Get into the armoire. With the children.” She orders you and her children.

“Mama!” Her daughter cries but Elia cups her cheeks once you are all inside of the closet.

“It will be alright, my love. Let’s be quiet. We need to be quiet.” She tells her children, looking over at you now that you have gotten your son to settle against your breast. Your heart pounds and you pray to the gods that you will be spared, that Elia and her children will be spared.

You know the chances of Elia and the children being spared if they kill the king are low, that you need to flee in the chaos. “Elia, we need to run. We can make it to the ship. Have them sail now.” You plead with her, knowing it will kill Oberyn and your father if something happens to their beloved sister or her children. “There is a passage.” You know of the secret tunnels. “Let us leave now!”

“I cannot. They will find us in the halls. We are safer here. My darlings, it will be okay. Just let me - let me step out if anyone should come. I may be able to reason with-” The doors are slammed open to her chambers and you squeal, shaking as you wonder who has come in. Foe or friend. The armoire doors are swung open after several moments and you shriek when a mountain of a man grabs Elia by her arm, dragging her out of the wardrobe.

“Leave her alone!” You shout as you scramble out of the wardrobe and stand in front of Elia’s kids where they are huddled in the corner, clutching your son to your chest. “She is the crowned princess!” You are terrified, certain that all of you are going to die right here in these rooms. “Leave now!” You shout. “GUARDS!”

The Mountain shuts the doors and chuckles darkly, withdrawing his sword and you back your aunt and the children towards the window. “Get the fuck out of my way.” He growls, grabbing your arm and throwing you across the room. You grunt, curling your arms around your son, scared that he’s hurt and during that moment to assure yourself that your son is okay, the Mountain grabs Elia. You place your son in the armoire, safe as you rush back towards Elia, trying to protect her but the Mountain flings you across the room once more. “Please! Spare her! They haven’t done anything!” You plead and Elia screams for the guards once more.

You turn from your crumpled position on the ground to watch as Rhaenys, precious little Rhaenys, rushes towards the giant in armor, screaming and beating on his side. Too young to cause any harm to the man, but that doesn’t stop him from grabbing the little girl and lifting the toddler up high before flinging her against the wall. Making Elia scream and clutch Aegon to her chest. “No!” You scream, crawling towards the crumpled body of your niece, unmoving on the stone floor with her neck twisted at an off angle.

Elia cries out in anguish when you try to get Rhaenys to wake up but she’s gone, eyes open and glassy. The young boy - the future king - is clinging to Elia but the mountain grabs him, lifting him up by the neck and with a squeeze of his giant hand, he breaks the boy’s neck, making Elia scream in agony when the man flings the boy down beside his sister. You are shrieking, tears streaming down your cheeks as you look at the children and that’s when horror truly makes your blood run cold.

The Mountain grabs Elia and what happens next makes you vomit. He violates her, raping her while he chokes her, strangling her until she is still and you are frozen. When he is done, he grabs his sword and you retch in horror when he slices her open, her glassy eyes turned towards you. You are shaking, certain that you are next when the mountain wipes his sword on the bed sheets. “I- please. Please.” You choke, begging for your own life and the Mountain walks right past you.

“Return to Dorne, tell those fuckers what happened here. The Lannisters send their regards.”

The Red Keep has descended into complete chaos, screaming and steel clanging all around you. You bundle your son to your chest, hurrying as fast as you can. Bare feet slipping on the bloodied steps of the palace until you finally manage to escape from one of the side doors. Rushing towards the waterfront, towards the boat Elia had arranged for you to return to your husband. Your hands are bloody, the necklace she has been wearing in your hand and you are blinded by the tears as you sob in relief, seeing the swaying masts of the ship that will bear you back to Dorne.

****

The horse’s hooves attract the attention of the palace, the servants immediately approaching the messenger who swings off of his horse and rushes into the palace. When the doors open, Doran and Oberyn look up, both of them in the middle of discussing the harvest festival celebrations when the messenger approaches and hands the letter to Doran.

Oberyn impatiently awaits his brother’s rendition of the letter but the prince pales. “Doran? What is it?” Oberyn frowns and Doran hands him the letter with a shaky hand. Oberyn frowns, taking the letter and his body goes cold when he reads the news that his sister, niece and nephew have been murdered by order of the Lannisters. Robert Baratheon is now king. “She - she’s - oh gods.” Oberyn wants to be sick and his blood boils at the murder of his family. “What about my wife? And my son? Did - there’s no news of them. Is she - is he -? Doran.” He stumbles as he stands up, “I need - I need to go to King's Landing. I need to find them.”

Doran feels sick, his heart breaking at the loss of his sister and her two babies. He knows their deaths had to have been cruel. Otherwise, why would they have put a two year old and one year old to death? “No.”

Oberyn’s head snaps towards Doran and he grits his teeth furiously. “No?” He hisses. “My sister - her children are dead! My wife and son are there.”

Doran shakes his head, knowing that if his brother goes to King’s Landing, he will start another war. “We will wait until there is more news.” He tells his brother. “We will have our maester send a raven to the citadel.”

“I cannot. I will not fucking sit here while my sun…she’s your daughter. Are you not worried? I cannot - I cannot just fucking sit here. If the Lannisters wish for war, I shall single handedly bring it to them. They will pay!” Oberyn roars, anger masking his pain.

“Now is the time for cooler heads.” Oberyn’s temperament has always been one to rush into battle when he is feeling provoked but now is not the time. “We must not make a mistake. For Dorne. I love my daughter and wish she were here safe and sound, but she is not.” He does not mention that it is because of Oberyn that you are not where you belong. “Elia’s body along with the children are being shipped back to Dorne.” He swallows thickly. “Now is the time we mourn.”

“You don’t want revenge? They killed Elia. Her children. We should be sending the fucking Dornish army to their door now. The Lannisters have concocted this scheme. We must retaliate. Now. Brother, please. Do not let them get away with it.” Oberyn pleads, needing the anger to distract him from the pain of not knowing your status.

“We would be sending our army to their deaths without proof.” Doran rationalizes. “I am angry. I am sad.” He swallows harshly and shakes his head. “Still, it is my duty to do what is best for Dorne, not just the Martells.”

“Fuck your duty. Fuck Dorne. This is our family and you, as usual, don’t do anything to avenge us. Doran, you - you disappoint me once again. I shall have my own revenge.” Oberyn promises and growls as he makes his way through the halls, staff avoiding him as he shoves open the doors to your chambers, burying his face in your pillow as he allows himself to cry, to mourn, and to pray that you and his son are safe.

****

“My Princess, we will be docking at Sunspear within the hour.” The nervous deck hand waits for you to turn your head, to give some clue that you have heard him, but you just stare at the city as it grows closer every second that ticks by.

It has been a long week. One that you can recall every second of and none at all. A shadow of yourself as you cling to your son and try to banish the images of Elia and her children’s deaths from your mind. Still wearing your nightgown that you had been wearing when you fled the Red Keep, no women’s clothes on board and what little clothing they could spare was used for your son’s nappies.

The spires of the palace loom in the distance and you wonder if Oberyn will blame you for not saving Elia, or maybe he will blame you for not dying with her.

When the horn sounds that the boat is docking with Elia and the children’s remains, Oberyn makes his way to the dock, wanting to see the caskets and he has been pulling his hair out for a week, trying to find word of your status. Whether you were alive or dead. He has to know. When he sees you stumble down the ramp of the boat, his eyes widen. “My sun!” He shouts, running towards you and he wraps you in his arms, the baby between you as he holds you close.

“Oberyn.” You gasp when you feel his arms around you, wanting to close your eyes and melt into his safe embrace but you cannot. “She’s dead, Oberyn. Elia- the kids, they are dead!” You sob, breaking down for the first time since that horrible night. “I- I could not stop him!”

“It’s okay, my love. It’s okay. You’re safe. You are both safe.” He feels relieved despite the fact that his sister is dead. He has you. He hasn’t lost you. “You’re alive.” He chokes, tears stinging in his eyes and he pulls back so he can cup your cheeks, looking into your eyes. “It’s okay. You couldn’t - there’s nothing you could do. It’s okay. You’re home.”

“I was- the baby- he lifted her and threw her against the wall-“ you babble in a near panic. “She- oh gods Oberyn, her neck- she was gone and then the sweet little one- he-“ your voice cracks. “They were gone and then he raped her! He raped her on the bodies of her children!” You shriek. “I couldn’t stop him! I couldn’t- he- he raped her and then he killed her like she was nothing!”

“Ssshhh.” Oberyn coos, bringing you into his chest, “it’s not your fault. You couldn’t do anything, my love. Let’s calm down and let me take you inside the palace. You need to be in your home.” He murmurs, kissing your hair and he leans back to look down at the baby. “Gods. He has grown.” Oberyn leans down to kiss his son’s head. Fury beats in his chest, but that will not help you heal right now, looking like you are about to expire on your feet.

You don’t understand why he is not upset, why he is not furious with you. Your sobs give way to hiccups and you let Oberyn lead you away from the ship, the caskets containing the bodies of your family slowly being raised up from the hold to be transported to the castle. You step onto the hot sands of Dorne with your bare feet and you sigh softly, happy to feel it after what has happened.

Oberyn rubs your back as he guides you back into the palace, everyone looking at you since you are still wearing your nightdress. “Obbaron is safe. You are safe, my sun. The gods have answered my prayers.” Oberyn is relieved and he is sad but selfish, happy you are safe and home…finally.

In the palace, you are stripped out of your filthy and ragged nightgown and placed in a large, lovely bath. You refuse to let your son out of your sight, making the servant tut and disappear to tell on you to Oberyn. You can’t let him go right now.

Oberyn heard of your insistence that Obbaron be in your arms in the bath and he makes his way to your chambers after he asked for some food to be sent to you. “My sun, let me take him while you bathe.” Oberyn says as he walks in, eager to see the son he barely got a chance to hold before you left for Kings Landing.

You hesitate, almost refusing but you know that Obbaron will be safe in his father’s arms. The servants have all disappeared, leaving the bathing room and you nod after a moment, letting Oberyn come and take your son from your arms. “Be careful.” You choke out before you can stop yourself, even though you know it is foolish. Watching the children being struck down in front of you has affected you, making you tear up again as you step into the large pool of water. Your husband has seen you naked before, even if he did not wish to see you that way anymore - you would not hide yourself.

Oberyn watches you get into the bath and he can’t believe how beautiful you are. Even when wrecked with grief, you are still the most gorgeous woman he has even seen. He rocks the baby, looking down at his beautiful son and he leans down to kiss his forehead, thanking the gods that you are both okay.

You groan as you sink into the water, relieved to be able to clean yourself again after a week on ship. It’s selfish, wanting something like this when your poor aunt will never take another breath. Making you close your eyes so you don’t cry again before you pick up the cake of perfumed soap to start scrubbing every inch of your body, needing to feel clean again.

“I’ve missed you.” Oberyn confesses, knowing that now he needs to be completely honest. Life is too short. He needs you. “I love you. So much. I’ve missed you every single day since you’ve been gone.” He admits, “and our beautiful son.” He looks down at Obbaron.

You snort softly, not disbelieving him completely but finding it hard to believe that he had spent the last months pining for you. “I am sure you found comfort somewhere.” You murmur softly, relaxing into the bath. “I cannot believe for a moment that my husband was celibate while I was gone.”

Oberyn snorts, “alas my cock could not get hard for anyone other than you during your absence. Perhaps your departure forced me to reconsider what is important to me and I know now that I cannot live without you. You are - you are my world and I refuse to live in a world where you do not exist. I was - if you were dead…” He trails off, unable to put the thoughts into words. “I love you. It’s always been you and I need you. More than even I thought possible.”

��You fucking other people did not upset me.” You tell him, your voice level and sure. You have had a lot of time to think about why you were so furious and heartbroken when you discovered Oberyn in your old chambers with others. “If I had not been carrying Obbaron I might have joined in.”

Oberyn frowns, knowing you had discussed sharing your bed prior to your marriage, deciding to wait until after you had given birth. “You were upset that I chose to fuck over being by your side.” He states and you nod, knowing it seems foolish now. Most men do not come to their wife’s bedside during birth. “I do not wish to share a bed unless you are involved.” He tells you, knowing he made that decision as soon as the guilt hit him. He wants to be fully invested in this marriage and your pleasure is his pleasure.

You eye him in surprise, shocked that he would say that, but Oberyn seems sincere. Your heart melts slightly and you give a small nod. “I have missed you.” You confess. “Elia had- I was due to sail for Dorne just that next morning. To return to you.” It seems important that he knows you didn’t come home just because of the rebellion and his sister’s murder. You blink back tears and swallow heavily. “I wish I had been able to return like that. Simply because I wished to.”

Oberyn's heart aches, wishing that had been the case but it's not and his entire body yearns for vengeance. "Me too." He whispers, looking down at his son once more who has fallen asleep against his chest, exposed by the gapping in his robes. "My sun...I - I haven't slept. I haven't eaten. My worry that you - I didn't know if you were alive or dead. It was destroying me to not know and yet I lived in fear of knowing in case you -" He chokes, unable to speak the words.

You shuffle to the edge, reaching for Oberyn and stroking his arm as he holds your son. “We are here, safe with you, where we belong.” Your eyes slide down to your sleeping son and you give a soft smile. “He is comfortable with you already, he knows his father.”

Oberyn smiles sadly, “you both should’ve been here the entire time. Not just - not just now. He should know his father. I don’t blame you for leaving, my sun, but I want you to know I missed you every single day you were gone. I love you. And him. I don’t wish to lose you again.”

It’s what you want to hear, all you wanted although you don’t wish to hold Oberyn in a cage. “I love you, my prince. I am willing to share you, as long as no one else comes before me.”

"For now, I wish to have my wife. Tonight, I want you. To worship you and show you how much I love you. Tomorrow, we mourn my sister and her children. In time, I will have my revenge but tonight, I want to make love to my wife." He declares, his dark eyes focused on you.

Guilt settling over you, you look away, knowing you need to be honest with your husband. You couldn’t have known that he had decided to be celibate since you had boarded a ship for King’s Landing. “I must confess something to you.” You whisper. “I have had several in my bed while I was at the Red Keep. All women.” You assure him. “I did not want to risk carrying another man’s child while I am married to you, but I found pleasure in others.”

Oberyn’s cock twitches as he thinks of you in bed with other women. He can’t blame you for it. You are doing what he did but you had left, decided to leave him and go to Elia. He cannot be angry with you. “My sun, I do not blame you for seeking pleasure. I wouldn’t have minded watching.” He chuckles before his smile falls, his eyes meeting yours. “Would you have come home? If Elia…would you have come home?”

“I was already coming home to you.” You give him a bittersweet smile. “Elia told me that selfishly she wished me to stay but that her brother needed me more than she did. Her last days were- they were as peaceful as they could be.” You assure him. “We talked of Dorne and she was making plans to come home for a visit.” You bite your lip. “I wish I had convinced her to come with me. To just leave a few days earlier.”

Oberyn swallows harshly, “it wasn’t your fault my love. It was - the Lannisters. They will pay. I vow they will pay. Elia…gods bless her soul…she was stubborn like all Martell’s so I doubt you could’ve done anything to make her leave. Do not blame yourself.”

You relax, happy that Oberyn does not blame you. You look at the babe in his arms and you wish that things are different but they are not. The only thing you can do is move forward. “Lay the baby in the cradle.” You urge him, suddenly in need of your husband. “Join me in the bath. I need to feel you.”

Oberyn nods, shifting to stand up now the baby is asleep and he gently places him in the cradle across the room before he works on removing his robes and breeches. Once he is naked, he strides over to the bathtub and you shift forward to allow him to get in behind you. As soon as he is in, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you back into his chest, groaning at the feel of you in his arms. Finally.

You moan softly, leaning back against his chest and closing your eyes. It’s the first time in over a week that you truly feel safe. Relaxing against him and letting the silence fall between you. There is much more that needs to be said, but right now you just want your husband to hold you. “I love you.” You whisper softly, knowing that it would always be that way. It would always be Oberyn.

Oberyn caresses your arms, kissing your neck and he sighs, “I love you too,” into your skin. He breathes you in, relieved to have you in his arms again and he caresses every inch he can touch, just wanting to feel you and reassure himself that you are here.

You feel his hands start to roam over your body. Caressing and squeezing you, reassuring himself that you are in his arms. Turning your head, your lips graze his jaw, pressing kisses to his thin line of a beard that frames his face. “I want you.” You murmur softly, already feeling the first pangs of arousal.

“Are you sure?” He murmurs, not wanting to push you if you aren’t ready. You’ve experienced horrors that men at war see and he doesn’t want to push you. He has lost so much, he can’t lose you too. He needs you to fucking breathe. “My sun, tell me what you want.”

“I want to feel alive.” You whimper, grabbing his hands and bringing them up to your still nursing breasts. He doesn’t squeeze harshly, but you moan when his thumbs brush over your hard nipples. “I want to banish the images in my mind and replace them with my husband fucking me.”

Oberyn understands what you mean. Some of his whoring ways are the result of the horrific memories of the battlefield. Nights spent with lovers distract from the things he had seen. “Tell me if you want me to stop.” He orders but kisses along your neck, his fingers plucking your nipples and your responsive moan has his cock twitching against your back.

“Yessss.” You moan and tilt your head back so that you are leaning against his shoulder. “Touch me Oberyn.” You beg, eyes slipping closed as you let him play your body like an instrument.

Oberyn caresses your chest, his lips tracing your neck and shoulders until his hands dip lower. Caressing your stomach that carried his child and he secretly wishes to see you round again, do it properly this time. His fingers dip lower, playing with the curls above your cunt until he finally, finally, presses his finger to your clit.

Gasping, your legs thrash in the water as Oberyn starts to rub your clit. Pressing firmly and stroking you just like you need as you groan in his arms. This is what you need, to be surrounded by him, his scent in your nose as you kiss his pulse. Mindless to everything but the way he is making you feel. “Yes, Oberyn, yess.” You pant softly.

He groans, kissing along your neck as his cock hardens against your back, his fingers rubbing your clit and he wants you to cum just like this. “I love you. My sun. My wife. My love.” He coos, “cum for me.” He murmurs, breathing you in after being apart for so long.

It doesn’t take long, just a few more minutes of his magical fingers against your clit and you are crying out. Shuddering against him while he pushes you through pleasure until your chest is heaving and you are breathless. “Inside me.” You push his hand away and turn over, wanting to ride your husband in the bath. “Need you inside me.”

His hands immediately grip your hips, dragging you close so you are hovering over him and his lips immediately around your nipple, biting and sucking while he reaches down to position himself at your entrance. “Ride my cock. I want you to make yourself cum.” He orders, cupping your cheek while he kisses up your chest.

The only thing he is wearing is his chain with the family crest. Wrapping it up on your fist, you sink down onto his cock with a moan. All the fingers in the world will never feel as good as his cock. “Fuck, Oberyn.”

He watches you, dark eyes getting even darker as he watches you sink down onto his cock, your silk walls gripping him like no one else can. You’re gorgeous and his wife. “Fuck, my love. You always feel so good. Such a tight little cunt.” He coos, gripping your chin to make you look at him.

He is the only man you have let in your body and he knows it better than anyone. His cock spearing up into your deliciously and you clench around him at the lust in his eyes. “Your cunt.” You promise, grinding down onto him and swiveling your hips to make you moan. “Fill me up Oberyn.” You plead softly, looking into his dark eyes that are reflective in the child you made together. “I want to feel you for days.”

He growls, suddenly feeling desperate after he could’ve lost you from his own stupidity. His arms wrap around your waist and he pulls you against him, his cock thrusting up into you to make the water spill off the sides of the tub. “Should have never let you go. Should’ve worshiped you so you didn’t leave.” He murmurs against your mouth.

Whimpering, you turn into his kiss, sliding your tongue into his mouth and your hand curls around the back of his neck. Moaning every time he thrusts up into you, it becomes a symphony of mewls and panted breaths as he rocks his hips up frantically.

Your breath mingles with his and his hands are everywhere, sliding down to squeeze your ass, pulling you into him to help you rock on his cock as he thrusts up into you. “Gods, I love you.” He groans, his lips attached to your neck and he sucks to leave a bruise beneath the skin.

“I love you.” You pant, closing your eyes and tangling your fingers into his hair as you rock up and down on his length. Rolling your hips faster as need builds and you know that you’re going to cum soon. “Please- oh fuck, I’m so close.”

Oberyn immediately presses his fingers to your clit, rubbing it harshly while he leans closer to press his lips to yours. “Cum for me, my sun.” He orders against your mouth, his cock twitching inside of you as his own orgasm nears.

It’s so good, blinding pleasure crashes over you as you buck in his arms. Gasping and crying out when your walls clamp down around him as you soak his already wet cock with a torrent of your juices, barely able to rock on him as your thighs shake.

Oberyn’s fingers dig deep into your ass, working you on his cock while he seeks his own climax. Your walls flutter around his cock, gripping him, and he hisses when you lean forward to bite down on his jaw. “Cum.” You plead and it sends him over the edge. His cock buried deep as he thrusts up into you, painting your walls with his hot seed.

You whine at the heat flooding your womb, leaning in and kissing him gently. “I love you so much.” You promise, pressing your lips to his between words. “My prince, my husband.”

“My princess. My world.” He vows, pulling you close and you giggle at the water that splashed onto the floor. “Leave it. It will be dried.” He tells you and kisses your nose then your forehead. “I - I shall thank the gods you have returned to me.”

****

“You are lovely.” You look in the mirror at the beautiful woman that had been assigned to be your handmaid while you are going through your second pregnancy. “What is your name?” Her fingers are still where they are braiding your hair and her dark, kohl lined eyes look up to meet yours. You know her name, but you wish to talk candidly and to ask questions is the obvious choice to begin. To show interest.

“Ellaria, my princess.” The woman smiles, her expression is soft and you instantly feel attracted to her.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” You coo and Ellaria flusters. You take her hand and bring it to your lips, kissing her palm and she inhales sharply.

“Not as beautiful as you, my princess.” She responds breathlessly.

She is perfect for your bed. You haven’t missed the way that Oberyn’s gaze followed her when she was introduced and you find her most attractive. “Tell me Ellaria,” you turn and look her in the eyes. “How would you feel about joining Oberyn and I in our chambers tonight?” You ask, smirking slightly at the idea of surprising your husband.

Ellaria’s eyes widen but she smirks, after a moment. “I would be honored to join you and the prince, my princess.” She answers, her fingers caressing your neck and shoulders and you shiver in delight. She finishes your hairstyle and leans down to kiss your cheek. “I shall count the moments until I can be in your bed.” She murmurs and you turn your head to press your lips to hers, wanting to kiss her before tonight. You are impatient.

Her lips are soft, sweet as you reach up and cup her cheek. Deepening the kiss and sliding your tongue into Ellaria’s mouth, you push up to your feet so you can stand with her and hold onto her hips as she starts to kiss you back.

Ellaria caresses your back, her tongue sliding against yours when the doors open and Oberyn strides in. His eyebrows raise and he chuckles. “Looks like my princess is being well looked after.” He grins and slides up behind you, kissing your neck. “Have you asked her, my sun?” He murmurs in your ear, his hands gripping your waist.

You pout slightly that your plans have been ruined but you turn and press your lips to his when you break the kiss from Ellaria. “I had hoped to surprise you.” You huff slightly, nodding and turning back to the servant with a smile. “As you can tell, both the prince and I are eager for you to join us.”

Ellaria flusters, a smile on her face as she leans back to look at you and your husband. “Please let me pleasure you both. I want to please my prince and princess.”

Oberyn smirks, reaching out to cup her cheek, “let us pleasure the princess. She is carrying my child and I am certain that your tongue on her clit would help her relax.”

You moan at the idea and nod, biting your lip. “Why don’t you show Ellaria how wonderful your cock is while she devours my cunt?” You suggest. “I know you have not been able to fuck me as hard as you wish and I think our girl will enjoy screaming your name.”

Oberyn’s cock twitches at the thought. You’ve already discussed him fucking others and you have given your permission for him to cum inside the ones you like. Ellaria was included in that consent. “Strip my beautiful wife out of her robes before you follow suit and show me how beautiful the female form can be. I want to worship at the altar of two gorgeous cunts.” Oberyn coos as he begins to strip off his own clothes.

You give a small, excited giggle as Ellaria moans quietly and you let her guide you toward the large round bed. “He’s got a wonderful cock and his fingers are magical.” You promise her while she pulls at the thin ties of your robes to pull them off your rounded body.

Her hands are deft, quickly undressing you and her hands caress your bump for a moment before she begins to remove her own clothes. When she’s naked, you turn back towards your husband. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she? A true Dornish gem.” You coo, reaching out to cup her breast and Oberyn loves seeing you so free. “She’s perfect for us. Ellaria, lay my princess down and suck on her sore tits while I push my fingers inside of your cunt.”

It takes you a moment to get comfortable but soon you are on your back and Ellaria’s lips are pressed to your skin, kissing up your side before she wraps her lips around your nipple. “Oh!” Your back arches and you cry out in pleasure, your breasts so sensitive since your pregnancy. “Fuck, Oberyn, make her feel-feel good.” You order your husband as he kneels on the bed behind her.

Oberyn groans at the sight of Ellaria bent over as she sucks on your tits and that makes him eager to lean down and slide his tongue through her folds, making her moan out in delight around your breast. You caress her side, eyes closed as you enjoy her hot mouth and you can hear your husband’s tongue diving into her cunt.

The sounds of pleasure fill your chambers, licking and sucking accompanying muffled moans. Your fingers stroke Ellaria’s cheek and through her hair while she sucks in your breasts. “How does she taste?” You ask Oberyn, knowing that she must be delicious, kissing her had been wonderful. “My sun, she is tangy and sweet like your favorite Dornish wine.” Oberyn praises as he lifts his head to wink at you over her shoulder. “When you taste her, you will hate to pull away.”

You grin, “I can’t wait. My handmaid shall be spoiled by us. Her cunt will never be without pleasure.” You promise and Ellaria moans, kissing down your stomach, over your bump until she is between your thighs. Oberyn shifts to accommodate her and he kneels behind Ellaria, knowing she’s wet enough to take him so when her tongue slides through your folds, he pushes into her with a deep groan.

Her moan makes your entire core clench. Vibrating through you wonderfully and your fingers tangle in her hair, your eyes watching your husband’s face as she obviously clenches around him. He looks gorgeously wrecked and you don’t feel jealous, instead you are eager for him to rock into her. Ellaria’s tongue slides through your folds and flicks against your clit.

“How does her tongue feel, my love?” Oberyn asks, his hands gripping Ellaria’s waist as he rocks into her a little harder, sending her tongue deeper into your cunt. “Incredible.” You sigh, shifting to look down at Ellaria as her face is buried in your cunt and you look up to meet the eyes of your husband. “Fuck, you look gorgeous, my sun.”

The three of you work closer to orgasm together. Moaning when Oberyn thrusts into your handmaid and pushes her tongue deeper inside your cunt. You rock your hips up to meet her eager tongue and your hands cup your breasts, toying with your nipples.

Oberyn wants you to cum and Ellaria to cum before he does. Reaching over your handmaid, he presses his thumb to your clit while Ellaria’s tongue dives deep. “Cum for us, my sun.” He orders, his dark eyes meeting yours.

Your eyes slip closed and you cry out, your thighs pressing against Ellaria’s head while you come apart. Heedless to everything but your pleasure as she licks into you.

