#the only people I will know there are the bride parents brother

[yoohyeon]

Wedding tomorrow…. I’m tired but I don’t wanna go to sleep cause when I’ll wake up I’ll have to go 😭 jfnjdndd

[entitled-fangirl]

His betrothed. (P3)

Barty Crouch Jr. x reader

Summary: the two expand on their love while the Black brothers try to get used to it.

A/N: so sorry for the long wait! Trust me, there's more for these two!

Masterlist <3

Part 1 and Part 4

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Barty started to show up at the Black house unannounced during the rest of the winter break for a few reasons: to check on his soon-to-be bride, spend time with Regulus, and try to win over the twin's parents.

And luckily, it seemed to be working for him.

Of course, Regulus would never complain about hanging with the his best friend. Nor would he complain about said best friend caring for his sister so much.

"How is she doing?" Barty asked out of the blue.

"Oh," Regulus thought, "Um, I mean… she's okay. I wouldn't say great but, she's okay."

Barty nods, "Thought so. She in her room?"

Regulus nods, "She should be."

Barty smiles and stands, quickly leaving Regulus' room to journey towards Y/N's. 

He knocked lightly, hearing rustling sounds and finally the sound of the door being unlocked. 

He slowly opened the door. 

Y/N was sitting cross-legged on her bed, looking down at her fingers as she picked at them anxiously.

He quickly crossed the room to her and sat on the foot of her bed, giving her enough room to not feel suffocated, but close enough to be near. "Everything alright, love?"

She sighed and sniffled lightly, "'M fine."

He leaned forward and gently lifted her head up by her chin. Her eyes met his. They were red, and tear streaks stained her face. He felt his heart drop at the sight.

His thumb lightly caressed her cheek, "How do I fix this?"

She leans out of his grip, her voice soft, "Fix what?"

"What's happened?"

She looks away from him, "Just Mum. Like I said Barty, 'm fine."

He reaches forward again and places his hand on her leg. "Y/N. How can you know to trust me if you won't take the chance?"

She scoffs, "I don't take chances."

He smiles, "I know that."

A silence falls over them for a while as they stare at each other lovingly.

"Why do you want to marry me so badly?" She finally asked.

He shrugs, "You're enchanting. Everything you do just makes me want to figure you out all the more."

She laughs, "I've heard Sirius say that to girls before. Sounds like rubbish to me."

Barty smirks and leans back, "Alright. You want the truth, love? I love the way you see the world. You see… happiness where there's darkness. You see… good in people. In things. In life. But, it's not that just that. It's that you don't know you do that. You naturally love life. It's part of who you are." He stands up and runs a hand through his hair, "And think me mad but I'd like to have some of you to myself… To have… just… a bit of your happiness. And hope that maybe… just maybe… you could see good in me, too."

She's speechless as she stares up at him. How was she to respond to that?

He takes a deep breath, "You're like sunshine, love. You… you walk into a room and it lights up. Only a fool would deny that about you. I've seen the way some of them look at you. They want to ruin you. And perhaps I will somehow along the way… but I'll try anything. Anything. To preserve some of that sunlight. As long as I can. If you'll let me."

She wipes her cheek lightly as she sniffles. Her eyes now holding  their usual glow, "Barty?"

He looks up immediately, "Yes?"

She smiles, "I can't wait to marry you."

He lets out a breath. It feels like he's been punched in his gut the way his heart shifted. "I… I uh, I was gonna wait but… since I have it…"

He sits back on the bed and retrieves a box from his pocket.

A ring box.

He smiles as he opens it, "I know this is strange and… I'll give you a real proposal, I promise. But for today… maybe this will work."

The ring is gorgeous. The diamond practically glows along with its white gold band.

"Barty…" she finally says, "How… this is beautiful…"

"What do you think, love?"

…

"Merlin!" James cried.

Sirius held his sister's hand in his own with a vicious grip, glaring at the diamond in the ring that he could practically see his own reflection in.

Remus remained quiet with his jaw practically on the floor.

Peter's eyes shifted nervously to each of them in the Common room.

"I… I know this isn't what you wanted, Siri, but…" she started.

He held his other hand up to silence her, "It's not my favorite idea. But… I was wrong to take my anger out on you over it. After all, it's not your decision. It's not like YOU want to marry him."

She caught James' line of vision, clenching her jaw as their eyes met.

"No." James reasoned. "No… absolutely not."

"He asked me. And I said yes."

All four immediately stood from their spots on the various chairs and couches in the common room. Their voices all loudly proclaimed their thoughts, the sounds overlapping each other.

She involuntarily took a step back at the harsh tones of the boys. 

Even Peter was voicing his opinion for once, as small and squeaky as it came.

Remus noticed the way her eyes glazed over, and he finally snapped out of it. "Hey."

No one payed attention.

"HEY!" He finally yelled.

The other boys froze, staring at the scar-ridden boy.

"Let her speak. Merlin. We're acting like animals."

James smirked, "I mean technically-"

"Shut up, James." Remus snapped.

Sirius' jaw clenched harshly. His words came out of his mouth through his teeth, "Fine. We'll hear her out."

Remus pushed them down back into their seats, "Alright, dove. When you're ready."

She took a deep breath.

"I know you don't like him because of… of… well, he's honestly quite lovely. He said the most wonderful things to me. He… He told me he loves me."

"Oh, please," James scoffed. "How could Bartimus Crouch Jr. possibly love you?"

She gasped lightly. "I… what… what do you mean?"

"What do I-" He stood, angrily walking to her. He grabbed her wrist harshly and yanked her sleeve up, revealing the fresh dark mark on her forearm, "If he loved you, he'd have never let this FILTH get into your skin."

"James… he… he didn't…"

"No, dove." He persisted, "He will never love you. Anyone with this mark on them… is filled with nothing but hate. When I become an auror, the first thing I'll do is rid the world of this shit-"

"FUCK OFF!" She finally roared.

His lips drew into a thin line initially. She never raised her voice like that. He then smirked and let his voice relax, "You know, I'm just trying to help you. Don't be such a bitch-"

Sirius immediately stood, shoving James harshly, "You watch your motherfucking mouth, Prongs."

James stumbled, thrown off by the sudden shove, "Bloody hell, Pads. I thought you were fucking angry about this, too."

Remus stood next, "Let's all just settle down for a minute."

Sirius' head jerked towards Remus, "Watch it."

Remus nodded and sat back down.

"I am angry," Sirius continued, "But I won't stand by while my best friend insults her like this. I don't want your fucking input on this, James. I thought you were my brother. But you're not family, not for this."

It felt like a dagger went through James' heart, but he wouldn't let Sirius know that, "Fine."

And he stormed up the stairs to their room.

Sirius sighed and turned back to Y/N, "I'm sorry. I've been a foolish brother. Perhaps Regulus is right about all of this."

Peter spoke up, "But I thought you said-"

"-The only thing that matters," Remus said, "Is that she chooses who she marries. Is that not what you told us, Pads?"

Sirius sighed, "Yeah. I said that."

"Well, he asked her. And she said yes." Remus pointed out.

Sirius sighed again, "I know, I know. You're always right, Rem." He steps up to his little sister, pushing hair behind her ear. "I just want you to be happy."

She smiles, "I am happy."

He nodded, "Alright. Then I'm doing my job."

…

The next morning, Y/N practically ran to the dungeons. She had agreed to meet Barty there so they could walk to class together.

He was already there, smiling as she approached.

"Good morning, love. You look beautiful."

She smiled, "You're a charmer."

He shrugged, "Only to pretty girls with dimwit brothers."

"…what?"

He sighed, "Your brother is just being a fool again."

She tilted her head, "How did you find out about my fight with Sirius?"

"Sirius?" He laughed, "No. Regulus. Regulus is being a dimwit."

