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radiowallet · 2 years ago

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Meant to Be - Part 5

The Commitment

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Fem!OC (nameless, third person), Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand Summary: A choice is made. WC: 5.9K Warnings: 18+ MDNI Canon-typical violence, grief, death, political intrigue, arragned marriage, soulmate shenanigans, drinking, mentions of food, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex (female receiving), praise kink. Arguing. Yearning. Feelings. Angsty feeling yearning feelings, friends. These two are so in it. Oberyn Martell comes with his own warning.

A/N: This is technically the last chapter. There is a brief epilogue I'm going to release at the end of the week. As always, a few things to keep in mind: This is an alternate universe that takes place after the main events of the show. Bran is still king of Westeros. Sansa is still queen of the north. Oberyn lives. Doran never had any children. Our Fem!OC is from Winterfell, but she is not a Stark and is a blank canvas physically.

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~~Please see dedications at the end~~

Masterlist II Series Masterlist

Part 4 >>> Epilogue

Asked to oblige and engage

But instead I commit my heart you

I breathe with ease in a choice all my own

And in kind, I hope you meet me there

The depth of the water surrounding Dorne still took her by surprise. She stares out at the sea, trying to track where it ends and the setting sun begins, but the horizon is lost, golden water bleeding up into violet sky. Her vision blurs, rich shades of yellow melting into sparkling blue, everything fading into the background as she loses herself in the wide expanse of it all, her heart sinking faster with each lap of the waves along the sandy shore.

Oberyn’s confession swirled around and around her heart, a tempest all its own, land locking her at the center of his storm. Her own voice was lost; a peculiarity in its own right, with only calm waters left to meet her quiet gaze.

She had half expected him to wait outside her door until an answer had been given, the insistence radiating off of him in waves. But he made no move to press her further on the matter, stepping away and allowing her all the time she needed. It seemed speaking his peace aloud was enough to temper his mood. With one last longing look he bid her good night for a second time, leaving her alone at the threshold of her door, only the hammering of her heartbeat to keep time with her staggered breaths.

The pretense of sleep had been abandoned by sunrise, her restless steps taking her down the corridors of the palace and out to the beach, wide and sweeping, and still not enough.

Love. He had spoken of love. Concrete and confident and grown out of the time they had taken to know each other. It was more than just a reaction born of soulmates and marriage arrangements. More than but still so entwined, like charcoal fingers tied tightly to his own, jars of paint brighter than any jewel, his eyes on hers as she spoke of a bitter cold and a friend left behind.

Oberyn Martell loves her.

What did she know of love? She scoffed at his poets and rolled her eyes at his endearments, teeth snapping in protest at their match. She clung to her stubborn independence, desperate for a choice that she swore was stolen, even as her own pool of water began to rise.

She frowns, eyes fixed on the clouds, sparse in their presence, most retreating with the last of the summer storm. Her fingers dig down, wet sand cutting the delicate skin beneath her nail beds. She wonders how it would feel to dip her hands into the sharp sting of salt water; to wash away the sand as she moved deeper into the watery depths.

Oberyn said he was waiting for her. He had described it as though he was swimming but it felt more of drowning — gasping, haggard broken breaths — a strangled prayer that he would vow until the dark sea swallowed him whole. Could she reach him in time? Could she swim that far?

She closes her eyes to the burn of the sunset, the embers of her mind catching along the edges of her heart, dreams of Oberyn refusing to come while she remains awake. She digs her fingers deeper, the sand cold and hard and wet. She is desperate, frantic to hold something between her hands; some sort of proof that is more than just the ache in her chest or twist in her gut.

The smell of the ocean. The taste of plums. Honey brown eyes watching from across the room.

It came in slow and steady, a rise of the tide she could not hold back if she tried. She could choose to look the other way, to keep her feet firmly planted on solid ground as she turned her back on the lap of water as it chased her heels.

Or she could choose to take a step forward, just enough, to meet the current halfway.

———

The knock on his door comes just as the last traces of sunlight disappear from the sky, deep blue painting the world outside his window. Oberyn steps back from the balcony and towards the entryway of his quarters, his steps only faltering when the sound grows softer the further away he moves. He takes pause, just barely before his feet are carrying him back in the other direction before his head has a chance to catch on.

Oberyn stops at the foot of his bed, eyes pinned to the door at the furthest corner of his quarters, the melody of knuckles knocking along the wood clear and sweet. He wants to laugh for the irony of it all, and so he does, his chuckle sharp and anxious as he surveys his path forward.

He remembers a much younger man, angry and brash, just come of age and every bit the spoiled prince, shoving the heaviest of his bookcases in front of this very door. It had been a proclamation, one his young ego had preened upon with glee, shouting to his parents and all that would raise an ear to his tirade — Oberyn Martell would take no wife.

He stands there now, twice over from that indignant age, looking at the door that leads to his wife’s chambers. The bookcase still sits in front of it, seemingly smaller now than he ever remembers it being, and his laugh takes on a fondness as he loses himself in childish actions that bled of so much more than political arrangements and romantic intrigue.

It takes no more than a push of his hip and the doorway is cleared, his hand reaching for the handle, miles ahead of where his mind has already taken him. When the door swings open she is mid-knock, fist poised at eye level, her lips pulled into a thin, determined line.

Oberyn waits for his stomach to drop, dreading the feeling of icy panic that is sure to settle along his spine like an old, unwelcome visitor but it never comes. Instead, he is once again overcome with the serenity of her presence, peace and love making a home in the whole of his chest.

He can’t help but to smile, a laugh still lingering on the tip of his tongue, this one teasing and light.

“I know northern customs may not always align with Dorne’s own but I am certain you understand the implications of using this door, my wolf.”

Her frown falters, almost breaking, but she does not bite back, her lips sealed impossibly tight even as her eyes trace the shape of his threshold. Oberyn opens the door wider, inviting her deeper into his own quarters but she does not move, hands flexing at her sides, nervous fingers reaching out into the empty air.

He wants to encourage her, provide some small comfort that may ease the passage of her words, but he feels just as tongue tied. His confession still hangs in the air, heady and thick and so very honest, and though he meant it, means it still, the repercussions of his loose lips are still to come.

Finally her eyes find his and she licks her lips, the quickest sweep of her pink tongue before she finds the will to speak.

“You’re loud.”

“I…”

“I can hear you at all hours of the night.”

“Sounds to me like you’re—“

“And you gulp your wine.”

“I do,” he agrees.

She breezes past him then, every bit emblazoned by the sound of her own words, her bare feet carrying her further into his quarters, drops of salt water and bits of sand left in her wake. Oberyn can only watch on in amusement, the volume of her voice rising with each swipe she takes at him.

“You leave berry stains on my floor and plum pits on tabletops. I’d think you'd sooner die than clean up after yourself.”

“Anything else?”

“You mouth along with the words while you read.”

“Do I?” He asks, moving in behind her, close enough to see a shiver chase his simple question across her shoulders.

“Y-yes. It distracts me.”

Oberyn refuses to touch her, instead hovering at her backside, letting her feel the heat of his body just barely out of reach.

“It seems I am a troublesome match.”

She whips around, the silk of her dress tangling in her feet, eyes wide and fists balled tight.

“You're stubborn. Impossibly so. I can hardly fathom it.”

Oberyn bites his lip, the urge to lean in and kiss the poison away from her words stronger than ever. She is a breath away from him, the hook of his nose a ghost along her own, and still he does not move, his curiosity swelling up up up to meet the crest of her frustrations.

“And…and…you love.”

She moves as if to reach for him but stops herself, still frantically trying to arrange her thoughts in some kind of order. He does not dare to interrupt, desperate to hear the end of her monologue, if only to be out from under this misery of unknowing.

“You love your people. All of Dorne…it’s why you agreed to this arrangement in the first place. And your daughters. The way you look at them —”

Fingers find the curve of his wrist, anchoring along the beat of his pulse, and without prompting, she keeps speaking.

“Your brother and sister; you are devout in your feelings for them. And Ellaria. You love her so deeply, refusing to bend, to break. It’s who you are and I am remiss in the fact that I did not see it until now. Your heart aims true, and I would do better to trust in it from time to time.”

Oberyn feels his own breath catch in time with her words, lips parting as the watery depths of her eyes lock onto his own. Had it only been moments ago that she could barely stand to look at him? Had avoided his eyes as she stormed past him, the bite of her words melting into something soft and sweet and still so startlingly honest.

“And what of your heart?”

“You will ask me to say it,” she laughs, the sound watery but bright, a shy glance of tears brimming along the width of her eyes.

The chance to tease presents itself too easily.

“It is my husbandly right.”

She scoffs, pushing at him with all her might. “I cannot believe I love you, Oberyn Marte–”

And suddenly he cannot hold back anymore.

———

The kiss is searing, liquid heat dripping down her spine as Oberyn fuses his lips to hers. He cradles her face, large hands cupping her cheeks and pulling her closer, as the kiss deepens into something smoother, seamless drifts of water crowding up into the sand. He coaxes her lips apart, a gentle sweeping of his tongue, stealing away her taste and leaving his own in its place.