Ellaria works you through it, her head knocking against Oberyn’s hand until his thumb finds her clit, rubbing it to push her over the edge when his cock twitches inside of her, his orgasm nearing. “Cum for us, sweetness.” He coos, bending over to kiss her shoulder.

You can tell the second she starts to cum. Oberyn gently bites her shoulder and her entire body stiffens. Crying out loudly, it’s the sweetest sound you have heard mixed with Oberyn’s groan. He rocks into her faster, his hips slamming against her ass he fucks her through her high and chases his own. “Cum baby.” You order Oberyn. “Fill her up. I want to see your seed drip from her gorgeous cunt.”

Oberyn clenches his jaw, sweat beading on his brow as he rocks into Ellaria, her cunt dripping from her orgasm and it only takes a few thrusts before he is cumming, painting her walls with his seed. “Fuck.” He pants, eyes closed until he forces himself to look at you, see your expression as his cock pulses inside of your handmaid.

You smirk as you watch the two of them. Reaching out and caressing her cheek where her chin is resting on your hip. “Beautiful.” You coo softly, watching Oberyn as he watches you. “How was your first experience with the Prince?” You ask her curiously.

“Exquisite, my princess.” Ellaria declares breathlessly.

“Good. I would like you to share our bed. I will require pleasure in the lead up to birth and my husband shall require a beautiful cunt to lose himself in. Would you be interested in being that woman?” Oberyn smirks at your question, pleased to see how you own your pleasure now without embarrassment or hesitancy.

Ellaria’s eyes widen and she twists, looking back and forth between you and Oberyn, who just pulled out of her cunt and moves to settle down beside you and strokes your stomach. He arches an eyebrow at her with a smirk and she flusters. She had been days away from seeking out the brothels to work before she had been brought to the palace to be your handmaid. Now she was being presented with something beyond her wildest dreams. “I do not know what to say.” She admits quietly and you don’t want to push her, but you want her to say yes. “It is thrilling to know that you would want me that way, but if you should grow bored?” She doesn’t want to be on the streets again, worrying about what food will fill her belly.

“If that day ever comes, you would still have a place in our household.” You look over at Oberyn who nods seriously.

Ellaria bites her lip, looking at you and the prince, and it’s easy to make her decision. “Very well. I would be honored to be in your bed every night. Whatever you wish of me, it is yours.” Ellaria promises and you shake your head.

“Only what you wish, too. We will not force you to do something you do not wish to do. We are all about pleasure, aren’t we my love?” You coo at Oberyn, caressing his chest and he nods.

“Very much so. I only want pleasure. No pain.” He murmurs, his eyes meeting yours and he swears he falls for you again, unable to believe this strong woman is his wife. It’s incredible to watch after knowing you as a shy young woman.

You smile at Oberyn, unable to resist kissing him again before you reach for Ellaria. “Only pleasure. And you will be treated with respect.” You promise her, unwilling to tolerate anything else. “The prince will simply have a princess and a paramour who he can have together without there being any harsh words.”

Ellaria nods, grinning as she cannot believe how lucky she is to be able to share a bed with the prince and princess. Her birth into poverty has not held her back and she is determined to ensure she remains by your side for a long time, pleasuring you and serving you as your handmaid. “Let us wash up and we shall get some food. I want some berries then I want to fuck my wife while she makes her beautiful handmaid cum with her tongue.” Oberyn smirks, eager to fuck again.

****

“You look exquisite, my love.” You coo, reaching up and caressing Ellaria’s cheek before you adjust one of her braids. “Perfectly matched and stunning.” The deep plunging V of her dress is shocking for the women of the North, but it matches the low neckline and high slits in the skirts of your own dress. Both of you dressed to accompany Oberyn to the wedding of Joffrey.

“You are anxious, my love.” Ellaria coos, walking over to Oberyn whose back is tense as he looks out of the window to the streets of Flea Bottom. “I hate being here. With those bastards that killed my darling sister. I yearn for blood.” He growls, tensing when Ellaria’s hand touches his back.

You had refused to stay in the Red Keep, not wanting to return to the very rooms that Elia had been killed in before your eyes. Despite the years that have passed, you feel as strongly as Oberyn. You join the two of them and lean over to kiss your husband's cheek on the other side of him so that both of you flank him. “They will pay. The Lannisters may have dealt us a blow, but we will make sure their house is ground to dust and forgotten.”

Oberyn clenches his jaw, nodding in response and he hisses when he imagines getting his revenge finally. It’s been years since Elia was killed but he’s desperate for vengeance. “The Lannisters…I will kill every last one of them.” He vows and turns his head to press his lips to yours. He grabs Ellaria, dragging her closer so she can press her lips to yours too, the three of you entangled.

You moan into the kiss, your hand on your lover’s hip. Both of you will need to keep Oberyn calm and keep him from acting rashly. He was hot headed sometimes but with both of you by his side, he can be reasoned with. Together, all three of you will raze the house of golden lions to the ground.

****

The wedding was boring like all royal weddings, lengthy and tedious but when you attend the reception, Oberyn is eager to sip the wine and feast on the berries Ellaria is feeding him. You can feel eyes on you, so many are unused to seeing a prince and princess with a paramour in King's Landing where lovers remain banished to the shadows. “Lover, shall we take a stroll?” You ask Ellaria, wanting Oberyn to have a moment with the young knight who is eying him from across the way. Perhaps tonight, another shall join you in your chambers.

Smirking, you nod and lean over to press your lips to Oberyn’s lips before you stand. Moving over beside Ellaria, you link your arm through hers happily and pick up your goblet to carry with you. You had specially asked for watered down wine discreetly, not wanting Oberyn to worry about your secret for now. “Let us go make scandalous conversation with the noble ladies here.” You tease with a joyous smirk. They would not dare insult you to your face as the princess of Dorne.

Ellaria grins, happy to be beside you and support you during this time of torment, the dreaded capital, and the Lannisters. “I didn’t know the Dornish were so accommodating to their whores.” Cersei approaches and you stiffen your back, staring at the queen.

“I didn’t know the Lannisters were so accommodating to murderers.” You counter, glancing over at the Mountain who is striding past, watching over the king.

“My princess. Come, let us walk. You do not need the stress.” Ellaria says, caressing your arm and you glare at the queen before Oberyn joins you, wrapping his arm around your waist, his own jaw clenched. “Cersei. The queen mother as you are now.” He quips, narrowing his eyes when Tywin approaches behind his daughter.

Cersei’s eyes narrow back at Oberyn before she plasters a fake smile on her face. “Tell me,” she hums, turning towards you, “how do you stand the whispers as you walk around merrily with your husband’s whore. She’s birthed four? It’s it four? Bastards?”

Oberyn narrows his eyes before he chuckles, looking up at Tywin. “I suppose four bastards are better than keeping it in the family, isn’t that right, Lord Tywin?” He quips, making Cersei’s smile drop.

Tywin is cool as he responds, “you should know all about that, marrying your niece after all.” Oberyn’s hand twitches with the urge to stab the older man but your grip on his other arm has him pausing.

You give Tywin a smile that tinges on acidic. “While I might have been the Prince’s niece by marriage, at least we can be sure that there is no common blood.” You tsk and shake your head before you glance at his daughter. “It is a wonder that the King and all the Baratheon children inherited the golden locks of the Lannisters. Almost as if dear Robert’s seed was impotent.”

Cersei hisses through her teeth and the urge to slap you is great but people are watching so she maintains her composure. "Lannisters just have stronger characteristics." She counters, "but my late husband adored the golden locks of our children." She declares expertly and Oberyn scoffs.

"Perhaps those characteristics are best left in this generation. Your son has chosen a bride with whom he shares no blood relation...a blessing for the kingdoms." Oberyn stabs, making Tywin clench his jaw.

“Indeed.” You smirk as you lift your cup to your lips, nodding at the queen mother as you take a small sip. Grimacing slightly at the bitterness of the wine. “Pity that the king's wedding did not merit casks of good wine to be opened.” You cough, shaking your head slightly.

Ellaria frowns, watching you cough more and Oberyn grows concerned when you start to wheeze. "What - what is happening?" He cries, "my love. Breathe!" He orders, slapping you on the back but you continue to choke, your face contorted. "Maester. Someone get a maester. She - she is with child!" Oberyn shouts, growing more panicked by the second.

Clawing at your throat, you hear the panic and commotion around you, the cruel ring of Joffrey’s laugh as you struggle to breathe. “Dornish bitches cannot handle good wine.” He scoffs, black dots appearing in your vision as you vaguely watch as he swipes his own goblet up and takes a large gulp, as if to prove he is superior.

Oberyn catches you as you collapse, his heart pounding and he tries to tell you to breathe. He begs you to breathe but you rasp and soon enough, you go still. Oberyn shakes you, “please my love. Wake up. Breathe.” He pleads as your glassy eyes stare at him, blood dripping from your mouth and his following roar of anguish can be heard across to Flea Bottom.

Joffrey starts to sputter and choke, drawing attention away from your prone form. Grasping his throat and turning purple as he tries to breathe. Making the smirk on Cersei’s face fall as she screams, rushing from her spot standing over you to where the king has collapsed.

Oberyn doesn't give a fuck that the king is suffering the same fate. His body cradles yours as he wails in agony of losing you. You are the sun in his sky, the air he breathes. He chokes, "please, my sun, come back to me." He begs and Ellaria is kneeling beside him, cupping your cheek as she begs you to wake up too.

****

“Please, my love.” Ellaria reaches for Oberyn’s arm, trying to gently coax him away from your body. “The maester needs to close the casket so it can be loaded up onto the ship.” Her red-rimmed eyes speaks of her anguish and heartbreak as she looks down at your still form. “She wants to go home, to be buried in the sands of Dorne.”

Oberyn can’t tear himself away from you. The grief weighs him down every single step he takes. His vengeance threatens to overwhelm him but he knows he cannot risk Ellaria. He has already lost so much. He has to return home and then form a plan for his revenge. Perhaps he can meet the Targaryen he has heard whispers about, assist her with her fight for the Iron Throne. “I love you, my sun.” He whispers, leaning down to kiss your lips before he allows the maester to close the casket. “What shall we do without her, Ellaria? She is - was my entire sun. Now my days are dark.”

“We will go back and hug your babies.” Ellaria whispers softly. She knows that Oberyn loves her, just like you had loved her, but there was a special bond between you and the prince. “And plot our vengeance.”

“The baby.” Oberyn chokes, “she was - she was with child again.” He swallows harshly, barely processing how much he has lost. The love of his life and a child. His other children, twelve in total, are safe in Dorne but he mourns his loss. “I - I am not sure I can live without her. How are you- you appear to be stronger than me.”

Ellaria shakes her head. “No, I am weeping on the inside but I know she would want me to be strong for you.” She murmurs, staring at the casket as the Dornish soldiers had traveled here with you, start to carry your casket to the ship. “She had not announced she was pregnant yet, how did you know?”

Oberyn smiles wistfully, “I know her. Her breasts were sore and she came quicker than normal. She couldn’t hide it from me. I knew she was with child.” He chokes, tears in his eyes as he looks at his lover, your lover. “Let us get on this ship before I do something stupid like rush into the Red Keep and slay every Lannister I see.”

Ellaria wraps her arm around Oberyn’s waist and the two of them lead a mournful procession of Dornish soldiers as they trail behind the cart loaded down with your body.

Once they are on board, the casket is laid in place and Oberyn walks over to run his fingers along the wood. He will ensure you have a proper casket when you return to Dorne. He leans down to press a kiss where your face would be when he hears the pounding. “Gods.” He frowns, “Ellaria. Come here. Do you - can you hear that?” He asks, wondering if it’s his imagination

Sobbing, you beat against the box you are in. This was not supposed to have happened. Waking up in darkness with little room to move, you had cried out until your sore voice had given way. Certain that you are in hell and that the gods are punishing you as you continue to try to get someone’s attention. The noise of the cart and horses, the docks and the men are loud, muffling your cries for help. “I’m alive!” You scream, your voice cracking. “Open it! I’m alive in here!”

Ellaria’s eyes widen. “She’s awake! My prince, she’s awake!”

Oberyn’s eyes widen back and he waves over the guards. “Open this fucking casket now! Now!” He demands and the men rush over. They all work to pry open the box and when the lid is removed, Oberyn inhales sharply when he sees your beautiful eyes meeting his, wincing from the light. “Oh my sun. You’re alive.” Oberyn reaches out to grab you, lifting you out of the casket and into his arms, his lips kissing you all over as he sobs in relief that you are alive.

You gasp in the sweet fresh air of the docks, salty and clean. Squinting your eyes against the harsh sunlight, you feel Oberyn’s arms around you and his prayerful kisses in relief. It hadn’t been supposed to happen this way and it chills you to think that you could have been locked in that box until there was no air. You couldn’t warn Oberyn, not if it had to be believable. “It worked.” You hadn’t expected to be out for as long as you were, but you hadn’t died and that was all that mattered.

“You - you were dead. Poisoned. I- fuck- we thought we had lost you.” Ellaria comes to kneel down, wrapping her arms around you and Oberyn, her own tears wetting your gown. “You’re alive. My princess. We thought -” She chokes and Oberyn kisses your forehead. “We thought you were dead. I’m so sorry, my love. We shouldn’t - the Maester declared that you were dead.”

You reach up and caress Oberyn’s face, turning to kiss Ellaria gently. “It is okay, my loves. You did not know.” You assure them, turning and kissing Oberyn fiercely. “Tell me that it worked.” You can see his brow knit together in confusion. Looking around and lowering your voice, you whisper, “tell me a Lannister is dead. Their cups were poisoned.”

Oberyn frowns, wondering what you mean until he remembers the death of Joffrey. “My love. Joffrey…he’s dead.” He declares, “he’s dead and he - you - you took the same wine to poison it? What if - it could’ve killed you. I thought it did.” He chokes, pressing his forehead against yours. “Why did you do that?” He demands to know, not wanting to believe that you did something so stupid yet so genius.

“To avenge my dear Elia, to repay them for the anguish that they have brought to our family.” You give a small giggle, pleased that you had taken out the king - the one that would hurt their egos and house the most. “Forgive me for not telling you.” You beg, looking from Oberyn to Ellaria. “I knew you would not let me go through with it if you knew. My plan was to drink only a little and get sick so there were no doubts cast on our house. I have been exposing myself to the poison over the last few weeks to build up a tolerance.”

Oberyn pulls you even closer, “you silly woman. What - the baby - you aren’t - you aren’t with child?” He asks, confusion on his face as he wonders why you’ve been so off lately. You’ve been a genius, seeking revenge in a way that no one would know but he prays you are okay after the maester inspects you.

You shake your head gently and reach out to cup his cheek. “I would never put your child in danger.” You promise him. “My symptoms were because of the poison and the antidote I was using.” You explain. “I am sorry I worried you. I was hoping more of those bastards would drink. But at least we can know we took her son from her and her daughter prefers living in Dorne.”

Oberyn kisses your forehead, relieved that you are okay. “Do not fret, my love. We will ensure you are with child soon enough.” He chuckles, “I am just relieved you are well. I could not live without my sun. Gods…I adore you.” He vows, cupping your cheeks as he presses his lips to yours, sweet and chaste in a reminder that you are okay.

You smile, reaching out to cup your husband’s cheek and you reach out to take Ellaria’s hand with your free one. “I love you.” You murmur to them both. “They have learned that Lannisters are not the only ones who pay their debts.”

Oberyn kisses your forehead. “No, the Martells get their revenge.” He responds, unable to believe he’s married to such a formidable woman. He could never live without you, ever. You are everything to him. You always have been. You are the light of his life. His sun.

#pedro pascal #oberyn fucking martell #oberyn martell x f!reader #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell smut #oberyn martell fanfiction #oberyn martell x reader x ellaria sand #oberyn martell imagine #prince oberyn #dead dove do not eat #dddne #dead dove fic

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pessimisticpigeonsworld · 7 months

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If Nettles was white, she would be as popular as Lyanna, Brienne or Arya, and y’all know it.

She grew up a homeless orphan (which is why it’s so insulting when people try to act like she’s a freaking idiot who doesn’t know how to bathe herself yet she can tame a dragon🤦🏽‍♀️ Put most of the highborn women in her position and they wouldn’t survive a day in her shoes).

She’s the only known non-Valyrian dragonrider who claims a wild dragon. A prince who believes in Valyrian supremacy falls in love with her to the point where he’s willing to sacrifice his life for her. Nettles singlehandedly disproves the whole idea of Targaryen exceptionalism and their blood purity. She slowly earns a dragon’s trust by bringing him sheep, and gradually he lets her closer, and then forms the dragonrider bond and lets her fly. up until this point, nobody had tried a strategy like that before.

Nettles is self-made. She’s self-taught. She’s loved for herself. She survives a freaking war and becomes a fire goddess/witch. Who wouldn’t want her ? Who wouldn’t want to be her ? Unlike Rhaenyra and Alicent, she’s the final girl of F&B.

Once again, I don't understand where you got that I'm anti Nettles? I'm anti Nettles x Daemon, but other than that theory, I very much am a fan of Nettles as a character. I won't say that there isn't racism and unfairness that happen regarding Nettles' character (though I haven't seen it personally), because people can be really shitty. But me personally, again, I'm not anti Nettles, I just dislike certain groups of her stans.

Again, I don't deny that Nettles was a strong woman. She endured many things most characters in F&B don't and most likely survived the Dance. However, I do disagree with some of the ideas you're stating as fact.

For starters, we don't know if Nettles is non-Valyrian; that's one of the many theories surrounding her, but it's not confirmed, so stating it as fact is misleading. Just because she lacks traditional Valyrian features doesn't means she isn't a dragonseed.

Jace and his brothers don't look Valyrian but they very obviously are of Valyrian descent. Rhaenys, the queen who never was, had black hair; Duncan the son of Aegon V looked like his mother, Betha Blackwood; Aegor Rivers also had black hair; Baelor Breakspear had dark hair; Daeron son of Maekar had sandy brown hair; Rhaenys the daughter of Rhaegar had her mother, Elia Martell's features.

Moving on, Daemon's relationship with Nettles is ambiguous. We don't know if they were in a romantic relationship or if his attack on Aemond was purely to save her (though I'm sure that was part of his decision). Again, you are stating a theory you believe as fact, even though it's unconfirmed.

I'm not going to touch the whole thing of Targaryen exceptionalism, because, as I said earlier, Nettles' parentage is unconfirmed. But the whole blood purity thing still hasn't been disproven at any point of GRRM's works; they intermarried to preserve their magic blood, the magic blood still exists in ASOIAF due to the incest.

Nettles is an important character in the story of the Dance, but she isn't the "final girl" you claim she is, let alone of the whole book. There are several dragon riders who survived the Dance and thrived. Rhaena is the ancestor of the Tyrells in the main series. Aegon III is the ancestor of Daenerys, the Baratheons, any remaining Blackfyres, and possibly Jon Snow and Young Griff. Baela and Alyn are the ancestors of Aurane Waters and the Velaryons.

The book of F&B is so much more than the Dance of the Dragons. Saying that Nettles is the "final girl" of the book doesn't make any sense when she only appears in a few sections. That's like saying Alys Rivers is actually the main character of the book. Nettles disappears after the Dance and doesn't appear in any other event. She does nothing else after her disappearance and has relatively little impact on the history of Westeros post Dance.

I have absolutely no idea where you're getting the whole "fire goddess/witch" thing. However, you have already been throwing out theories and your personal biases as fact, so I don't think it matters. I'm not trying to control who your fav is, I totally understand wanting to be a certain book character. But that doesn't mean you can act like everyone else is wrong for not having the same fav as you.

It's that kind of entitlement, thinking you're better than everyone else that makes people not like Nettles stans. It's almost on par with stansas and Alicent stans. People like you project so hard onto your favs, you take any perceived insult, critique, or argument as a personal attack. It's exhausting interacting with people like you.

#rhaenyra targaryen #anti nettles stans #anti nettles x daemon #asoiaf #team black #anti rhaenyra antis

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burntoutdaydreamer · 8 months

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Book Openings I Love

Deciding how to start your book is an important and daunting question. I put together a list of book openings I love- and what makes them so good- to help brainstorm.

If you have any you'd like to add, please do! Let's keep this post ongoing.

1) Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief by Rick Riordan

Anyone who read this book as a kid will know exactly what I mean.

'The Lightning Thief' starts with a warning to the reader to stop reading the book immediately and believe whatever lies their parents have told them. Otherwise, 'they' might come for them.

An adult might roll their eyes at this, but as a kid, you believe it. You find yourself wondering if what you're reading is true. It makes you feel like you're a part of this story- even if you haven't realized it yet. So, as you read on, you might end up looking for the signs and clues that this world of Greek gods and monsters exists around you in real life. The lines between fiction and reality blur, if only for a little while, and you become immersed in the story, because on some level, you can't help but want it to be real.

It also leaves you feeling that by reading this, you're doing something forbidden- something dangerous. Exactly the kind of stuff that gets your heart racing as a kid.

2) Life of Pi by Yann Martel

Life of Pi is one of my favorite books of all time, and the beginning has a lot to do with it.

"This book was born as I was hungry. Let me explain."

The book begins with an author's note that's not exactly an author's note. It begins as any author's note might- the writer explains how his previous publication was a bust, and that he took a trip to India to reinvigorate his creativity as he tried to write a new book that ultimately sputtered and died. That was, until he met a man who promised to tell him a story that will make him believe in God. The man then told him to seek out the main character, who is alive, and living in Canada. When the author does, he agrees that his story is indeed a story to make one believe in God, and commits to writing it down as a book through the main character's point of view, only with the disclaimer "any inaccuracies or mistakes are mine."

As they follow this progression, because of the way it's all structured, there's a good chance the reader might find themselves asking "Wait, is this a true story?"

The answer is of course no, and anyone who's read through most of the book would probably figure that out easily. However, if you get to the ending, you realize the question "Is this a true story?" has significant implications for the story's themes- and that makes them all the more resonant.

TL;DR: Life of Pi's beginning does the same as The Lightning Thief's beginning, only in a less obvious way that's far more effective on adults.

3) One of Us is Lying by Karen M. McManus

The premise of "One of Us is Lying" is that someone killed a boy named Simon, and that the people in the room when it happened- who just so happen to be the four POV characters- are the main suspects. The book then starts off my immediately putting the reader in the scene where Simon dies.

Now I'm not sure if this is a common mystery novel set up (I haven't read enough of this genre to know), but it's an effective one. This has the effect of getting the reader engaged in the story right from the get-go. Instead of passively reading the chain of events, the people who picked up the book are already going to be searching in between the lines for any clues on 'who done it.'

But not only is the reader looking all the little details in the scene, but they're also going to be questioning the POV of the person narrating the chapter. From the very start of the story, the reader gets immersed in several levels of tension that hook them and carry them through the rest of the story.

4) The Giver by Lois Lowry

"It was almost December, and Jonas was beginning to be frightened. No. Wrong word, Jonas thought. Frightened meant that deep, sickening feeling of something terrible about to happen."

The first chapter begins with a scene of an aircraft flying overhead a peaceful community, and a child narrator who's overly careful about using the right words to describe things. The narrator's trait doesn't appear to be unique though- a quick flashback to a moment in his classroom shows that this tendency has been drilled into him, just as with any other kid. The reader immediately gets the sense that something is off. What that something is, though, is a bit harder to pin.

There doesn't seem to be anything nefarious going on, aside from maybe the mention of a citizen getting 'released' after the aircraft landed and everything calmed down. Only, later in that chapter, being 'released' gets mentioned twice again at his family dinner, as his parents discuss how their work went that day. But otherwise, the dinner seems to be a normal and mundane affair with an emotionally mature, functional family. Maybe a little too functional.

So, when Jonas decides that the feeling he's experiencing is 'apprehensive,' the readers start to feel that way too.

5) A Natural History of Dragons by Marie Brennan

The preface and first chapter of "A Natural History of Dragons" does a great job of introducing one of the series's greatest assets: its main character.

"One benefit of being an old woman now, and moreover one who has been called a "national treasure," is that there are very few who can tell me what I may and may not write."

In the preface of the book, we find out exaclty who the main character/narrator is: a famous Victorian-era woman and accomplished dragon scholar, who's too old to care about being a 'proper lady' anymore. What's more, she's writing a series of memoirs about her life to satisfy the many adoring fans who have been writing her letters in hopes of hearing about the juicy gossip of her famous expeditions.

The narration oozes with personality from the very beginning, and that's before we even get to meet any dragons. Following this introduction, we get to see where her passion for dragon studies began: collecting little dragon "sparklings" as a kid. While her fictional readers would know these little creatures as commonplace in her world, the actual readers don't, since this world is as new to us as it was to her as a child. As such, the reader gets to share in her childlike wonder, and gets excited by the promise to discover the secrets of dragons right along with her.

#creative writing #writing #writers of tumblr #writers on tumblr #writing community #novel writing #writerscommunity #book blog #bookblr #books #writing advice #on writing #writer stuff #writer #writeblr #long post #booklr #books and reading #reading

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spectorcomplex · 2 years

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golden ↦ aemond targaryen x martell!reader

Unfortunately for him she truly was unbowed and unbent. Aemond thinks it’d be satisfying to walk the path of breaking her.

pairing: aemond targaryen × fem!martell!reader (she/her pronouns)

warnings: nothing really? but probably the existence of such characters in canon are dubious at best so forgive a silly girl like me.

word count: 0.6k words

my masterlist

It has always been a garish color for him. Yellow, the color of sunlight. Prince Aemond has always preferred the moon, with its accompanying dark clouds there he flies Vhagar. The old lady does not seem to mind.

And yet, he cannot seem to look away from the golden silks that grace the floor of the throne room. He bows. Aemond does not recall the last time he has bowed for a woman besides his Queen Mother.

In a rare event, the Martells has agreed to visit King’s Landing. In all of his nineteen years as a royal Aemond has not met or even seen a seat holder of Sunspear. He only wishes he was prepared to invalidate the poetic waxed about their beauty. Much to his dismay, he rather agrees with their words.

“Princess Y/N Martell and Prince Oberyn Martell!”

Peculiar, how the lady was announced first. Later he comes to learn that you were to inherit Dorne as you were born minutes before your male twin.

He then sneers once realization hits him. Of course it was his half sister who invited you to King’s Landing. Female heirs uniting under patriarchal challenges. You’ve barely spoken to one another when Aemond makes up his mind about you. Disdain for Rhaenyra clouding his judgment. If you acquiesced to his half sister’s invitation after centuries of tension between the Iron Throne and Dorne then that means you were on her side. Aemond also decided that he was to avoid you at all costs during your visit. He wanted nothing to do with you.

But he also could do nothing against his mother’s orders. She told Aemond to accompany Helaena as she walked the gardens with you. And his infuriating nephew.

Any other noble lady would’ve scattered at the sight of Prince Aemond’s frown. He’s been told once or twice that his reputation precedes him. Right now he was not sure if the frown was genuine or just for show; to intimidate the Dornish Princess.

Unfortunately she truly was unbowed and unbent. Aemond thinks it’d be satisfying to walk the path of breaking her.

Her spirit, he means. Aemond shakes his head.

“Is there a problem, Uncle?” Jacaerys asks, in a surprising move of making conversation.

Aemond only huffs, eye focused on the caterpillar skittering on his sister’s hand.

“I dislike her too.”

That gets his attention.

“Then why are you here?” Aemond sneers, hating how he wanted to hear his nephew’s answer.