"Oh," she giggled, "'suppose that's fair. What's he done now?"

"Nothing. He and I just got into a fight. Nothing serious. Shall we?" He asked.

She nodded, taking his arm as always.

…

"Y/N, listen. I gotta talk to you." Regulus pleaded at the Gryffindor table of the Great Hall.

She turned to look at him over her shoulder, "Reg? What?"

He bent down to whisper in her ear. "It's… um… something happened this afternoon. After lunch."

Remus, who sat next to her, turned to look at him as well, "What?"

"It's about Barty. Listen… this isn't easy to hear, dear sister…"

She turned in her seat to face him fully, "Where is he?"

"Well, I suspect in the library. That's where I saw him last."

She immediately bolted up and ran out of the room.

Regulus' face lost color, "Y/N!"

Sirius stood, "What's happened?"

Regulus leaned to him and whispered in his ear.

Sirius froze, "Oh, fuck."

…

Y/N ran as quickly as her legs would take her to the library. 

She quickly walked past every aisle, desperate to find him.

Her feet stopped at the sight she saw.

Barty seemed to have his tongue down Andromeda Black's throat in a heated snogging session.

Y/N let out a gasp.

Barty pulled away immediately. He held a regretful look in his eyes, but his body didn't pull away, "Y/N?"

Andromeda smiled, "Oh. Hey, Y/N."

Y/N's eyes held tears as she covered her mouth to hold back a sob, "Barty… you…"

He sighed, "I what?"

Y/N let the sob go at his harsh tone, "I shouldn't have said yes to you. S…Sirius was right."

And she ran before another word could be said.

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A/N: NOT THE CLIFFHANGER! I'M SO SORRY!

If you wanna be part of the taglist, comment below!!!

Taglist: @marauders-81, @godofstory

[roachspeaks]

King!Sukuna x Princess!Gojo!Reader

Part 1 to a possible series? If it’s something the people would like to see. Ideas and feedback are very appreciated. MDNI

Warnings: smut, Sukuna doing another woman, brother Gojo, young child Choso(it will come together later trust me), mentions of Sukuna cumming in another woman(nameless faceless concubine), Sukuna being a little bit of a dick, fluffy material?, uraume being possibly ooc?, Sukuna being slightly sexist(i think), cursing,(let me know if i missed anything)

MDNI

Arranged.

You’d always hated the word. Your soon to be marriage wasn't arranged. It was just seen as a fact. Something you’d endure for the sake of your kingdom, the survival of your family and people. You had no choice in the matter and you hated it. One of the downsides of being a princess in a falling kingdom. An enemy kingdom, ruled over by the infamous king, Sukuna. Threatened siege if there wasn’t an agreement. A compromise. He wanted heirs, and trade from your family. But you suppose that was just a perk of being a Gojo. Always highly desired, and yet making enemies everywhere. Your brother, Satoru, wanted to fight it. But that was what he always wanted to do. Fight against the inevitable. Your family saw it easier to just hand you over. That way there would be no war, and they’d gain an ally. As well as more heirs to both the Gojo line, and partially the Sukuna one as well. The elders in your family viewing the arrangement as beneficial on all accounts, send you off as soon as they can. Satoru, your precious baby brother, insists on accompanying you to make sure you’re safe on your journey. You want to refuse his offer, you want to keep him safe within the walls of your childhood home, but he’s stubborn. 

So now, you sit in a puffy white dress your parents, the king and queen, had practically forced you into. Claiming it would make you look like more of a presentable bride. You ride on your horse, a cloudy white stallion contrasting Satoru’s jet black mare. You’d always had a habit of doing the opposite of one another. Opposite temperaments, opposite passions, opposite opinions. Most notably opposite opinions. He adores his freedom. Sure he has his responsibilities as crown prince, but he has gotten extremely talented at avoiding those things. You however, do not have that luxury. You're the eldest, the most responsible, dependable, the one your family knows they can put pressure on. You love your family, more than the silly freedoms and indulgences that Satoru chases. 

“You look ridiculous.” He smiles teasingly, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. There’s a sadness in his piercing blues. You can’t even imagine Satoru admitting to the fact that he’s gonna miss you, but you know. He hopes you know.

“What? You don’t like my bridal attire?” You chide back. Raising your nose at him in a sort of mock offense. 

“You look like a cream puff.” He bursts out into laughter, and you can’t help but giggle(more modestly than his loud, obnoxious hysterics). You were gonna miss his laugh. 

“Oh please. You couldn’t pull this off.” You roll your eyes jokingly. He snorts, but then his face falls a fraction. He’s not smiling, his mouth in a tight, tense line. His eyes drift to where he holds his leather reins. The edges digging into the pale flesh of his hands. 

“If you ever need me…” He starts, glancing between his hands and you. 

“I’ll write you, I promise.” You smile that kind signature that he’d grown to both love and hate. He hated that your kindness made you a target for your families agenda. He recognized a long time ago that the only reason either of you existed was for the benefit of the Gojo line, and he refused to fall in line with what they wanted. He just wished you’d fight with him…

“If that Sukuna bastard lays a hand on you,” If he got any angrier at the thought, there’d be steam leaking out from his ears. “I’ll kill him.” He finishes confidently. As if there was no way he could lose. And you believe in him. In the dedication and loyalty carved into his features. 

“You think you’d win in a fight against the cursed king?” She chuckles slightly. 

“Oh yeah, I’d win.” He grins proudly. So incredibly sure of himself. But that was just Satoru, and you loved him for it. 

The rest of the ride is quiet, uneventful. Then you notice as the environment around you starts to change. As you loom closer to Sukuna’s kingdom, the sounds of birds and life fade into silence, and dark clouds roll into the sky seemingly out of nowhere. Both you and Satoru pull on your hooded cloaks as it starts raining heavily. Your loyal steeds not appreciative of the sudden change in scenery, but they press on. It doesn’t take long until you’re at the gates. The walls are tall, made of dark coloured stone. Sharp wooden spikes lining the top of the wall where guards notably patrol. It’s an intimidating sight. 

You are quickly recognized by the guards, just by the look of you and Satoru it’s clear what family you belong to. The large, heavy looking gate is opened, and you both ride slowly into the large open space. Houses stretching far, shops can be seen down one road, while stables can be seen lining another. But the thing that catches your attention is the castle. It’s tall and every part is so…intimidating. Is that truly where you’d be living? This place seems so..devoid of life. Of color and sunlight and joy…

You dismount your horse, thankful that though you may look like a cream puff, your dress reaches just high enough that it doesn't drag on the muddy ground. There is a short, fat, angry looking man that shouts at a small boy to fetch your things from your horses. The boy in question couldn't be older than 12. With a dark brunette head of longer hair, tied up in spiky pigtails, and notable redness under his eyes. Like he’d been recently and frequently crying. As well as a scarred line running from his cheek, across the bridge of his nose, to his other cheek. He scrambles to do as the man instructs. But the bags are heavy, so you go to help him. 

“Hey, I’ve got these two. Okay?” You speak softly and sweetly. Helping him with the heavier bags. “What’s your name hun?” You smile.

The boy stares awe struck at you for a couple seconds. His mouth hung open as he stares. Like he was staring at an angel. 

“Choso…I’m Choso, Kamo.” He fumbles over his words. Clearly anxious.

“Well Choso, would you mind helping me bring my things inside.” You Nod to the castle. He seems to squirm at the thought. 

“That’s king Sukuna’s domain, I don’t want to get into trouble..” He speaks quietly.

“I won’t let anything bad happen to you, I promise.” You raise an eyebrow to him, and he cracks a little smile. Practically beaming as he helps you with your things. 

You turn to Satoru, drawing him into a tight hug. This could be the last time you ever see your baby brother, and damn if you’d let him get away without one hug.