She moans, the sound of it swallowed whole, drowning in sunlight and sea salt, and with a break in their kiss and gasp of air, he pulls away, only to press his forehead tightly to her own.

“You must tell me now if you wish to wait,” he all but pleads before swooping back in to snatch one more kiss, his breath hot and haggard along the seam of her lips.

“Would you be able to bear it?” She can’t help but tease, even as she pulls him back towards his bed.

“Not with any sort of grace, no.”

“In this we can agree,” she offers, stealing another kiss for herself before she falls backwards, the plush give of silk sheets and downy pillows softening her landing.

She looks up at Oberyn, taking in his heaving chest and his flushed face. His eyes are wild, frantically tracing her form from top to bottom and back again, until finally he stops on her lips, still hopelessly swollen from his kiss. She resists the urge to squirm beneath his scrutiny, instead letting her legs fall open, the loose layers of her dress parting like the Dornish sea itself.

Oberyn falls to his knees, hands bracing himself on the bend of her knees, pushing her legs that much wider.

“Then it is decided,” he quips, the flick of his tongue touching the top of his lip, eyes never leaving hers. “We are to consummate our union?”

She starts to laugh, the sound bubbling up inside her, but it dies in her throat, cut short by the press of his lips to the heat of her thigh. He kisses upward, marking a slow path up her body, hot breath and wet tongue tattooed across her skin. His weight settles atop her, trapping her beneath him, her hands making equal measure along the broad expanse of his back.

The shape of him is cruel, sharp angles and soft skin that she can feel herself craving, even with all of him so very close. It produces an ache, carving itself deep inside her, a cut to her bone as she tries to pull him closer still.

His lips slant along her own, swallowing her gasps as a touch far more delicate than she ever considered glances along her curves. With a confident ease, nimble fingers loosen the sash around her waist, but it’s here that Oberyn finally stills, waiting for permission to take just a little more.

She sits up, letting the rich shades of gold fabric slowly slip down her shoulders, goosebumps erupting across her skin. Oberyn tracks each one, honey brown eyes sticky sweet as he looks down at her bare body.

“If I were to say I preferred this stage of dress to all others?”

She bites her lip, willing her fingers to steady as she reaches for the belt of his robe. “I am inclined to ask you to prove it, my love.”

He groans, head falling back as she makes quick work of stripping him bare, his own robes falling away to reveal the red viper in all his glory. He is stunning; golden skin and dark hair, muscles hard-earned from years of battle and a soft belly born of his indulgent days. For a second she can only stare, mouth agape and eyes wide as she drinks him like a woman parched.

Oberyn seems as distracted, her body and her words hypnotizing the prince into stunned silence. Slowly, his hands shaking,he cups the hinge of her jaw, thumb resting on the seam of her lips. She presses a kiss there, letting the tip of her tongue graze the pad of his finger, another groan slipping from his lips, throat bobbing and voice cracking as he finally finds word.

“Say it again, I beseech you.”

She smiles despite herself, knowing that neither of them will tire of this game.

A small part of her hopes that feeling remains forever.

Another part of her knows it will be.

“My love,” she whispers, relishing the way the words sound to her own ear; a soft insistence that rings true in the quiet night.

Oberyn moans again, just as soft, his finger dragging gently down the length of her neck, and further down to rest atop the frantic beat of her heart. He pauses there, smiles, before cupping the swell of her breast in his whole hand.

“You are nervous?”

“Excited,” she counters, and if possible his smile grows all the more wider.

He pinches her nipple, the sting of pleasure screaming just shy of pain. His other hand is restless, fingers digging, squeezing, gripping to her curves, hard then soft then hard again, as if the idea of letting go was more than he could fathom. His cock is hard, pressed to the folds of her cunt, already soaked from his kiss. His touch.

Him. Him.

Him.

“Do not tease,” she begs, refusing to be ashamed of the quiver that trails after her request, her hips canting up to meet his length, desperation coursing through her veins, nails scratching down his bare back, a silent plea for him to slip inside.

Oberyn growls, but she can see the cracks in his resolve, his own hips thrusting into the jut of her hip.

“I would have hoped to take my time tonight.”

“T-there will be time tomorrow,” she grinds out, her body aflame, desire settling painfully deep. “And the day after and after again.”

Oberyn curses, one hand steadying her thrusts with a firm grip to her hip, the other finding the hinge of her jaw. He tilts her head until their eyes meet, the tip of his thumb forcing her lips wide. For the smallest of moments he does not speak, content it seems to watch her writhe beneath him, even as his own need for her goes unanswered.

Without warning he leans forward, the tip of his nose tracing hers, his breath a heady mix of wine and salt and something more. She wants to swallow the taste of him down; to lick into the farthest corners of his mouth and keep him on her tongue forever, but his hold is true, keeping the whole of her pinned to the bed below. His whispers her name, a prayer between his lips, she is all the more desperate for him.

“Be careful, my love. You may be giving me too much leeway in this arrangement.”

Oberyn fills her then, the length of him stretching her open inch by glorious inch, his lips capturing hers in a bruising kiss. She lets him take as much as he wants, content to bask in the feeling of their union, his hips slotted so sweetly between her legs, his hands so gentle in their iron grip.

It is unlike anything real or possibly imagined, colors she had dreamt of, but never thought to be real. The very same he had held out to her with unsure hands; a gift she used to bring her daydreams to life. Charcoal eyes bleed into golden skin, shades of grey giving way to scarlet lips and violet hands, and soon enough she is begging for more.

“You are greedy,” Oberyn chides, lips finding her ear, teeth and tongue leaving their mark there as well. “But so am I, little wolf.”

His thrusts grow frantic, his words a perfect match.

“You take me so well. Made for me, for this. M-my cock deep inside you,” he spits out, filthy and tender and all for her. “You want this, yes? Want me to fuck you harder, my lady?”

“Yes,” she sobs, the blunt bite of her teeth digging into the curve of his shoulder, coiled muscles giving way to her pitiful cries.

Oberyn falls to the task easily, doubling his efforts, the tip of his cock finding that spot deep inside her and stealing the last of her senses away. It is not long before her pleasure is cresting upward, the crash of the wave inevitable.

“S-so tight — fuck — exquisite pussy…I don’t t-think I can last,” he groans, his release trailing just behind her own.

“Please promise this is no dream,” he begs, his hips faltering. It is all too quick, happening faster than either of them would prefer, but to stop now is an impossibility, so instead they cling to one another, gasping around the promise for tomorrow.

“Please say you want this. Forever. Not just tonight….I could not bear it.”

Words are failing her, her mouth dry, her fingers scrambling, the punch of Oberyn’s length inside her almost too much and still more than she could have ever hoped for. She is clumsy in her efforts but eventually her lips find the corner of his mouth, the kiss awkward and off center and filled with all the love she had to give.

“I…gods…yes. Yes, my prince. I want this.”

It is the final push they both need, fingers tangling, phantom silk holding them together as relief slams into them just as the last of dusk disappears behind the horizon, the stars blinking to life one by one.

Hours or perhaps only minutes later, Oberyn is pulling her onto his chest, his lips on the crown of her head, her own on the beat of his heart.

“I did not intend your first time to be so…frantic.”

The admission is meant to be a comfort, his voice in her ear like warm honey, his fingers on her back like a gentle current.

Still, she cannot help but laugh.

His grimace is insistent atop her head and it is easy to picture the roll of his eyes as he waits so impatiently for her laughter to subside.

“My love,” she starts, a snort breaking up her words, his fingers prodding into her soft belly. “Did you think that my first time with a lover?”

“Well, I can hardly be so insulted for assuming,” he murmurs.

“Oh, dearest prince. How else are we to keep warm in the north?”

Her answer gives him pause, and suddenly she is all the more anxious for his promise to visit the north. Her mind runs away with fantasies of Oberyn dressed in thick coats with fur lining the thick column of his throat, her nimble fingers slipping each button free as she teaches him all the ways to find warmth between the stony walls of Winterfell.

It is a small miracle, but one she counts on with her entire heart, that proclamations of love and all that followed suit, did not steal away the push and pull born between them. She can feel the fire, a distinct burn that simmers even as she settles deeper into the warmth of his embrace.

“I will need to hear more of this,” Oberyn murmurs, sleep already dripping around the corners of his voice.

She closes her eyes, unsure she should dream now for the sake of rest. But there is comfort here in the consequence of her choice, and it is enough to sate her beating heart and quiet her restless hands, and it seems sleep is not so far behind.

———

The spot beside Oberyn is empty, his hands brushing cold silk instead of warm skin, and instantly his mood has soured. It had not been a dream, he is certain. Her colors were too bright, her touch too strong. The memory of their kiss is still so close, dawn barely cresting up above the horizon, that he refuses to believe he conjured the entirety of it all in his mind.