“I do not trust her,” Jacaerys shrugs.

Neither the two of them look at each other as they speak but only look forward at the two princesses.

“Your mother invited her,” Aemond replies.

“Still.”

And that was that. Only the soft whispering of the two ladies echo in the wind with the chirps of birds perched on the trees.

Jacaerys moves and Aemond’s hand instinctively goes to the hilt of his sword. The Velaryon does not see and sits down next to you with a smile.

“Princess Y/N,” Jacaerys starts. “How are you finding the warm weather here in King’s Landing?”

You mirror the smile and Aemond watches in caution. Was his bastard of a nephew lying to him? Pulling a joke like some child?

“It is lovely, Prince Jacaerys,” You answer, voice sweet and high pitched, “I have had hotter temperatures in my ancestral lands.”

The smile on his nephew is familiar. Deceitful.

“Ah yes, Dorne,” Jacaerys says. “Forgive me, Princess, but you do not quite look Dornish.”

You keep smiling, “And you do not look like what books say about Valyrians. My prince.”

Aemond gulps, a smirk itching to show on his face. Maybe you were not so awful. Maybe.

-+-

this will have multiple parts teehee 🤭 i was in the process of writing it and decided that it would be so much better to divide it (yes i did write oberyn no i am not sure if an oberyn martell existed in rhaenyra’s time) also my first time writing a longer fic in aemond’s pov and expect more of that because it’s so fun

reblogs and comments are appreciated <3 messages too i promise i will be reading them giggling and twirling my hair

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen oneshot #aemond targaryen headcanon #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x martell!reader #hotd #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction

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wardenparker · 1 year

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The Viper's Bride - ch 14

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

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

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 12.8k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: terrible parents, age gap 10+ years, arranged marriage, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol, internalized homophobia. Reader is described as having hair long enough to braid. This is a MMFF polycule, folx. Get on board or don't click to keep reading. Pregnancy!* Threats, anger, threats of violence (specifically), classism, degrading language. FFM threesome, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, pregnant sex, rough sex, cum eating. Summary: An announcement, a decision, a reaction, and a development. After the events of this day, none of your lives will be the same. Notes: This is, of course, an au. So we have adapted the events of season four to be as true to the plot as possible while also working for the story we want to tell. I hope you enjoy!

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

Each step forward this morning feels heavy to Raeden, who is amused at his own surprise over how much he wishes he was still in bed with his bride. He and Margaery had almost fallen into bed upon the group's return to the keep last night, taken aback by the shock of the charge in their first kiss as man and wife. This morning Leyth had woken them last and left the room with an expression made of pure amusement, finding the couple wrapped in each other instead of the blankets had been a boon of practicality. Any question of the marriage's consummation could be answered by the first-hand witness account of your maid.

"Mace Tyrell will be angry, shouting." Oberyn reminds him, smirking slightly at the expression on the other man's face. Margaery Tyrell – Sunstone's – cunt must be magical to make the man forego his duty with such a woeful expression on his face. Although the idea of having everyone together had been sweet, it was necessary to establish the legality of the marriage without any dispute first. A night with all five of their group in bed would come soon enough. "However, in his heart, he is a coward." He snorts. "Grasping at favors like a rat and scampering away when heavy boots thud around the table."

“It is not Mace Tyrell I worry about,” Raeden admits. Though he is not precisely keen to inform his unwitting father-in-law of the elopement, Raeden has enough wits to understand that Olenna Tyrell is the true head of his wife’s family. “Tywin will not be pleased to lose out on the Tyrell fortune.”

"Tywin thinks that you are my little pet," Oberyn grunts in amusement. "Perhaps a lover I have taken out of boredom and bestow favors upon." He shakes his head. "It is why you have been allowed in the Small Council sessions, he believes that you are soon gone and will no longer be of consequence." Oberyn knows his reputation and what the elder Lannister would think, using it and him for his own ends. Now there is no question of Raeden's position and it is another stab at the Lannisters. This time in their pockets.

“Yet, I am the only one you have not fucked yet.” Chuckling ruefully at that fact, Raeden walks steadily beside Oberyn and shakes his head as he goes. It is only a matter of time for them, and Oberyn has been respectful of Raeden’s past troubles with male lovers.

"I have not fucked your pretty wife." He points out, smirking slightly as they walk shoulder to shoulder. "Tell me, how was her cunt last night? Was it tight and wet for you?"

“All the stable boys and knights and soldiers all moaning for their queen at night would not have been disappointed.” Despite chuckling, though, Raeden puts one hand into his pocket as they walk and fiddles with his wife’s favourite handkerchief. She had given it to him this morning as a token of proof if her father did not believe what they had done. He has a wife. That truth still sits foreign on Raeden’s tongue.

"Then I do not feel guilty for having both of your soulmates on my face and cock last night." Oberyn teases, knowing full well both men wear the marks and in a strange way are also bound to each other. He catches the tender expression that flashes across Raeden's face and understands it. How that he has made his own vows and discovers that he does not dread it as much as he thought he would. "It will be a good union, perhaps a loving one in time." He predicts, wrapping his arm around the new husband's broad shoulders. "I have a good feeling about this."

Down the hall and around a corner, the other two judges, such as they are, are already waiting in the throne room when Oberyn and Raeden stroll in with broad smiles and good humor. “Oberyn.” Tywin Lannister raises one eyebrow in surprise. “You are early.”

“Early because there is a matter that needs to be discussed before the meeting and trial.” He announces before he looks to Raeden. “Lord Sunstone has taken a wife.”

“How…fortunate.” Tywin cannot see immediately why this matter is of any concern to him, but he forces his expression into a thin-lipped smile and nods to the elevated bastard. “You are to be congratulated, then?”

“Many thanks.” Raeden knows that sentiment will be soured when they find out who he married. He turns towards Mace and reaches into his pocket. “I hope there will be no harsh feelings for the quickness of the marriage, but your daughter is safe and content in my chambers.” He tells the man as he pulls out the handkerchief.

“My daughter?” Mace huffs out a condescending laugh of ridicule without so much as glancing at the fabric in the bastard noble’s hand. “You must be a greater dullard than I thought, boy.” Bolstered by Tywin standing just over his shoulder, Mace Tyrell knows no fear. “Margaery is a queen, not a bed-warming whore. Some girl has tricked you into a fool’s vow claiming to be a Tyrell.”

“It is true.” Oberyn bristles at the insult, far more than even Raeden does, since he was the one to appoint him as a lord. “I witnessed their vows myself and the former queen eagerly spoke her vows before the maester and the Seven.”

“It is not possible.” The man’s round eyes widen before instantly squinting, and he bolts forward to snatch at the token that Raeden keeps just out of his reach. Margaery’s monogram is unmistakable in the corner, done up in green thread by her own mother’s hand. “It is not possible!” Mace howls, his face turning deep pink and then red as confusion turns to fury. If his daughter has actually eloped, he is ruined. “This is a trick!”

“Miracles abound.” The prince snorts, amused by the older man’s tantrum. “If it is a trick, then it was a vivid one, considering my servant saw your daughter using Lord Raeden as her personal pillow this morning, still perched on his cock in sleep.” He smirks as he looks towards Lord Tywin. “Tired herself out on her husband’s cock it seems.”

Lannister, who has pursed his lips once so far but said nothing, watches with careful eyes as Mace storms around the room in circles for a moment before doubling back to him with drawn terror on his greasy little face. “It cannot have been allowed.” He insists, staring up at the much taller Tywin in horror. “I did not allow it! I would never allow it! She will be brought to heel and returned to you, Tywin. As promised.”

“And break the laws of the kingdom?” Instead of Oberyn speaking up, it is Raeden. “Once a marriage is blessed by the maesters and consummated, it negates any contracts or agreements made prior.” He reminds the Small Council members. “You no longer have the power to do so, Lord Tyrell.”

“You are a flea.” Mace Tyrell may be half of Raeden Sunstone’s height, but he points a finger up at him like he’s scolding a street urchin. “You are a boil on my ass and I will see you in a cell right next to Tyrion’s for this!” With a face redder than a ripe cherry, Mace Tyrell storms from the chamber headed for the gods-only-know-where, muttering and flailing his hands all the way.

“That went very well.” Oberyn chuckles. “Don’t you think?” He asks Raeden, knowing the man is slightly flustered at the ire of his new father-in-law.

“It certainly went differently than expected,” admits Raeden, who had prepared himself to be attacked bodily if Mace reacted poorly.

“It was unwise, Oberyn.” Tywin warns him in a grave voice. “Most unwise.”

“What? Only the Lannisters can make deals that benefit them?” Oberyn asks, lifting a brow haughtily. “I think that you are upset your golden goose has been plucked.”

Tywin’s thin lips become a nearly flat line and he narrows his eyes at Oberyn. “It goes without saying that your place on the Small Council has been rescinded for this stunt.”

The response is not what Tywin must have expected. With a causal shrug, Oberyn smirks. “That is agreeable with me.” He hums and narrows his eyes slightly. “You meet too early for me.”

“You have stuck your nose and your pet mongrel in where they do not belong.” Heat rises in Lannister’s voice, a low rumble that would have most others trembling instantly. “What good do you think the throne will ever do for Dorne now?”

“Why do you think Dorne needs the throne?” His amused demeanor drops and his eyes darken dangerously. “We have not bent the knee. Do not forget, Lannister, that you need us to be the Seven Kingdoms.” He growls, the threat clear in his voice.

“What invasion could be withstood? What negotiations will end in your favour? What mercy will your people find when they are left without the resources they rely on from the North?” The steady rolling rumble of Tywin Lannister’s voice echoes through the room, bouncing off each wall and making it sound as though he were everywhere. “Whatever you promised Margaery, rescind it now. Your bastard’s bride-napping may yet go unnoticed.”

“You wouldn’t.” Oberyn counters. “Because it would be admitting that your Lords are not capable of being managed.” He tells him. “That your hold on the throne is not as iron fisted as you would have it believed.” His own blood is starting to boil now, the insults to Dorne, the threats, pissing him off. “We will simply turn our trade to Bravos,” he counters. “Our spices and silks will be sent across the Narrow Sea. Dorne is not threatened by you, or your armies.”

******

The rising voices, the tension, the anxieties in the air, the building anger means more things than just another spat between the Martells and Lannisters. It means tensions rising for the whole of the Seven Kingdoms. It could go as far as war, if things turn violent. But more immediately, for the man awaiting yet another day of his trial in a cell several yards down the hallway, it means a heighten possibility of certain death very soon. If his father is angry and the opinion of his trial’s only reasonable judge is moot? Then Tyrion Lannister is headed for the executioner’s block. Tyrion stretches as close as his chains will allow, trying to hear as much of the conversation as possible.

“That don’t sound good for you.” The portly, slovenly jailer had been another insult for Tyrion. Someone who could barely see his dick over his fat belly couldn’t possibly chase down a healthy, whole man. But Tyrion wasn’t a normal sized man. And the guard set to escort him to and from the trail reminded him of that.

Tyrion’s eyes roll so far back in his head that they almost disappear, and he huffs. No, it does not sound good for him at all. “Hardly anything involving my father is ever good for me,” he says instead.

“Fighting with that Dornish pig.” He grunts. “Nothing good comes out of Dorne but the whores.”

“I would advise you not to say that within earshot of the Red Viper,” Tyrion advises rather drolly.

“What’s he gonna do? Fuck me to death?” The jailer snorts, his amusement making him cough until he hacks up a thick wad of phlegm that he spits at Tyrion’s feet. “I ain’t a goat.”

Grimacing animatedly only to end up rolling his eyes at himself this time, Tyrion gains a half-inch more toward the bars of his cell and leans over. His father’s threats are clear and the prince’s replies are steadily hushed, although his tone is clear enough. “It is time,” he lies, turning to the guard and gesturing. “Bring me in.”

“I didn’t hear nothing.” The guard protests but Tyrion snorts.

“My father will have your head removed if you fail to do your duty.” He reminds him, making the man grimace. He has no love for Tywin Lannister, but he doesn’t want to die because of him.

“On your feet!” He barks, grinning as Tyrion struggles to his feet in the heavy chains.

The usual ruckus and chaos of onlookers is absent when the guard lumbers past the end of the hallway and into the throne room and he grunts as he shoves Tyrion forward. “What is this?” Tywin barks out, barely even glancing down at his youngest child.

Oberyn hums in amusement, settling back in his chair. While Tywin may have kicked him off the Small Council, he cannot kick him off the trial now, and he knows it. “It is your son.” He muses. “You do not recognize him? Perhaps because he is covered in filth and shit from where you threw him in the dungeon.”

"And a good morning to you, too, your Grace." As much of a farce as this entire trial may be, Tyrion is still glad of Prince Oberyn's presence in the proceedings. The trouble will be if his father decides to bring a swift end to things and ignore the prince's opinions in the verdict.

"What is this?" Tywin repeats, annoyance building on top of anger in his tone. "What is it you want, Tyrion? Unless you have come to confess, I will not hear anything from you."

"Yes, Father. I'm guilty." Tyrion's tone is not one of dismissal or of anger, but one of a measured response, and that catches Oberyn's attention. "Guilty. Is that what you want to hear?"

Startled, Tywin's eyebrows knit together. "You admit you poisoned the king?"

"No, of that I'm innocent." Tyrion may be many things, but the least of them all is a fool. "I'm guilty of a far more monstrous crime. I am guilty of being a dwarf."

Wholly annoyed with his son's dramatics, Tywin huffs so deeply that he nearly implodes. "You are not on trial for being a dwarf."

"Oh, yes, I am. I've been on trial for that my entire life." Tyrion contends seriously.

Tywin pinches the bridge of his nose. "If you have nothing to say in your defense, you will go back to your cell until it is time for the trial to begin."

"I did not kill Joffrey." Tyrion holds up both hands in a sort of show of innocence, but also defense. He is headed toward a point, and he will make it sooner rather than later. "I wish I was the monster you think I am. I wish I had the stark fortitude of will to do away so decisively with my enemies. I would gladly give my life to see that justice done. But I will not give my life for Joffrey's murder, and I know I'll get no justice here." Studying his father's face intently and seeing the intrigue there, Tyrion is sure there is a chance this may work. "So I will let the Gods decide my fate." A sure, steady breath enters his body and he squares his shoulders. "I demand a trial by combat."

Oberyn leans forward, intrigued by the notion and it is obvious from the ridged disapproval on his face, that another of Tywin’s schemes that has not gone his way, his careful plotting unraveled by the son he had always secretly despised.

"You know who Cersei will appoint her Champion." Tywin nearly twitches as the idea settles into his bones, disliking every moment of his cursed imp son's clever mind. Why could that cleverness not have gone to Jamie where it could be useful?

“And I will have my own champion.” Tyrion answers dismissively, even though his list of allies dwindles as the days pass and his lack of gold backing him is made obvious.

"Who?" Tywin chortles with unfettered glee. "That useless squire of yours? I thought you finally set him free."

“There is someone who will fight for me.” Tyrion insists, though he knows that Bron would not. He does not have enough coin to pay him.

"How much time will you give him to find someone?" Raeden asks, aghast at everything that has happened in a mere five minute span.

Tywin seems to consider this, frowning down at his son for a long moment before speaking again. "Whatever the length of time is that it will take Clegane to arrive in King's Landing."

“Gregor Clegane?” Oberyn’s voice is soft, piercing through the tension like a whip.

"Who else would my sister appoint to be her Champion?" Tyrion asks, mostly rhetorically. "She cannot appoint our brother, can she?" After all, Jamie's missing hand is a damper on his swordplay. Otherwise Tyrion would have appointed his brother himself. Still, Tyrion looks to Jamie standing silently in the corner with sympathy. He knows what it is to be unwanted and wishes that Jamie never had to learn.

Oberyn hums, a vicious little growl in the back of his throat. Thrilled that the opportunity has finally presented itself. “I will be your champion.” He tells Tyrion, his voice clear and firm.

"You— what?" Both Lannisters ask together, heads snapping up toward the Dornish prince. Even Raeden is staring, although he is imagining the terror on your and Ellaria's faces rather than expressing surprise at Oberyn's choice. He understands perfectly why the choice is being made.

"I will fight for Tyrion Lannister." He repeats, settling back into his chair with an air of supreme victory. "And kill your Mountain." He warns Tywin. "It is fortunate that you have been so accommodating in arranging our conversation. I was starting to think that you had deceived me." He offers with a small pout.

A man does not get a nickname like the Red Viper of Dorne without earning it, and although Tyrion has never seen Oberyn Martell fight, he knows his reputation. The man is as likely to win a fight as he is to be successful in a seduction – and he has fucked half of Westeros.

For his part, Tywin is seething, but the only way to tell is his eyes. If looks could kill there would be no need for champions at all — Tywin would simply strike his son down here and now. “Take him away,” he growls to the jailer, striking out one bony finger to indicate that he wants Tyrion as far away from him as possible.

Jamie Lannister is perhaps the only person in the entire room that seems genuinely upset, his eyes filled with genuine worry for the brother he has always tried to protect from the wrath of his sister and father. His deal with his father now useless, he turns and strides out of the room with a swish of his white cloak.

******

“You are sure you can win?” Raeden is at Oberyn’s side with worry painted over his every feature in the swift walk to your chambers. If anything happens to Oberyn, he cannot think of how profoundly it will devastate you and Ellaria.

"Extremely." Oberyn boasts confidently. "I have been in the fighting pits in Mereen, against much better opponents than Gregor Clegane." He spits the name out like a curse. "His size is what wins him his battles but I have the agility he does not."

“Size can often be enough.” Raeden himself is not a small man, but nowhere near the size of the legendary Mountain. “They say he can crush a man’s skull in with his bare hands, Oberyn. That is not to be taken lightly.”

"I do not intend to make light of it." He reassures him. "I intend to make him confess his crimes in front of all of King's Landing before I kill him."

“Revenge for your sister and a swift trip back to Sunspear.” Even when Raeden nods, it is with a heavy heart.

"Tywin Lannister ordered the murder of my sister, a crowned Princess of Dorne." He reminds Raeden. "Would you not do the same if it had been Star's fate?" He asks quietly.

Raeden’s eyes darken, the gruffness in his voice obvious. “I would burn the world down if it took her from us.”

“Then you understand.” Oberyn grunts. “I must do this. But I will not fail.” He smirks. “My bite is much worse than his.”

When Raeden pushes open the door to the chambers now shared by seven people, they are considerably fuller than they were even last night. Trunks piled in the corner that he has never seen before say that you and Ellaria must have taken Margaery to retrieve her things from her grandmother while he was speaking to Mace Tyrell with Oberyn. A very clever decision on your part – you will only have dealt with Olenna Tyrell this way.

"How did my father take the news?" Her grandmother had been surprised, but she had smirked and patted her hand in a way that let Margaery know that she approved of her granddaughter's rash decision.

"Apparently..." Raeden sighs, but happily puts his arms around his wife when she steps closer to him. "I am a flea for stealing you away from him." He shrugs, his mind having moved on to other things since being shouted at by the red-faced little man. "How did your grandmother take it?"

"She did not say much, but—" her smile is bright and conspiratorial. "She is pleased. I am out of my father's and the Lannister's clutches." Her hands brace on his chest and while she would sink into his arms, she pushes him back slightly so she can take his hand and drag him over to one of the larger chest. "She has sent this with me, promising that the rest will be ready for when we sail to Dorne."

Curiosity is a powerful thing, and Raeden raises one eyebrow at Margaery before lifting the heavy lid of the trunk she has indicated. Jewelry, coin, silver and gold trinkets, luxurious fabrics, and assorted pieces of armor fill the large wooden vessel and he sucks in a sharp breath. “She—she gave you your dowry?” In truth, he had not expected to see it. Having eloped with Margaery, he had assumed that her family would deny him the fortune that had been offered to the Lannisters along with her hand. But it appears he was wrong.

"A portion of it." She clarifies. "There are six other trunks that are bigger than this one." She snorts. "Seven trunks of gold for the future queen of the Seven Kingdoms." She had scoffed at the irony. "Along with another seven trunks of silks, seven of weapons, and seven of silver."

"So this is...a sampling?" His eyes widen at the implications of that – of all the riches that she has brought to the infancy of their House. He knew it would be a great deal, but clearly he had underestimated the wealth of House Tyrell.

"My grandmother has a gift for keeping our wealth quiet, especially when my father wishes to flaunt it." She purses her lips. "But over the course of the years, House Tyrell has accumulated more wealth than the Lannisters have in their coffers." She admits. "Robert Baratheon was a wasteful man."

"Kings have that habit." You murmur from behind them, surprising even yourself with how much you enjoy the sight of them side by side. "Forgive me for interrupting, but would someone like to tell me why my husband breezed through the room and shut himself away without a word to any of us?" Oberyn's face had held determination and an utter expression of being pleased with himself, but he had walked straight through your quarters and shut himself out on the balcony and is now pacing the length of it with determination.

Guilt at forgetting the most important part of today floods Raeden and he drops Margaery's hand to rush towards you and gasps your shoulders. "My love, I—" He starts and chokes up for a moment before he clears his throat. "The trial is over." He tells you quietly. "Tyrion invoked trial by combat when it became clear that he would not get a fair judgement."

"And trial by combat will be more fair?" The deep concern etched into his face brings your heartbeat to a near panic almost immediately. "But why should that upset Oberyn so? It means we can go home."

"The Lannister's champion is Gregor Clegane." He murmurs softly. "The Mountain." His hands drop to yours and he squeezes gently, bracing for you to understand. "We are not going home."

"Oh no." Turning away from him immediately, you push through to the other chamber of your quarters and practically shout Ellaria's name to get her attention before moving through to the door of the balcony. The wooden doors have glass panels where you can see Oberyn moving with grace and determination – as though he were prowling out there instead of walking back and forth. "Oberyn, unlock the doors," you insist, knocking on them loudly after you find that they will not pull open. The latch on the outside of the doors never made sense to you until this moment, and now you curse it.

Ellaria's graceful pose on the settee abandoned when she hears the distress in your voice, she rises and quickly crosses the room to where you are rattling the costly glass as you bang on it. "What is wrong?" She demands, her breath catching when she sees the stiffness in her lover's back, the determination in his gain. "What did he do?" She gasps.

"He's going to get himself killed," you gasp, feeling a little like you cannot fill your lungs properly. "Oberyn, open the door!"

Oberyn pauses, looking towards the door and his eyes flash, conveying that he knows that you are aware of his plan. He turns and continues his pacing as he plots, thinks about his next moves. About the confrontation to come.

"Tyrion demanded a trial by combat," you tell Ellaria, already feeling the tears fill your eyes as true terror and worry set in one wave at a time. "And the Lannisters have The Mountain."

"Gods be damned." Ellaria whispers, her own dread crashing through her like a wave and for a moment, she sways on her feet. She's aware of Raeden and Margaery out of the corner of her eye, but she cannot muster any thought but of what will come. "He is fighting for Tyrion."

"He is fighting for Elia." There is no need to state the obvious, but you cannot help yourself. The tears are flowing freely even if they are silent, and you can feel yourself shaking with nerves.

Ellaria sighs softly, her own fears pushed aside as she wraps her arms around your shoulders. You need to be calm, for the baby. “Come my love.” She murmurs softly. “He will not talk until he is ready.” She knows his habits and of this, she is certain. “Let me get you some tea and we can sit.”

"Oberyn!" They will have to forcibly remove you from the other side of this door and there is hardly any chance of calm finding you soon. Of course you understand the need to avenge his sister's murder, but if attempting it will leave nine children fatherless then is that worthwhile?

Margaery moves to your other side. “Come.” She urges softly. “It cannot be good for the baby.” Her hand wraps around your arm and she tugs you gently.

It is a broken half-sob that cracks through you, making you fold in half at the door. Everything has come to such a measure of happiness and now it stands on the brink of ruin. It is only because of Ellaria and Margaery that you do not collapse into a heap on the floor. The older woman bearing most of your weight as she carries you away from the glass, Raeden rushing over to take you from her and cradle you in his arms.

Raeden all but carries you to the bed, laying you down to cry on the pillow instead. Fear – pure, unadulterated fear – courses through every inch of your body as you lay there, unable to think of anything but the possibility of losing him. Your husband. The father of your unborn child. Your soulmate. What will become of all of you and the promises that have been made if Oberyn dies reaping his revenge from his sister's killer?

Margaery is the first to lay down. Knowing how upset you are and wishing to offer you some small comfort. “He must have a plan.” She coos, stroking her hand over your hair while you cry.

"What can one plan against a Mountain?" Overwhelmed with fear, you barely shake your head. For someone who has grown up with great violence in your life, the idea of it now is terrifying. When the people in your life have been in danger – your brothers, or Brynna, Raeden, or even Margaery? You have done everything in your power to help them. You cannot be of help to Oberyn in a fight to the death.

“Our lover, our soulmate would not champion this fight if he didn’t not know he could win.” Ellaria is angry at Oberyn as well, but she knows he will not yield in this. The best thing she can do is support him and encourage you to do the same. “He is clever and quick, fierce. He would not fight if he thought he would leave our children without a father.”

"I cannot control the tears." Begging her to understand, desperately hoping that the one other woman in the room to have experienced pregnancy will know this feeling, you cling to Ellaria's hand. "Or the fear in my heart."

“I have fear too.” She confesses quietly, wrapping her lithe body around your back. “Do not doubt it, but I know he will do this, even if we do not approve.”

It is not for you to approve or disapprove of. You know that. This is something that he must do, for himself and for Elia. In his shoes you know you would do the same. But that does not keep you from weeping at the possibility of losing him.

Raeden watches, feeling helpless as you cry so he turns to the doors out onto the ledge, hoping Oberyn might talk to him. It is not likely the prince will entertain any argument whatsoever against his choice, but it is not Raeden’s intent to talk him out of his vow. Just to simply get him to talk.

The knock on the door makes Oberyn pause again, seeing Raeden on the other side, and his eyes slide past him to the bed where Ellaria and Margaery are laying with you. Clenching his jaw as he strides to the door, he wonders if you have sent your other soulmate to talk him out of his duty to his family. Talk to me. Raeden mouths through the window, not wanting to shout and startle you more. He has seen how screaming can panic you after incidents with your mother.

For a moment, he considers ignoring the man, to continue to plot by himself, but the concern in his eyes makes him flip the bar to allow the doors to be pushed open. “You will not change my mind.” He warns the younger lord.

“It is not my intent to try.” Raeden steps out onto the balcony and lets the door shut again behind him. “But tell me you have a plan.”

“I do.” Oberyn nods as he looks out over the city below the keep. “They will make it very public, an event.” He muses, a trace of a chuckle in his tone. “They will wish to make an example of him, and me.”

“And you will make them wish they had not?” He guesses, seeing the fire in Oberyn’s eyes.

“I will get my confession if it must force it from him one slice at a time.” He growls with satisfaction. “For all of King’s Landing to hear. Tywin Lannister’s sins will be laid bare.”

“I know you are determined. With good reason.” Raeden’s hand twitches but he does not reach out. Oberyn is pacing like a caged animal and may bite. “And we are not of a mind to change that.” He swallows a plaintive sound. “But you have two soulmates afraid of losing you,” he tells Oberyn plainly. “Your wife is inconsolable at the idea.”

Your words burn into his brain and he sighs after a moment, looking back towards the door. “I—” he pauses and he knows that you are different from Ellaria, you have not seen him fight before. “I will talk to her.” He tells Raeden, stepping closer and reaching out to cup the man’s neck to drag him closer for a kiss.