“Stay out of trouble.” You whisper. “And tell Suguru and Shoko they have my thanks for keeping you safe.” You give him a light squeeze. He returns it silently. 

Then, with a guilt ridden look, he rides off. And you’re left to carry your things into the throne room of the castle. Little Choso at your side. Well really behind you, glancing around nervously at every movement or flicker of candlelight. 

You find the throne room easily, it’s in the center of the castle. But when you arrive at the entrance, the big dark doors. There’s a girl, an advisor from her attire. Long white and black robes, she seemingly guards the entrance. Looking slightly irritated, but mostly just stoic. Her hair is white, with unique red splotches. Cut short, with bangs just almost covering her eyes. When she catches sight of you, she stands up a little straighter(if that was even possible). 

“You’re the Gojo princess, correct?” She speaks respectfully, no malice or ill intention in her words. 

“I am, I was hoping to see lord Sukuna, before anything else.” You speak slowly, and she nods in understanding. 

“He is…occupied. But I'm sure he won't mind your interruption. Too much…” She murmurs the last bit. “ Though I will warn you, the…business he is attending to is not for the eyes of a young boy.” She warns, waiting for your reaction. 

Slightly puzzled, you respond. “Well…would you take Choso here, to where I’ll be staying? To deliver my things.” You glance at Choso, who still looks determined to finish his task in the big scary castle.

“I’d be happy too.” She replies, seemingly relieved to get to leave her place at the door. “Come along then.” She holds her arm out for Choso to walk ahead of her. “Good luck…” She sighs quietly.

You push open the throne room doors, using minimal force that doesn’t get you very far. Stepping through, to a rather shocking and…crude, sight. Your future husband, the king of a kingdom, with a…concubine, in his lap. His cock inside of her as she raises herself up and sinks back down onto him. You seemed to arrive at the most inconvenient moment(for you) because he glances at you, making direct eye contact as he grabs her hips, slamming her back down as he fills her up. Spurts of white dripping out of her gaping hole down her thighs as he unhooks her leg from his own thigh. Pulling out of her harshly. Shoving her off of him as if she was an animal. An object for his use. The woman doesn’t say a word, actually she only says four. Murmuring something about ‘thank you my lord’ as she scurries out of the throne room. Her shawl wrapped around her bare upper half. You take not that her other clothing(what little of it there had been to begin with) had been torn, 

Sukuna looks upon you, with a rather bored expression etched into his face. Resting his head against his hand, his elbow perched on the arm of his throne. He doesn’t bother putting his cock away, still covered in various juices, still standing rock hard.

“Lord Sukuna…” You address him, breaking the weird silence that suffocated the room. 

“Princess.” He looks you slowly up and down. “I’d apologize for the…mess. And the filth..” he glances toward where the woman had scurried off to. “But I don’t care.” He finishes crudely.

“My lord, excuse my bluntness, but why am I here? You’re clearly making an effort to get an heir in…other places.” You speak with a sort of frustration. You’d been dragged to a whole different kingdom, a dreadful one, to find the man who claimed he wanted heirs, spilling himself into another random woman. 

“She cannot give children. Neither can any of the concubines in this castle. They are infertile, deemed undesirable by others in society. But they get their use serving here.” He explains it with such..simplicity. Like it’s the most basic of concepts you don’t understand. 

“And you intend to continue…this, throughout our entire marriage?” You question, growing more irritated at the circumstances.

“If my desires are not satiated.” He rolls his eyes. As if this is boring him further, as if you don’t entertain him. But you aren’t here to entertain him, you’re here to keep your kingdom from war. “Well? Come here.” He orders.

You slowly, begrudgingly make your way over to him. Standing before his throne. Up close, he’s very handsome you have to admit. Pink hair and those intense red eyes…

“Sit.” He pats his thigh. And your eyes widen. You would not sit. Not when he was still dripping in the essence of another woman. Sure, he may be handsome. But your self respect, your dignity, would not allow this. 

“I will do no such thing.” You scoff. Glaring at him with a fury he’d never seen in any woman before. It almost surprises him. Almost. He could play chase, usually he’d bore quickly of cat and mouse, but for a pretty, stubborn little thing like you? This would be fun.

He watches as you storm off, and only when you exit the throne room, does he let his grin spread across his face. He’d have you begging for his cock before the official wedding ceremony, he was sure of it.

Meanwhile, you slowly make your way through the castles halls, eventually finding Choso sat on a decently sized bed. In a room with large windows. At least it didn’t feel like a prison. 

“You’re still here?” You ask carefully, still recovering from her previous interaction with the cursed king.

“I thought I’d wait for you to find your things, in case you got lost.” He stands from the bed. Looking stiff, like he’d been caught doing something bad.

“Won’t your mom be wanting you home?” You inquire, not meaning anything by it. But Choso’s face sinks. Looking visibly sad. 

“I don’t have a mom, I had my brothers…but they’re gone now.” He mumbles. His eyes drifting to the floor. This poor thing…

After barely a moment, an idea pops into you’re head. You could invite him to stay here with you. Surely Sukuna wouldn’t care(it didn’t seem to you like he cared about much of anything). 

“Choso, would you like to stay here with me? For the night, and if you wanna return to town in the morning, you’re more than welcome.” You offer the same sweet, kind and inviting smile you had when you’d first arrived. He’s practically tearing up as he hops around, excitedly chanting. ‘Yes yes yes yes’. 

That night Choso sleeps beneath the moonlight couch that sights by the window. A couple blankets wrapped around his sleeping form. You lay restless longer than you should. Just staring up at the ceiling. Wanting to be almost anywhere else. You’re grateful for the seperate sleeping arrangements, even if it’s probably only until the wedding. Tomorrow would be better, you’d just avoid Sukuna with his rude, vulgar tendencies. And he could fuck all the concubines he wished. Hopefully when you consummated you’re union, it would just take. Then you’d hopefully never have to do it again. He’d get his heir, and that would be the end of it. Though it’s an unrealistic sentiment, you hope for it to be possible. As you slowly drift off. Plagued with nightmares of some dark creature, four arms, covered in familiar black markings. The ones you’d noticed on Sukuna…

I do not give permission for my writing to be copied, republished, put through ai simulations, or anything of the sort.

If you’d like to add to this, or submit asks and feedback you can and are encouraged to do so through reblogs, comments, and asks. I’d love to interact.

[songsofadelaide]

In the summer of your seventh year, as your parents hosted a high-ranking guest in your home, a silver-haired boy stole a kiss from you under the blooming trellis in your family's sprawling garden. Your family called him a little god reborn and warned you to steer clear should your path ever cross with him again. ("He might steal more than a kiss the next time around," your older brother told you.)

There was no avoiding him, though, especially when he has taken quite an interest in you. Your kind, noble parents disliked his entitlement, but who were they to refuse the wily whims of a godling so besotted with their daughter? Their refusal would be tantamount to treason, even more so when the council elders and the oracles deemed you his other half. ("The stars said that you were born for me specifically... Or something like that," said Gojo Satoru, the Crown Prince, a little god from a house much higher and older than yours.)

His boyish presence filled your family's estate for many summers to come after he stole that kiss from you, his eyes so clear and blue and steadfast and he knew better than to lie to you when you asked him if he really liked you. ("I like you this much," he said, tracing an immeasurable, invisible line from his heart to yours.) The confirmation came in a formal declaration, on paper, that you were to be his bride when you both come of age.

In the summer of your sixteenth year, Gojo Satoru asked for your hand in marriage. ("I know it's been declared and all, but I'm asking you for myself now because I truly care for you— and I want you to know that what we have is more than just a simple arrangement by those old farts in the council," he told you with a smile so tender that you thought you were fast asleep on your feather bed, dreaming this all up.)