Her arrival at his quarters last night had been unexpected, his traitorous mind already committing to a life spent treading water; convinced his outburst had asked for too much too soon. But how to explain that it was more than a soul’s match or the proximity of convenience, that each minute spent in her presence had brought him to that very choice, and to her door that night.

One could make the argument that all of this had been inevitable, the fates and gods above refusing to let either of them refuse their bond, but even so, their time together had only helped for that feeling to grow.

Some find their soulmates, Oberyn reasoned, but what of those that you make?

He drags one hand down his face, breathing deep through his nose before finally finding the courage to open his eyes, the first tendrils of sunlight just starting to snake their way across his bed. He tracks the golden glow across the empty space, following it with trepidation, rejection feeling more a heavy stone than anything else, sinking deeper in his stomach. Until –

The telltale sound of charcoal on parchment finds him, the quiet sound easily missed in the haze of his own doubt. Oberyn follows the last bits of sunlight to the far end of the bed, where she sits completely unaware of his undivided attentions.

A waterfall of silk is wrapped around her form, barely enough to cover her most intimate of moments and he drinks in the sight. A book sits propped along the bend of her knees, her hand stained black moving across the page, her focus evident as she draws out whatever rests at the edge of her mind.

He allows himself the opportunity to watch her, sunlight sneaking closer with each swipe of her hand, silk sheets slipping down her body to expose more and more of her skin to his hungry eyes. It’s an easy moment to rest in, his body waking up to the flash of her curves and the scent of her skin, and unlike the night prior, Oberyn intends to take his time. He palms himself, his cock already beginning to harden between his legs, just as her eyes rise to meet his own.

“Do you normally rise with the sun?”

He hums, then laughs, pushing the sheets around his waist down low, shameless in his hope to beckon her closer.

“That depends on what odd habits my bedfellows keep. I will say you are the first to rummage through my fireplace for bits of charcoal, and,” he squints into the rays of sunshine, confirming his suspicions. “Using one of my books in place of parchment.”

She has the decency to look shamefaced, if however brief. “I did not want to go back to my own quarters. Not yet, anyway.”

He bites at his cheek, reluctant to discuss the peculiarities of their next steps so soon. He wants to remain in the waves of their union for a little while longer, where the rich shades of color have burnt away to reveal a soft halo of muted pastels.

Still, he is compelled, reaching out to brush the tips of his fingers across her leg, her smooth skin warm beneath his gentle touch.

“You are welcome to come and go as you please.”

Oberyn hopes the double meaning of his words is enough to press the issue forward in her mind, desperate for her to understand that he would never keep her from seeking a pleasure all her own. Selfishly, he hopes the same for himself, for all talk of marriage and soulmates have not changed any of his wants or needs.

When her lips split into a smile, the curve of it dancing in mirth and he matches it with his own, something so clear spoken quietly between them.

“And I offer the same to you, my love.”

And then, with a lick of her lips and a nudge of her toes, “I am interested to learn more of these Dornish traditions.”

“Oh? His grin grows wider, a thrum of pleasure curling up and around his spine. He inches closer, just enough for his lips to find purpose on the thin skin around her ankle.

She shivers, but the teasing resolve in her voice remains.

“I am a Martell after all.”

Another thrill shoots through him, a possessive sting he had not thought himself capable of. He leans into it, kissing higher and higher, teeth nipping with each gasp she sets free until he is only a breath away from her core.

“One taste,” he groans. “Would my princess grant me this pleasure?”

The endearment catches her unaware, and she stills beneath his touch, the plush press of his lips pausing in their lavished attention. Oberyn smiles into her skin, a veritable cat with the cream, peeking up at her, and delighting in her wide eyes and parted lips.

“You’ve never called me…”

He laughs then, the sound still rough with sleep, letting the tip of his nose drift higher, coaxing the smallest of whimpers from her mouth.

“And what a princess you are,” he admonishes. “Sand in my bed, charcoal in my books. If I didn’t know better, I would say you were raised by wolves.”

She giggles in response, the sound as sweet as milk and honey, but he delights more in how the sound breaks into a mewl of pleasure, his tongue slipping out to trace her folds. She is as decadent as he imagined, slick arousal like candy on his lips. He moves in closer, spreading her legs as wide as he can, anxious to have his fill of her.

Her hands find the crown of his head as his tongue pushes deeper, her groans almost enough to drown out the sudden knock to his door.

“O-Oberyn…”

“The way you say my name,” he preens, ignoring the insistent sound from across the room.

“The — gods above — th-the door,” she tries again, but her attempts to alert him are half hearted, her hips thrusting down to meet each dip of his tongue inside her.

Just as he’s considering how good it will feel to slip the tip of his finger inside her, desperate to feel the tight clench of her pussy, a throat clears loudly behind him. With a well-placed growl to her clit, he pulls away, realizing suddenly that they are no longer alone.

“My lord?”

It is one of Doran’s aids, his voice shaking, and Oberyn cannot help but hope with a vengeful bite that it is out of fear.

“What could possibly need my attention when I am so obviously indebted to a much more useful activity?”

“It is your brother, my lord, he…he…”

Oberyn growls again, eyes pinned to her fluttering cunt, heedless of his and hers state of undress. “Out with it.”

“He is asking for you. The maesters say…”

They say he is out of time.

———

Prince Doran Martell passed quietly; his younger brother at his side, his family in the wings, his people in quiet mourning.

In the hours that followed, the courts convened, less concerned with grief and more so with the overbearing shadow of politics. A raven was on its way to King’s Landing before they had even begun to prepare Doran’s body, sudden worry that a pronouncement and a will would hold no bearings in the Red Keep and Oberyn’s birthright would somehow be denied.

The prince seemed far less concerned with such troubles, merely casting a grimace at the news, a solemn nod and wave of his hands his only reply.

Ellaria had been at his side almost immediately, offering support in a way that only the oldest and dearest of companions can. She knew him with an intimacy that most covet, and it was clear he took some solace in her company. But it was not long before she was called away, tasked with keeping her four girls as close as possible, ravens sent urging the eldest of Oberyn’s girls to return to Sunspear as well.

Peace may have been the new rule of the land, but old habits were more difficult to stave off, and all of Dorne would sleep better with four of their most precious daughters back amongst the sand and shore.

In the midst of it all, she felt compelled to stay at her husband’s side, desperate to help him but unsure of where to begin. Their waters had only just started to steady, flat footing found only the night before. It would have been easy to step away, to claim that the new glow of their joining was not enough to sustain such grief, but she refused.

As the sun set and the place found a semblance of silence beneath the moonlight, she searched for him, her heart guiding her feet to the very place she knew to go.

She stands at the threshold of the great hall, Oberyn’s back turned to her, his gaze set upon his brother’s throne, a glass mirror to the first few nights of their clumsy courtship. She approaches him, trying to match her steps to the soft streams of moonlight glancing across the floor.

“I should have known I would not be capable of hiding from you.”

She bites her lip, a retort lingering on the tip of her tongue, but she swallows it whole, leaving only silence between them. It feels out of place, ill-fitting and unneeded around his slumped shoulders and pallid complexion. When he turns his head, just enough to find her eyes across the room, she can see the deeply rooted lines, the red rims, and the pinched brow.

Her fingers ache to soothe the lasting imprints of grief away, as if they were smudges along the edge of a painting. She has no doubt he would welcome the touch, his body seemingly caving in on itself the longer he keeps his distance, but she stays rooted to the spot for now, for reasons she is not even sure of.

“Did you know that when my sister was murdered, my brother refused to march on King’s Landing?”

His back is to her once again, arms crossed and eyes on the throne, fatigue bleeding way to rage.

“He made claim it was not in Dorne’s best interest.” Oberyn scoffs, shaking his head as if to dispel the ugly memory.

“A queen was dead, the heir to the iron throne along with her, and the people did nothing. No outrage, no uprising. It was just another day. And my brother agreed with them! He—“

His voice raised with each word, his stance tight, his fists shaking. He looked every inch the venomous snake, poised to strike at the first opportunity. But she was unafraid.

“He did not seem to care that she was gone,” Oberyn admitted, the words uttered with broken disdain. “And now so is he.”

She moves fully into the room, letting her steps fall heavy on the porcelain floor. Oberyn turns to face her as she stands beside him, and it is only then that she sees the guilt etched into his features.

“Why is it that I cannot seem to die?”

There is no answer that would soothe him. The truth is far too simple and life far too cruel. It could just as easily have been Oberyn to an early grave, unseen dangers or ugly circumstances finding him in a moment’s weakness he could not predict. She does not speak but instead finds a seat along the steps leading up to the throne, looking up at him through the length of her lashes.

Oberyn watches her carefully, body swaying as if he wants to sit beside her, but he remains standing, lips slipping away from grimace in the name of something sentimental.

“Doran was patient. Quiet. He refused to move without considering every outcome. Each avenue. It was why he was so well-suited for duty. I…I am so very different. I am not…”

“He chose you. You have his trust,” she reminds him, remembering the words of a dear brother-in-law she had only just begun to know, to love.

“And what if he misplaced it?”