It is fierce, and a little surprising, but Raeden does not fight the moment of intimacy. Instead he presses into it and nips at Oberyn’s bottom lip before letting him go. Oberyn growls, the urge to strip Raeden down right here and burn off the extra energy fucking him nearly makes him reach for his belt, but he has a soulmate, two soulmates to reassure. He doesn’t hesitate to reach down and cup the other man’s cock, feeling it twitch in his hands. “Soon.” He promises.

Ellaria is the only one of the three of you facing the door, and she sighs in relief to see Oberyn striding back into the room even as your tears have started to calm. They seem to come in waves and right now the flow is ebbing.

He doesn’t urge Margaery to move, but he reaches over her for you. Pulling you up and into his arms. Upset at himself now that he’s not solely focused on his revenge at how distressed you are. “My moon and stars.” He coos softly, cupping your chin. “Why are you crying like you are mourning me?”

"Practice." You sniff, curling against his chest and clutching his robe.

“You will be practicing for a long time.” He warns you, a chuckle at your pouting tone threatening to bubble out of him. His lips press into your hair and he cradles you close. “Why do you insult me by believing it is my time to die?”

"I do not—" Sucking in a breath makes you shudder, and you shake your head against his chest. "Mean to insult you, love. It is—I—I am afraid for you."

“I am not going to die at the hands of Gregor Clegane.” He promises you. “I will die old and decrepit in our bed, after many more children and years together.” He hums. “I will hold our child in my arms as she slips from your womb.”

"They say he cannot be beaten." You have heard the tales of The Mountain as well as everyone else in Westeros, and despite having also heard tales of Oberyn's prowess as a fighter, you cannot help the way you have reacted. "And they say you cannot be beaten. Surely one of those is wrong."

“He is large and lumbering. I have the advantage of speed and skill because I do not rely on brute strength alone.” He tells you, rubbing your back gently. He is trying to reassure all of you.

“I—I am— forgive me.” Logic and reason dictate that he is correct. That speed and agility may be enough to work against an enormous foe in one-to-one battle. And even though logic and reason are not your ruling bodies right now, you can see the merit in that argument. “I do not mean to doubt you. I only— I cannot bear the thought of being without you.”

“It is okay to be worried.” He will not make light of your fears, but he will remind you that he has no intention of dying. He nuzzles against your jaw and presses a soft kiss to your skin. “I have every intention of poisoning the bastard as well.” He admits quietly.

That makes your head snap up, eyebrows furrowed, and lips parted in surprise, though you are not sure why. It is a good plan. A very clever plan, in fact. To be as qualified with and knowledgeable of poisons as he is, it would almost be folly not to use them. “You—you will?”

“They do not call me the Red Viper for naught, my love.” He reminds you quietly. “From the first strike, Gregor Clegane will die. Every time he will swing his sword or axe, he will work the poison closer to his heart.” He smirks. “That is where being quick and agile works in my favor.”

Foggy from tears and fear, your mind is slow to grasp the concept but once you arrive at it, you gasp. “All you have to do is wear him out. The poison will do the rest?”

“Exactly, my love.” He hums, happy that you have worked it out. “While I trick him into confessing his part in my sister’s murder and who gave the order.”

Though the realization does not instantly dry your tears, it does have you sniffling and burying your face against his chest all over again. “When, my love? When is all this meant to happen?”

“It will be within the next week.” He doesn’t know exactly when, but he can’t imagine Tywin delaying it longer than necessary. “As soon as the Mountain arrives to King’s Landing.”

Both of your arms creep around him, holding tight to the man who has changed your life irrevocably and so much for the better. “Once it is over, I hope we never have to return to King’s Landing again.”

“That would be my fondest wish.” Oberyn chuckles, allowing you to hold tight to him as he looks over at his other soulmate and reaches for her. “Come.”

Ellaria is better at hiding her fear. She has more practice and has seen him through many more battles than you – both big and small. But even she sighs with relief to sit up from the bed and press a kiss to his palm. “If you do not return with us I will find a way to make sure your baby is a boy and convince your princess to name him Oberyn,” she threatens half-heartedly, knowing from conversations many years past that he hates the idea of naming a child after himself.

“You would not dare.” He groans, sending her a narrowed eyed gaze, playful in nature.

“I will.” She promises, wrapping her arms around both of you in turn. “As sure as the sun rises each morning.”

“Then it is settled.” He huffs, leaning in to press his lips to hers. “I will not die; I will make sure that my newest child is not be named after me.”

“Is that all it takes?” You huff, playfulness edging your still-worried voice as you kiss both of them easily. “A threat?”

“I am simple man.” He teases, winking at you before he squeezes you gently. “Do not worry yourself sick, my love.”

“I promise I will not show my fear out there.” Glancing to the windows and at King’s Landing below, you bite back a sigh. It will be imperative to present yourselves as united, strong, and confident when the time comes.

“A little fear is not unrealistic.” He reminds you. “I just do not want you to make yourself ill. You have the baby to think of.”

“And so do you.” The tears, thankfully, are beginning to dry. And as with all other times in this pregnancy, it seems, you have become rather exhausted from the efforts of shedding them.

“I know, Star.” He rocks you slightly against his body and despite the earliness of the day, you are already starting to wilt from the exertion of your tears. “Do you wish to nap, my love?”

Pursing your lips at him, you wrinkle your nose for good measure and sigh in defeat. “Only if you promise not to make any more life or death decisions while I am tucked in.”

“I promise that I will run any other decisions by you before they are made.” He promises. “Do you want to lay down by yourself, or would you like one of us to stay with you?”

“It would be selfish to ask someone to stay.” And with the display you just made, the last thing you want is to show more selfishness. “I am sure you all have more entertaining things to do than lay with me in the dark.”

“I am feeling exhausted.” Margaery is not tired, but you have been such a rock for her, that if she can lay down with you to be some small comfort, she will. “Would you mind if I shared your nap with you? I know that we are not intimate yet, but maybe you would not mind?”

“Fifteen minutes ago you were practically giddy for Raeden to return.” Skepticism aside, you do offer her a half smile when Oberyn puts you back in bed beside your other soulmate’s wife. “But all the same…I would dearly appreciate the company.”

“Good.” She sends you a small smile and settles against the cushions. “We will have a nice rest and then we can settle on what we will do for the rest of the day.”

“Nothing too public, I should think.” As word gets out that Margaery has married again – and that it was not to Tommen Baratheon – you expect there will be a few days at least where she ought to lay low.

“No, nothing public. But perhaps we can go through my clothes to see what I will need to discard before we get to Dorne?” She asks, look at you as you both lie down.

“That would be a good idea,” Ellaria agrees with an encouraging nod. “Both of you can surely donate your heavier gowns to some less fortunate ladies and it will be less to travel with.”

“Yes, will we have the noon meal delivered to the rooms.” Oberyn promises. “Now, both of you rest and when you are ready, come out to the main area.” He leans down and kisses your lips and hesitates but then does kiss Margaery’s forehead. She has not indicated wanted to touch him yet, but it seemed rude to kiss his wife and leave her out.

“We will, my love.” You promise him, watching as your three lovers file from the room and close the door gently behind them. Though you truly are tired, you turn back to face Margaery and offer her a smile. “You are very kind to offer to stay with me.”

“If it was me in your place, you would offer the same.” She murmurs quietly. “I meant what I said, I consider you my dearest friend and now? Perhaps more.”

“Have you been hiding affection for me, Margaery?” Waving away the joke teasingly, you nevertheless curl up on the pillow beside her and offer her a place in your arms if she wants it. “That would quite set tongues to wagging.”

“You are beautiful.” She huffs and slides closer to you until her own arms wrap around you. “You know that. You and Ellaria are breathtaking. More stunning at my wedding than I was.”

“Impossible.” The wedding may have been a tense, overdramatic thing, but Margaery was mesmerizing. “You looked like a goddess that day.” Cheeks warming slightly at how easily she comes to you, you let one of your hands settle on her back. “You are one of the most stunning women I have ever seen, no matter what the day is.”

“You must not have looked in a mirror too often, my Princess.” She hums, smiling at you and leaning in. “It is high praise if you feel that way.”

“Margaery…” Before you can let the moment progress, you take a breath and put your other hand to her cheek. “If you change your mind, simply say the word and we will go on as if nothing ever happened.”

“I understand.” She hums softly, aware that she is in a unique situation, and this is something she could have never foreseen, but she is not upset by it.

First Brynna, then Ellaria, and now Margaery. There seems no rhyme or reason to it beside them all being beautiful women who treat you with singular kindness, but when you lean forward to press your lips to Margaery’s for the first time and let your eyes flutter shut, there is that same feeling of rightness that there had been with both women who came before. Unforeseen and unplanned, it is not unwelcome at all.

Margaery’s hum is almost surprised, mixed with delight as she melts into the kiss, and pulls you closer. It will be the first kiss she has had with another woman since she was a young girl, since before she had bled, but instead of giggling and teasing, she wants more.

Somehow, she tastes the way fresh air and sunshine feel in spring. Like promise and good things to come. Like the crisp cleanness of spring rain. It’s intoxicating in a way you have never experienced before, making you linger and try to claim more of the taste with small kisses from her lips.

“Does everyone in your party know how to kiss?” She asks breathlessly, grinning as she indulges in the quick kisses and her fingers reach up to undo your hairstyle.

“They all have far more experience than me,” you admit, warm cheeks disguised in the semi-darkness of the room. “But they are wonderful teachers, if there is a pleasure you wish to learn.”

“I am certain I will learn it all.” She admits, almost shyly. “Unless you think it strange that I join your obviously close foursome?”

“If it were strange to us, we would not have offered.” After a few months of knowing Oberyn and Ellaria, you are now very certain that they choose their lovers in different ways. And the ones that entered into this arrangement — this family you have created — were chosen for more than just looks or sport. “We would never have even mentioned it.”

“I am worried.” She confesses quietly. “You are Ellaria are his soulmates, Oberyn is his lover, and I— I am just his wife.” It sounds ridiculous, but she is used to many wives not being of any use or consequence once an heir was secured. “I was slightly worried my father would have offered him coin to return me to him.”

“Just his wife?” Your fingers graze through her hair and tuck the strands behind her ear. “Raeden is not in the habit of dismissing the people he cares for, my darling. And he would not have proposed – the marriage or indeed any sort of solution – if he did not care for you.”

“I guess that I just need to believe that.” She chuckles quietly. “With my luck though, you can see why that is hard.”

“Just because you have not been lucky yet, does not mean you are never going to be lucky at all.” It is a small offer of comfort, but an honest one. Your thumb strokes her cheek and you smile, feeling a bit more awake with the sensation of arousal coursing through your veins. “Perhaps it is time to balance the scales.”

“What do you suggest?” She asks, arching a brow and humming quietly. Her head tilts, leaning into your touch and her bright blue eyes are fixed on yours.

“How much are you keen to experience?” She is looking to you for guidance and you want very dearly to provide it.

“What do you have in mind?” She asks curiously. Last night with Raeden was wonderful and satisfying, but she craves more, wishing to learn everything she can and experience it all.

“Have you ever had a woman give you pleasure before?” It is a careful question, one that could go wrong if Margaery decides she does not want to explore this with you, but you find yourself craving to know if her slit tastes as divine as her lips do.

“No.” She confesses quietly, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. For all her worldliness, she had never ventured into pleasure with another woman. “Is it— what is it like?” She asks breathlessly.

“Much the same as when a man has his head between your legs.” It makes you laugh softly to admit it, but it is the truth. “But slender fingers can sometimes wring sensations from you that thicker ones could not. And while these men know of that hidden nub above your folds, not all men do.”

“Raeden was the first.” She tells you quietly. “No man had ever used his mouth on me before.”

“Then your lovers have been neglecting you.” This time when you offer her a smile, it is smaller, warmer, and more confident. “If you would like to experience it from a woman, I can show you. Or Ellaria, if you would rather.”

“Do you…want to?” She asks, unsure if you are interested in her or if you are just being kind. Both you and Ellaria make her cunt clench and bottom out when you both look at her as if she is a tasty morsel.

“I would not offer if I did not want to.” Once more, your fingers smooth the stray hairs from her face. “But if you are not ready yet, or if you would prefer Ellaria, it is entirely your choice.”

“I confess I find both of you extremely intoxicating.” She tells you, slightly flustered. “I would like to touch and be touched by both of you.”

“Then that can easily be managed.” With five of you, there would never be a moment that one of you could not have someone between your legs if you wished it. “Very easily indeed.”

“Is it— similar to touching a man?” She asks, biting her lip.

“It can be.” After all, some men are soft and some women are muscled. “But women are shaped so beautifully. And the scent and taste? Worth drowning in.”

“You do not find men pleasing?” She tilts her head in surprise, sure that you had true affection for Oberyn. And to have two soulmate who were men? She cannot believe that you prefer women to men.

“Of course I do.” You shrug, though. “Some men. Not most. But women are—they are otherworldly, are they not? Inspirations. Walking goddesses.” In the half-light, you laugh softly at yourself. “I did not mean to surprise you. But surely you must know how stunning you are?”

“I have been told I am beautiful for my entire life. Flattered and had my hand kissed.” She shrugs one dainty shoulder. “Men who wished to align with my family, to access my dowry. Never me that they wanted, they wanted my name.”

“Their motives may have been wrong, but they were telling the truth about your beauty.” Your own experience as a noble daughter was nothing like hers but you still frown. “I am sorry if you learned not to believe it because of them.”

“My faults are nothing you need to apologize for.” She promises you, reaching out to caress your cheek.

“They were wrong,” you repeat again, more steadily this time. “Not you. You are not at fault.” Softly, slowly, you rise up on one elbow and nudge Margaery over onto her back. “Will you let me show you how wonderful you truly are?”

There is a soft grin on her face as she looks up at you. “I thought you were tired?”

"I was." There is no lie in that, but you cannot help the way your smile turns sly. "But then the beauty in bed with me confessed she wanted to know what it would feel like for me to touch her."

“Then touch me.” Margaery begs. “Make me cry out so loud our husbands come to see what is happening.”

"They will only be upset that they did not get to witness the first moments." Grinning, you bowl Margaery over entirely and let the next press of your lips to hers be eager. Wanting. This time your hands have permission to wander, and you work at the ties on the front of her dress methodically. Suddenly you understand every complaint Oberyn has ever had about Northern dresses.

Margaery moans when your fingers brush her skin, eager to feel your touch and her legs restlessly spread underneath you. Unable to control herself and for the first time, she doesn’t have to. She is allowed to have what she wants with no shame.

"Oberyn is right," you huff, a small laugh escaping you as your fingers ghost over her skin and spread apart the two sides of her dress. "No more of these heavy dresses in Dorne. Far too much fabric."

She giggles quietly and reaches out to pull at your own laces. “Your husband grumbles about your clothing?” She asks coyly.

"If Oberyn had his way, none of his lovers would wear anything but cock-drunk smiles." It is only half a joke, but the two of you are far more focused with pulling off your dresses. "But now that my goal lies under all of these layers, I am bound to agree with him."

“Perhaps the world would be simpler if everyone where nude.” She bites her lip and crows in triumph when your stays loosen. Your enthusiastic anticipation is catching and she swears she has soaked her undergarments.

"Oberyn will celebrate to hear you say such a thing." Laces, layers, stays, and petticoats are tossed off the bed from every angle until Margaery is finally bare under you. "Gods above..." Not so long ago, you would have been embarrassed the way the sight of her breasts makes your mouth water. But now? There is no shame in your attraction. "You are...stunning, my darling."

Your own body is still covered in a chemise and she whimpers, squirming slightly. “I— I wish to see you.” She pants slightly. “All of you.”

On your knees above her, you pick up the hem of your final layer and toy with it for a second just to see if she rolls her hips again with need. When Margaery squirms again almost instantly, you bite back a smirk. "There is no need to beg," you assure her, pulling the fabric over your head at last.

She has seen nude women before, but none that take her breath away like this. Drinking in the sight of your tits, the thatch of curls between your thighs, she reaches out to caress your hip. “Beautiful.” She whispers. “I want to see this every day.”

"I was promised an extremely large bed as a wedding present," you tell her with a grin, reaching down to caress her cheek and letting your hand wander to the peak of one breast lightly. "It will have to be large enough for five, I think."

“And if I wanted to fuck your husband?” She asks softly, wanting to make sure that she doesn’t cross any boundaries that would hurt or offend you.

"Then I might ask to watch." Your other hand grazes her thigh as your eyes roam back and forth over every inch of his body. The reddish tone of her hair is darker in the curls at the apex of her thighs, and somehow knowing that is more alluring than you ever could have believed. "Or I might fuck your husband in turn."

“You must look gorgeous on his cock.” She whimpers when your fingers brush through her curls and she spreads her legs wider. Her cunt is throbbing and unlike a man, you don’t just jump into things. Heightening the sensations. “Have you – have you fucked them together before?”

"I did not know my pussy could stretch to take both of them like that." The memory of that particular day will be burned into your mind's eye forever, and you shiver as you lay yourself down between Margaery's legs. "You can have them both too, if you want."

“And you and Ellaria?” You look breathtaking between her thighs and a shiver rubs through her body when your breath washes over her sensitive folds.

Lifting your head, the plains and dips of her body are even more dramatic from the place you are now occupying and your smile tugs into a smirk. "You can have us, too. If that is your desire."

“I have done what I have been expected to my entire life.” Margaery pants, her chest heaving as she looks down at you. “I wish to be greedy.” The sentiment earns an approving nod of your head, and a flash of your own greed has you lunging upward to wrap your lips around one pert nipple while your thumb easily finds her swollen clit. Margaery’s cry is strained, gasping when she realizes that you are just as talented as her husband, maybe even more so. Overwhelmed by the fact that you are touching her, her eyes close and then pop open again so she can watch.

Your free hand kneads her other breast, rolling the nipple between your fingers experimentally to find the amount of tension she likes even as your fingers dance at her entrance. If you had been worried about the transition from friends to lovers, the ease of this moment is proof that you need not have given it a second thought at all. After all — when you had told Oberyn that you would likely only go to bed with people you cared for, you had been telling the truth.

“Oh, oh gods.” She moans out, panting your name when you give her the exact amount of pressure on her nipples that she likes. It is like being with a man, but the touch is more gentle, localized, and she can tell that you have touched a woman before.

The pleased hun from your throat vibrates through her skin when you find just the right tension, continuing your ministrations at her gorgeous tits but slipping the tips of two fingers through her slick folds. A little deeper with each pass, it will take no time for your digits to disappear inside her body, but you want to give her time to adjust to the sensation.

“I— I did— I never—” Her cunt is pleasantly sore, thoroughly used by your soulmate last night and her hips still chase the feeling of your fingers. “Please, Princess.” She begs, the knowledge that you are higher than her socially making her clench again.

“Never what, Margaery?” Removing your mouth from her temporarily, you find her eyes already glazed over with lust and cannot help but feel a little proud. You felt the way her cunt clenched your fingers when she used your title and you wonder if she might find it alluring to be ‘under your power’ like some others have you heard about.

“Never felt so good.” She whines and shakes her head. “Please.” She needs you to keep touching her. She’s orgasmed before but this sensation is sweeter, sharper.

"Raeden will take that as a challenge," you inform her with a smirk, but her pleading is too dear. You wrap your lips around her other breast, switching your hand to its twin and sinking your fingers into her dripping wet heat just a touch faster. The way she is pulling you in, you could not go slower if you tried. It is as though her body itself is begging for you.

It is too much and not enough all at the same time. Margaery knows her voice it pitching up every time she makes a sound but she can’t even try to muffle herself, not when she knows that no one will judge her. The sharp cries of pleasure tighten when you move down her body, laying kisses along her skin and inhaling her scent with your own blissed out groan before you open your mouth entirely and envelope her cunt entirely. Languid open mouth kisses come with kitten licks from your probing tongue, and Margaery lets loose a moan so loud that it breaks past the walls and the door opens abruptly.

“Star?” At the sight in front of him, Raeden’s eyes widen. Letting loose a moan of his own at the sight of his soulmate’s face between his new wife’s thighs, licking and sucking like you have always pleasured her. “Gods be praised.” His cock jolts and immediately starts to harden as he steps fully into the room and closes the door behind him.

Your hum vibrates through Margaery's lips and you barely turn your head before you get a glimpse of Raeden crowding into the room. "I had a sudden burst of energy," you hum, smirking in a very self-satisfied way.

“I see.” He grunts, his hand moving to his belt to start untying it as he moves closer. “I had some thought to take my new wife to bed, but it seems as if you have beaten me to it.” He tells you, his eyes darkening with lust as he watches her body writhe under your attention.

"And yet I think you are not upset about it." Not at all, if his instantly hard cock is anything to judge by.

Margaery waits for her husband to answer but he doesn’t. Instead he strides over to the bed and leans in, his tongue plunging into her mouth with a hot moan as he caresses your head between her thighs.

That is all the encouragement you need, turning again to give your devoted attention to Margaery's weeping pussy. Every lick is divine, but you push your fingers deep inside her and suck her clit into your mouth all at once, wanting her to moan into Raeden's kiss so he can swallow the sound.

Margaery reaches up, desperately grasping Raeden’s head as she kisses him back, feeling like her entire world is spinning and she doesn’t want it to stop. Her husband is turned on by this, and if he and Oberyn together is anything near this intoxicating, she would want to witness it every day.

Your own moan follows, loud but muffled by Margaery’s folds, as you feel Raeden’s fingers sliding along your own throbbing cunt. He loves to explore your body while you use your mouth on someone else – something you discovered quickly the first time you gave Ellaria pleasure – and this morning with his wife is no exception.

“I want to see you with her.” Margaery moans. “Would you fuck your soulmate in front of your wife?”

The question makes both you and Raeden pause, but with him naked beside you there is no question of the affect her request has on him. A spurt of precum drips from his cock into your shoulder and you grin wickedly. “I think he would enjoy that.”

She bites her lip and looks from you to her husband. The weight of the ring on her finger feels right and she spreads her legs wider. “Make me shake while my husband fills you with his cock.” She begs. “I want to see his seed drip from your cunt and taste it to see if it is sweet inside you.”

If any of you were ever unsure as to whether or not Margaery would fit into the dynamic you have established amongst yourselves – all of those concerns are dispelled in this moment. Raeden groans deeply and surges down again, plunging his tongue deep as his kisses her and sliding his fingers as far into your cunt as they will go to make you buck against his hand at the same time you moan into his wife’s pussy. It is a symphony of sin but it is so earnestly wanted by all of you. It could only be more perfect if Oberyn and Ellaria were here, the two of them disappearing into the other bedroom, and while they had invited him, he had wanted to stay in the main area in case you or Margaery needed him.

Your hips rock against his hand, impaling you on his thick fingers even as your own slide in and out of his wife. The squelching sounds are like music to your ears, and the hand that was previous at Margaery’s tits now plays with your own as Raeden lavishes hers with attention.

“Oh fuck.” She moans, enjoying the difference between the two sets of hands on her body. “Do you— is this what you do every day?”

“As often as we like,” Raeden rumbles, lifting his head to meet her eyes. “And you are welcome whenever you choose.”

“Ohhhhh oh gods.” The moans come out louder now, both the idea of having this anytime she wishes and the pure pleasure of your mouth on her sensitive cunt. “Yes.”

He seems as blissed out as she is even without having more than his hands involved, and you reluctantly pull away from Margaery’s glistening cunt to look up at him. “My love, your wife wishes to watch you fuck me,” you remind him, chest heaving at even the formation of the words on your tongue.

“Yes.” Raeden nods, aware that this is something special. The first time that the three of you are together like this. Hopefully not the last. He kisses her once more before he is shuffling behind you and wrapping his fingers around his cock. “Watch wife.” He orders Margaery.

His fingers are slick from being inside you and you moan from deep in your chest when he notches the head of his cock at your entrance and starts to push inside. Raeden’s tendency to be overly gentle with you has eased over the last few weeks, and especially in moments like this when you are so pliant and wet that you are literally dripping on the sheets.

“Fuuuuuuck.” Raeden grunts, rocking his hips until he is buried to be hilt inside you, his dark eyes fixed on his wife as she watches.

“Gods above.” Your groan echoes through Margaery’s body and vibrates deliciously through her wetness, but you have to tear your mouth away temporarily to catch your breath. “How will you take me for your wife, love? Will you be soft and sweet, or will you show her how I like to be made breathless?”

“I think I will show her how the princess likes to take her cocks.” Raeden decides with a grin and a wink to his wife before he leans over and kisses your spine.

That promise is immediately followed by the pulling back of his hips and having them slam forward again, emptying and filling your quivering cunt all in an instant and making you cry out into Margaery’s folds. Your fingers pick up speed with the determination of having Raeden fuck you, and you suck her clit into your mouth again with such enthusiasm that her cry echoes your own.

“Oh gods.” Margaery can feel the strength behind the thrust when your face pushes into her cunt harder than the normal pressure. Rocked forwards by his cock. “That cock is so good. I will need it harsh too, husband.”

“Whatever happened to ladies being delicate?” Raeden huffs, groaning as his hips connect with your ass again.

“None of us really are.” Margaery giggles and then moans when your tongue flutters around her clit. Making her grind down on your tongue.

“Men have been fed a lie,” he grouses good-naturedly, and he reaches out with one hand to grip your braid that Margaery has unpinned.

“Do you like to have your hair pulled?” Margaery asks you breathlessly.

Nodding makes the grip that Raeden has on your hair that much tighter, and your eyes flutter shut at the sensation before you open them again to look up at Margaery. "I cannot explain it, but I always enjoy pain with my pleasure."

“I want to try that.” Margaery moans and reaches up to twist her hand around her own braid.

The amused smile on your lips is mirrored by Raeden, and you shake your head at her. "You cannot do it yourself, lover," you tell her, reaching up and tangling your fingers tightly as high up in her braid as you can manage. "If you do not like it, tell me 'no' and I will stop."

“Yes.” She nods and moans as she moves her head and makes her scalp tug.

Seeing the way her eyes roll back at the slight pressure of the tug, you pull harder and more sharply, elated when the sounded you are gifted with is an ecstatic moan. "Yes?" You ask, letting her braid go slack so you can tug again, just as sharply.

“Yes!” She cries out and her cunt clenches around your fingers. She can’t believe that it feels so good and makes her entire body shake with pleasure.

"My wife and my soulmate may be more alike than they know." Raeden rasps out, grunting out another thrust and tugging at your braid as you pull on Margaery's. "Make her cum, my love. I want to see the moment she falls apart for you."

“Ohhhhh fuck.” The curse falls from Margaery’s lips easily as she shamelessly grinds down on your fingers. “Would— would that be so bad?” She manages.

"Not at all." As Raeden pounds you deeper and harder into Margaery's pussy he bends over to bite your shoulder and groans at the sight in front of him. "You will both be fucked into the mattress at every opportunity."

“That sounds perfect.” She moans, one hand drifting to her own breast. She wonders if she could have whomever she wanted at any time, or if there was some unspoken rule. She doesn’t doubt that she would need to give Raeden his heir before she sleeps with another man, but she is eager to experience the legendary Red Viper between her thighs.

Any kind of conversation dissolves again when Raeden pulls your hair sharply and you pull Margaery's in response, and the room becomes a renewed symphony of moans. There is nothing you want more in this moment that to hear the ecstasy that will come from your friend's lips when she cums for you, so you curl your fingers against the place inside her that will make her scream and redouble your efforts.