On that very same summer, a bounty is placed on the Crown Prince's head. A coup is declared against the head of your homeland, the Empire of the Six Eyes, and foes from within the imperial noble circle claim the prince to be a threat to the already fragile peace between the many high and noble houses. ("They cannot touch me, of course," he told you with a chuckle as he brought your freezing knuckles to his lips, warm and ablaze. "I am the strongest. And with you by my side, I will be invincible.")

Years passed and the internal struggle did not relent, even when the instigators were brought to light. The Crown Prince, now the Emperor they loathed and feared made manifest, permitted their existence in court, for he didn't want to be the tyrant they made him out to be. You wondered where you fit in the equation— the Empress— one born under an auspicious star so similar to her husband. ("You need not wonder where you belong, my heart. By my side is your place, always," he whispered to you in the midst of a banquet, as though you were the only two people on earth.)

("By your side, I'll remain then, my heart," you whispered back to him, and he responded to you with a face flushed with glee and a laugh that let on just how nervous he still was when it came to you.)

He called you his heart, but neither of you knew that the oracle lied to the Imperial family, that you were not his heart, not his other half, but the very sword that would pierce his heart instead. Neither of you knew that the true enemy— and the downfall of the Empire— was far closer than you expected.

When your brother became the lord of your noble house, he once asked if the Emperor was ever unkind to you. It was a question you vehemently rebuffed, for Satoru has been nothing but kind to you throughout your marriage. ("And even from before," you reminded your lord brother with a smile. "Have you forgotten how deeply he cherishes me so?")

And when the coup reared its ugly head once more, you couldn't believe your eyes when you saw the leader of the fray— your kind brother, his eyes alight with a vengeance you couldn't recognise. Your digging through the Imperial archives proved fruitful when you finally realised the depth of his rage. ("—Eyes led the annihilation of the ⬛ family, the decimation of their bloodline, save for two of their house's offspring—" said the words on the weathered book.)

As the Imperial castle burned down at dawn, your brother dragged you out kicking and screaming in the pretence of rescuing you. Satoru searched everywhere for you and saw the ensuing struggle, so he rushed to you. He was faster than your brother and had his blade at the ready, but he did not expect your jewelled knife to be the one to pierce him first.

You thought he was going to kill your brother.

"My heart," he mustered with his laboured breath. "I suppose this is a fitting end for a liar like me."

The knife was for your self-defence. It fell from your hands the moment they were stained red. "You knew?"

"I knew," he nodded at you. "I knew and yet was still so foolish to think that I could change my... our fate."

In the summer of your twenty-eighth year, the Empire of the Six Eyes fell to the hands of other high houses. The young Emperor perished in the onslaught and the Empress was nowhere to be found. (In the summer of your twenty-eighth year, Gojo Satoru is lost to you. He does not know about his parting gift to you, and neither do you. The grief that burdened your heart nearly stole it from you, too.)

The coup concluded but the internal war for the throne raged on for many more years to come, and it came for you and your peaceful life, too, in the summer of your forty-fifth year.

A silver-haired boy enters the fray, wielding an ancient power thought to be long gone. He says he will take back what is rightfully his, what was stolen from his parents, and he will not be as kind as his father was before him. ("Perhaps the oracle was wrong," he stated before the men who cowered under his cold gaze. "Perhaps...")

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Love and War III

Summary: Trapped within the Illyrian War Camp, Reader must decide the best course of action to get home, even if it means trying to seduce the enemy

Content Warnings: Mentions of Past Abuse, Descriptions of Scars/Blood, Canon Typical Violence; NSFW (a little bit of SMUT, just a tease 😈) at the end.

Previous Chapter/Masterlist

__________________

I can’t sleep.

It’s not because my enemy sleeps with his back to me, inches away, only a couple of furs and pelts between us, though it certainly doesn’t help. All night, staring at the tent wall, the strange patterns etched into the dark leather, the images of my parents, my brother, my people, flash behind my eyes every time I close them. I can hear Tamlin calling me a traitor; hear my parents final, dying screams. They are gone and the male that killed them sleeps inches from me. 

My dagger is next to my boots near the edge of the bed. Several times over the last couple of hours I’ve debated on crawling for it, imagining the heavy feel of it in my palm before I drive it between Rhysand’s shoulder blades and pierce his heart. I have never killed anything but game before, it’s the specifics and all their complications that stop me. What if I miss and he wakes up? What if I manage it but can’t get past the ward, condemning me to the mercy of his entire camp? And worse yet, what if it is not enough for Tamlin to take me back?

I chew my lower lip as I roll over onto my back. I know he would do just about anything to have Rhysand’s head delivered to him on a platter, or at the very least, those great wings to keep as a trophy. But killing a warlord doesn’t remove the threat of his camp, shy of slaughtering every last male, women, and child here, there would always be a chance of retaliation. A new lord would take his place if there was so much as a single survivor, and the bloodshed would start all over again, even if it took a few decades to get to that point.

No, my people deserve peace, to not have to look over their shoulder every day expecting an ambush. I would not live to see any children I might have, grown and subject to the cruelty of this war band. I would not birth anything into a world where my pain could be their own. So killing him is out of the question, at least for now. 

So what can I bring in lew of that? Camp movements? Numbers? Do I try to steal some horses or resort to outright sabotage so that someone else is always to blame when things go wrong? 

My head hurts from all the questions. 

My chest hurts from all the things I know I might have to do. My mother would be ashamed of me. And yet, I hear my father’s voice, telling me to stop being so useless and do something. He tells me I am selfish for hesitating, stupid for not seeing the opportunities in front of me.

I roll over onto my side so I can get another look at the male who claims to be my mate, the male who ruined my life. He’d brought me more food than I’d seen in years last night, had stumbled through the most awkward conversation of my life before offering the whole bed to myself if I was uncomfortable having him near by. An insane notion really, the bed was big enough for us to sleep in without being in arm’s length of each other. Even then, he’d wrapped his wings around himself and slept on the opposite edge, never once rolling any closer, even in sleep. It was an awkward kindness, but a kindness I had not prepared to face. I had spent the better part of the evening with him wondering how I’d deter him from trying to sleep with me, since he’d been so casual with touching me earlier in the day, but it had never come up. Maybe today it would, but for now, he had not entirely made himself as bad as I remembered him to be.

Again, it is my father’s voice in my head, “He’s a male, there’s a clear way to get him to reveal his secrets.” 

He is a dangerously attractive male. I have to admit I’m surprised he has not taken after many of the other warlords and formed a harem of captive brides. Between his power and his looks, he could have had dozens of wives already, yet this tent is void of any feminine objects to imply he’s anything other than single. He would not be hard to seduce, he is already so eager to have me nearby.

I roll over onto my stomach, trying not to huff my annoyance. It is not as if I’m some blushing virgin, I wouldn’t be giving anything over to him that I hadn’t already offered, in secret, to other males. He’d be the most attractive male I’d ever bedded, at that. I shouldn’t need that much convincing, or alcohol, to tumble into the sheets with him. Especially if it means he lets his guard down and tells me something useful. Especially if the distraction keeps him from thinking about asking me to take his mark again. What need for it would there truly be if I’d already surrendered myself to him?

Yet, my stomach rolls at the mere thought of it. Those hands had shed my peoples’, my parents’, blood! In a matter of minutes, those hands had stolen the only security and safety I had ever known, and I haven’t felt a shred of it since, and I was going to let them touch me?

A shiver runs down my spine. No, there has to be another way to get information out of him without trying to seduce him.

I lay there, mind spinning, as soft gray light starts to filter in through the small gap underneath the tent. Rhysand will have to leave me alone in here eventually, I will just have to wait for the right opportunity to start snooping through his stuff and then maybe a better plan will come to me. Perhaps something in one of those stacks of untouched chests in the corner will reveal a weakness I can exploit, some hidden secret I can use to my advantage. I have to hope they hold something, I have little options otherwise.