“I do not think that is possible, my lord.”

His smile tilts again, the angle rueful. “Still,” he counters, “I do not think I am meant for it.”

“Maybe,” she reasons, letting the tone of her own voice lighten, “and still you choose it.”

He finds her eyes again, his entire being softening, and without falter, he matches her tone. “And what of you, my little wolf?”

She moves to stand beside him now, facing the very thing she had dreamt of so long ago. She considers all the things that brought her here at Oberyn Martell’s side, and how those same tendrils of a cruel world and different choices could have prevented this moment.

She takes his hand and breathes in deep, her heart finding the beat of his own.

“I am where I am meant to be.”

———

Dedications:

To my dearest @jazzelsaur who has listened, read, reread, and encouraged this ridiculous fever dream of a story. I am 100% beta reading a soulmate/arranged marriage/GoT fanfic was not on your bingo card but the fact that you never once discouraged me means a lot. Thank you. ilu

To @magpie-to-the-morning BABE! Your love of this story makes me stupid happy! I have confessed to you that I am having so much fun writing it, and a big part of that has been sharing the experience with you. Thank you for this and for your friendship. ilu

#Oberyn Martell #oberyn martell fic #oberyn martell fanfiction #oberyn martell x ofc #game of thrones fic

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sunflowerheartsandstarryskies · 4 years ago

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The Red Viper and the Honeybee - Oberyn Martell x Bridgerton AU

Bridgerton AU!Oberyn Martell x Fem!Bridgerton!reader

Author’s Note: I fell down the rabbit hole of Oberyn content and I watched Bridgerton on Netflix, it is terrible from a historical standpoint but from a story standpoint it is fantastic. So that is why I am labelling this as Bridgerton as its own au instead of a historical au and also I am putting you (reader insert) as the diamond of the season or Daphne Bridgerton, but trying to be as inclusive as I can be with your skin, hair, and body type (by not putting my bias involved). Also I will be basing a lot of etiquette and phrasing from the regency and romantic era. I hope that clears things up for you.

TL:DR: Bridgerton horrible for historical fiction but fantastic for story inspiration. Bridgerton is basically the Regency Era!Lite with a dash of modernism in it. Also you are 21-23 years old and Oberyn is mid 20s-30s years old in this fic.

Warnings: Men being pretentious, some misogyny happening, society having expectations for women, historical misogyny in general (please take care of yourselves before and after reading this if these sort of things can hurt you, I love you all), Game of Throne characters being OOC (I mean like all of them, sorry)

Taglist: @ ilikechocolatemilkh , @janelongxox Thank you for being interested in this mess enough to be tagged in this

Word Count: almost 10k (this got over me, yikes)

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For a man to capture my whole heart and attention, they must treat me as their equal and partner in life, for if they don’t then I would be a fool for yearning for them in the first place. My mother was the one to instill these ideals in me since I was young and wants me to find a partner that will be my best friend in all that I am and the same for him.

I debuted in the social market of Westeros rather late in the standards of high society but my father recently passed away so it was overlooked in that sense as my family was given a grieving period to be allowed to be secluded from the world to grieve properly. My father and mother are my favorite people in the world who I adore as well as my younger sisters and older brothers. I am the eldest daughter whom I’ve been giving responsibility to secure finances with suitors, but my family (may the gods bless them so) will forever love me even as a spinster if I never find one in my lifetime.

My homeland is Honeyholt and my mother is the Duchess of Honeyholt, my family is in a unique standing with the high society of Westeros so our family may seem odd and quirky but society is keen to overlook that factor because of our business. Honeyholt prides itself on being fair and equal to all members of their county and business, which lends itself to the citizens and workers of Honeyholt giving us high praise for our practices.

Our land and business is best known for our signature honey wine, brandy, and teas specifically floral teas are our best ones. The Bridgerton name is branded with pride on each bottle and jar of our products.

My older brother, Anthony, is being groomed to take the title of Marquis of Honeyholt. He is very protective over me whenever we go out to social dances, so even if I wanted to find a suitor he yanks me away from them to dance with him or my other brothers Colin and Benedict. It is exhausting between the three of them, Benedict is just as protective as Anthony, but less overbearing, and Colin is much like a guard dog, silent but ready to bite the hands off any man who comes near me. My two allies against them are my younger sisters Eloise and Hyacinth, when I want to dance with a young man they both cause mischief on my brothers before they intervene.

My family got invited to a ball out in the Westerlands near the House of Lannister, and that meant great news to my mother who was excited to show me off in the Westeros season of dancing. Which hopefully by the good graces of the gods that I will be allowed to find a potential suitor. This ball would be a formal social event to all that attend, and my good friend and mentor Lord Tyrion Lannister promised me to make an appearance there.

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We all got dressed in beautiful formal wear, with our signature bee insignia placed somewhere on our persons. My brothers have it embroidered on their collars, while my sisters and I have bee hair pins in our hair styles. The bees do a lot of hardwork in our county and business, so we wear it proudly on our coat of arms and whenever we go out to social events. It is a sign of a united front to us, and that family is of the utmost importance to all of us.

We are all in the carriage riding to the Lannister mansion’s assembly room that was used for such occasions.

“I hope you are not looking forward to the company of Jaime Lannister, this evening? You know how much I oppose his character,” Colin starts.

“I agree with Colin on this one, you know of the gossip that is surrounding him dear sister,” Benedict states.

“Yes dear brothers, if there is one thing in this family that you have taught me to be is to be wary of all of the Lannisters. Except for my dear friend Lord Tyrion I hope,” I say.

“Not to mention the salacious scandal that the Kingslayer has with his oh so dear sister, Lady Ceresei,” Eloise mocks. Me and Hyacinth snort behind our hands in response.

“That is exactly the reason why we don’t want you to hang out too much around ‘The Kingslayer’’ Anthony spits out the last part.

“Then why are we even going to visit the Lannisters then if all we are going to be doing is to bicker around them?” I inquire.

“Because there are some rather interesting bachelors that have promised their arrivals in Westeros that I am certain will be a great match for you,” my mother states reaching over to squeeze my hands in assurance.

“I hope you’re right mother,” I say, “But let’s hope my brothers won’t do too much meddling then.”

“Oh I’ll make sure they don’t darling,” mother soothes me leaving my brothers with gaping mouths trying to argue back but was cut short with our arrival at Lannisters’ ballroom.

We all made our ways out of the carriage with my mother and I being escorted by my brothers. As we entered the ballroom my ears were immediately greeted with beautiful orchestral music played by the band that the Lannisters hired were quite skillful. Benedict immediately led me into the first dance of the night so I was too occupied to catch a glance at all the handsome men in attendance.

“Thank you for the dance, dear brother” I remarked with a curtsy.

Benedict returns the curtsy with a bow as he says, “my pleasure”

Colin, Eloise, and Hyacinth comes over to us with Hyacinth saying, “Do you see who is in attendance (Y/N)?”

“No, who?” I ask as I immediately glance around the room. As soon as I said it my brothers soon said, “On guard,” and immediately tried to disperse themselves.

“Too late, I already caught your eye,” a woman said. I turn to fully look and it’s the Lady of the House, Duchess Joanna of Westerlands.

I curtsied at her attention as did the rest of my siblings as we say, “Lady Joanna”

“Ah Lady (Y/N) Bridgerton I was hoping that you would come to visit me again. You know my dear son Tyrion remarks about how intelligent you are,” Duchess Joanna states.

“Your Grace flatters me, I merely have a good teacher is all,” you say.

“I wish you were as flattering to me to my face, my lovely student,” I hear a familiar voice say to me. Tyrion soon appears in my vision right next to his mother.

“Is there a reason why I haven’t seen you on the dance floor, for I have heard and seen you are the brightest star this season,” Lady Joanna states.

Benedict stands a bit straighter as he hears her say that and states, “All in good time, Lady Joanna. One mustn't rush these matters.”

She raises her eyebrows at him then takes her leave away from them, as I take my leave to walk with my friend Lord Tyrion.

“Oh dear me, (Y/N) you always seem to have your hands full with your guard dogs don’t you?” Tyrion teases me.

I huffed as I reached for a glass of champagne, “Don’t I know it. I know my family says they’ll love me forever if I never get married but what of the rest of the world? I hardly wouldn’t want my family to be shunned simply because I am not desirable.”

“Now who would say that my dear, hmm? You are quite desirable simply on your looks alone, but coupled with that of your smart wits and sharp intelligence, you stand on equal footing with any man who even dares to look at you,” Tyrion expressed.

“Oh if only that were true, but no man in today’s society would hardly want or look for a woman who can stand to attest to what he or his business has to say. Merely look at the fact that my brothers won’t even let any bachelors come near ten feet of me let alone get a word in,” I argued.

“That I do agree with you on the count of your brothers, but to the argument of your abilities to be undesirable to men I do have to argue on that for if I was even close to an eligible match for you, you know I would propose to you but if a man comes to know that you are knowledgeable on all the great poets of our age and the classics, but are also quite fluent in the language of economics and business as well as just the languages of the Old Tongue, Dothraki and both levels of Valyrian my word all the men would be rushing to you as we speak. Also do not ever volley my teaching like that again, I am quite proud of what you have accomplished in my stead,” Tyrion lectured.