Now her breath comes out in ragged gasps, watching as her breathtaking husband slams into you eagerly, his own groans making her cunt clench around your fingers. The scene is enough to make her keen and the quick, cleverness of your fingers quickly pushes Margaery over the edge with a very unladylike yell.

There is something truly intoxicating in being the middle of this encounter. Knowing that it was not only your skill but Raeden’s passion which sends Margaery over the edge and has her clenching down in your fingers with such eagerness that her body might try to envelop your entire hand. It leaves you wishing under Raeden’s Powerful thrusts, moaning and grinding back against him as you lap up every drop of cum from her slit.

It is hard for Margaery to keep her eyes open, but she is determined to watch him cum. Seeing if he makes you squeal like she had last night with his gentler touch. His fingertips dig into your hips, sure to leave marks that last days, and it is the powerful need behind them along with one more well-timed thrust that has you tearing away from Margaery’s body to cry his name for all to hear. The insistent throbbing of your body between his and hers is unending, rolling through you so you can neither seem to stop the continuous feeling of peak pleasure or even catch your breath. It is magnificently exhausting, and Raeden is still fucking into you with erratic force.

He gets to have you. It is still a wonder to him, made even more precious by the fact that his wife is watching him fuck you, her hands still cupping and massaging her tits while she catches her breath. He gets to have it all, and it’s making his thrusts slap even harder than he’s ever fucked you.

A half dozen more pumps of his hips against your ass and Raeden is choking on his own groans, trying to call both of your names at once and ending up alternating between them as he pulls you tight against him and nearly collapses onto your back.

Margaery hums. A little chuckle in her throat as Raeden rolls you onto your side, protective of the babe in your belly. She had been told about the child and is very happy for you, actually eager for her own time. Now, she pushes to her knees and leans over to kiss you both.

“You do not mind your own taste?” Your thumb swipes under her bottom lip, wiping away a smudge of her own slick that came from your mouth. Some do and some do not. It would be another delightful development if Margaery did not, as you find it quite indulgent.

“No, I want to drink it from your lips.” She coos, kissing you again and then Raeden before she smirks. Slowly sliding down to drag her tongue over your nipple and biting down on it gently. “Right now, I want to taste my husband’s cock still inside your cunt. Lick you both up.”

There is a voice in the back of your head that knows Oberyn is going to be thrilled with Margaery’s curiosity and desire to explore her own sexuality, and that Ellaria’s approval will be near instant as well. “Enjoy yourself, my darling,” you hum, snuggles up in Raeden’s arms and spread for her to enjoy.

Raeden’s eyes widen when his wife, the wicked smirk pleasantly plastered on her face, starts to move down your body. Fixed on the sight, his spent cock twitches inside you. “Wife, you fit this group more than you know.” He rasps out.

“Better than I did, at the beginning,” you admit with a soft sigh when one of Margaery’s long fingers strokes your folds.

“I cannot imagine that to be true.” She scoffs. “I am lucky you are so accommodating.” She looks back up at you as she scoops some of the thick, creamy cum up from the base of her husband’s cock.

“You are a wonder,” you correct, relaxing even more under her touch.

She hums, accepting the compliment, although she knows she is receiving much more from this arrangement than you are. Her fingers slide into her mouth and she moans at the musky, salty taste. “Delightful.”

“He is even better when you taste him from the source.” The encouragement is met with a groan from your soulmate, and he kisses along your shoulder as Margaery lowers her mouth to the place you are still connected. It is her first time being with another woman, tasting another woman and it seems like she is diving into it. Luxuriating in the freedom and encouragement she is getting, her tongue flutters around your clit like she had felt you do to her and then down to her husband’s cock.

“Fuck.” The appreciative groan from Raeden makes you grin in his arms when you turn to kiss him. “Your wife is a fast learner,” you hum, breath hitching when her tongue flicks over your clit again.

“She is.” Raeden hums with pride, “Very good. The gods blessed us when they brought us together.”

"Such praise, my darling." Looking down your body to where Margaery is indulging her seemingly endless curiosities in your bodies, you grip her hair in your fingers again and tug just sharply enough to make her moan. "You deserve every word of it."

She hums and preens under the praise. Feeling her cheeks heat up at the words when she should be shocked at what she is doing. There is no embarrassment. Nothing but pleasure and curiosity.

"How does your husband taste from my cunt?" As filthy as the words are, they're languid. Relaxed and indulgent. You are as curious for the answer as she is for the taste, if you are honest with yourself.

“Like ambrosia.” Margaery moans, flicking up another taste of the two of you so she can come to let you taste for yourself.

When she unfurls her tongue into your kiss it is an extension of that gorgeous indulgence, and you hum deeply as you wrap her up in your arms. "I think you might be far more eager for this arrangement than you first thought," you grin knowingly.

“I think I am.” She grins as she slides her finger down your cheek. “I am very proud to be Lady Sunstone.”

______

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jackoshadows · 10 months

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Sansa not even knowing of Arya's or Jeyne's marriage to Ramsay is an indication of how little Petyr Baelish has told her and the readers of his grand schemes, plans and secret BTS plotting.

Which is one reason why we cannot take any of what Baelish tells Sansa at face value, considering everything he is not telling her.

We can pick up some clues here and there. The food that he is hoarding for his price gouging scheme informs me that he is aware that the food situation has become dire.

At the same time, while Littlefinger appears omnipotent in how much he controls and manipulates situations, we can also see there are other events that are beyond his control and will end up putting a spanner in the works.

For one, Baelish is only able to keep ahead of situations with a lot of luck (Tyrion not exposing him) and with the help of information available to him from an extensive spy network that lets him know of what is happening where and who is doing what. Ex. Dontos telling him of the Tyrell plot to marry Sansa to Willas.

It's easy to have spies in King's Landing (We get a little tidbit of LF asking for some tapestries...). Same with the Riverlands given that Littlefinger has reason to be interested in what's happening there as Lord Paramount of the Riverlands.

The rest of the realm and Essos is harder but doable with respect to public events and information that is trickling in everywhere. Like the current chaos in Meereen or the attack on Old Town or the Golden Company and Aegon Targaryen. Dorne (and the separate Quentyn/Arianne plots) would be near impossible considering how secretive Doran Martell has been.

Also trickier is the North considering how isolated it is, the weather and a lot of secretive plotting behind the scenes.

I doubt Littlefinger knows about Robb's will/decree considering it was witnessed and signed by select lords - most of whom are dead, imprisoned or on their way North secretly. I don't think there is a possibility of spies there or anyone blabbing to someone else.

There's no way Littlefinger knows about Rickon because, again, no possibility of spies in Manderly and Glover's secret plotting with Davos given how stealthy they are being on account of the Freys in their camp.

There was a lot of noise recently about an AFfC draft which mentions LF getting a message from White Harbor. But again, what message? If he has a spy there then the information he is getting will about the Manderlys being forced into marriage and alliance with the Freys and the crown in KL.

If he plans to sail to White Harbor to unveil Sansa as the heir in Winterfell based on information he gets from WH, he's going to be in for a big surprise. I do think he will have to course correct because by the time the intrigue in the Vale is all settled, he will get news that the Boltons are defeated and that Rickon/Jon have taken Winterfell and the North. What will he do then? I think he will pivot towards the Riverlands. Or, he may focus on the Riverlands first before he gets the news of Rickon/Jon back in Winterfell .

Apart from Sam Tarly, the only other group who knows that Bran is still alive are select folks of the Mountain clans and again, I can't imagine a Littlefinger plant secretly sending him messages amongst these clans.

Same with Arya Stark. Littlefinger - along with the Lannisters and the Boltons - thinks that Arya is dead and knows an imposter is playing her in the marriage to Ramsay Bolton.

This is most likely a vital part of his plot to get rid of the Boltons by exposing fake Arya as Jeyne, revealing Alayne as Sansa Stark and lay claim to Winterfell through Sansa as the rightful heir just like Tywin intended to eventually do with Tyrion/Sansa. However, Arya Stark is alive and well and unencumbered by marriage and there are no spies or informants who know this.

Littlefinger most likely knows about what's happening at the Wall considering how much information is leaking out of there like a sieve. If Cersei is able to get information, then so can Baelish. He surely knows about Stannis at the Wall, Tycho passing through and will know about Jon's assassination and mutiny. What he does with that information will be interesting to read - how much he will reveal to Sansa, and in what form he will tell her the truth.

And that's what most exciting about all this. The lack of information on what's actually happening in the North that's going to thwart and throw a spanner in Littlefinger's grand plans while Daenerys does the same to Varys' grand schemes. I think it will be fun if events end up surprising these master players of the games.

Arya, Bran and Rickon to Littlefinger...

#Petyr Baelish #Littlefinger #asoiaf

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hyperfixatedimagines · 1 year

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The Queen & her Lady: Ch. 6

Summary: Ageon has been crowned King, and Princess Rhaenys has escaped to inform Princess Rhaenyra. Queen Alicent works towards peace but with every passing moment it seems even more impossible. As dragons start to dance will the Dornish Princess learn to dance with them?

A/N: Hello everyone! Long time no see. This is the final chapter…for now. As I follow the show’s timeline/canon with a few liberties here and there I will be putting the fic on hiatus until the second season drops. Also, you may have noticed I deleted the first part of the chapter that I uploaded sometime ago. I didn’t feel like it was as fleshed out as I would have liked so I deleted it and have reincorporated it into one long finale. I do have other projects in the works so I do hope you will look forward to other works from me. Please let me know what you think! It is not goodbye to the Queen and her Lady but a see you later.

A/N pt.2: @fuckinglittlekitten @swords-and-roses @watercolorskyy @chonisbestmistake @freshmoneyalmondathlete @bass6c @the-camilucha @nataliaromanovaswife @oh-thats-cute @lesbicentism

After the morning’s events the small council, that now included Aegon, gathered to discuss the crown’s next steps.

They agreed to send terms of surrender to Rhaenyra. Alicent insisted the terms be generous enough for Rhaenyra to accept. After much back and forth the rest of the council agreed. Alicent excused herself to have a much needed moment alone while the rest of the council debated on what the terms would actually be.

When Alicent returned to her quarters she ordered a serving girl to bring her tea. She sank into her chair by the fire and closed her eyes.

She had almost died.

Alicent had faced her demise bravely. While at the mercy of Rhaenys and her dragon, Alicent did not flinch.

She was spared, for what reason she knew not. Nevertheless, she and her family were spared.

Alicent sat upright when the serving girl brought her tea. She sipped on it while she contemplated all that she still had to do. The exhaustion started to set in, but she could not let it overtake her. There was simply far too much work still left to do.

There was the business of having the nobles at court swear obeisance to Aegon…which included Prince Qoren Martell.

Alicent let out a deep sigh. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the armchair.

All hope of rest went out the window the second Aemond stormed into the room.

Alicent turned at the sound of his entrance. She furrowed her brows when she saw fury written across Aemond’s face.

“Aemond, what is the matter?”

“How long has your wicked companionship with (y/n) gone on for,” Aemond spat, his nostrils flaring.

Alicent swallowed hard. The moment she had most feared had arrived. She had long wondered how she would respond, if she would lie or say the truth.

“Answer me mother,” Aemond demanded, his voice raised and fists balled.

“Lower your voice,” Alicent commanded. She set her teacup and saucer down on the table in front of her. Then she stood. She smoothed her dress down as her mind scrambled for a response.

Not a moment later she decided on a response.

“I know not what you speak of Aemond,” she told him.

She decided she would lie.

Aemond shook his head then stepped closer. “I know, Mother. I know...(y/n) confirmed it. So do me the courtesy of being honest. For once speak plainly and honestly,” he replied through a clenched jaw.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention. Alicent had never seen her son so upset. She looked away from Aemond.

“Whatever the Princess told you was a lie, Aemond.”

Aemond unballed his fists and ran a hand through his hair. He looked away from his mother.

“What cause do you have for denying it any longer? (y/n) has told me all,” Aemond questioned.

Alicent did not respond. Instead she crossed the room and poured herself a cup of sweet wine from the flagon at her table.

“I do not wish to lie to you, Aemond,” Alicent said as she raised the goblet to her lips.

The silver haired Prince softened. He let out an exasperated sigh. “All I seek is the truth.”

“What you ask of me I cannot give you.” Alicent kept her back towards Aemond. She took another drink of wine.

Aemond approached his mother. Alicent stiffened when she felt him near.

“Please Mother…I need to know the truth,” Aemond pleaded, his voice becoming strained.

Alicent emptied her goblet and poured herself another cup. She downed the second cup then turned to face her son. He was much closer than Alicent thought he would be.

“Whatever hurt you are feeling, I apologize. It was not my wish to hurt you, son,” Alicent professed, her voice low.

“You warned me of (y/n)’s true nature but now I need the entire truth.” Aemond said and looked away from Alicent when he realized tears had pooled in the corners of his eyes. He blinked away the tears that dared form.

Alicent frowned.

Her son would not meet her gaze.

She did not speak. What could she say? The truth? It would ruin her if word got out.

Aemond sank into the chair from the table nearby. “It is just us. What cause have you to continue the lies,” he asked.

Alicent sighed. “All I can tell you is that the Princess has brought me great comfort in her time at the Keep,” she confessed.

Aemond looked up and met his mother’s gaze. She looked uncomfortable and tears welled in her eyes. Aemond felt his anger lull.

“Do you love her? Truly love her,” Aemond asked, his voice strained.

Alicent furrowed her brows. “Do I love her?”

Aemond nodded slowly. “Yes. This treachery is unbearable but...if you love her, as deeply as I do, then perhaps I can find a way to bear the immense pain in my chest,” he replied.

The now dowager Queen remained silent for a moment. Then she spoke softly.

“I love you, Helaena, and Aegon very much. I cared for your father...but I did not love him,” Alicent began.

“That much I know mother. I myself bore him little affection,” Aemond replied, slightly irritated. He stood from his seat. “Do you love (y/n), that is the question.”

Alicent held her son’s gaze. His eyes begged her for the truth. His anger had dissipated, now he only wanted the truth. He did not want to be lied to anymore.

So Alicent took a deep breath and looked away from him. She cast her gaze to the stone floor.

“I do. I love her more than I thought myself capable of loving,” Alicent admitted.

Aemond’s heart ached even more. He finally had the truth. He sank back down into the seat.

“You cannot imagine the pain I am in, mother,” Aemond breathed. “I love you, and I love (y/n). I wish for nothing but her happiness and yours but…I never imagined this.”

Alicent approached her son and knelt down in front of him.“It was not my intention to cause you such suffering, and I know it was not the Princess’ either. Whatever hurt you are feeling I apologize for. It was not our wish to hurt you, son.” She gripped Aemond’s hands. “She cares for you deeply, Aemond.”

Aemond tore his hands away from his mother’s. “But she does not love me,” Aemond cursed. Then he met his Mother’s gaze. A tear fell down his face. “She can never love me,” he whispered.

Silence descended upon them as Alicent could not think of any words she could utter that would ease Aemond’s pain. She stood and walked towards the hearth.

“How do you bear it,” Aemond asked, breaking the tense silence.

Alicent turned back to her son. She knitted her brows. “Bear what?”

Aemond wiped the tears from his eyes. “That she is my betrothed. That she will wed me and birth my sons. Does it not fill you with fury?”

He knew the truth and it did not ignite him with fury any longer. Now, he only wished to understand. He wanted to know how his Mother could love (y/n) as he did and allow her to marry someone else.

Alicent shrugged. “It is her duty,” she professed. Then she sat down across from Aemond and continued. “As a Princess of Dorne she must wed and have children. I could not begrudge her for doing her duty just as she could not begrudge me for doing mine.”

Aemond quieted. He nodded and looked away, the look on his face a pensive one.

Alicent stared at her son. She was thankful he was no longer upset but worried he had still not forgiven her. In truth, her companionship with the Princess was a deep betrayal and Alicent knew that. She only hoped that her son could empathize with their situation and forgive them.

“(y/n) told me of her proclivities long ago, and I accepted it without judgment of her as I understood she had no more control over her feelings than I,” Aemond said then cleared his throat as he met his mother’s gaze. “Do you share her proclivities or is it a deep companionship borne from your loneliness?”

Alicent looked away from her son. She swallowed hard. “What if I did share her proclivities?”

Aemond stood. Alicent mirrored him and stood from her seat. Aemond reached out and held Alicent’s hands.

“Then how could I begrudge you? How can I begrudge that you found another who shared your feelings and fell in love with her?”

Finally, the tears in Alicent’s eyes fell. “You must believe that I never meant to hurt you, Aemond, neither of us did.”

Aemond placed a kiss on his Mother’s forehead. “I know mother, but it does not lessen the hurt.”

Alicent wiped the tears from her face. She took a deep breath. Aemond was truly her sweet boy, he had always been. And she would do anything for him.

She cupped his face.

“Would you still suffer if my companionship ended?”

She did not wish to end things but if it was the only way to end Aemond’s agony she would do so. Before she was (y/n)’s love she was Aemond’s mother. Her loyalties had to lie with her family.

Aemond did not immediately reply. He furrowed his brow and looked down at the ground. Then he sighed. “That would not be my wish.”

Relief flooded Alicent.

Aemond met his mother’s gaze. “(y/n) would be inconsolable, and I know that would cause you a great deal of pain. I could never burden you both with such pain just to spare me of mine.”

A small smile spread across Alicent’s face. She gently ran her thumb across Aemond’s cheek.

“You are too good, Aemond. You are my pride,” she whispered.

Aemond smiled sheepishly. Then he took his Mother’s hands in his own.

“I cannot say it will be easy for me to endure but I will try,” he promised.

Alicent gave his hands a gentle squeeze.“Thank you Aemond.”

Then Aemond let go of Alicent’s hands and crossed the room to pour himself a cup of wine.

“Would you like a cup?” He asked Alicent.

“Yes please,” Alicent replied.

Aemond poured wine into two cups then returned to his mother’s side. He handed one of the goblets to her.

Alicent took it then took a sip.

Aemond took a long drink. Then he stared down at the wine in his goblet as he swirled it around.

“I suppose it would be difficult for anyone not to fall in love with (y/n). She is exceptional,” Aemond mused with a fond smile on his face.

Alicent mirrored his smile. She nodded softly. “She is indeed.”

The two nursed their cups of wine as they continued to speak of the Princess’ attributes.

The Princess made her way to her family’s quarters. Her eyes still stung from all the tears she had shed. She was tired and wished to sleep but she had to inform her father and sister of the morning’s events. She knew they would be more upset if they had to hear the news from anyone else.

When she arrived at their door the Hightower men at arms stepped aside and let her enter.

Prince Qoren and Princess Coryanne sat at their table eating their midday meal. They both looked towards the door as (y/n) entered.

“(y/n), have you returned with news,” Prince Qoren asked.

The Princess noted the look of distrust on her sister’s features. She nodded.

“I do indeed father.”

So Prince Qoren waved her over. “Come sit and sup with us while you tell us.”

(y/n) crossed the room to sit beside her father and opposite her sister.

The Dornish Prince ate a forkful of roasted lamb as he urged the Princess to speak.

(y/n) cleared her throat and began to tell them. “Aegon was crowned the King in front of all the smallfolk in King’s Landing,” she began.

Coryanne furrowed her brows. “Did you attend?”

“I did,” (y/n) replied, her gaze unwavering.

Prince Qoren frowned. “I believe I ordered you not to.”

(y/n) turned to her father. “I could not turn down Prince Aemond’s personal invitation.”

Coryanne scoffed. “Of course, how could you turn down the very family that keeps us prisoner. It would be most impolite.” Coryanne rolled her eyes at (y/n).

“You are not prisoners,” (y/n) snapped.

Prince Qoren held his hand up to silence his daughters. “Enough.”

Both girls quieted. Then Prince Qoren asked (y/n) to continue.

(y/n) did so.

“At the ceremony Princess Rhaenys broke through the floor of the dragon pit on her dragon,” the Princess recounted, a shudder going through her at the memory of the beast so close to Alicent.

Coryanne dropped her fork and met her sister’s gaze. Her face filled with worry.

“Were you harmed,” Coryanne asked, her voice full of alarm.

Prince Qoren stood and inspected his daughter where she sat.

(y/n) put a hand on her father’s arm. “I am fine,” she told him.

Prince Qoren smiled at her then sat back down.

(y/n) turned to Coryanne.

“Prince Aemond stepped in front of me and shielded me.”

Coryanne softened. She gave (y/n) a small nod then returned her attention to the plate of food in front of her.

Prince Qoren raised his hand to his beard. He began stroking it.

“So what did Princess Rhaenys do? Did she kill Aegon?”

(y/n) shook her head.

“No, she harmed no one but the smallfolk her dragon trampled as it made its escape.”

Coryanne took a drink from her goblet then turned to her sister.

“Was the Princess confined to her rooms as we are?”

(y/n) nodded.

Prince Qoren sighed.

Coryanne turned to her father. “It is as I said father, the house of the dragon is divided. They are not as strong as you believed them to be.”

(y/n) frowned and reached out for her father’s hand.

“Father, that is not true. They are strong. With King Aegon on the throne Princess Rhaenyra will bend the knee and all will be well,” (y/n) argued.

Coryanne rolled her eyes. She turned to her younger sister. “Do not be so foolish (y/n). The Princess will never bend the knee. As well she should not as she is the rightful heir.”

“The King informed the Queen of his desire for Aegon to succeed him. As the King’s first son that is his right,” (y/n) replied, knowing that in her heart she did not believe in Aegon’s right to rule.

Prince Qoren continued to stroke his beard. His face was lost in thought.

Coryanne scoffed. “Father please tell me you do not believe (y/n)’s ramblings.”

Finally Prince Qoren spoke. He sat forward and let out a great sigh.

“In light of this news you have brought us (y/n), I have made a decision.”

The Princesses leaned closer to their father, both with baited breath.

“We shall return to Sunspear. Your betrothal to Prince Aemond is no more. War is coming and I will not leave you here to become a pawn to be used to demand Dornish support,” Qoren proclaimed.

The younger Princess’ heart sank. She reached out for her father’s hand. She took it and gave his hand a pleading squeeze.

“Father, that is not what I wish. I want to wed Prince Aemond. Please do not force me to part with my beloved,” (y/n) begged.

Coryanne looked at her sister and sneered. “You do not wish to be parted from the Queen. Speak the truth now sister, as father will not be swayed.”

Qoren turned to his youngest daughter with furrowed brows. “(y/n), tell me your sister is lying as I know your mother and I did not raise you to be so foolish.”

(y/n) let go of her father’s hand and lowered her gaze to her lap. She did not reply.

The Prince shook his head softly. “My darling, stupid, girl…I will alert the Hightower men that I wish to speak to the new King. If all goes well we will leave for Sunspear on the morrow.”

(y/n)’s gaze shot up. “Will you state your support?”

“I will state that if he wishes for the possibility of Dornish might at his side he will allow us to leave and return to Dorne safely,” Qoren said before he took a long sip of wine from his goblet.

Coryanne also drank from her cup but it did not hide the pleased smile that spread across her face.

(y/n) could take it no longer. She stood and bowed her head. “If that is your wish father.”

Prince Qoren lowered his goblet. “It is (y/n).”

“I will begin packing my things,” (y/n) replied. She swallowed hard and turned away from her family.

As she made her way to the door her father called out to her.

“(y/n),” the Prince said, his voice slightly raised.

(y/n) turned back to face the Prince. “Yes father?”

“Do not share the news of our departure with anyone outside our house,” Qoren ordered.

The Princess nodded silently. Then she turned back towards the door and walked out. She clenched her fists as she made her way back to her chambers. She would not let any tears fall where spies might see them.

Her vision started to blur as she neared her rooms. The second the door closed behind her (y/n) let all the tears fall.

After tea with his mother Aemond went out for a ride on vhagar to settle his nerves and think about how he would apologize to (y/n).

He could not lie and tell the Princess he forgave her, as he had not. While Aemond empathized with the Princess’ situation he could not bring himself to forgive her for the offense.

Out of all the women in the Keep it had been his mother…Aemond tried to forgive but it did not come to him easily.

When the Prince finally had an apology formed he made his way to the Princess’ chambers.

He knocked on the door and no one answered. So Aemond knocked once more. Still no answer.

Was the Princess not in her chambers?

Aemond decided to see for himself. So he let himself in.

The Princess sat at the foot of her bed, her eyes red and cheeks stained.

“(y/n),” he softly called out.

(y/n) looked up. “Aemond.”

Aemond clasped his hands behind his back. “Have I caught you at a bad moment? I can come back.”

(y/n) wiped the tears from her face and stood from her bed. “Nonsense. What can I do for you?”

“I uhm- I came to apologize,” Aemond confessed.

The Princess’ brows raised. “Oh.”

Aemond stepped closer to the Princess. “I was rash, and thoughtless. All I could think of was the pain in my chest and the blood in my ears. I’m sorry (y/n) for losing my temper with you.”

“It’s alright Aemond. I should not have kept something of such importance from you but you must understand I could not divulge such a companionship to just anyone.”

Aemond nodded. “I understand…but I will admit (y/n) I am still very hurt.”

(y/n) closed the gap between them. She placed her hands on Aemond’s arms. “I wish I could take that hurt away Aemond. I never wanted to hurt you. You are so good and truly the only man I have ever come close to truly loving.”

“But you can never love me as a wife should. I know (y/n),” Aemond said, his breath but a whisper.

(y/n)’s chest ached. Nothing she could say could mend Aemond’s broken heart. So she wrapped her arms around Aemond’s neck and buried her face in Aemond’s shoulder.

Aemond returned the embrace and wrapped his arms around (y/n)’s waist. He breathed in the Princess’ scent. What once brought him such pleasure now smelled bittersweet.

“I know that you love me as much as you can (y/n). I promised to be content with such affection and I am a man of my word,” he spoke as he pressed his cheek to the side of the Princess’ head. “It will take time for me to forgive you fully but I am thankful that someone has brought much needed happiness and comfort to my mother.”

(y/n) hugged the Prince tighter. “Thank you Aemond. Thank you.” Then she pulled away from the Prince to meet his gaze. “I could not ask for a better betrothed.”

The words burned (y/n)’s throat as she spoke them. She knew he was no longer her betrothed…but until her father announced their departure she would allow herself the comfort the farcical engagement brought her.

Aemond placed a gentle kiss to (y/n)’s forehead. Then he held her tight once more.

After much deliberation the council finally decided on the terms of surrender. Otto Hightower stood and read the finalized terms of surrender meant for Princess Rhaenyra.

Alicent had managed to secure generous terms for the Princess thanks to her tenacious nature…and Aegon’s desire to end the small council session quickly.

King Aegon had grown bored very quickly and wished for it all to end. So he looked to his mother for guidance in hopes to end such duties rapidly.

Otto finished reading the terms. He looked towards the King for final approval.

Aegon gave it then stood from his chair at the head of the table. “Now that our business has concluded I must take my leave.”

Otto raised a hand to stop Aegon. “Not so fast, your grace. We must decide who will deliver the terms to the Princess.”

“I think it’s best if one of the members of the small council go,” Maester Orwyle suggested.

Aegon nodded. “Yes very well let us get on with it then.”

“I volunteer myself,” Alicent said.

Tyland nodded. “I think that is wise.”

Otto shook his head. “It is dangerous. I would not see the Queen mother harmed.”

Aegon slumped in his seat. “So then you may go, grand sire.”