With that plan in place, I finally close my eyes, and try to let sleep fill the void. No amount of worrying will make him up and leave this early in the morning, there is little else I can do at this moment other than sleep. But it’s not even a full minute after I close my eyes that the tent flap is tossed open, the stiff leather slapping so hard against the wall Rhysand springs up with a dagger in hand, wings flaring behind him, so large they nearly span the expanse of the tent.

“We have a…” I feel eyes on me, over Rhysand’s shoulder, as I sit up, “situation.”

Rhysand lowers the dagger to his side, hand shaking, knuckles white from how hard he’s gripping it. Strange, did he often expect to be attacked in his own tent?

“Ready the men,” he orders and the intruders withdraw before I can get a good look at them.

He smooths a hand through his hair, loose now from the knot it had been tied on, the braided strands drifting over his sharp cheekbones. His wings droop until they’re dusting the floor, like a giant leather cape. “You’ll stay in here,” he says, voice still thick with sleep. Dark circles rim his eyes and I can’t help but wonder if I was the only one drowning in my thoughts last night.

I nod, biting down on my cheek to keep the grin pulling at my lips away. Perhaps the Mother is looking out for me after all! This is just the opportunity I need! “You…” I need to play it safe, sounding too submissive too early might get suspicious. I don’t want him to think I’ve so readily accepted this arrangement, but I don’t want him thinking I’m going to try and run off either. I let the words come out slowly, like I’m unsure to say them. “You don’t want me to come with you, like you said yesterday?”

He rubs a hand over his face as he goes to a chest at the edge of the bed and starts pulling out his fighting leathers. “Not yet, not until you’ve taken my mark and I can guarantee it’ll protect you.”

Shit! I need him to stop thinking so much about that stupid mark.

He peels off his shirt, the early morning light coming through the open door illuminating the swirl of dark ink tattooed across his bare chest. I’d been too panicked about our sleeping arrangements to get a good look at him when he’d changed last night, or else I also would have seen the scar across his side, the four lines like claw marks across his bronze skin. There are other, smaller marks, a burn on his hip, a jagged slash across his collarbone, but none are so pronounced as the claw marks. 

My hand goes instinctively to my own side. I know those claw marks. I know how they scar, because I have the same ones on my side. “Stupid, useless girl!” I know them, because like the voice that keeps ringing in my ears, they came from my father.

I don’t know if that’s a sign of what I need to do, as if, even in death my father’s will is still forcing itself on my life, or some cruel twist, like the matching stars on the back of our hands.

“Are you all right?” Rhysand asks.

By the time I’m able to focus on him again, he’s already laced up his leathers and sheathed that massive sword between his wings. I give myself a little shake, let my hand fall back down into my lap. “Yeah.”

Like last night, he looks like he might say more, but then thinks better of it as he tightens a belt of knives around his waist. “Stay here, you’ll be safe. I’ll be back soon.” And then he’s gone. 

I stare out the empty door long after his large form is no longer visible, sunlight slowly creeping further and further into the tent’s cave-like darkness. No guards. I eventually crawl out from under the mountain of pelts, the lack of heat obvious as a draft of icy wind blows through the open door. I wrap one around my shoulders as I pad, barefoot, over the rug covered floor to the door. The encampment around me still slumbers, no drum beats to be heard this early. Some of the other tents nearby have their doors open, I glimpse a body or two still sleeping in their own fur covered beds. No guards. No horses. Beyond the camp, the mountain walls of this secluded haven are dusted with early morning mist, the path the men had taken out invisible from this angle.

I do not want to trek through those mountains on foot and see just how well the shield holds up, not yet anyway. Holding the fur a little tighter around my shoulders, I turn back to the tent and decide the best place to start snooping is here. The outside world can wait a few more minutes. 

I go to the chest at the end of the bed first. It’s full of more fighting leathers, some worn and battle scarred, some shiny and new; an old pair of boots, some mismatched socks, another cloak and two, pitted daggers, the wyvern carving in the handle worn down from years and years of use. Nothing interesting or useful. I close the lid and head to the table to assess the piles of random collections Rhysand has made. It’s a lot of books on strategy and star-charting, I flip through a couple of them, looking for things written in the margins or scraps of paper tucked within the worn pages, but there is nothing but dust. 

“Come on,” I whisper to myself as I move to the next stack. There’s a book of poetry and things written in Illyrian I can’t read, the only thing in the margins of the old paper is some random swirls and markings that match the tattoos on his chest. If I have to learn Illyrian just to find useful information, I am going to be here for years, and there’s no way I’d make it that long without being forced to take Rhysand’s mark.

The remaining scattered items on the table are trinkets and gloves and a couple scarves with stains that look suspiciously like blood. Not a map or log book among them. Does he not keep records of his fighting men? Does he not chart supply lines and keep tabs on his merchants? 

I rub my temples as I go to the stack of dust covered chests in the corner. This might make it obvious that I was snooping, considering the dust is thick enough to be drawn in, but if he asks, I can lie and say I was looking for extra clothes, considering I’m still wearing the clothes I came in. 

The top chest is filled to the brim with swords and knives, a couple of bows and arrows, and a wicked looking mace. All well polished and cared for, the blades carefully wrapped as not to be damaged in transit. I pull a knife out to examine it, the ruby in the top casting rays of light over the tent walls. It’s an expensive weapon… if I start collecting enough things, could I find a place to barter them and bring the money back to Tam? Mother knows we could use the extra cash for supplies!

I put the blade back. If I start stashing things now, I’ll have nowhere to hide them and nowhere to take them until I can be sure that I can get out of these mountains, but it is comforting to feel like I have options here. The more things I can bring back, the better my chances at appeasing Tamlin are.

I’ve just closed the lid when someone clears their throat behind me and I all but throw the pelt around my shoulders at them in surprise.

“Snooping are we?” Laughs a feminine voice.

I keep a hand pressed to my racing heart, even as I inch over to where I’d left my hunting dagger. “Mother’s tits!”

In the doorway, stands a blonde female, her hair braided and tossed over one, bare shoulder. The strapless red top she wears, made of lace, baring just a strip of midriff and a swirl of ink, disappearing over the hem of a flowing skirt stitched in gold thread, must be expensive. I’ve never seen anything like it in our markets; I’d never dare touch it even if we had. I hate the spike of envy that bubbles up in my chest. I’ve never particularly cared about such things, not when the comparison wasn’t so in my face every moment. How was it fair? These people took so much from us, and yet they faced no punishment, it was starting to feel like they’d been rewarded for it even.

“Don’t worry, I’d snoop too,” she says as she steps in, holding a tray of something steaming that smells divine. “I’m Mor, by the way.”

“Hi,” I’m not totally beyond pleasantries, even if I do feel like biting the next stranger to come marching into my life as if they have free reign. “I’m Y/N.”

“My cousin says you’re his mate, is that true?” She sets the tray down then sits and puts her feet up on the corner of the table, sprinkling mud everywhere. 

“I don’t know,” I admit. I don’t want it to be true, but this is a chance to do something for my people, and I’ll play that part best I can, but it would feel fake if I just suddenly pretended to believe it after my comments on the way here. Better to play it safe.

Mor pats an empty seat next to her in invitation, or perhaps demand, there is a regality to her that doesn’t make me feel I have room to tell her no. I am used to people moving me wherever they see fit, my feet start moving as directed before I can decide that I actually want to. “Show me this scar of yours.”

I sit and offer my hand. Hers are soft as she inspects the eight point scar atop my hand, not a callus to be felt. Definitely some form of royalty. 

“How did you get this?” She asks, turning my hand this way and that to get a better look, as if I’m a piece of meat at the market in need of inspecting. 