“I-Tyrion, thank you for those kind words, I will take into account my skills, because it does seem I need to seriously improve on my self-confidence so to speak,” I agreed.

We then fell into a comfortable silence of us standing on the edge of the dance floor with us sipping on the glasses of champagne that come to greet us, when a handsome man comes into view of me.

“Ah Duke of Dorne, what a surprise it is to see you after all this time,” Lannister greets the handsome stranger.

“It is good to see you again, old friend. I wanted to see how you have been holding up, seeing as your siblings have come back from the big city,” the Duke of Dorne says.

“Ah well you know how they are, I’ve been trying to avoid their company as much as possible so I have been keeping busy with my studies along with my teachings,” Tyrion responds.

“I’ve heard that you’ve become quite the scholar. I assume this is one of your students then?” the Duke of Dorne asks, glancing at me.

My face immediately feels like it’s on fire just from his gaze alone. What is wrong with me? Has it really been so long that I forgot what a handsome man’s gaze felt like?

“Ah! This my dear friend and student, Lady (Y/N) Bridgerton of Honeyholt, Lady (Y/N) this is an old friend and classmate Duke Oberyn Martell of Dorne,” Tyrion introduces us both.

“A pleasure to meet you,” Duke Oberyn says as he takes my hand and kisses it.

I curtsy in return as I say, “and I you, Duke”

“May I have a dance with you?” Duke Oberyn offers.

“It would be my pleasure.” I accepted as I let him guide me to the dance floor.

A new song started to play as we entered the dance scene, and I was immediately taken by the beauty of the music and the strength that hides beneath the Duke’s clothes as he falls into the role of taking the lead in the dance. With his lead, dancing felt as natural as breathing to me, and I got so taken by the charm of his onyx eyes and the scruffy facial hair as he gracefully takes the lead on the waltz we started together.

This particular waltz I knew so well by now because of my brothers and my own learning of it, but to dance it with him, it was enchanting and I became mesmerized with our own beating hearts becoming intertwined with each other and the music.

Then as soon as the dance started, it ended and we both dutifully took our bows and thanked each other for the dance as we began to walk back to our places. As soon as we do so, the Duke is still standing by me when my brothers almost tackle me with how fast they were coming towards me.

“What are you doing near my sister?” Benedict demands.

“You are not to be near our sister, Viper,” Colin reprimands.

I jump between the Duke and my brothers as I object, “What is the meaning of this, brothers? The Duke of Dorne had graciously asked for my hand in a dance and I accepted, had I known that you would be so up in arms on me wanting to dance I would’ve looked for him earlier.”

The Duke turned his head to try to hide his smirk at my comment but I saw it at the corner of my eye.

“You see dear sister, he has quite the reputation of being a rake around the molly houses of Westeros,” Benedict explains. (Molly houses is a word for brothels in regency era which has both male and female prostitutes, and rake is basically a womanizer used for male protagonists in romance novels of the time)

“What is so wrong with that? From what I’ve heard our dear Kingslayer has been rumored around molly as well, and what is the point of this information I doubt he has any intention on taking me there,” I rebutted.

“I thank you for your kind argument for my reputation but I must apologize to your brothers here because they think that I have an intention on taking your flower before courting you. I apologize to you both, however I will not apologize to the fact that I am very much looking forward to courting you in the near future. From what I’ve heard from Lord Tyrion and now your brothers, it seems you are quite the Incomparable,” the Duke states.

“You flatter me sir,” I bow my head to him.

“I am very much looking forward to seeing you in the near future Lady Bridgerton, please think of my proposal?” the Duke insists as he takes my hand and kisses the palm of my hand as a way of goodbye.

I blushed at the small gesture of his all the way back home. However as soon as we got to our home, things were soon broken into chaos with my brothers surrounding me asking how I managed to get the attention of the Red Viper of Dorne.

He was apparently quite well known in the boxing circles of both the Westerlands and Dorne, but equally well known was his pernicious nature with that of the ladies of the night surrounding Westeros and the Reach.

“I don’t know what you all are rambling about. Have you not opened your eyes when the two were dancing? The Duke and her were very much smitten with each other and were not looking at anyone else when in each other’s company. Also I can think of many ill-fitting matches that could be worse then for your dear sister to be paired with a duke,” my mother rebutted.

I grinned in victory at hearing my mother’s words knowing we won that round against my protective brothers.

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Three days laters we were in the drawing room with me practicing my piano skills, and everyone was casually doing their own activities. Hyacinth was reading her favorite book, Eloise was writing, Benedict and Colin was playing chess, and mother was listening to me playing. Anthony was in the study deeper in the estate most likely taking care of the finances of the business and estate.

A butler came in and announced, “Lady (Y/N) we have a bouquet here for you.”

I jumped out of my seat at the piano along with my mother, we both exchanged excited looks at who could’ve brought me flowers. What arrived was a beautiful large arrangement of red, pink and orange honeysuckles, tulips, and bachelor’s buttons. They were beautiful, I gasped when they were placed on an end table in the drawing room, they were even placed in a beautiful crystal vase. I went towards them and smelled them, when I realized what they all meant: declaration of love and hope.

As soon as I was taking in the splendor of the bouquet I saw the letter placed next to the vase. I opened it and the letter read:

To the lovely Lady (Y/N) Bridgerton of Honeyholt,

You have quite literally and wholeheartedly enraptured my heart and mind with thoughts of you. I know it may seem like I am making haste with putting my thoughts in letters and ink, but I hope you may like that sort of thing. I am hopeful to see you in the dance of the season to arrive and for you to reserve a dance for me if you so can. I hope your brothers may allow me to accompany you in this way. May the gods and you bless me with your company. I wish you and your family good health and wealth for the rest of your days.

Sincerely and Earnestly,

Duke Oberyn Martell of Dorne

“Oh mother, come look it’s from the Duke of Dorne, read this letter it's so thoughtful,” I gush as I hand her the letter.

My mother gasps and reaches the letter from my hand, and as she reads from my periphery I see my brothers whisper to one another from their couch and I see Colin leave while Benedict stays.

“This is wonderful news! It’s only been half a week in this season, and it seems like you’ve already found yourself a suitor, my dear,” mother said.

“It’s all thanks to you mama, my wonderful wit and looks must’ve charmed him and I got them all from you,” I replied. We then looked at each other and bursted out laughing, hugging each other as we giggled at the letter and bouquet.

“Do you really think he likes me though? Because I have heard what my brothers said about him and they went to the Academy together,” I said suddenly.

“Oh don’t be ridiculous, you two are about to begin a beautiful courtship I can sense it,” my mother assured me.

“What is going on here?” I hear Anthony stomp over in the room.

“It seems like your sister charmed the Duke of Dorne,” mother explains.

Anthony grabs the letter from the end table and reads it, he hands it over to Colin and Benedict to read, who then turns just as angry as Anthony.

“This is ridiculous, don’t you think he’s going a bit too far and fast with this, mother?” Anthony questioned.

“Well sure it may seem a bit fast but it’s not like he asked for her hand in marriage yet, it’s the start of a courtship, have you seen the flowers he sent her?” my mother reasoned.

“Expensive ones,” I jumped in.

Anthony glared at me for a moment but then returned to his normal posture as he then gestured to all three of him, Colin, and Benedict as he says, “Just know that we are only looking out for you sister, and if he even dares to touch a hair on your head without your consent, just give the word and we will fight him for you.”

Benedict and Colin nod in agreement but I scoff and replied, “Three against one, seems hardly fair does it?”

“It does when it accounts towards the family honor,” Benedict says.

I just huffed at that and grabbed the letter from their hands and replied, “Well I think his charming, but if you can think of a better match than him I am all ears, however for now you will to be contempt with the fact your sister is in the dating season in Westeros and I hope you three can wrap your heads around that.”

With that I kiss my mother on the cheek as I bid my farewell to the rest of them as I take my leave to my bedroom where I laid on my bed clutching the letter to my chest. I laid there motionlessly for a minute before a smile spread across my face at the thought of Oberyn Martell writing the letter and handing the flowers himself.

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The time has arrived for my family and I to arrive at the next gathering, which is to be hosted by the Tyrells this time. The House of Tyrell is known for their lavish spending on the decorations and music, the only family that comes close to their lavish spending are the Lannisters. Lord Mace Tyrell of Highgarden is rarely seen during the parties rather he has a much permanent stay over at the King’s Palace, as he is the King’s most renowned advisor, however the Lady of the House, Lady Alerie Hightower has a graceful demeanor and peaceful aura that one hopes they can be graced with in their lifetime.

We all gathered into the carriage together when we were all dressed and ready to go, with Anthony being the last to arrive. Mother and I sat next to each other giggling to ourselves and clutching each other’s arms thinking about Oberyn. My brothers sat across from us sulking with their arms crossed, probably scheming about ways to get me away from Oberyn.