All eyes turned to Otto. He gave Aegon a strained smile.

“If you wish it, your grace.”

“Good, then all is well. Now I will take my leave,” Aegon proclaimed.

“There is the business with the Dornish prince, my King,” Tyland said then looked towards the Queen mother.

Alicent swallowed then turned to Tyland. “Thank you my lord. That is pressing business indeed.”

Aegon nodded. “Yes indeed.” Then he turned to his mother. He cleared his throat and Alicent met his gaze. Aegon raised a brow.

The Queen mother let out a breath then turned to the rest of the small council. “Their men at arms must be released from our cells and our men removed from their chambers.”

“They have not yet stated their support for the new King,” Otto chimed in.

Alicent turned to her father. “They have not declared their support for Rhaenyra either.”

Otto opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by the small council doors opening. A Hightower man at arms walked inside and informed them of the Dornish Prince’s wish to speak with King Aegon.

Aegon sat up in his seat and leaned over towards his mother. Alicent placed a hand on his shoulder.

Otto informed the Hightower man that King Aegon would speak to the Prince at once.

The Hightower guard left the room.

Otto dismissed the small council and asked Aegon if he would like him to stay. Aegon looked to Alicent.

Alicent nodded. So Aegon told Otto to stay with him and his mother to speak with the Prince.

The Queen mother excused herself as she had business to attend to. Then, upon seeing the panicked look on Aegon’s face, she reassured him that his grandsire would aid him should he need it.

Then she took her leave.

Alicent entered the Keep’s library. She was glad to see (y/n) reading underneath the window.

“Don’t you look beautiful,” the Queen mother said reverently, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she smiled.

(y/n) turned towards the door and, upon seeing it was her love who had entered, leapt to her feet and went to Alicent’s side.

Alicent wrapped her arms around (y/n). (y/n) returned the embrace.

The Princess pressed a quick kiss to Alicent’s neck. “Ali, I am so glad to see you.”

Alicent let out a content sigh. She ran a hand through the Princess’ hair.

“As am I, my sweet girl.”

The lovers parted and Alicent guided (y/n) over to the settee. Alicent took (y/n)’s hand in hers. “I have much to speak with you about.”

(y/n) nodded. “As do I.”

Alicent met the Princess’ gaze. “Allow me to go first, my sun.”

“Of course,” (y/n) replied.

Alicent took in a deep breath. “Aemond came to my chambers shortly after we all returned from the coronation.”

(y/n) looked down at their clasped hands. She knew what the Queen mother was going to say.

“He asked about our…companionship,” Alicent continued.

“You have me to blame for that.”

(y/n) looked up and met Alicent’s gaze. Her forehead wrinkled in confusion.

“You?”

(y/n) nodded. “He walked me to my chambers,as you know, but once inside he crudely asked if I had bedded you…obviously I denied it but he knew Ali. He knew that I loved you, in a way I would never be able to love him. I couldn’t deny it.” (y/n) buried her face in Alicent’s shoulder. “I hated lying to Aemond. He’s my dearest friend.”

Alicent placed a gentle kiss to the top of (y/n)’s head. “I know (y/n). I did too.”

“What are we to do now?” (y/n) mumbled.

“Aemond swore to me he would keep our secret. So I see no reason we cannot continue on as we have done.”

The Princess lifted her head. “Really? I was sure you would panic,” she confessed.

Alicent smiled shyly. “I understand why you would think that. I know I’ve been cowardly when it comes to our love, but I won’t be any longer.”

Alicent brought (y/n)’s hand to her lips and kissed the Princess’ knuckles. “I promise you.”

Blush spread across (y/n)’s cheeks. “I love you Ali.”

Alicent squeezed the Princess’ hand. “I love you too (y/n).”

Then they moved onto different, more pressing, topics of conversation. Alicent explained the terms of surrender the small council had agreed on to the Princess. The Princess listened, though she was not confident Rhaenyra would accept them.

“And who will deliver them?” (y/n) asked.

Alicent sighed. “Aegon decided my father should take them.”

The Princess frowned. “Your father?”

“Yes, though I must confess that I do not trust my father will try hard to convince Rhaenyra to accept the terms.” Alicent said as she anxiously rubbed at one of the rings on her fingers.

(y/n) quieted. She tried to think of a way to help. Then she perked up and turned back to Alicent.

“Why don’t you try to send Rhaenyra a message?”

Alicent shook her head. “No ravens are allowed to enter or leave the Keep at the moment.”

“I mean why don’t you send a message with your father,” (y/n) explained.

Alicent furrowed her brows. “He would surely read it and pervert its message. He seeks Rhaenyra’s death.”

“Yes but if the message was hidden and only something the Princess would understand. That way even if your father read it he would not understand its true meaning,” (y/n) added.

Alicent paused and considered (y/n)’s idea. Then she stood up and turned to (y/n).

“I believe I have just the thing. Come with me,” Alicent declared before walking towards the doors.

The Princess followed after the Queen mother all the way to the Queen mother’s bedchambers.

Alicent knelt down and reached for something underneath her bedside. When she stood back up she had a piece of paper in her hands.

(y/n) furrowed her brows.

Alicent walked over to where (y/n) stood and unfolded the piece of paper.

“Do you remember that book about your ancestor you were reading in the Godswood all those moons ago?”

(y/n) nodded.

Alicent showed the Princess the torn book page in her hands.

“Well this is the torn page. Rhaenyra tore it out when we were girls. She always teased me for being studious and tore it out so that I would never forget about it.”

(y/n) took the torn page. She turned it over in her hand.

“If you send it with your father, what exactly will the page tell her?”

“That I have not forgotten the friendship we once shared, and the love we once bore one another,” Alicent replied, a forlorn and far away gaze in her eyes.

(y/n) looked up from the page and at her lover. She handed the page back to Alicent.

“I see...”

Alicent took the page, and she let her hand linger against (y/n)’s. Their gazes met.

“Does that bother you?”

(y/n) considered the question for a brief moment before replying.

“It does not. I am glad you have a way to communicate your true desire for peace,” (y/n) said with a small smile.

Alicent returned the smile. She reached up and cupped (y/n)’s cheek.

“My sweet girl.”

Then Alicent’s hand dropped, and the smile soon followed. Alicent looked away from (y/n).

“I trust you are speaking the truth, but I will admit that I can tell something is bothering you. I won’t pry…I trust you will tell me when it is time for me to know,” Alicent confessed.

(y/n) swallowed hard and did her best to keep the smile on her face. “I assure you I am not bothered.”

Alicent didn’t reply. She merely gave (y/n) a slight nod before returning her attention to the torn page in her hands.

The Princess felt her guilt build inside her.

The more Alicent went on about her plans to communicate peace the more the guilt built inside (y/n).

Until finally she could take it no more.

She cleared her throat.

Alicent looked over at her, brows raised.

“I must go…my sister requested I speak to her after my time in the library,” (y/n) lied, each word harder and harder to say as she felt her throat close up from guilt.

Alicent nodded slowly. “Of course (y/n). You may go.”

(y/n) placed a quick kiss to Alicent’s cheek before saying goodbye.

Alicent watched (y/n) leave. In the pit of her stomach she knew there was something the Princess was keeping from her, but she would have to trust (y/n). It would be no small task for the Queen mother to do but her love for (y/n) was greater than her paranoia.

It became harder and harder for (y/n) to hold back the deluge of tears that welled in her eyes.

She hated lying to Alicent. She hated lying to Aemond.

But she was a Martell.

She had to do as she was told.

So distracted in her thoughts (y/n) did not even notice Aemond calling out her name then hurrying to catch up with her in the halls.

Aemond caught up to the Princess. He put a hand on her arm to stop her. “Princess, what is the matter? You are crying,” Aemond asked once (y/n) turned to face him.

(y/n) wiped her tears with the edge of her sleeve. “It is nothing. I must go”

The Princess turned to leave but Aemond slid his hand in hers and pulled (y/n) towards a nearby room. Thankfully candles were already lit.

Aemond stood in front of the Princess. “I do not believe you (y/n). We have lied to each other enough, please tell me the truth.”

“I cannot. My father forbade it,” the Princess revealed, her eyes red from crying and cheeks tear stained.

Aemond furrowed his brow. “I am your betrothed. You can tell me anything.”

(y/n) pulled away from Aemond. She crossed to the other side of the room, near the window. She turned her back to the Prince. “That is the very cause of my strife. You are no longer my betrothed.”

“I don’t understand,” Aemond replied hesitantly. He stepped closer to the Princess.

The Princess whipped around to face the Prince.Her gaze met his. Aemond’s eyes were filled with worry, his lips slightly pursed. She sighed.

“My father has gone to speak with your brother, the King. He wishes for all three of us to return to Sunspear. He doesn’t think it’s safe for me here. He said you were no longer my betrothed,” (y/n) confessed.

Aemond shook his head. “That cannot be.” He huffed. “That is madness. Of course it is safe for you here.”

The Princess closed the gap between them.

“I told him of Princess Rhaenys’ dragon escaping during the coronation. He believes war is coming and does not wish me to remain far from home,” she explained.

Aemond reached out and held (y/n)’s hands in his. He gave her hands a squeeze.

“My mother is doing all she can to avoid war, and for once my brother is heeding her advice. We shall not go to war.”

(y/n) frowned. “My father does not believe so. He seeks to leave on the morrow.”

Aemond sighed.

He looked out the window, his brow furrowed, before he returned his gaze to (y/n).

“Then I will have to find a way to convince him otherwise. I must depart for Storm’s End to secure House Baratheon’s support but if you can delay your departure then I promise I will have a way to fix things when I return.”

“Do you truly believe you will find a way?” (y/n) did not want to fill herself with false hope.

Aemond brought their joined hands up to his lips.“Do you trust me?”

“I do,” (y/n) said with a small smile.

Aemond placed a kiss on the top of (y/n)’s hands.

“Then I will,” he promised.

(y/n) smiled wider. She nodded slowly. “Okay…I will see how I can delay my father’s plans.”

“Wonderful.” Aemond let go of (y/n)’s hands. He turned to leave. “I will go at once.”

(y/n) reached out and stopped him. Aemond turned back to (y/n).

The Princess spoke in a hushed voice. “But you must keep this news between us. No one else can know until my father announces it.”

Aemond nodded. “Of course. I shall see you when I return.”

The Princess let go of Aemond. Aemond left the room and went directly to his mother’s chambers.

He did not want to deceive the Princess, but now that he knew the truth of the Princess’ companionship with his mother, he knew he had to inform her.

Ser Criston let Aemond enter the dowager Queen’s chambers.

Alicent looked up from the correspondence in front of her. She frowned.

“Aemond, I thought you were on your way to Storm’s End?”

Aemond cleared his throat. “I was..I still am. But I have some information you are going to want to know.”

Alicent raised her brows. “Oh?”

“It’s about (y/n).” Aemond added.

Alicent stood from her seat and ushered Aemond towards the settee.

The Princess returned to her father’s chambers, hoping to stall their inevitable leave. She had to trust that Aemond would find a way.

She arrived outside her father’s quarters. Outside the door stood two Martell men at arms. They smiled and bowed as she walked past them and into the room.

Prince Qoren sat in an armchair that faced the roaring hearth. He looked up when the Princess entered.

“(y/n), there you are,” he said and stood from his seat.

He rushed to his daughter’s side and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“You must pack at once. We are to leave on the morrow, at the first light of day. I do not wish for us to linger here any longer than necessary.”

(y/n)’s heart sank but she did her best to mask her dismay.

“So the King has granted us leave?”

Qoren nodded as he ushered his daughter to a seat. He sat down next to her on the settee.

“I have acknowledged King Aegon as the true king,” Prince Qoren said and bowed his head.

“You do not believe he is fit to rule,” the Princess replied.

“Whether he is fit to rule matters not baby sister,” came a voice from the balcony.

Princess Coryanne entered the room and sat down across from her father and sister.

“Princess Rhaenyra is the late King’s chosen heir,” Coryanne added.

“What matters is I have been able to get us home safely,” Prince Qoren said and gave his elder daughter a sharp look.

Coryanne shrugged and sat back in her seat.

(y/n) furrowed her brows. “So you have thrown your support behind King Aegon?”

“I have acknowledged him as King. If he would like Dornish support should this all lead to war, he will have to allow us to decide once we are back in Sunspear,” Prince Qoren explained.

The youngest Princess nodded. She thought back to Aemond’s promise to fix things. She needed to buy him time.

(y/n) bit her lip as she thought.

Her sister eyed her suspiciously.

“I know that look,” Coryanne sniped.

Prince Qoren turned to (y/n). “Is something on your mind?”

“Yes I….,” (y/n) racked her mind for a way to stall their departure. “I wish to break fast with the Queen tomorrow. One final goodbye. Will you please delay our leave for just a few hours so that I may properly say goodbye to her?”

(y/n) gave her father a pleading look, and reached out to hold his hands.

“Please father,” (y/n) asked once more.

Prince Qoren frowned. “(y/n) I don’t think -”

“Father, I think you should allow her one last goodbye in the privacy of her chambers. After all, gods know if she’s bedded her paramour yet,” Coryanne sniped with a laugh.

Qoren turned to Coryanne.

“Enough of that type of talk. We are not in the comforts and safety of our home,” the Prince chided.

Coryanne lowered her gaze. “My apologies father.”

Qoren sighed then turned back to (y/n).

“I will allow you to break fast with the Queen one last time, but we will leave as soon as you have finished. I do not want to dally about for too long tomorrow.”

(y/n) smiled brightly and wrapped her arms around her father. She buried her face in his shoulder. “Thank you father! Thank you.”

Qoren smiled as he returned his daughter’s embrace. Then he pulled her away from him and looked her in the eye.

“But be careful (y//n). I know that you love with all your heart but you must not lose your head. Do you understand?”

(y/n) nodded. “I understand father.”

Qoren nodded. “Good. Now that all business is settled let us all prepare for our departure.”

The Prince sent both his daughters to pack their things and instruct the servant girls on how to pack the rest.

The Princess made quick work of her duties as she received an invitation to dine that night with the dowager Queen.

The meal was quiet. Too quiet.

(y/n) knew she had to tell Alicent the truth. A part of (y/n) was sure Alicent already knew as Alicent was also uncharacteristically silent.

Alicent could not look her lover in the eyes.

It cut her deeply that (y/n) did not tell her that the Prince planned to leave and take (y/n) with him. She had to hear about it from Aemond and then from Aegon.

Her dearest sun was leaving the Red Keep, and Alicent knew that with (y/n) would go all warmth and life within the castle walls.

The tension in the air remained until the serving boys brought out the honey cakes and lemon biscuits for dessert.

(y/n) picked at the slice of honey cake on her plate.

“Is it not to your liking,” Alicent asked, a flash of worry spread across her. She did not wish for (y/n)’s last meal in the Keep to be unpleasant.

The Princess shook her head. “No, no it’s not that. The cake is lovely. The whole meal was lovely, really.”

(y/n) met Alicent’s gaze for the first time that night.

Alicent nodded slowly. “It was, wasn't it…”

Silence descended upon the pair once more.

Alicent’s eyes pleaded for (y/n) to speak the truth. To say it once and for all. Her nerves had frayed to their very tips.

(y/n) looked away. She continued to pick at her plate.

“I’m sorry I -,” Alicent said with a loud sigh. She threw her napkin down on the table and stood. “I cannot go a moment longer without talking about it,” she added as she walked towards the Princess.

The Princess stood from her seat. “Wha- What is it Ali,” (y/n) stuttered.

Knots twisted over bigger knots in (y/n)’s stomach.

Alicent frowned, the worry lines on her forehead becoming apparent. “So you insist on keeping it from me?”

(y/n) closed the gap between herself and the dowager Queen. “I did not know how to tell you.”

Alicent closed her eyes and shook her head softly. “You cannot imagine the tears I shed when Aemond told me.”

“I’m so sorry Ali,” (y/n) said and reached out to hold Alicent’s hands, tears pooling in the young woman’s eyes.

“I do not wish for an apology,” Alicent replied. She brought (y/n)’s hands up to her mouth and placed a gentle kiss between the Princess’ knuckles. “(y/n) I wish for you to stay with me.”

(y/n) frowned. “I cannot…My father has decided I must return to Sunspear.”

Alicent dropped their intertwined hands. She turned towards the dining table where a flagon of wine sat in between the many sweet treats. She poured herself a goblet full of wine and took a long drink.

“Then I will have Aegon deny his leave. I will-,” Alicent began but was cut off by the Princess.

“You will do no such thing.” (y/n) said and reached out for the Queen’s hand once more. “Hard days are coming, Ali. Please do not make them harder by challenging my father.”

Alicent turned to face the Princess. She looked down at their hands, fingers laced together. A tear ran down the Queen’s cheek. “…I cannot lose you,” she whispered.

(y/n) shed a few tears of her own. She wrapped her arms around the Queen and buried her face in the Queen’s shoulder. “I was a coward Ali. I should have told you as soon as I knew.”

“You cannot leave me,” Alicent murmured as she placed a kiss to the side of (y/n)’s head. “I do not think I can survive without you.”

Then Alicent pulled away from the Princess. The dowager Queen cupped the young woman’s face with both hands. She ran her thumb across (y/n)’s cheek.

“Now that I have been bathed in your rays of light and love…,” Alicent stopped and looked down at (y/n)’s lips. She swallowed hard before continuing. “I cannot go back to the cold and dark,” she said with a quiver in her voice.

Alicent’s gaze flicked up to meet (y/n)’s.

(y/n) leaned into Alicent’s touch.

“You won’t have to. I promise I will find a way back to you,” (y/n) whispered.

Alicent’s hands fell back to her sides. “How? We will be leagues apart with a bloody war looming.” Alicent sighed aloud and turned away from the Princess.

(y/n) stepped closer, her chest pressed against Alicent’s back.

“You must believe that I will return home to you,” (y/n) pleaded.

Alicent felt the heat of (y/n)’s breath on the back of her neck. She shut her eyes and tried to quell the familiar thrum of excitement in her chest that happened whenever the Princess was that close.

“Your father will never allow you to return,” Alicent protested.

(y/n) placed her hands on Alicent’s hips. She pressed a gentle kiss to Alicent’s neck. Then she neared Alicent’s ear.

“I love you, and I will do whatever is necessary to be by your side….,” she whispered.

Alicent swallowed hard then turned around in (y/n)’s grasp.

The Princess continued.

“I will return even if I must return to you bloody and barefoot, without a family or a title,” (y/n) proclaimed.

Fresh tears pooled in Alicent’s eyes. Her whole being felt warm, warm and bright. She felt loved, truly loved, and it was all thanks to (y/n).

Alicent pressed her forehead against the Princess’.

“Then I will be sure to welcome you home with a warm bath and give you my family name.”

The Princess smiled a shy smile.

Alicent’s smile mirrored the Princess’. “You have me, always,” she confessed.

(y/n) closed the gap between them and pressed her lips against the Queen’s.

Alicent returned the kiss and opened her lips to let the Princess deepen the kiss.

(y/n) pulled Alicent’s hips closer to her. Alicent wrapped her arms around (y/n)’s neck.

She deserved this, Alicent thought to herself. She deserved to show her sun the whole of her love for her.

So Alicent guided the pair towards the table. She backed the Princess up against the edge.

(y/n)’s hands dropped from the Queen’s hips and she broke their kiss. “Ali we should stop you-.”

Her words were cut off by Alicent’s lips. Alicent kissed the Princess and this time it was she who pulled the Princess’ hips towards her own.

If the Princess was to leave her, then Alicent would give all of herself to (y/n). She would not let (y/n) leave without consummating their true love. After all, there was no assurance Alicent would ever see her sun again.

(y/n) broke their kiss once more. She looked into Alicent’s eyes for some type of answer. She had never seen Alicent so forthright.

“My husband is dead,” Alicent whispered. “I am free and I wish to give you all of myself before we are forced to part ways.”

(y/n) cupped Alicent’s cheek. “Are you sure?”

The dowager Queen leaned into the Princess’ touch. “Take me,” she whispered into the Princess’ palm then placed a hungry kiss to her palm.

Desire flared inside the Dornish Princess. She swallowed hard then nodded.

The Queen was led to her bed by the younger woman. (y/n) undressed Alicent slowly, giving the Queen ample time if she should change her mind.

But Alicent’s mind was singular in thought. Her body, for the first time, was lit aflame with desire for the Princess.

With every touch that ghosted Alicent’s skin as (y/n) undressed her grew the thrumming in Alicent’s chest, and the pulsing in between her legs.

Soon the Queen’s skin was bare. She met (y/n)’s gaze and felt a sense of pride as the Princess’ eyes gazed upon her naked body.

“Your grace…,” (y/n) said with a shaky breath.

Alicent hooked a finger under the Princess’ chin and brought the Princess’ gaze up to meet her own.

“Ali….only Ali.”

The Princess nodded. “Ali,” she repeated, her voice thick with desire.

Alicent stepped closer. “Your turn.”

The Princess turned her back to Alicent and swallowed hard as she heard the strings of her dress start to come undone.

(y/n) closed her eyes and took deep breaths, each layer Alicent removed created a louder ringing in her ears.

It was not until Alicent placed a kiss upon her naked shoulder that (y/n)’s eyes flickered open.

The Princess turned around, and swallowed hard. It was up to her to teach the Queen in the art of loving another woman.

So she reached out and guided Alicent to lay on the bed.

Alicent stared up at (y/n) with such openness that (y/n) had only dreamt of.

Alicent caressed (y/n)’s cheek. “I am ready (y/n).”

(y/n) smiled and gently lowered her lips to Alicent’s chest, placing a gentle kiss between her breasts.

The hour of the wolf neared and the lovers reached new heights of pleasure as hands touched, teeth nipped, hips bucked, and lips left swollen with each endless kiss.

“(y/n),” Alicent moaned through heavy pants as her body recovered from her latest climax.

The two were a mess of limbs as they ravaged one another. Neither wanted it to end.

But (y/n) had another engagement she could not miss.

So she climbed up to meet Alicent’s lips and gave her a gentle peck. “Thank you, my Ali,” (y/n) whispered as she fixed an auburn curl behind Alicent’s ear.

Alicent smiled up at (y/n). “Whatever for, my sun?”

(y/n) gazed into Alicent’s eyes and said, “I have never felt so sure about anything as I do about my love for you.”

The Queen smiled lazily and cupped the Princess’ cheek. “I feel the same about you.”

(y/n) brought her lips against Alicent’s for one last, long, languid, kiss.

Then the Princess let out a long sigh and pressed her forehead against Alicent’s.

“I wish I could spend the whole night in your arms Ali, but I must pack certain belongings that I do not entrust to the servants.”

Alicent matched the Princess’ sigh. “I understand (y/n).”

The Princess pulled away and instantly Alicent felt the magic of their union dissipate.

Alicent watched as (y/n) dressed herself. Then stood to help the Princess with the strings of her dress.

“You will break fast with me on the morrow, won’t you?” (y/n) asked as Alicent tightened the strings of her dress.

Alicent finished and wrapped her arms around (y/n)’s waist. “Of course I will, my sun.”

(y/n) leaned backwards into the Queen’s touch and smiled. “Then I shall pray day comes quick so that I may see you again.”

The lovers pulled apart and with one final kiss (y/n) left the Queen’s chambers.

Ser Criston waited for the Princess just down the hall from the dowager Queen’s chambers, just as she had asked of him.

When the Princess rounded the corner and made contact the knight of the Kingsguard immediately noticed the Princess’ disheveled appearance.

“Ser Criston, I am glad to see you are indeed a man of your word,” the Princess said as she neared him.

The knight nodded. “Of course Princess, in all matters that concern the dowager Queen I am your ally.”

“I am glad to hear so,” (y/n) replied, still trying to fix her appearance.

Together, they walked down the halls of the Keep until they reached Lord Strong’s chambers.

As they stood in front of the Lord’s door (y/n) hesitated.

Cole watched as the Princess lifted her hand to the door then stopped.

(y/n) thought back to what Alicent had confessed to her. What Alicent said Larys had made her do all those years. She thought of the humiliation and shame Alicent had dealt with all those years, and how much Larys had reveled in it.

That was enough to have the fire return to her.

(y/n) burst through the door, with Ser Criston in tow.

Larys startled awake. “Who goes there,” he called out.

The Princess lit a few candles while Ser Criston grabbed Larys and gagged him with a rag.

Once gagged, Ser Criston forced Larys to kneel in front of the Princess.

(y/n) stared down at the man.

“You are the most pathetic man in all of Westeros.”

Larys cried out but it was muffled by the rag in his mouth. Ser Criston jostled him into silence.

The Princess grabbed Larys by the chin and forced him to look at her.

“You will never again approach the dowager Queen with any of your grotesque demands in exchange for information. Your taking advantage of her is done.”

Larys once again tried to speak.

“Cole,” (y/n) said.

Ser Criston placed his foot on Larys’ good leg then put pressure on it. Larys groaned and tried to escape the Princess’ grasp.

But the Princess’ grasp was firm. She dug the nail of her thumb into his chin. Larys yelped in pain.

“You will not speak.”

Larys quieted down but stared up at the Princess with pure hate in his eyes.

“While I take my leave to Sunspear Ser Criston will remain. He will be my eyes and ears. If he is to tell me that you have lingered in the Queen’s chambers or in her mere presence for longer than necessary I will gladly engage the services of any one of Dorne’s sellswords that are also known to work with poisons.”

Larys furrowed his brow. He looked away from the Princess.

The Princess dug her nail into his chin until his gaze returned to her. “Do you understand, Lord Strong.”

Tears now pooled in Larys’ eyes. He nodded slowly.

“Wonderful,” she said, then turned to Ser Criston. “Remove the rag.”

Ser Criston did as told and removed the rag from Larys’ mouth.

Larys coughed and took several deep breaths to steady himself.

Then he looked up at the Princess and smirked. “You may threaten me all you wish Princess but I know your secret. I know the truth about you and the Queen.”

In one fluid movement Ser Criston unsheathed a dagger and held it against Larys’ throat.

Larys dared not swallow or speak as he felt the cool blade against him.

“I urge you to not make threats against her grace, my Lord,” Cole whispered.

The Princess lowered herself to meet Larys’ gaze. “And before you make any more threats I want to inform you that I know what your little busy bees look like. Should they come anywhere near me or my family I will be sure to show you the true might of Dornish anger.”

Larys looked away. “I will- I will comply,” the Lord confessor uttered.

Ser Criston pressed the dagger ever closer, striking the skin just enough for a drop of blood to spill through. “And you will apologize to her grace. You will tell her all information will be given to her freely.”

Larys cried out, “Alright, alright! I will apologize to the Queen.”

“Very well,” Ser Criston replied. He started to help Lord Larys stand but the Princess put a hand up to stop him.

“Wait,” she said.

Ser Criston shoved Larys back down.

The Princess stared at Larys, her expression blank but her eyes filled with fury.

Larys stared at her, and swallowed hard. “What is it? What more do you want fr-.”

The Lord confessor’s words were cut short as the Princess’ fist collided with his face.

Ser Criston’s eyes widened as he saw the Princess punch Larys.

The Princess then gripped Lord Strong’s face once again.

“You are scum. If it were up to me I would order you flayed alive and have your flesh strung up on the walls of sunspear for all to see…but the Queen does not wish for such violence upon anyone. It is by her grace that you live…do not forget that.”

Larys nodded in reply.

(y/n) looked up to meet Ser Criston’s gaze. She nodded and he started to help Larys to his feet.