I bite my cheek to keep from yanking my hand out of her grip. “I was young and stupid, and my father had sent me out to hunt as a punishment, I stumbled into the Middle, and came across the Weaver. When I tried to escape, she threw a hot poker at me, the end was shaped like a star, I guess. She basically branded me.”

“You fought the Weaver?” A mythical monster, no one really knows where she came from, all we know is she lives in the Middle, in a place where other monsters hunt, in a cottage dripping in dark magic known to lewer in weary travelers, as I had been.

“Fought? Goddess no! Played a very terrifying game of cat and mouse, yes.”

“I’m sure your father was proud of such an accomplishment,” she says as she finally releases my hand and pushes a tray of steaming buns, meats and cheeses, and what looks like tea my way. 

My hand drifts over my scarred side subconsciously, and I do not miss the way her blue eyes track the movement, even as I blurt, “Yeah the beating I got when I got home was a little shorter than usual.”

She drops her legs off the table so she can turn and look at me fully and I wince as I realize my mistake. “My father is like that too,” Mor confesses with startling gentleness.

I’m even more surprised when she reaches out to take my hand, not to inspect this time but to comfort me over our shared past. My chest tightens; a lump forming in my throat. My father was not the worst male in the Grasslands by any means, he kept us all fed and alive, and sheltered for the most part, but he was never kind. 

Mor gives my hand a squeeze. “You are safe here, Y/N. I promise. Rhys won’t give you any trouble.”

I’m supposed to hate her. She is a part of this warband, she answers to Rhysand, she bears his mark--a swirl of stars across her right arm--she is my enemy. I aim to steal all her secrets and use them against her, to take from her all the luxuries my people were never afforded, a life we were never blessed to live. We have nothing! They had everything because they took it. And I wanted to take it from them, from her. So why, when I looked into her eyes did I suddenly feel so godsdamned guilty?

When I don’t say anything, Mor pushes my plate towards me again. “Eat. You’re thin as a board. Then maybe later, I can show you around camp? I’m sure my cousin will give you his tour or whatever, but it’s never the same without a girls’ perspective, right?”

I snag the tea, hoping the heat will burn away the lump still lodged in my throat. Why is she being so nice to me? These people are not supposed to be nice! They’re supposed to be cruel! They’re supposed to be evil, ruthless monsters! 

“That sounds like fun,” I say, the words as bitter as acid. I am a terrible person. She is genuine and kind and going out of her way to be nice to me and I intend to manipulate all of that.

Mor grins as she walks back to the door. “Holler if you need anything, ok? My tent is just down the way.”

“Thanks,” I say as I reach for a warm, sticky bun. It’s so sweet and gooey in the center and I don’t think I’ve ever eaten anything so good in my life, yet, when I swallow, it might as well be sand. What have I gotten myself into? What kind of monster am I if I do this?

I set the bun back down on the tray and put my head in my hands. If I do this, am I just as bad as Rhysand?

------

Rhysand doesn’t come back until nightfall. Mor had come by hours ago with a tray for dinner, and had stayed for over an hour, talking about a lot of nothing, just to keep me company. I found out that she’s married to someone named Cassian, though she confessed after a bit of wine that Rhysand had orchestrated the union to get her away from her father, and that neither of them cared for each other in that way. It served the both of them to have the title, and while they shared a tent, there was little more than friendship between them. She’s very talkative, even with the smallest bit of wine, not that I minded, after several hours alone with my thoughts, it was nice to have something else to think about other than how I might sell my soul to get out of here. By the time she’d left and I’d made myself comfortable in the massive bed, I could only faintly make out the sounds of hoofbeats in the distance.

I’d be a liar if I said my heart rate doesn’t spike at the sound.

It isn’t like I was still snooping through his stuff--truth be told I’d forgotten there was still stuff to look through--but I sit up in a panic all the same, trying to figure out where I need to be to look the most innocent. Had I left anything out of place? 

I’m about to jump out of bed and double check the locks on the chests when Rhysand stalks back into the tent, completely covered in blood.

I can’t do anything other than stare, unsure if the blood dripping from his hair and down his face is from the gash across his temple or the gore that looks like it had been hurled at the left side of his head, chunks of something clinging to his ear.

There’s a small area behind the bed with a basin of water and some clean towels and he goes right to it, tearing off the leather gauntlets at his wrists and then his very damaged chest piece. Both make a heavy thwack as they hit the rug, a puddle forming beneath them. 

“Are-are you ok?” There are too many questions in my head, this one slips out first as I twist to look at him over the headboard of the bed. 

He winces as he pokes at the cut on his temple, “Fine,” is all I get before he cups water in his hands and does his best to clean the gore off his face. He’s making a mess. I’m tempted to crawl out of bed and throw a towel on the floor to spare the rug from damage, but the shadows that drift from his skin make me think better of it. 

Powers aren’t rare, especially among warlords, most of the fae need them to survive this barbaric society we live in, but I’ve never met anyone with such an obvious manifestation of them. Shadows trail off his shoulders, over his wings, twining around his powerful thighs. I can almost taste the darkness that leaks from him, even with the space between us. It is palpable and tangible and tied to his anger. A button I don’t want to push in any way. I sink a little lower into the mattress, using the headboard as a shield, just in case. 

“What happened?” I ask softly. 

He yanks a towel off the little drying rack next to the basin so hard it snaps like a whip and I flinch a little involuntarily. “We got ambushed.” He wets the towel and starts running it over his hair. When he unties the braids in the back, clumps of gore fall to the floor. “My sentinels spotted some enemy scouts this morning, when we followed them back, they led us right into a trap.”

Please don’t be Tamlin. Please don’t be Tamlin. “Did you find out who it was?”

“I have my suspicions,” he tosses the ruined towel on a floor and reaches for another to wipe off his arms and chest. “But none of them were marked.”

Not typically my brother’s style, but I can’t be totally sure. My anxiety sits like a weight in my stomach. “Any casualties?” 

“None of mine,” he growls. “Just some scrapes. Even unprepared, my men are lethal.”

Not as reassuring as I assume he thinks it is.

“We brought a few survivors back, I’ll know who sent them by morning at the latest.”

If I can get a good look at them, I can know for sure they’re not Tam’s men… “What will you do with them?”

He starts untying the laces of his pants and I hurriedly turn away, a blush creeping up my cheeks. I know he thinks we’re mates, but Cauldron have a little decency!

“Azriel will get the information I need out of them,” he says and I hear the sound of his boots and pants hitting the floor. “And then I will make an example out of them.”

It’s suddenly colder in here than it was a moment ago. I grab a pelt and pull it up to my chin as I draw my knees up to my chest.

There’s a beat, the only sound the scraping of a towel over his skin, and then I’m suddenly very aware of his presence at my back, his shadow looming over me. I sink a little deeper into the mattress, heart in my throat.

“This bothers you?” He asks quietly.

I’m glad there’s a thick layer of wood between us, it means I still have time to reach for my knife. “I-” Mother’s Tits what am I supposed to say?! It’s not like it matters, and maybe I could spin it to fit the narrative I need him to see in me, but the words escape me. No one has ever asked me what I think of the senseless violence that has plagued us since Hybern destroyed the world. Regardless of our boundary lines and markings, we all kill and maim each other to survive; we bleed and die and force others to do the same all for the slightest chance that we might escape that fate one more day. And I hate it! I’ve always hated it. I clung to my parents’ stories of better worlds because I’d wanted so desperately to be in one. 

“I don’t like violence,” I whisper. The first unaltered truth I’ve given him; the only unaltered truth I’ll give him.

He leans against the headboard, the wood groaning beneath his weight. “I don’t either,” Rhysand confesses.

I almost laugh. Death Incarnate hates violence? But when I tilt my head back to look at him, I see the weight of that burden in his eyes. He places his forehead atop his hands, sighing heavily and it’s like I can feel that weight in my chest. 