The carriage stopped and the rider signaled us that we have arrived at the Tyrell estate at Highgarden. The estate is beautiful with the castle stretching for miles on either side of the front entrance, with the renowned beautiful rose gardens stretching around the landscape of the castle. It was beautiful, as to be expected of the Tyrells.

We entered the ballroom in which the party is primarily at, and I soon saw Tyrion talking to the hosts of the party, Lady Alerie and her daughter Lady Margery. They both are the belles of the ball tonight, it was also seen as Lady Margery’s debut into the social season, we haven’t talked much so I can’t really say anything about her character.

Tyrion sees me and waves me over so I do with my mother in tow, we come to greet him and the hosts.

“Lady Alerie, Lady Margery, we are grateful for your invitation,” my mother greets her as we both curtsy in greeting.

I turn to Margery and say, “you look absolutely beautiful this day, might I add the color green really takes to you.”

“Why, I am quite flattered to hear that because from what I heard around the town, you are the Incomparable this season,” Lady Margery remarks.

“It is quite true, even if she doesn’t want to admit it, she is the best student I ever had,” Tyrion says for me.

“Who cares for me when I heard that a certain prince caught your eye?” I question.

Margery blushes under the question and Tyrion raised his eyebrows at me in response. Before anyone can further the conversation I heard the band begin to play the first song of the ball. Lady Margery excuses herself as she readies herself to be asked on the dance floor. Within the first verse she did get asked by a handsome bachelor.

The prince in question was Prince Joffrey Baratheon, he was being groomed to take the role of King of Westeros quite soon, however room speculates about how prepared he may be. In the eyes of high society he was supposed to debut as a bachelor if he was anyone else, but he is the Platinum Prince as people liked to call him. Tyrion likes to call him the Plastic Bastard behind closed doors.

My mother soon takes off as she told me that she was going to try to fend off my brothers from scaring off any suitors my way which I thank her for.

“So you are hearing things about that loathsome child?” Tyrion questions in a hushed tone.

“Quite, but don’t worry it’s all gossip, it seems like Lady Margery is getting favors from Prince Joffrey. He seems to be quite adamant that he has found her princess, however the Queen might feel about it,” I state as I watch the dancing.

“That is quite the speculation, but it does appear you are right, because Lady Alerie seems to think that this debut was only to announce that Lady Margery has come of age into the social season, because it seems like Lady Alerie already picked out and secured a quite permanent suitor for her daughter,” Tyrion speculated with a sip from his glass.

“I wouldn’t even be surprised if the prince came here uninvited to try and win the people’s hearts with a grand spectacle. How the royal family do like their toys,” Tyrion continued.

“Bite your tongue Lannister, I don’t want to lose a friend simply due to gossip,” I paused then leaned down to whisper to him, “But you are quite right about the toys. It would be a shame if the prince realized he was also a pawn to the Queen’s game as well.”

“Aren’t we all,” Tyrion muttered. We both glanced at each other and shared a smile at that, we clink our glasses together as we drink with smiles on our faces.

“I see you two are together often,” I hear a voice approach us.

I turned and saw the Duke of Dorne smiling at us, in a very catching navy blue, and golden yellow suit with a dappled blue ascot tied and tucked around his neck. His olive skin seems to glow from the ensemble, and I start to blush at how intense his gaze was at me.

“You see, your grace, it’s merely a ruse so my brothers aren’t as intense at protecting me, they don’t see Lord Tyrion as a threat, so I am able to breathe freely from such scrutiny,” I say with a conspiratory smile on my face.

Tyrion pretends to gasp as he clutches imaginatory pearls around his neck.

“My word, Lady (Y/N) if only your guard dogs can hear you now,” Tyrion states.

We both laugh at that while the Duke has a huge grin on his face, watching us.

“Well now that I know the truth, may I have this dance, I do believe they are about to start the Cotillion Dance if you care to join me?” the Duke offered with his hand out.

“I would be honored, Lord Martell,” I say cautiously as I take his hand and he leads me to the dance floor.

The music begins and we all stand in formation at the start of the dance, then the dancing commenced. The man of course led this dance as well, and from our first dance together I took well under his lead in the dance. It felt like we were gliding on the dance floor with us twirling and spinning around each other, but I felt safe and confident as we danced together. I felt beautiful and radiant, I looked into the Duke’s eyes and it felt like he had his eyes on me the whole time. The Cotillion ended as we took our bows and he led me off the dance floor.

We found a corner of the ballroom as he took me there, and he began to speak.

“So, I was wondering and I know this might be too soon after our second dance but I would like to propose something to you,” the Duke began.

“Yes?” I urged.

“Well, I would like to begin a courtship with you,” the Duke says.

I let out a startled laugh at that as I immediately put my hand on my mouth at that, I grew hot with embarrassment almost immediately.

“I don’t mean to embarrass you, but you see my brothers are quite adamant at protecting me and if they heard you propose that to me, they would all beat you to a pulp. They also seemed to warn me against you as well I might add,” I warned him.

He quirked his eyebrow as he heard me which he then replied, “I wonder what those warnings might be? Is it that I am a rake? Or is it that I had frequented brothels?”

“There was that, but also that you are a bit of a brute,” I added.

He gave a quiet laugh at that as he shook his head and then let out an exhale. I gave him a soft smack to his torso as I reprimanded, “Don’t laugh! So tell me is it true then? Should I be cautious of you then?”

He gave a dramatic pause as he gave a thoughtful stroke to his facial hair and he looked up to the ceiling as if in quiet deliberation.

“Well all those rumors used to be true a couple months ago, I was quite rebellious towards my family affairs and myself I suppose. I didn’t want to take responsibility quite yet,” he said.

“Well what changed?” I inquired.

“Well to put it quite simply, my older brother, he has his own state of affairs with his own estate at Godsgrace and with our sister Elia passing away so suddenly from influenza we were both stricken with grief,” he pauses as if in reflection.

I nod in understanding, I put my hand on his as I squeezed it in reassurance waiting for him to continue talking.

After a moment of soft silence between us as the music and society dances around us, we were caught up in each other, in this moment.

“Well, I suppose that brought things in perspective for both of us, let’s say. I know she loved us until the very end of her life, but I suppose that grief has left me stricken to try and chase anything that made me feel something other than grief and molly houses, duels, boxing, and fencing were all things that did,” he seemed to emphasize the past tense in his sentence.

“Well I am sure if she saw you now, she would not blame you for what you have done. Grief does strange and terrible things to us all. I was similar to you as my papa had just recently passed away this past year, I had locked myself away in my room and not talked to anyone except my mama and even then it was short sentences. They loved each other dearly, my parents,” I explain.

“What got you through the grief?” he asked.

I paused in thought then answered, “Well to be honest, there will always be an ache in my heart for him but what got me through in acceptance was my family and the world outside my window. Nature allowed me to relapse in my head and to just breathe fresh air without thinking of my father, my family, businesses or anything else. It allowed me for a moment to collapse and I think I needed that.”

“You are quite wise for someone so young,” the Duke remarked.

“Well three older brothers and two younger siblings someone ought to be,” I answered.

He smiles at my comment and then replies, “Well I think that does it for our serious conversation. Would you like another dance, my lady?”

“Why I would be happy to, sir.”

The next dance was led by a bright happy tune and we instantly knew the dance was to be of a country dance. We beamed at each other as we both realized that, it was as if the band realized we needed a reprieve. The dance was filled with bouncing and skipping around the entire floor, and it led to us with bright smiles on each other’s faces as we continued to stare at each other throughout the whole dance. From the corner of my eye I saw my brothers with concerned expressions as they saw me dancing with the Duke, and I also saw my mother and Tyrion both smiling at us.

“It seems like we have fans,” the Duke whispered to me.

“And critics,” I added, which made both of us lean back a little and let out a small laugh.

“I assure you that the criticisms that your brothers may have me are of past consequence,” he tells me.

“Oh I’m quite confident in that,” I say.

The dance then ended with us as routine in society, we take our bows and he leads off the dance floor. Which we were then greeted with three angry faces and two smiling ones.

“What are you doing with him, (Y/N)?” Anthony questioned.

“Well I'm having a lovely time, if you must know, brother,” I answered.

“I was also going to ask you something before your family came over,” Oberyn says.

“Oh what is it?” I asked.

“Since we have twice tonight, and from our conversations I would like to make our courtship public and to get approval from your family,” Oberyn announces. (In regency era, if a lady dances only with one man, especially twice in one night, it is seen as either she is “easy” or she is engaged to that man)

“How da-” Anthony started.

“Wonderful,” my mother finished as she elbowed Anthony.

“It seems you have taken fascination with my student, eh Red Viper?” Tyrion asks.

“I sincerely have, and I want to make this an amazing courtship, I know that your family is known for honeyed alcohol but what of sweets? There is an amazing cafe that I would love to take you sometime this week,” Oberyn offered.

“I would love to, Duke” I answered.