Ser Criston threw Larys onto his cot then followed the Princess out into the hall.

The knight slammed the door closed behind him and trailed after the Princess.

Once they reached a sizable distance from Larys Strong’s quarters the knight approached the Princess.

“Princess, were your threats of flaying the Lord confessor true?”

The Princess stopped and turned to face the knight.

“Of course they were. I won’t allow any more harm to come to the dowager Queen. I expect you to feel the same, Ser Criston.”

Ser Criston nodded. “I do, Princess. I will be sure to keep the Lord confessor true to his word.”

“Wonderful. Now I must return to my quarters,” she declared.

Ser Criston bowed his head. “Good night Princess.”

“Good night, Ser Criston,” (y/n) replied before she made her way to her own quarters.

The next morning the dowager Queen and the Princess of Dorne sat down and broke fast together. Just as the Queen had promised.

Both were in good spirits even though that morning would be their last together.

(y/n) picked at her food. “I don’t want the meal to end,” she confessed.

Alicent smiled at (y/n). “One way or another your father will see to it that you all depart King’s Landing this very day.”

(y/n) met Alicent’s gaze. “I do not wish to part from you Ali.”

Alicent reached across the table and held (y/n)’s hand. “I do not wish to part either but some things are beyond our power.”

(y/n) ran her thumb across the top of Alicent’s hand. “I know…but I will return, somehow.”

Alicent gave (y/n)’s hand a squeeze. “You will.”

The two enjoyed the rest of their meal together. Just as they had finished the Princess’ sister, Princess Coryanne, rushed into the room.

She stopped when she saw the dowager Queen and (y/n) in a warm embrace.

“Pardon me your grace, I did not mean to intrude.”

Alicent and (y/n) pulled apart at the sound of Coryanne’s entry.

“Oh dear sister I do not believe that,” (y/n) replied.

Alicent smiled at Coryanne. “There was nothing to intrude on Princess.”

Coryanne’s lips pursed. “Indeed,” she said with a scowl. Then she turned to her sister. “Father has asked me to escort you down to the carriage. Everyone is ready to depart.”

(y/n)’s smiled faded. “Aye,” she replied, looking away from both Alicent and her sister.

Coryanne smiled viciously. “Wonderful. Let us all go down together.”

(y/n) nodded. “Of course.”

So the three royals made their way down to the entrance of the Keep.

Already there was Queen Helaena and her children. As well as Prince Qoren Martell.

Formal goodbyes were had between the various royals.

Coryanne approached the dowager Queen to say goodbye but Alicent reached out and embraced the Princess.

Surprised, Coryanne attempted to speak but the Queen beat her to it.

“Under no circumstance should (y/n) leave Sunspear. She will try to escape to return to the Keep. You must not allow this,” Alicent whispered as she embraced Coryanne.

Coryanne furrowed her brow then quickly schooled her features. “I- I will your grace,” she whispered back.

Alicent pulled away and loudly said, “Safe travels Princess Coryanne.”

Coryanne smiled, “Thank you, your grace.”

Confused, Coryanne made her way to her father’s side. She looked back at Alicent, who was now in a warm embrace with (y/n).

“I am yours,” (y/n) whispered as she embraced Alicent. Then the Princess pulled away from the Queen before she could respond.

(y/n) made her way into the carriage. She knew that if she looked back at Alicent she would not be able to leave.

She turned away from the Keep as her father and sister piled into the carriage. Soon the horses began their journey out of King’s landing.

(y/n) closed her eyes and tried to hold back the deluge of tears that threatened to break free.

Alicent watched as the wheelhouse grew farther and farther from the Keep. As soon as the gates closed behind it Alicent rushed to her quarters.

She sank to her knees and started to cry.

She was alone again.

Without ally.

Without love.

Without her sun.

A knock on her door shook her from her tears. She stood and faced the door.

Ser Criston entered with a grave look on his face.

Alicent’s heart sank. “What is it?”

Ser Criston swallowed hard. “Aemond has returned from Storm’s End, and I’m afraid he’s returned with grave news.”

Alicent frowned and shut her eyes. As she followed Ser Criston out into the hall she realized she had made the right decision to keep (y/n) as far away from the Keep as she could. War would not be avoided.

#alicent hightower #alicent hightower x reader #alicent higtower imagine #House of the Dragon imagine #House of the Dragon reader insert

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daeneryseastar · 11 months

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Rightful Heirs and a World of Woes

Does supporting Aegon II over Rhaenyra as the rightful heir of the Seven Kingdoms make someone a misogynist? Let’s get into it.

First of all, let’s look up some definitions:

Primogeniture - The term comes from the Latin "primo” which means first, and “genitura” which relates to a person's birth. Historically, primogeniture favored male heirs, also called male-preference primogeniture. Under this regime, the eldest living son would inherit the entirety of his parent's estate. (law.cornell.edu)

Patriarchy - A system of society or government in which men hold the power and women are largely excluded from it. (Oxford)

Absolute Monarchy - A monarchical government in which a ruler has unrestricted power over the State and its people due to lack of constitutional or legal restraints. (sociologydictionary.org)

Law – The system of rules which a particular country or community recognizes as regulating the actions of its members and which it may enforce by the imposition of penalties. (Oxford)

Tradition – The transmission of customs or beliefs from generation to generation, or the fact of being passed on in this way. (Oxford)

Precedent - An earlier event or action that is regarded as an example or guide to be considered in subsequent similar circumstances. (Oxford)

Misogyny - Dislike of, contempt for, or ingrained prejudice against women. (Oxford)

Now, let’s look into both characters' claims to the throne:

Rhaenyra Targaryen

Eldest living child of King Viserys I and his first wife Queen Aemma Arryn.

Named her father’s heir over her male uncle in 105 AC.

All Lords of the Realm swore fealty to her and her right to the throne.

Protected by the Widow’s Law, enacted by King Jaehaerys I, which forbade a man to disinherit the children by a first wife in order to bestow their lands, seat, or property on a later wife or her children. (Fire & Blood: Birth, Death, and Betrayal Under King Jaehaerys I)

During the Dance of Dragons, 53 houses supported Rhaenyra’s cause over Aegon’s 28. Most prominently she had the support of three of the Great Houses initially: The Starks, the Arryns, and the Greyjoys. The Tullys joined her cause later on in the war, after their pro-Green Lord, Grover Tully, passed away from illness after the Second Battle of Tumbleton, in which his heir Lord Elmo Tully, and his son Kermit, supported the Blacks. The Lannisters and Baratheons support Aegon, and the Tyrells remain neutral. The Martells have yet to join the fold.

Aegon II Targaryen

Eldest living male child of King Viserys I and his second wife Queen Alicent Hightower.

“The Great Council of 101 AC thereby established an iron precedent on matters of succession: regardless of seniority, the Iron Throne of Westeros could not pass to a woman, nor through a woman to her male descendants.” (Fire & Blood: Heirs of the Dragon - A Question of Succession)

We could look even further into this point, like bringing up personalities and whether or not one was worthier of the Iron Throne than the other; but none of that information is necessary in figuring out who is the rightful heir, and if supporting Aegon II over Rhaenyra is inherently misogynistic.

Onto my next point: Westeros is an Absolute Monarchy (up to the Dance of Dragons era, once the dragons are gone it becomes a completely feudal monarchy).

The definition, in simpler terms, is that the current ruler holds all power, and no one is allowed to undermine them. They have the final say; which is where the definitions of law, tradition, and precedent come into play.

The Great Council of 101 AC backs Viserys, and would back Aegon, by definition; but only in the case of the King having not already named his heir.

George R.R. Martin himself has stated the succession laws in Westeros are finicky and subject to change, “Well, the short answer is that the laws of inheritance in the Seven Kingdoms are modeled on those in real medieval history; which is to say, they were vague, uncodified, subject to varying interpretations, and often contradictory… The medieval world was governed by men, not by laws. You could even make a case that the lords preferred the laws to be vague and contradictory, since that gave them more power.”

The Great Council set a precedent, the naming of one’s firstborn son as heir is tradition, but the King’s word is law. As the lawful King of Westeros, Viserys is allowed to name whoever he wants as his heir. In this case, he chose his firstborn child: Rhaenyra Targaryen. This is the same process as Jaehaerys choosing Baelon over Rhaenys, only in that case, it was in favor of the male claimant. Even when given the opportunity to change his mind (seeing as he had three sons that he could choose from) he steadfastly upheld his daughter’s claim to the throne.

All of this points to Rhaenyra Targaryen being the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. Now, how does this tie into the claim that supporting Aegon over her is misogynistic?

As stated above, misogyny is ‘the dislike of, contempt for, or ingrained prejudice against women.’ Aegon only has two points towards him being the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, which is tradition and precedent. Neither of which helped his case beyond making him a claimant to the throne. Aegon’s claim derives entirely from Rhaenyra being a woman. Despite this, Rhaenyra is the named, lawful heir of the current monarch, therefore Queendom is her birthright. This is acknowledged by Aegon, “My sister is the heir, not me. What sort of brother steals his sister’s birthright?”

The point can be made that Aegon was manipulated into taking the throne by his mother, Dowager Queen Alicent, his grandfather, Ser Otto Hightower, and Lord Commander of the King’s Guard, Ser Criston Cole, on the basis that Rhaenyra would put him and his family to the death to secure her and her children’s succession. This is proven false, when after the stillbirth of her daughter, and her coronation, Rhaenyra makes a point of saying, “As for my half-brothers, and my sweet sister Helaena, they have been led astray by the counsel of evil men. Let them come to Dragonstone, bend the knee, and ask my forgiveness, and I shall gladly spare their lives and take them back into my heart, for they are of my own blood, and no man or woman is as accursed as the kinslayer.” Oathbreaking, kinslaying, etc. are considered some of the most wretched crimes in the Seven Kingdom, and Rhaenyra proved that this is a belief that she also shares.

Many fans of this work have gone on to state that they are Team Green because of the characters on that side, such as Alicent, Helaena, Aemond, etc., and not because they want Aegon on the throne, which is their right. Others, though, have stated that they believe in male primogeniture and go on to say some of the most vile, heinous things imaginable concerning Rhaenyra simply because they do not like her. This is your prerogative, but it doesn’t make it right.

Male primogeniture is misogynistic. If you believe in male primogeniture, it makes you a misogynist. The whole point of it is that men are better and more deserving of basic human decency than women. If Aegon’s only real claim to the throne derives from Rhaenyra being a woman, and you support him over her because of that, there are very high chances that you are a misogynist.

In the end, this is a fictional story. None of it is real, and we as an audience should be able to like and support whichever characters we want without being subjugated to name-calling or death threats because of the actions taken in the universe. There comes a point, however, where fiction and reality blend together. A Song of Ice and Fire is heavily inspired by events that happen in real life. An example of this would be the Dance of Dragons taking inspiration from the Anarchy, a civil war that took place in 12th century England between Princess Matilda and her cousin Stephen for the throne.

Let me reiterate that there is nothing wrong with liking or disliking certain characters. The problem arises when fans of this work attempt to place themselves in-universe as nobles or peasants and resort to letting what is considered normal in medieval society influence how they interact and engage other fans of this work in the real world. The world of A Song of Ice and Fire is inherently misogynistic, homophobic, and racist; along with many other horrible things. It may have been normal then, but it isn’t normal now, and we as consumers have to be better about separating that. None of us should agree with any traditions, laws, or precedents that actively harm a subgroup of people in order to lift up others.

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raspberryfingers · 2 years

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A Lion In the Garden -Tywin Lannister x Reader- (Part 24)

WARNING: Blood, gore, mentions of rape

Also, cleganebowl reimagined?

—————

After spending just over a month away from the capital, Tywin and I had finally returned to Kings Landing. And, in an odd change of events, the Starks simply decided to come with us. I knew it was convenient to travel as a group, but part of me also wondered if perhaps Robb Stark was simply too hesitant to let Tywin take the sword.

In any case, they’d come with Jon Snow, Brienne of Tarth, and Sandor Cleagane. Just a few of the hundreds of mouths that Tywin seemed to lament needing to feed.

“I don’t know why your grandmother felt the need to invite so many damned people to our wedding. Most of these lords and ladies I’ve only ever heard of,” he grumbled, looking over a few sheets of parchment as I cuddled into him. We were still in bed, and yet he had already begun his task of wedding planning.

“It’s what’s expected of a wedding like ours, Tywin. And it’s not as if you don’t possess the funds,” I pointed out, letting my fingers trace along his chest. He gave a low hum, flipping through his papers with false concentration.

“We didn’t even have this many in attendance for Joffrey’s wedding, or Tommen’s for that matter,” he grumbled, setting the sheets down on his nightstand and gazing up at the top of the canopy.

“Well, we had just ended the war during Joffrey’s, and we were attempting to preserve some of the lost coin during Tommen’s,” I reasoned, kissing along his collarbone. His head leaned toward me, but he did not look at me.

“Either way, I’m going to ask her to remove at least 25% of the people on this list. It seems it has only grown in my absence,” he said, sighing and gazing out the window. The sun was growing quite high, yet Tywin had remained in bed due to my protests.

“My grandmother is taking care of food, Tywin. That’s the biggest expense that comes with guests, so I don’t see why you’re complaining,” I told him, though I already knew it was more out of his dislike for people than anything else. He didn’t desire to be a politician at his own wedding.

“Kevan is refusing to let me do the planning so far as entertainment goes. He and Genna have been planning everything together. It’s making me nervous,” Tywin revealed, to which I raised both eyebrows.

“Your sister is here?”

“Yes. I’m certain you’ll run into her at one point or another. She’s rather witty, the two of you will get along just fine,” he assured me, sitting up in bed so he could stretch his back. I sat up alongside him, massaging his shoulders to help him relax.

“I’ll be sure to ask her plenty of embarrassing questions about you, to which I hope she provides embarrassing answers,” I said, smiling when he glared at me over his shoulder. I pressed a kiss to his warm back, running my hands over his shoulder blades. I was constantly touching him, it seemed. And vice versa.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, (Y/N), if you would greet the Martells when they arrive at the end of this week. Trystane and Myrcella will be there too, of course, but it would be appropriate for you to accompany them,” Tywin requested, sighing out as I continued to massage him. I could feel the degree of his stress in every individual muscle.

“Of course I will,” I said, though I paused as if another sentence was on the verge of my tongue.

“But..?” He questioned, looking at me over his shoulder. I shook my head.

“There’s no but. I was merely going to ask if Ellaria Sand is going to be with them,” I said, laying back down and trying to calm myself down now. If Ellaria Sand was coming with them, it meant I would finally have to fulfill my side of an agreement.

“Yes, she will be. Why?”

“I’m afraid she doesn’t like me very much for what I did to her daughter,” I lied, not wishing to tell Tywin of my plans. He would most certainly not allow it if he knew what I intended to do.

When I had gone to Dorne with Jaime, I had promised to send Ellaria Sand a small gift. Or, a large gift, technically. I had promised her The Mountain’s head.

At the time I’d made that promise, the mountain was already dead. Or at least, I had thought he was. Upon returning to King's Landing, I learned the bone chilling truth, which was that he had quite literally been brought back to life.

Somehow, through Qyburn’s talents, the mountain was still alive and just as strong as he had been. It had disturbed Tywin for a while, but loyalty was loyalty, and that had not changed even in his… revived state.

I, however, felt nothing but fear and disgust when I saw the Mountain, and for that reason, Tywin had assigned him to protect Cersei. Though, if I was honest, I knew that Tywin felt uncomfortable around the creature even if he was loyal.

But now, with Ellaria’s arrival, I was going to have to kill him, and it was a terrifying thought. Normally, the thought of killing excited me. But the mountain? I was terrified.

More than anything, I was nervous. How on earth does one kill something that’s already dead?

“She wouldn’t dare to do anything. She would jeopardize Dorne’s position, which is not wise when Oberyn’s nephew has married Myrcella,” Tywin said, interrupting my thoughts. He leaned down and placed a kiss on my forehead before rising from our bed and pulling on his robe.

I watched him begin to dress himself for the day, but my mind was elsewhere. All I could think of was The Mountain.

Gods, I was going to have to kill The Mountain.

—————

It was late at night, and I’d told Tywin to go to sleep without me, as my grandmother had required my assistance with a certain number of things in relation to the wedding.

Though Tywin may have suspected me, he was compliant enough. And that freed me to be here, down the hall from Cersei’s chambers at an ungodly hour.

But even from where I was, I could see the Mountain standing outside her door as faithfully as ever, and I knew he could not see me from this angle.

He was mechanical, standing perfectly still at his post. Part of me wondered if he was even breathing at all.

The lights were dim in the hall, as only the constantly flickering candles were available without the regular sunlight. I was glad for it too, because it had aided my sneaking, and I had made it thus far. I was in leather armor, so as to be quicker and quieter than usual, but I still feared that the conflict might be overheard.

It was a trying task, attempting to cut off a man’s head quickly and quietly. I hoped I could draw the mountain back into the courtyard, and give myself a bit more room to get away from and dodge him.

I had my daggers, my sword, and some throwing knives, but I was still nervous. I often wished I had been trained with a spear, for perhaps I could’ve finished what Oberyn Martell started.

Either way, I had to be strategic, and I felt my best bet was to sneak up from behind, knock his helmet off, and slight his throat.

Though, the slit his throat part was wishful thinking. I truthfully didn’t think I was tall enough to reach. My best bet was to knock his helmet off and jump onto him. If I could hang on his back, then perhaps I’d be able to get his throat from there.

The dangerous thing was, it was also entirely just as likely that he would be able to knock me off, or slam me backwards into a wall.

Now that would be deadly.

Either way, it was the best option I had, and I found myself quietly inching towards the giant form, daggers in both hands.

When I was close enough to jump at him without giving him time to react, I picked up my pace and began running at him, letting out a grunt as I jumped and wrapped my arms around his neck.

He reacted quickly, struggling as I removed his helmet and reaching back for me. I evaded his hands, holding on for dear life as he tried to shake me off.

I stabbed one of my daggers straight into his neck, and he silently began to back up with extreme aggression. He was attempting what I knew he would, and still, even despite knowing that, I was unable to remove myself from him by the time I was slammed backward into the stone wall.

I gasped out as I made rough contact with it, at least removing my blade from his neck as I fell to the ground. I was struggling for air, but I needed to move.

As the Mountain drew and swung his sword at me, I jumped away just in time, eyes wide with fear as I crawled back and forced myself to stand up. There was no blood pouring from the wound I created, and I realized then that it might damn well be impossible to actually kill him.

At least in a normal sense.

He would not bleed, he would not tire. The only way he probably could be stopped was if I sincerely chopped his head off, and that was going to be quite tricky to pull off.

The only advantages I had were speed and flexibility, but even then, it didn’t matter if there was only one way for me to kill him. What I needed to do was take out his eyes, for the rest of him was covered in the finest armor, and I wouldn’t be able to hack off a leg and disable him.

Yes, I needed the eyes.

I found myself dashing for the courtyard, drawing him out into the space and swallowing. Gods, how was I going to go about this?

I reached for my throwing knives, hoping that perhaps I could miraculously take them out. It would require perfect aim, but perhaps…

I threw with as much confidence as I could muster, one blade landing in his cheek and the other landing in his eye. He pulled both out as if it was nothing, letting them drop to the floor and clank on the stone. I felt my stomach sink as they did, and I cursed out as the Mountain brought his sword down at me with extreme power.

I avoided him by a miracle, rolling away from him and drawing my own sword. My hands were shaking, and for the first time in years I was afraid of someone else in combat.

He continued to swing at me, and I blocked him each time, though his sword was so large and so heavy that I had to strain myself to keep from being crushed under my own blade.

I was unable to hold the next swing, and he slammed the handle of his blade into the side of my head, and I cried out, lifting my hand and feeling the cut on my temple.

There was no time to care though, because I was quickly back on my feet and attempting to evade him.

The Mountain was relentless in his attacks, and I could feel my arms slowly beginning to give out. I knew I needed to be confident, but I did not feel good about this fight whatsoever.

I’d been using his blind eye as an advantage, but it wasn’t helping me to any extreme degree. Again, he brought his sword down, and I couldn’t fight back anymore. My sword was knocked clean out of my hands, and I felt an odd fear run through me as I moved back.

I continued to evade his sword with my speed, daggers in my hands again, but I saw no possible way to actually kill him.

Just then, as the Mountain began to lift his sword, I saw a blade plunge through his back and come out from his chest. My eyes widened when I saw Sandor Clegane standing behind him, fury in his eyes as he wounded his brother.

He learns exactly what I had, though, which was that this creature did not bleed and feel pain as we did. In the Mountain’s distraction, I ran for my sword and throwing knives, trying to find an opportunity as the two brothers fought.

The sound of Sandor’s growls, and of their swords clanking against each other had no doubt woken a few people, and I began to grow nervous.

How was I to explain this?

I pushed that thought back, now feeling the same confidence I always did with Sandor’s help. I ran at the Mountain from behind once more, mounting his back and reaching around his head. I stabbed his other eye out, and he was sufficiently blinded.

In doing this, though, I had to sacrifice myself. The mountain let himself fall backwards, and I was being crushed under his weight. Additionally, my head had smacked against the floor, and everything around me was spinning as I gasped for air.

Sandor pulled his brother off of me, but I still felt absolutely horrible. Through my blurry vision, though, I could see that Sandor had disarmed the Mountain, and was now viciously punching him.

I also saw someone in the hall run by, and I knew our time was limited. They would most assuredly be running to find guards.

I heard a loud bang, and looked over to see the Mountain on top of Sandor, choking him. Even without eyes, he’d managed to overpower the Hound, and it seemed as though he was feeling around his face.

I’d let Oberyn die this way, I wouldn’t let it happen to anyone else.

Despite the spinning of the room and the deep pain in my head, I forced myself to sit up, clutching my sword as I caught my breath. I made my way onto my feet, steadying myself and adjusting my grip. Gods, I was in so much pain.

I kept going, though. If I couldn’t reach him in time, I would be next. I inhaled deeply and approached the two men, the Hound beginning to scream out as his brother pushed his fingers into his eyes.

It was only for a second however, as I raised my sword and cut the Mountain’s head clean off. In my trance-like state I watched it tumble to the ground, and I heard Sandor’s screams go silent. The large body collapsed, and after a moment he pushed it off of him. Blood was dripping from his eyes, and I wondered if he was going to go blind.

After a few moments, he opened his eyes, and I felt great relief as I collapsed back to the floor. The screams had most assuredly woken even more people, and I could hear the faint clanking of guards. I laid back, looking up at the stars through all my pain. I had hit my head miserably hard, and I was trying to pull myself together but I couldn’t.

Sandor crawled over to me, lifting my head into his lap and trying to get my attention.

“My lady, we have to go. We have to leave,” he said softly, trying to help me up. I could only cry out, tears beginning to stream down my face.

“I n-need his head. H-his head… I promised I’d give it to Ellaria Sand,” I whispered through my tears, needing Sandor to know.

“It’s yours, my lady. I don’t bloody care what you do with him. He’s dead, that’s all that matters. Are you alright?” He questioned, looking into my eyes with deep concern. The tears wouldn’t stop, even though the pain didn’t feel harsh enough to really warrant sobbing.

“I-I’ll be fine, go. If Cersei knows you helped she might try to blame the Starks,” I mumbled, trying to push him away. He swallowed, unable to move until the sound of armor really started to get close.

“I’ll see to you later, my lady.”

With that, I was left alone, and I continued to cry as the soldiers approached. They were Lannister men, I could tell by the way their armor clanked. A horrible panic filled me when I realized that in my current state, any one of them could easily rape me.

With that fear, I tried to crawl away from them when they approached, even if it was nonsensical. One of them bent down, trying to observe my face in the dark.

“Is that the Mountain?” I heard one of them mutter in shock. A few whispers of affirmation followed suit.

“Gods, this is Lady (Y/N) Tyrell. My lady, what’s wrong?” The man bending over me asked softly, surprised by my tears.

“M-My head,” I mumbled, sniffling. I was so confused and overwhelmed I’d stopped crawling.

“Did you do this? Did you kill the Mountain?” He questioned, looking at the detached head warily. I nodded, blubbering. I hated how pathetic I felt, but I knew the way I’d hit my head must’ve caused some sort of reaction.

“He must’ve thrown her down during the fighting. Lads, help me get her to her chambers,” he said to the other men, to which a few of them laughed.

“Oh I’d be glad to. Think she’ll remember any of this in the morning?”

I had no clue who’d said it, but it made me attempt to crawl again before a voice called out.

“All of you, get away from her.”

All of them looked up, and I turned my head, finding the last person I would’ve expected to vouch for me. Cersei stood there in her nightgown, a look of distinct anger on her face. The men who’d made the comment quickly backed away, bowing their heads upon realizing that she was watching.

“My lady, we had no idea-“

“Be quiet. You, take off your helmet. What is your name?” Cersei questioned the man, and he gave it to her. I hardly processed what was being said.

“Thank you. I’ll have your tongue for it. Now, however many of you it takes, get the Mountain’s body to Qyburn’s chambers and tell him to find me immediately. One of you go summon my father,” she commanded sharply, bringing me great surprise. It seemed even despite her great hatred for me—or at least her perceived hatred—she was not so low as to permit men’s cruelty.

She came to me then, helping me from the ground and into the hall. I found myself being laid on a sofa in her chambers, and she sat with me.

“T-Thank you,” I whispered as she wiped my tears away, putting a pillow under my head.

“There’s no blood other than your temple. Qyburn will treat you well,” she said matter of factly, wetting a cloth in a bowl and then bringing it over to wipe down my forehead.

“I-Is Tywin coming?” I asked softly, having recalled her mentioning her father. At least, I thought I did. Everything felt hazy currently.

“Yes… my father is coming.”

Just then, the door burst open, and I heard a panicked voice curse out. In an instant, Tywin himself was at my side, also in his dressing gown.

“What happened?” He asked Cersei, observing me and checking for any sign of serious injury.

“She killed the Mountain. Cut his head clean off. Though, she must’ve been hurt in the process because I woke to the sound of screams,” Cersei said, watching as Tywin sat beside me on the sofa and held my cheek. I felt safe with him beside me, and my tears were beginning to slow.

“Seven hells… how did she end up here?”

“I went outside when I heard the guards. One of them was insinuating she wouldn’t remember it if he raped her. I stepped in then and promised him I would take his tongue.”

“Will you?”

“Yes, I will.”

“Good. Did you send for Qyburn?”

“I did that too.”

Tywin gave a hum of satisfaction and began to pet my hair, looking down at me with concern. The anger would come later, I was certain.

Realizing I could hardly comprehend what was being said, they continued to talk.

“You said she murdered the Mountain?”

“Yes. Jaime mentioned she wanted to give his head to Ellaria Sand when he first saw what Qyburn had done. She promised it to her in Dorne.”

“Gods, she was asking about Ellaria Sand this morning. I should’ve known something was wrong.”

“Well, Ellaria Sand will certainly have it. There’s no use in Qyburn bringing him back if he’s blind.”

“She’s going to make a habit out of blinding her opponents, it seems.”

There was silence for a rather long interval, and then:

“She’ll be alright, father. There’s no bleeding.”

“I know, Cersei. I know.”

That was the last thing I could recall at all before going unconscious.

—————

I woke in my own bed, finding Cerella beside me. After I blinked a few times, her face lit up, and she shot from her chair.

“She’s awake, my lord.”