“I didn’t…” another breath, “I will do what is necessary for my people, no matter what it costs me, but… but it is heavy.”

I know the burden of leading a people is heavy, I have watched it tear Tam apart for decades. My brother had been kind once, had loved and laughed and had stayed up for hours teaching me how to play the fiddle when we were kids. Becoming the leader of our people had taken all those good and kind things and hardened them. The brother I had grown up with and the one I now answered to wouldn’t recognize each other. I hated myself for it, but the empathetic part of me can’t help but wonder if Rhysand had been like that too? Had he been kind and happy before he took over this position? Had becoming a lord stripped him of the things that had made him loveable and turned him into the monster that I knew?

Would being here turn me into a monster I didn’t recognize?

“It must be hard, to carry it alone,” I say slowly, weighing each word like it could be my last. This is a very vulnerable and volatile position to be in. I’m still very aware of the power that drifts off, his still bare, skin. I cannot upset it. But, can I find something useful here?

I’m playing with fire and I can feel it.

“I am used to it,” he replies.

Another beat and then he softly adds, “It’s nice to have someone to talk to.”

His response simultaneously makes my heart ache and my mind spin. I hadn’t found anything of use in this tent, despite the hours I’d spent searching, and maybe that was a sign. Maybe there was nothing in this tent, because the information was all contained to one thing: The male standing behind me. I couldn’t help but wonder if it was a coincidence that this morning I had been wondering if I should try and seduce him. My assessment about it being easy to do was already confirmed with this conversation, he was vulnerable, now more than ever, all it would take was a push in the right direction…

I push myself back up onto my knees and turn so I can face him. He looks small here, the wet strands of his hair clinging to his face. 

His violet eyes watch my every move like a snake tracking a mouse. 

There’s still a headboard between us. Still time to change my mind. Still time to keep my soul intact. What kind of person am I if I do this? 

I swallow the lump in my throat as I tentatively reach out to take his hand. At least there is no more blood on them. Touching him doesn’t immediately make fire rain down from the heavens so maybe that’s a sign the world won’t totally end if I do this. This male took everything from me, and yet, under his own admission, he’d damn his soul for his people. If a monster could do that, couldn’t I do it for the sake of my people?

“How can I help you?” I ask softly. I hope it sounds convincing, that the shakiness in my voice sounds like a lack of confidence and not because I’m trying not to throw up. This was not the plan this morning! But I’ve gotten nowhere all day and suddenly there’s an opening before me and I have to try and take it, don’t I? It might be my only chance, especially if there is fighting on the horizon. If I can distract him, or figure out who Tam needs to join forces with to finally be rid of Rhysand once and for all, I have to take it. 

His violet eyes widen as they settle on the placement of my hand on top of his, as if he hadn’t thought it possible that I would willingly comfort him. 

Am I doing this too fast?

“If… if this thing between us is real, I want to be useful. I want to be a good mate.” Kill me. Please, put me out of my misery, what in the Seven Hells am I doing?! “Please, show me how I can be a good mate?”

My parents are rolling in their graves.

He moves faster than most fae should be able to, hand sliding out from under mine to reach out and thread into my hair, pulling my body flush against the headboard as his lips meet mine. Cauldron, for a male who looked so awful seconds ago, his lips are sinfully soft. It takes a second for me to even register what I’m doing, and by the time that my brain catches up, he’s sliding his tongue past my teeth and I’m letting him, lips parting, head tilting to give him more access. Having the headboard still between us is both an uncomfortable angle to be at and a relief, because at least I have a little time to accept the fact that I just told Death he could bed me if that would make him feel better.

Tamlin can never find out this is how I saved our people. 

But this is for my people. I can play with fire for them.

There are worse ways to do it, I suppose. He’s certainly not a bad kisser. 

Hell, he’s actually a really, really good kisser, if I let myself stop thinking for two seconds and just relax, I might actually enjoy it.

He pulls away by a mere fraction, forehead resting on mine, chest heaving as he catches his breath. “Distract me?” He asks, voice so low and husky I think he might actually be begging.

I hate to admit it, but I do get a thrill of seeing such a powerful male so desperate in my hands. Of course, I can’t let him know that. “Show me?”

It’s all the prompting he needs to release me long enough to climb into bed. I’d forgotten he was already undressed until he was pulling the blanket off and climbing on top of me, all warm skin and damp hair and more desperate kisses. Large hands slide under my sweater, exploring every inch of me as he continues to kiss me like a man starved.

My reservations begin to slip with each new brush of his callused hands over my skin, trailing higher and higher. It’s been awhile since I’ve taken anyone to bed, even longer since I’d had the time to let anybody explore my body so meticulously. It’s good. My eyes drifting shut, body arching into his touch. I don’t know which of us comes up for air first, or which pulls the other back for more. As easy as it is to end up in this position, I’m surprised how readily I want it, him. Something tugs at the skin beneath my breastbone, like there’s a thread being yanked on, warmth flaring down that little spot, hotter and hotter with each passing second. I don’t have enough time to consider what that is, what it means, before his lips trail down to my neck, teeth scraping my tender flesh.

I instinctively drag a hand through his hair as he nips and bites at my throat, surely leaving marks. If I ever had any intention to push him away, I lose it as his large hand kneads my breast, slender fingers moving to tweak my nipple. I squeeze my eyes shut tighter as a moan slips out of me. 

Aren’t I supposed to be distracting him?

Before I can ask, he’s yanking my worn sweater over my head and tossing it over his shoulder. Those intense violet eyes run over me,  a grin stretching across his handsome features as he gives my breast another squeeze, but the teasing stops when he spots the scar across my abdomen. Or maybe the fact that you can count my ribs. Maybe both. His hands drift lower, methodically, not teasing but studying, like he might crack open my rib cage and dissect whatever is beneath my skin. 

“Who did this to you?” He growls, hand trailing over the scar.

My whole body trembles under his touch, mind reeling as I try to make sense of the sudden shift in tone. I don’t want to talk about this. Not with him. I’d already admitted too much to Mor earlier. We need to get back to the distraction. “Hunting accident,” I lie.

His hand remains over the scar, “Don’t lie.”

This is too intense, I’m too vulnerable in this position, I’ve lost all my power. My head spins, trying to think of something clever, trying to get myself back on track. Why did I think I could do this? Seduction is not my skill set. Outright anything is beyond me. I move behind the scenes, quietly with my head down, I am not anyone’s first line of defense. I’m not even sure I’m the last line of defense.

My heart’s pounding in my chest and I know he can feel it beneath his hand, because his face softens. His free hand comes to brush my cheek, pushing a few wild strands of hair from my face. Now I’m really shaking. This is far, far too intimate. 

“You’re my mate,” he says gently. “I will kill anyone who hurts you.”

I don’t want that kind of power looming over me the rest of my life. I swallow the lump in my throat. “You wanted a distraction. This-”

The tent flap bursts open without warning, a flurry of shadows rushing in. Rhysand barely has time to grab a blanket to cover the both of us before a male steps out of those shadows.

“Azriel!” Rhysand snarls. “This better be fucking important!”

The male stands at the edge of the bed, fighting leathers splattered in blood, his dark hair falling over a set of deep hazel eyes. He spins a bloody dagger between hands scarred beyond repair. “They’ve talked.”

Shit.

Rhysand is still leaning over me, body and wings shielding me from Azriel’s view. “And?”

Hazel eyes flick to me before returning to his lord. “Amarantha.”

I don’t know if I should sigh with relief or not. Tamlin is still safe. My people are still safe. But having Amarantha knocking at the door while I’m trapped inside here is not on my to do list. My whole life we’ve avoided her and Hybern’s forces by not making too big a fuss. If they want some of our territory, we push into another lord’s to make sure there’s space for us without any direct confrontation with her. We keep our heads down. We don’t make deals or bargain with the other more tolerable lord’s for aid. We stay within our own borders and we stay out of her way. But the Illyrians? They pick fights with her. They apparently have no qualms with torturing her men. 