“You could take her this weekend, that’s two days away, I’m sure you can take her then,” my mother responds.

“That sounds wonderful,” Oberyn answered.

“Then it’s settled, I can��t wait to see you that day. Well I think we’ll take our leave then,” I say and my mother reached for my arm and we were escorted home leaving Oberyn and my brothers to their own disposal.

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Two days have passed with relative ease even though all three brothers have badgered my ear off with the countless requests to put Duke Oberyn in his place by way of a duel, which I vehemently denied. My sisters have taken to making fun of me for being so enchanted by the Duke of Dorne, and it seems the only person who was my confidante in this new relationship was my mother.

The clock in the drawing room has struck 12 o’clock meaning that it was time for me to be heading out towards the main town in the Reach which was only 30 minutes away from our estate by foot, so it was easy for me. I took to wearing my riding boots and my favorite dress and wearing my hair in a simple updo fashion, well as simple as one can make it with the fashion trends these days.

I ended up making it to the main road of the town in enough time that I was allowed to stroll around the town window shopping, until I heard my name being called.

“Lady Bridgerton, there you are,” I heard a familiar voice call out.

I turned to see the Duke of Dorne walking my way to me with a lazy grin etched on his face, which got me to smile back at him.

“Why hello Lord Martell,” I say as I do a small curtsy to him.

When he fully approached me he presented his hand to me and as I took it he said, “Shall we?”

“We shall,” I grinned at him.

We made our way to a small cafe that he was adamant that was amazing about their sweets and pastries that they are known for. We found ourselves at a corner of the shop sitting on opposite sides of the table. He ordered for the both of you when it came to that, because he insisted that there were some things that he simply must do for me and to trust him.

I huffed and playfully glared at him as we got our treats in order for us., and he returned my glare with a stare of his own. A smirk plays across his features as he takes a dip into a lemon custard that he got, wrapping his tongue around the spoon.

I inhaled sharply as I watched and I got flustered when he caught my eye, I hurried myself with drinking my hot chocolate that I got. I saw his expression become bemused at what he saw me doing from my periphery, and I tried to shake my head of the thoughts that were swirling in my head.

“So, I was thinking…”

“Oh a dangerous activity indeed,” I teased.

“Hush, I was merely about to ask, what are some things that you would like to do while we are courting, because I would like this to be a worthwhile endeavor for the both of and make this the best courtship for you”

“Well, that’s rather kind of you, but I am sure you are aware that I have not courted anyone at all, and to be quite honest with you I don’t know a thing about courting. Sure I know mannerisms and what to say as well, but what goes beyond that? I simply don’t know. My brothers won’t tell me a thing, and my mother won’t tell me a thing about it.”

“Hmm, well we’ll take it slow then, okay? If I do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable or strange tell me, hmm? I have every intention of making you my wife, so let’s get to know each other during this courting period and don’t worry about not knowing certain things about life because from what I heard you are quite the scholar,” Oberyn responds to my rant.

“Well I try to be, I would love to be a writer one day but that is off limits in today’s society, I’m afraid, so I make do with learning as much as I can with the limited options I am able to. Lord Tyrion makes an excellent teacher, whenever he is not professing his love for alcohol or gossiping about the royals,” I let out.

“Lord Tyrion is quite the conversationalist and wine tester, he knows about everyone and everyone’s cousins, unlike his siblings people have no problem extending an invitation his way. Now, what is your favorite thing that you like to learn? There has to be something that you enjoy out of all your lessons,” he asks.

“Well, I do enjoy painting, and I’m rather indifferent towards my sewing lessons which I suppose is mandatory, but I also deeply enjoy playing music. Painting and music are something I am deeply in love with, I love to go to the Opera theater in town. The touring groups that play there are almost always amazing. I also love going to the art galleries whenever they have a new exhibit to display,” I respond.

“I heard there was going to be a new exhibit opening up in a few days from now, I’m bringing my sister’s favorite painting to be displayed there,” Oberyn states.

“I will be there, I got an invitation from Lady Joanna to be there actually, I’m sure she just wants to keep an eye on me, “ I say.

“Who wouldn’t want to keep an eye on the diamond of the season?” Oberyn questions.

“I hate that people are calling me, as well as the Incomparable? What am I that the other women are not?”

“Well I am not sure how to put it, but you surely have captivated me, and it seems like your focus and intellect has in fact enraptured all that talk to you,” Oberyn assured me.

“I surely hope not, for there are some that I would happy to never come near me again,” I state.

“Oh? And who would that be? You surely couldn’t be talking about the Kingslayer or the Prince?”

“You listen to about as much gossip as my mother, I swear.”

“Well is the gossip wrong?”

“No, not exactly but even if I was interested in them, I doubt that my brothers would even think about letting them breathe in my general direction.”

Oberyn laughs at that.

“Well, then I shall count my blessings that I allowed to still be alive so I may take in your beauty,” Oberyn flatters.

“You already got an outing with me, I hardly think you need to do anymore flattering, Duke,” I respond.

“Hmmmm, I think if we were to continue this courtship I think it would only be fair if you would call me by my first name?” Oberyn insists.

I got flustered by his sudden request but then I went to say, “Of course, only if you do the same.”

He raises his eyebrows at me and had a light smile on his face as he says, “Well of course it’s only fair, (Y/N)”

“Oberyn”

“How sweet it is to hear my name from a lovely flower,” Oberyn compliments.

“Well I think that’s enough pandering today, I am sure you must have more important business then just hanging out with me all day,” I say as I brush my dress and start to stand up.

“Oh there is no more important business then spending time with you, honeybee,” he comments and he winks at me when he calls me that new nickname.

My face got hot with that new nickname as I tried to make my way out of the cafe with Oberyn hot on my trail. He suddenly pulled me aside into a walkway that was a clearing in a park that I hadn’t fully noticed before.

“What? Oberyn? Where are you taking me? I thought we were just heading back,” I questioned him.

“You didn’t think that I would want to part with you so soon, honeybee?” Oberyn asks in return as he spins back to face me.

“I assumed so, my brothers make a point to make sure there are no suitors within an arm’s length of me and I thought you would be the same yet you keep coming back. I thought you would be scared to come near because of my family,” I admitted.

“Ah well, I know how my family is, I am lucky that I was able to grow an estate of my own because my elder brother is the viscount of our family estate and he can be a pain on trying to get me a wife and my personal schedule in general, so believe me when I say I understand siblings. Maybe, not to the extent of your family but to an extent,” He explains.

“Well that explains some of it, I suppose,” I replied.

We were walking side by side at this point and I noticed the sun was just about to set and I realized that we were out together for at least 4 hours, and I was starting to worry what my brothers would think.

After a few moments in silence Oberyn breaks it as he asks, “I just want to ask, why are you so hesitant about this relationship? Is it truly just because of your brothers that you are not willing to enter this relationship or is it something else entirely?”

“It is mostly because I am afraid Oberyn,” I tell him.

We now stood in front of a beautiful ficus tree with its branches spread all in different directions but the leaves always reaching towards the sun. I turn my focus on studying this tree instead of looking at him, embarrassed for admitting my fear. For I want to love him with my whole being already but scared of the novelty of it.

Oberyn hummed in thought as he heard my fear and after a moment of silence he spoke up, “Well then we shall take it slow, as slow as we can in this season anyway. The gods know how the Queen loves a good wedding.”

I turned to him and I smiled softly at how gently he spoke. “Thank you Oberyn then I will see you at the gallery then,” I say to him.

“Yes you shall, now let’s get you back before your brothers come looking for us and to take my head.”

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The days seem to blur as I wait in anticipation for my next meeting with Oberyn, it has been less than a week since we have started courting but I am already infatuated with the man. Relationships have started off with less in these times, right? I mean Countess Daneryes had an arranged marriage with Count Drogo, they seem happy enough from the little times they do make a public appearance but I can only imagine if things were to have been worse.

During the few days between my dates with Oberyn, I had been pressured to practice my music skills more, as my mother thinks that a Duchess should know the masterpieces of the piano. I just hope one day I’d have the liberties to be able to compose my own piece on the piano.

Benedict had recently taken art classes, Colin also started taking fencing lessons, and Anthony has been Anthony. When I announced that I would be attending the new painting gallery, Benedict showed his interest in escorting me there as well as wanting to see the new art in general. With that settled, Colin and Anthony begrudgingly said that they’ll let me go on my own with Benedict. My mother seemed equally as excited as I am about the art gallery, because I have talked to her about Oberyn and she approves of the relationship.

Benedict and I went off to the gallery once we were already ready to go. We stepped foot in the carriage and off we went to the main city’s art gallery. The ride went quickly and rather quietly as well, but I didn’t pay any mind to the silence. I was just excited to see Oberyn again.

We arrived at the gallery, and once we stepped inside I was absolutely mesmerized by the decor and ambience of the entire place. The paintings were displayed in front of a beautiful burgundy backdrop all throughout the place. My brother and I bid our farewells to each other as we went to go look at the different paintings.