Tywin came inside from the balcony, relief on his face as he approached me. He reached for one of my hands, giving it a small squeeze.

“What happened?” I asked warily, not entirely remembering. Something felt off with my head, though it mostly just felt like a headache.

“You killed the Mountain, my dear. He must’ve thrown you down during the fight. Qyburn assessed that you obtained a concussion,” Tywin informed, which brought back hazy memories. I couldn’t exactly remember the night in perfect detail, but I recalled the Hound. I recalled being unable to stop crying.

And I recalled Cersei helping me into her chambers.

“Cersei helped me…” I muttered, thinking about how surprised I had been by it when it had happened.

“Yes, she did…” Tywin responded, though there was a pause in his voice, almost as if he was debating whether or not he should reveal something.

“What?” I questioned, furrowing my eyebrows at him.

“Do you remember why?”

“Why she helped me?”

Tywin gave a noise of affirmation, and I thought about it. I recalled the guards, and crawling away from them. From there to Cersei’s chambers, there was a large gap in my memory. I shook my head.

“One of the guards insinuated that he was going to take advantage of you. Cersei intervened and brought you into her chambers,” he explained, sitting beside me on the bed. I nodded, processing that information.

“How is your head, my lady?” Cerella questioned after a moment, not wanting to interrupt us.

“I feel as if I have a headache,” I replied, sitting up carefully and blinking a few times. Cerella nodded.

“A bit of a headache and memory loss are expected. Qyburn said you will be fine by the time of the wedding, it was relatively minor in the grand scheme of things,” she assured me, to which I nodded.

“How long have I been out?”

“Just a bit more than a day. I’ll bring some food right now, though it’s best if you stay away from wine for a few days,” Cerella suggested, and I nodded in agreement. She left us then, and when the door closed Tywin gave me a sweet kiss.

“I should have known something was wrong when you didn’t come to bed. I suspected you were lying about needing to help your grandmother, but I didn’t expect you to do something quite so foolish,” he reprimanded after a moment, sighing out and shaking his head. The kiss had been a sign of his gratitude that I was alive, now I would get the lecture.

“His head, what happened to his head?” I asked quickly, needing to make sure my efforts hadn’t been in vain.

“Qyburn is keeping it safe for you until the Martells arrive,” Tywin said, though he was completely annoyed as he did. I would’ve felt bad, but I was fine now, wasn’t I?

“Tywin-“

“It was stupid. It was utterly and completely stupid. Time and time again you seem utterly thrilled to get yourself killed, despite telling me that you would stop. I will not stand idly by and continue to watch you conduct yourself this way, (Y/N). If I need to assign guards to you, I will,” he said, a slight tremble in his stern voice. I scoffed.

“Assign guards? Don’t be ridiculous, Tywin. I’m not eager to get myself killed anymore, but I owe Ellaria Sand that debt,” I denied his claims, shaking my head firmly. His eyes gave a slight twitch.

“It’s not ridiculous. I want to be able to go about my day knowing for a fact that you are safe. If I can’t trust you not to behave recklessly, then I’ll ensure that you aren’t able to.”

“I’m not a child.”

“Then stop behaving like one!”

I jumped a little as he raised his voice, but even despite his anger, I could see the tears welling in his eyes. We’d had this argument one too many times, I’d feared.

“I apologize for raising my voice, but you know my feelings on this. How many times must this conversation be had before you understand that it is not just your life, (Y/N)? I lost Joanna, I cannot lose you,” he said, eyebrows furrowing with a genuine concern and sadness. I felt myself soften, especially as he raised his hands to my face.

“Tywin…”

“I need you to be more cautious, (Y/N). I know I promised you whatever you wished, but this is the one thing I cannot grant you. I refuse to watch you put your life at risk so casually, for Ellaria Sand of all people. You have talent and you have ambition, I cannot take that away, but I’m simply asking you to consider what matters more,” he whispered, looking deep into my eyes as his words sank in. I knew he was right, I always had. It was just so difficult to ignore the desire to fight, to win.

But after the tourney, I had felt that recklessness mostly dissipate. My acts against the Mountain were not a product of that ambition, as I’d been scared shitless. It was compensation for the guilt that ate at me.

The guilt that I still felt for causing Oberyn’s death.

“I’m sorry, Tywin. I’m so sorry. I just- I had to. This time I had to. I’m done now, I promise. I swear above all else that it’ll stop, this was the last time,” I whispered, looking down. Tywin was scanning my face, as if trying to discern how truthful I was being.

“I know you miss the freedom of doing whatever you please, (Y/N). I’m sorry to take it from you. But I- I love you too much…” he muttered, pulling me into his arms. I buried my face in his neck, clutching his back. I was oddly emotional, and suddenly sacrificing the impulsive behavior felt trivial. I would do anything for this man, it seemed.

“Oh Tywin…”

We stayed like that for a while, and I felt Tywin shake for a moment as he choked back tears. The only thing that ever seemed to make him cry was the thought of losing me, and I had no doubt in my mind Joanna was part of it.

Never again.

When I pulled away, he had returned to himself, and I was glad to see it. Tywin had never been fond of showing too much emotion and I knew he preferred not to.

“It wasn’t just me, you know. The Hound appeared. I would’ve died if not for him. I took the Mountain’s head, yes, but I wouldn’t have been able to if he hadn’t come,” I mentioned, voice quiet. It was hard to admit that I’d needed help, but it was true. I owed the Hound my life. Plus, it might’ve soothed Tywin’s nerves a bit.

“Why wasn’t he there when the guards found you?” He asked, suddenly stern. I placed my hands on his chest to calm him.

“I told him to flee. I didn’t want to implicate the Starks somehow,” I explained, watching him relax a bit under my touch.

“Well, he’ll be rewarded handsomely for it. Though, it was you who blinded the Mountain, wasn’t it?” He questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, of course it was. You told Cersei it’s become my signature, didn’t you? I wasn’t processing much of what was said, but I thought I heard that,” I asked, attempting to recall memories from that night. Slowly, things were coming back, including Cersei promising to cut out the tongue of the man who’d wanted to rape me.

“Yes, I did. You ought to name those daggers the blinders with how many eyes they’ve removed,” he suggested, to which I laughed and nodded.

“Perhaps I will. Do you think I’ll end up in any of the history books they write for the greatest fighters in Westeros?” I wondered, looking out the window somewhat solemnly.

“You will. I’ve already discussed the subject with Jaime at length. He would knight you, if you desired.”

Tywin had said it so casually, but my mouth fell open as I processed what I had just learned.

A knight?

I tried to consider what I’d wanted, not knowing if being called Ser (Y/N) Tyrell would fit me. I’d always admired knights, but in all honesty the way I fought was not honorable nor very knightly. Would I make a good knight?

“I don’t- I don’t know what to say…” I muttered, head whirling suddenly. Tywin cupped my cheek.

“If you don’t wish to be a knight, you don’t have to be. Visenya Targaryen is famous for her skills, and she was no knight,” he reasoned, both eyebrows raised a bit.

“I didn’t even know women could be knights. I’ve never- never heard of a female knight,” I said softly, feeling Tywin take one of my hands in his and give it a gentle squeeze.

“There are no rules against it.”

I sighed, knowing it was something I would need to think about more before I gave any answer. I recalled the day Loras had been knighted, and the pride I’d felt for him. But knighthood came with so many… responsibilities. So many rules. And I had always fought for myself, for enjoyment.

Just then, Cerella came through the door with some food, and she laid the tray across my lap.

“Eat slowly, my lady. I don’t want you to eat too much and throw up.”

“I will, thank you, Cerella.”

She nodded and left again, and I found myself sitting there as Tywin spooned the soup and raised it to my lips. I smiled, raising my eyebrows with amusement and carefully sipping the liquid.

“The Frey’s arrived this morning. So did Baelish and Lysa Arryn,” he informed me. I sighed, shaking my head. Gods, did all the worst of them have to arrive at the same time?

I said nothing though, as that was a problem for another time. What I needed now was peace. Peace and rest.

The wedding was two weeks away, and every time I remembered that, the excitement hit me full force. As I looked at the man sitting beside me, all I could consider was his love. Gods, I was so lucky.

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starkskeep · 2 years

Text

I speared a prince

I speared a prince aegon ii targaryen imagine

Pairings - Aegon II Targaryen x Martell!Reader

Summary - You are the Princess of Dorne and will rule the land after your father. A diplomatic trip to King's Landing where you were only supposed to return with information had you returning with something much more important.

Word Count - 4.5k (holy shit)

Warnings - Vague descriptions of a brothel and prostitutes. Reader is the poster child of Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss. Manipulating Aegon is her only goal. It's ok. He's better because of it. Kinda dialogue heavy. I couldn't help it. Aegon is one of my favorite personalities to write about. Smut.

A/N - Aegon in this imagine is not the same Aegon as in the books or the show. He is not married to Helaena nor is he a disgusting pig of a man. He is still the family's disappointment though.

It was one of the few times Dorne has sent a delegation to King’s Landing, but your father had just ascended to power and wanted to usher in a new age of cooperation. It was some celebration or another, possibly a name day or an anniversary of some arbitrary event. In all honesty, you could not bring yourself to care for the official reason for your visit. You were actually sent to King’s Landing to see if and with who Dorne should align when the war everyone knew was to come finally rears its ugly head. Your father knew of King Viserys’s diminishing health; everyone in court could see him withering away upon the throne and rumors spread quickly. Your presence in the capital was meant to scope out if choosing an heir to support could potentially bring any benefit to Dorne or if it was better for your kingdom to stay away.

There had been an argument before you left Dorne. You had made it quite clear to your father that if Dorne was to support a claimant to the throne, it would have to be Princess Rhaenyra. If you were to support Prince Aegon, it would undermine Dorne’s own line of succession and put your own claim to the ruling of Dorne in question. This opinion stayed with you as you were welcomed into the Red Keep. You could see how the Hightower queen stared at you with thinly-veiled judgment. She would have no doubt raised her children to be mindless puppets of the Seven, complete with all the pompous arrogance that came with stuffing down one’s desires for the sake of appearances and the opinions of others.

There were two benefits to your visit. The first was that the crown princess was also at the capital. In all honesty, you admired Rhaenyra Targaryen. She had been able to hold onto her position as heir despite the many lords attempting to convince the king to change his decision. She was as beautiful as she was powerful and your eyes rarely left her figure when you were in the same room as her. Knowing that she was unlikely to invite you into her chambers, you decided to merely look up to her. So your eyes shifted to the second benefit of King’s Landing: Prince Aegon Targaryen.

The Targaryen prince was an utter mess and you loved it. He didn’t bother to conceal the small smirks when nobles came up to sing their praises to the king and the queen, his constantly disheveled appearance, and the complete and utter lack of decorum when attending court; you wanted to take Aegon and mold him into your perfect companion. A man like him did not belong trapped in court. He needed to be in a place like Dorne where he could let his inhibitions roam as freely as a dragon should. Yes. He would be your perfect consort once you finally became the Princess of Dorne after your father passed. You would make this trip to King’s Landing end with you and Dorne benefiting unilaterally from it.

A night after yet another long and boring feast found you entering a brothel on the Street of Silk. If you didn’t find a woman who appealed to you, at least you would be able to drink without judgmental stares from fellow nobility. You also found that the women in brothels tended to look more kindly upon fellow women, allowing them a quiet place to drink away from grabby men in exchange for some coin. So far, the attention from the men in the brothel remained on the women rather than on you in the corner. Thus, it came as a great surprise to you when your idle observation of the scenes in front of you was interrupted by a familiar voice.

A cheeky smile danced upon the prince’s lips as he spoke to you. “My lady, what brings one as beautiful as yourself to a place such as this? Would it be the company or the drinks that attract you?” Noticing your lack of interest in replying, Aegon continued to pester you. “I do not believe that we have been formally introduced. I was preoccupied upon your arrival. I am Prince Aegon. It is a pleasure to meet you. A woman who often looks as interested as I feel in court is one that I would like to get to know.”

Surprisingly, Aegon was able to draw laughter from you which you quickly stifled with a sip from the goblet in front of you. “I know you jest. I would never allow my disinterest to show so blatantly. Besides, we were introduced to each other two days ago and even sat across from each other at one of the dinners. I have heard the rumors but do you truly drink so much that you are unable to remember the events from only a couple days previous?” You eyed Aegon up and down as you spoke, admiring him but also looking for his reaction. This prince was oh so pretty. You wouldn’t mind having him in your bed: whether it was for the night in this brothel or more long-term, you would enjoy breaking this Targaryen.

Your words elicited a light chuckle from Aegon. He took his time in choosing how to reply to you. It had been a long time since anyone had made him genuinely laugh and he did not want to displease you in a way that would cause you to stop. His words often easily offended those around him but this is the first interaction where he actually cared how he came across. “I am willing to beg for your forgiveness if you require me to. It seems that only your beauty caught my eye at the feast.” Aegon’s hand brushed past your chin, finding its resting place against your cheek, “The drink does dull my senses quite a bit, a feeling I am very fond of. Though it is not enough to make me forget the short-term. You still have not answered my question.” His eyes roamed from you to the drink in your hand, to the women of the brothel, and back to you. “Is it the company or the drinks that brought you here?"

“Unlike in Dorne, the people of your father’s court are quite uptight. They would not know how to act if they allowed themselves to indulge in the pleasure that one’s body has to offer. A brothel in the city is the only place I could be satisfied tonight. What of you my prince? Why come here to chase pleasure? Surely a prince such as yourself could have anyone in his bed. You would not need to leave the safety and comforts of your chambers.” You lower your chin in order to gaze upon Aegon from underneath your lashes, flashing a sly grin in a way that has enticed many before him. “Unless—let me guess—there is someone that doesn’t allow you to express yourself? It is hard for me to believe that having a grandfather as devout and pious as yours in a position of power would allow you much freedom.”

Your words were sharp and true. The pierced Aegon as if it was an arrow shot by the most talented of archers. He has often been called a drunk, a fool, or sometimes far worse to his face and behind his back. His father made no attempt to know the children he sired with Alicent, his mother seemed to only gaze upon him with contempt and disappointment for as long as Aegon could remember, and his grandfather only whispered poison and treason in his ear. Your words contained not the whispers of disappointment, but the whispers of a promise. You made him want to feel rather than dull his senses. “That, my lady, I cannot deny. The Seven forbid such pleasures and indulgences so I am forced to get them where I can. A brothel is a good enough location. Whores can be paid to keep silent if you slip them enough coin. Aegon took your cup of wine from your hand and downed it in one gulp before motioning to a nearby woman for more. “It is too much of a coincidence that we are at the same brothel tonight. So tell me, did you plan this? What do you desire of me?”

Scoffing, you take a new goblet of wine from the serving woman. “I do not desire anything from you, Prince Aegon. I entered this brothel first. I am not a seer. I did not know that you would be a patron of this establishment tonight.”

Aegon’s smile turned impish. As he moved to sit closer to you, the grin never left his lips and his eyes never left yours. He felt fire in his veins that he has only felt while on the back of Sunfyre. The prince feels far more intoxicated by your presence than wine has ever made him. “Then it seems that the gods have brought us together tonight, no matter how much they may frown upon our actions. Although, now I am even more curious as to why you are in King’s Landing? Are you to become a temptress plaguing my waking thoughts?”

Oh. This prince had a surprising way with words. You liked the idea of becoming his temptress, but you could not let him distract you. You had to choose what you are to say carefully. Aegon obviously desires acceptance and someone to give him the attention that he has lacked since childhood. You would not play his mother; as a princess, you are far too superior to debase yourself by coddling men in such a way. Instead, you will play upon his insecurities until you held him in the palm of your hand. “Do your parents not share the activities of court with you? I joined my uncle on a diplomatic visit to ensure that the ties that bind Dorne to King’s Landing are still strong. Your sister, Princess Rhaenyra, was the one to organize it. I quite admire her. She seems to be a competent woman. The meeting is between the king, my uncle, and Princess Rhaenyra. She is your father’s heir. If you are curious as to the nature of it, perhaps you should ask your sister for the details of the meeting.” You observe the wayward prince in the aftermath of your words in order to see how they strike.

There. That is where you will hit him. Aegon disguised his reaction by drinking another goblet of wine faster than you have ever seen. If you were a lesser woman, perhaps you would have been impressed by that worthless talent. But you weren’t and now you had the ammunition you needed. He shrugged and shifted uncomfortably in his seat after setting down the cup. “Perhaps I shall. Once my sweet sister is done playing politics, I will ask her.”

There was no need for you to stay after that. Your words had sunk deep enough and would no doubt linger upon his mind in the days to come. Standing up, you walked in the direction of a woman in such a path that caused you to be in the direct line of sight of Aegon. Electing to ignore Aegon even though you felt his eyes burning a hole through the back of your head, you waited until you were about to enter the room with the woman to send a wink and a smirk in Aegon’s direction.

You stood anxiously outside the doors to Rhaenyra’s chamber. After returning from the brothel the previous night, you requested delivery to the princess of your desire for a meeting. You needed it to occur first thing in the morning. If the news had gotten to the queen and her father of your encounter with Aegon, there would be the risk of them forcefully keeping the prince away from you. Fast actions were needed in order to prevent that from happening and you were not a woman to sit idly by. Luckily, you were pulled out of your thoughts by the announcement of your arrival. It was finally time for you to meet Princess Rhaenyra face-to-face.

She rose to meet you when you entered. It was a good sign, in your opinion, that she was willing to respect you and listen to what you had to say rather than brushing you off as a young girl unaware of courtly politics. “Princess Nymeria. It is a pleasure to meet you. It was a surprise to receive a note from you, though not an unwelcome one. The events of court leaves one with very little time for privacy.” Her voice was deep and melodic. If you hadn’t already had one Targaryen in your sights, you may have changed your reason for this meeting.

Sitting in one of the chairs the princess gestured to, you made yourself comfortable. For this meeting, you would need to present yourself as a composed young woman sure of herself and her actions. Gaining Rhaenyra’s trust was your most important objective. Without it, everything would fail. Knowing of her notorious distaste for half-truths and political maneuvering, you decide to be completely honest with her. “As I am sure you are aware, the official reason for my visit is to join my uncle in strengthening the ties between Dorne and King’s Landing. Unofficially, my father wanted me to gather information on who to support in their bid for the Iron Throne: you or your brother.”

Rhaenyra did a good job at keeping her expression neutral but you could see how your words angered her. Her jaw clenched and she tightened her grip on the arm of her chair. A voice like ice in deep contrast with her dragon blood met your ears. “And who does your father favor?”

Good. You needed her intrigued. Having her ruffled may also help you, but you would need to tread carefully in order not to push her over the edge. Remaining relaxed, you attempted to assuage her. “You know how fickle men are. I am my father’s only daughter. Like you, I am also my father’s heir. Though I am not at risk to have my succession questioned as you are, I understand the feelings of inadequacy that sometimes arise. Thankfully, my father trusts my judgment and holds my advice in high regard. Who he favors is who I favor, and I would rather see you ruling the realm instead of your brother.”

Rhaenyra’s hardened exterior softened slightly at your admission. Having the loyalty of a powerful house would please anyone engaged in battle, and House Martell was a valuable ally indeed. She was much less brusque in her reply. “It satisfies me, Princess Nymeria, that a woman such as yourself is able to see the way that things should be. Too many women of my father’s court would rather see my brother on the throne and accept the way that things have been. Though, forgive me for being direct as I do not wish to offend you, what is it you want in return? I am not so simple as to believe you would come to me without requesting something of me. You could have easily had your father declare his support when the time comes for me to ascend the throne.”

Your grin was reminiscent of the vipers that roam the Dornish deserts. “It seems that you have adapted to a life of politics quite well, Princess Rhaenyra. I have no doubt that you will make a great and powerful ruler. There is something I want and unfortunately, it is something that I cannot take myself. Do not fret. What I want will also benefit you greatly. In fact, it will give you even more power over the lords who do not desire to see a woman upon the throne.”

“Let’s hear it then. I am happy to make a deal but I must first know what it is you want. I must know what it is you hope to gain from my agreement. In times such as these, a promise is nothing but words on the wind and winds are prone to change direction from one day to the next.”

“I am in complete agreement with you. Words are not as binding as actions. When I take my father’s place as the ruler of Dorne, the man who I am married to will be nothing more than my consort. He will hold no power over me. Nor will he hold power in the Dornish court except what I choose to bestow upon him, and I am not the type of woman who would willingly share her power.” You pause in order to let your words sink in. “During my visit here, I have spent some time with your brother, Prince Aegon. I want him to be my prince consort. If he marries me, he would have no claim to the throne as there is already an heir. My duties to Dorne would overshadow whatever machinations against you are already playing in the background. There is the issue that Queen Alicent and her father hold significant power over the small council. They would never allow a marriage to occur between the prince and me.'

“So you are asking me to petition the council on your behalf to allow a marriage between you and Aegon, correct?” Rhaenyra raised her eyebrows in both surprise and intrigue. The idea of betrothing Aegon to someone that would tamper his claim had never crossed her mind nor had it ever been suggested to her. “A bold and brilliant plan. I will raise it to the small council upon their next meeting, without a doubt.”

“You may have misunderstood me, princess. I don’t want you to bring it to the council. If that was all, I would have my father or my uncle do so but I know the results would not be favorable. What I want is for you to bring the request straight to your father. Everyone in the realm knows that the king favors you. If you were to ask the king to give Prince Aegon to me, there would be no need to involve the small council. King Viserys’s word is law and I do not doubt that he would agree to whatever you ask of him. The queen and her father would not be able to stop me from marrying your brother if it was the king who betrothed us.”

You left the princess after being dismissed. There was no question in your mind that she would successfully fulfill your request. There was no cost for her to do so and only benefits in return. You were proven correct that evening when the King announced at dinner that his firstborn son would be marrying you as a way to deepen the relationship between House Martell and House Targaryen. Your uncle seemed surprised but was used to your scheming often leaving him unaware of the future. He gladly accepted the congratulations from those around him.

After nodding to Princess Rhaenyra in gratitude for her help and thanking King Viserys, you looked toward where Prince Aegon was sitting next to his mother and Otto Hightower. It seems as if none of them were told that this announcement would be made or even that this betrothal was occurring. The queen and her father were whispering furiously to each other and to Aegon but it looked as if he was ignoring them. A common theme during any dinner. Instead, his attention was solely on you.

The weeks that followed your return to Dorne were filled with letters from King’s Landing. Rhaenyra often wrote to update you on the attempts to dissolve your union but the Hightowers. Nothing was ever successful. She assured you that the king was holding steadfast in his decision. That put you at ease. You were also receiving letters from Aegon. He was practically begging for a reply but you chose not to reward him with one. Keeping him in suspense would only make him yearn for you more.

One day, the roar of a dragon interrupted your duties. A servant rushed in to announce that Prince Aegon had arrived and was refusing to leave without meeting with you first. You should have known that he would be too impatient to wait for a reply. A short time later, the doors to your chambers opened and a rumpled Aegon was revealed to you. Noticing the fire that burned in his eyes, you quickly dismissed all the servants and attendants that were hovering around you.

You moved over to a chaise situated near the opening to your balcony. Sitting down, you crossed your legs and reclined your arm against the back of the lounge. The perfect picture of nonchalance. Wanting to see how he would play this game, you waited silently until Aegon chose to speak. “You have been ignoring my letters.” He finally did break the silence after watching you move. At least he had the decency to wait until you were comfortable before doing so. Maybe it would not take as much work as you thought to properly train him.

“I have been busy. There is much to do before our wedding ceremony. I also am my father’s heir. There is much I have to do in order to ensure Dorne’s success.” You pretend to be more interested in the charms of the bracelet that adorn your wrist instead of your betrothed moving towards you.

Aegon scoffs as he sits down next to you. “You have not been too busy to reply to my sister’s letters. She happily informs me every chance she gets that she has received yet another from you. It is embarrassing. A wife should respond to her husband and pay him even the barest bit of attention.” He pouts as if he were a child.

Getting to your feet, you walk over to a table that is laden with fresh fruit delivered to you earlier that day. Popping a grape into your mouth, you take your time to savor it because you know it will set Aegon on edge. “I find her correspondence intriguing. Princess Rhaenyra is an inspiring woman. Your sister and I are both our fathers’ heirs. We share many of the same circumstances. It is no surprise that she and I would become close in our commiseration. If you had more duties, I’m sure you would understand.”

Aegon huffs in annoyance at your continued movement. He wants nothing more than to take you into his arms, so he does just that. The prince was never that good at waiting for what he wanted and it is surprising that he lasted as long as he did. You lean against the table behind you and wait for him to get closer. When Aegon finally makes it to you, he grips your hips and pulls you flush against him. One of your hands slides up to his chest as the other wraps around his neck. Never being the tallest in his family, you stand at almost the same height as Aegon.“You are here now. You forced my hand in acknowledging you, my prince.” Whispering the words against his lips, you capture them in a bruising kiss and instantly take control.

With a groan, Aegon pulls away. He is panting with desire. “Many may think me a fool, but I know enough to understand that you planned all of this. If you did not want me to visit you, you would have replied to my letters. You would not have caused me to resort to drastic measures such as sneaking away from King’s Landing in the dead of night just to fly to you.”

Raising an eyebrow in surprise, you up the ante of your game. “If no one in King’s Landing knows that you are here, we do not have much time before a search party is sent out. It is possible that your brother is already on his way here with his mighty dragon to steal you back.” You push yourself up to sit on the edge of the table. Wrapping one of your legs around Aegon’s waist, you pull him closer to you. A coy smile lingers on your face as you reach down and undo his trousers. “We have precious little time, my prince. We should make the most of it.”

Aegon is practically speechless. His previous experience in brothels had the women doing all of the work but he was still in control. Right now, he is completely at your mercy. One would think that a prince of the realm would not want to relinquish his power so easily, but Aegon was putty in your hands as soon as he laid his eyes on you.

You pull his cock out of his trousers. There is little you need to do except for a few pumps of your fist to get him completely hard. This man is aching for you. Pulling your dress off, you lean back and prop yourself up by your elbows. “Show me how much you want me, Aegon.”

Slamming into you, Aegon wastes absolutely no time in proving to you the depth of his longing. His fingers dig into your hips, no doubt leaving crescent shape indents for you to find tomorrow. It seems as if Aegon wants to punish you for ignoring him. Not that you mind. Everything you did was to get him here and ensure that he was all riled up for you. A sweet lover is a boring one. You want him to be rough and wild and he is definitely delivering.

Aegon sets a brutal pace. Each impact of his hips against yours pulls you against the table. One of his hands has moved to finger your clit. Each brush sends an electric shock of pleasure through your body. Not wanting to be outdone, you wrap one hand around his neck. The other grabs him by his hair and you dig your nails into his scalp. Pushing yourself up, you bite and pull his bottom lip. He lets out a pitiful whimper and you soothe the pain with a kiss. There is the coppery taste of blood so you lick away the drops that came from your bite. His lips will be deliciously bruised tomorrow. There is no battle for dominance—you are completely in control of the situation. Soon, you felt your peak approaching. Your moans grew breathier. You raked your nails down Aegon’s back. The wave finally crested and you clenched around Aegon’s cock, completely overcome with pleasure. A few moments later, Aegon reached his own climax. You felt him release his seed inside of you. Overcome by exhaustion, his entire body went limp and his head fell to your chest. You pulled his head away from your breasts with a yank on his hair. “Now there’s no reason for your family not to push the wedding forward. Soon you will be mine in entirety, my prince.”

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