I explored and looked at the different types of paintings that were displayed around the gallery.

“Well if it isn’t Lady Bridgerton, how very nice to see you,” I heard a voice coming up to me.

I looked to my right to see Duchess Joanna, I bowed my head towards her and gave her a polite greeting as well.

“I’m glad to see you got my invitation well, how is your relationship going with Duke Oberyn?” Duchess Joanna asked.

“I think it’s going well, at least I hope so,” I respond.

“So when do-”

“Ah Duchess Joanna, how good to see you here. I want to thank you for extending an invitation and for me to display my family’s paintings here,” I hear a familiar voice interrupt.

I tilt my head to Oberyn as he made his appearance between the Duchess and I, it seems he must’ve heard the conversation and wanted to circumvent the question the Duchess was about to ask.

“Of course, and I see you have found each other so I will be taking my leave,” Lady Joanna says and with that she walks off.

Oberyn turns to you and as you meet each other’s eyes you both smiled.

“It seems that you were about to meet a very uncomfortable question with Lady Joanna,” Oberyn began.

“So you decided to intervene then? Ah, my hero,” you stated.

The smiles never faded from either of your faces as you two began to walk around the gallery. When you were passing by an entry to a hallway of another gallery, Oberyn nodded towards it and guided you to walk through it, and when you got there you were amazed by the two pieces adorned on either side of the wall.

The first one we saw was on all accounts a technical masterpiece, but as I was looking at it all I felt was cold calculating movements and techniques that are being taught today. The second one however was of a landscape, and it looked like it was of Dorne, there was a familiarity to it and a warmth surrounding the piece that I felt like I was home already.

“So what do you think?” Oberyn asks.

“Well, the first one felt frigid like it was only made to be appraised for its techniques and nothing else. However this one, this one, felt so warm, so comforting, it feels like hiraeth,” you say as you turn to him.

He hums in acknowledgement and looks at you with a small smile on his face.

“This was my sister’s favorite, and behind was our father’s commission piece, I think you spoke well on the differences here. I feel the same, I began to feel that this was my favorite as well, after she died. What is hiraeth? I’ve never heard that word before,” Oberyn responded.

“It means to be homesick for a home that never existed,” I answered.

Oberyn nodded in acknowledgement and we both turned to the painting again, looking at the beautiful image in front of us. The distant voices of the rest of the guests slowly faded away as we continued to stand almost shoulder to shoulder with each other. I felt a pull towards him, I wanted to hold his hand so badly, it was strange, but did he feel the same? I glanced quickly to see our hands reaching for each other and we felt our fingertips touch. As soon as we felt them we heard a loud crash. With that loud crash, our little microcosm came crashing down with that sound.

We turned to the source of the sound and we were greeted with the sight of my brother Benedict sliding on the floor and met my eyes.

“Ah there you two are, I was wondering where you ran off to,” Benedict states.

“Like I didn’t see you running off to see your mentor just in time to avoid Lady Joanna,” I bounced back at him.

“That doesn’t prove anything, dear sister, and anyway we should be getting back, I should escort you back to the house, even if you do have a suitor now,” Benedict eyed Oberyn as he spoke.

“I hope to see you soon, maybe we shall go for a picnic?” Oberyn asks you.

“Speaking of picnics, well not really, how would you want to come to dinner one day? Our mother seems keen on meeting you properly, you know my brothers, and my precious little sister, but pray my mother, so here is an invitation for you to come over tomorrow. Don’t worry, mother knows about it (Y/N),” Benedict interrupts.

I just gaped at him as I heard him talk, I knew my mother wanted to talk to Oberyn, but have him over for dinner? Isn’t that a bit much? I turn to Oberyn, I see he had a lazy grin stretched across his face.

“Well, how can I say no to such an invitation,” Oberyn lamented and he claps his hands together looking between the three of you with a smile on his face.

With that you all started to head back into the thrums of the gathering in the gallery, as Benedict walked ahead you walked a bit slower with Oberyn.

“I am eager, adamant and sincere about this relationship, honeybee, and I hope you and your family see it that way as well,” Oberyn tells you.

“Oberyn, you make my heart burn with such sweetness that you say to me, and if you keep that up I’m sure my mother will fall under your charm as well,” I murmured to him.

After that my brother and I said our farewells to the appropriate guests and we headed our way back home.

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News has reached all of my brothers and sisters about how Duke Oberyn has finally decided to make an appearance to the Bridgerton estate, which got my sisters and mother very excited about this new man coming to visit that wasn’t family.

My brother, Anthony, seemed to be brooding the most about this new development, which I could’ve seen coming from a mile away. Colin and Benedict were taking it better then expected except now they have decided would be an excellent time to warn me against Oberyn even more vehemently before. I still don’t understand why my brothers are so against this, I like him, isn’t that enough? Or is it because they were friends in the same academy?

The preparations have made for the table and the maids and butlers have made sure that everything is pristine in the household, and as the time ticks down for Oberyn to arrive, I’ve become increasingly more worried that something might go wrong.

Then once the hour arrived, we got word that Oberyn had arrived and we all got ready to greet him. Oberyn walked into the drawing room where we all were loitering, Hyacinth and Eloise were reading and embroidering, I was talking to my mother, and the three brothers were all talking amongst each other. Once we were aware of his presence we all said our polite greetings, with my mother going straight away to compliment him which Oberyn took and reflected back to her.

We all made our way to the dining table where the food was already present on the table, as we all took our seats Oberyn moved his way to me and sat down with me.

Then dinner began and with that our usual chaotic family conversation began. Hyacinth refusing to eat her vegetables, Eloise teasing her, Benedict and Colin teasing each other and shoving each other at the table and my mother chastising every one of them.

Oberyn leans to whisper to me, “I didn’t know family meals could be so entertaining.”

“Oh you should see them during the holidays, they’re entertainment all by themselves,” I whisper back.

I look up and see Anthony glaring at us, I turn back to Oberyn and asked him, “Why is Anthony so opposed to our relationship?”

“He’s your brother, ask him,” Oberyn answered.

“And he’s your friend, plus he won’t talk to me no matter how many times I ask,” I pressured him,

“I think it’s all about my past, I normally wouldn’t have seen myself with a longtime commitment but with you I do, and I think your brother is having difficulty realizing that I grew out of my adolescence,” he answered.

I nod and smile at him in understanding, I reach for his hand under the table and squeeze it in reassurance, which in turn made him smile at me.

“Well, Duke, I have seen and heard that you have become quite attached with my dear daughter,” my mother spoke up.

Oberyn straightens his back in his chair and he replies, “I am very much attached with her, Lady Violet. I’ve come to nickname her honeybee.”

“Did you allow him to call you this?” Anthony glared.

“Yes I did, brother, and he allowed me to just say his first name as well, I do hope you realize that we are sincere about each other,” I replied.

Anthony sighed while mother gave me a soft smile in return, and I looked to see Oberyn beaming at me.

“Well, Duke, I do hope to see you marry her before the season ends, it’d be a shame to see this season go to waste,” my mother pestered.

“Mother,” I warned her and all I got in return was a confused look from my mother.

“I have every plans on doing so actually, I hope for every one of you to see how sincere and earnest I am with your daughter,” he turns to me and takes my hand and he kisses it lightly, “she has me so under her spell, she has me bewitched body and soul, and I am not sure how any marriage proposal would befit how she has me feel.”

I felt my whole body flush with heat and tears pricked my eyes at the praises and endearments he was giving me. He was ethereal, otherworldly, with how he treated me and I swear to the old gods that if that wasn’t his marriage proposal then-

“Well I think that was as good of a marriage proposal as any,” Hyacinth quipped from the other side of the table.

Oberyn’s face turned as red as the roses set on the table. I see from the corner of my eye my mother nods to Oberyn and he takes a deep breath. He stands up and kneels before me with both of my hands in his and what I saw in his eyes made it click in my head what was happening.

“(Y/N), my honeybee, we may have known each other for two months and started courting for half of that time, but I already know in my heart of hearts that you own my everything already. Whenever we part I am always thinking of our next meeting, and I may have already talked to your mother about this, and I want you to make me the luckiest man in all of the world, and let me call you my wife as I am already yours fully, so you can call me husband. So will you marry me?”

Tears flowed down my face as I slid off my chair to cling onto him tightly as I said, “Yes, a thousand times yes, I will marry you Oberyn Martell, I love you so much.”

“As I do you, my love, I love you too,” he whispers to me as he caresses my head.

Applaud littered the dining hall with my family congratulating us as well as the staff on our new engagement. As we stood in this new feeling, I reveled in it and I felt elated, like I was floating and I couldn’t get down even if I wanted to.

I looked at Oberyn and he looked at me with such love and adoration that I knew I made the right choice. I found the love of my life and I found it in him.

#oberyn x reader #Oberyn Martell #oberyn martell x reader #the red viper #game of thrones #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal x reader #midnight post #sorry i had to get this out here #bridgerton inspired #bridgerton #bridgerton au #regency era au #au

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