“I’ll be right there,” Rhysand says in dismissal and his shadowy companion disappears as quickly as he came. 

“I have to deal with this,” he sighs, leaning back on his knees.

I’m relieved, I really am. I tried to do this way too quickly. I am relieved.

So why do I feel a knot in my stomach?

Rhysand leans in long enough to press a kiss to my forehead, the move tender and gentle, and nothing like the male that had entered this tent covered in blood just moments ago. It makes my head hurt. I know the kind of male he is. I know the monster that lies behind this pretty package. So why is he pretending to be anything else? Why act like this with me? What game is he playing?

“Maybe we can finish this later?” There’s a hint of teasing there, but it feels more like an apology.

I want a later. I want to feel those full lips on my skin again.

I absolutely don’t want a later. This whole thing is a mistake.

“Yeah,” I saw anyway.

He’s dressed and gone before I can ask myself why I agreed to it again. I put my head in my hands, palms pressed into my eyes. What am I doing here? And why is it starting to feel more complicated than it should be?

---------------------------------

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[sco-ot]

viserys i targaryen was an exceptionally shitty parent.

when aemma was alive, he consistently ignored and neglected rhaenyra, to the point that at her mom's funeral she isn't just coping with her grief but also says explicitly when being told that her dad will need her that 'i will never be a son.'

later, when he finally gets the son he so desperately wanted, he also ignores and neglects him and his siblings, leaving them to his child bride. the only time we have seen him interact with aegon positively was when aegon was a baby at his name day feast. evey other time it was either to berate him, like in s1 ep 7, or to affirm that rhaenyra is more favoured than him and his siblings, like in s1 ep 8.

and that episode annoys me particularly, bc viserys makes a public appearance in a long time, by the reactions of the courtiers and he does it for rhaenyra. imagine what aegon and his siblings must have felt, seeing their father and knowing that despite his pain, he came to see rhaenyra, that he was willing to climb the iron throne for her. and knowing that he would never do such a thing for any of them.

his first public appearance in ages, and it is for the child that has effectively abandoned him for years to go and live on dragonstone, while they lived with him in the keep and he never bothered to try and see them, or call for them or get to know his grandkids by them.

they probably would have wondered what they had done, to have their father not love them. they would have questioned their self worth, and what they could do to get their father to pay attention to them for once. aegon was drinking by the time he was 13, aemond was so desperate for a dragon that he was willing to get mauled to get one, helaena was a dreamer and struggling with it and her father, who had read up on valyrian magic and believed in prophecy, arguably the only person who could have recognised the signs and helped her never even realised it bc he spent so little time with her and daeron was sent away from his whole family when he was 4, and viserys didn't even seem to notice that he was gone.

and again, even in rhaenyra's case he's a shitty parent, because he named her heir out of guilt for aemma and to spite his brother, and even after he had sons he kept to that decision, thus putting her in danger and risking a succession crisis.

he does all of this without preparing rhaenyra to rule in any way, he didn't make her hand (like jaehaerys made baelon hand after naming him prince of dragonstone), he didn't give her a seat on the small council so she could familiarize herself with ruling, he didn't have her go on royal progresses so that she could get to know the realm and the nobles, didn't teach her diplomacy, or warfare or any of the myriad other things a ruler or any lord should know. he just let her do her own thing, and when she fucked up he covered for her in a way that not only ensured she didn't learn from her mistakes but also hurt and pissed off people who could have been her allies.

so yeah, he was a shitty parent to all his kids, but particularly to his kids by alicent and watching aegon destroy his model of old valyria, knowing that he spent more time with that thing than with his own damn kids, felt extremely cathartic.

[loosingmoreletters]

take an AU haunting me for ages now: the “sects go to the terrifying Yiling patriarch to ask for his help in the war, WWX ends up demanding LWJ marry him” fics?

Yes, that, but kinda in reverse.

The Sects go to meet the Yiling Patriarch and he’s as expected: arrogant, bold, careless, demanding. And using heretic powers to keep his Burial Mounds untouched by the world.

They negotiate, he smirks properly wicked, and and says he wants to name a bride and a marriage to the Lan.

The Lan talk, outraged, but they have a war to win so the agreement is struck: marriage to the Lan and the Yiling Patriarch is allowed to name bride and groom. They write it down exactly like that.

The war happens, but with the Yiling Patriarch’s army of the resentful dead, they lose less soldiers, win more battles. The Lan wonder why they were chosen, perhaps because they hold enough moral sway that any hostage of theirs wouldn’t result in another war? Regardless, Lan Wangji makes it his job to stick close to the Yiling Patriarch, as close as he will let anyone. He has a whole entourage of ghost brides, though only one stays close to him at all times, veiled whenever they have company

They win the war. “Bride and groom,” the Yiling Patriarch says and swears to return in three months. There is talk of taking him down now that Wen are gone, but no one wants to go to war in the Burial Mounds.

The Yiling Patriarch arrives in three months as promised, dressed in red, followed by a parade of people. “I’ve come to collect my debt,” he tells them. “I will name Lan Wangji as the groom,” he says, sparking confusion and outrage. Does he intend to name one of his ghost brides next? And indeed, he reached for one, lifts her veil, revealing living woman, but takes the veil for himself instead. “And I, myself, will be his bride.”

The story goes a little like this:

One. Wei Ying’s parents die and he follows them. Only he is young and alive and curious and the Burial Mounds are very hungry. They devour him skin, flesh, bone, teeth. And they spit him out again. And again again and again.

Two. Wen Qing is her uncle’s favorite, but she’s her brother’s only sister. She fears what war means, what the retaliation might mean. Young Masters go to the Cloud Recesses for study on invitation, Wen Qing goes to the Burial Mounds to beg.

Three. There is very little begging to be done in front of a boy her brother’s age, who hasn’t been hugged in years and keeps the company of murdered brides as though they are his mothers, aunts and sisters. She asks for protection, he asks for a meal.

Four. They cannot stay in the Burial Mounds forever. It is not a place for children even Wei Wuxian realizes that one morning and promptly disappears in his childhood bedroom, a cold cave filled with trinkets of the dead. He survived on the cost of skin, flesh, bone, teeth. They cannot all pay this price.

Five. The Sects knock at his door, a solution presents itself. He dressed Wen Qing like his older sister, veil and all, and hides her among his undead. They strike a bargain.

Six. They could keep a hostage, but a hostage will not keep them fed. Brides, he knows from childhood on, marry out. One of his sisters would’ve taken with her all her servants, had her unwilling husband not killed her on the wedding night.

Seven. “This is why it has to be a Lan,” Wen Qing tells him. Your husband would not kill you like this. They might keep him in some other way, but what could be worse than skin, flesh, bone, teeth? A wedding night of death? Nothing. And if he can help his family by making them servants and himself a bride, he’ll stay locked up in the Cloud Recesses. At least this prison will not spit him out.

What Lan Wangji knows is this: the Yiling Patriarch is mocking them, but there is a debt and a debt must be paid.

They marry in name, no matter how much the Yiling Patriarch taunts him about the contents of a proper marriage, and then they live separately. They keep an eye on him of course, him and his servants, who keep to themselves, settling in Caiyi and the Cloud Recesses, wary, hungry, terrified people - not of their master, but of everyone else.

And then, on accident maybe, a slip of the tongue, one of those servants soak a different name. Within a second, the Yiling Patriarch is in front of them in protection, though he looks less arrogant, less bold, less careless, less demanding. He looks, Lan Wangji thinks, like someone who has more too lose than he’d ever admit. He looks terrified like no one in the Cloud Recesses ever should.

So maybe he should ask him why

[diamondperfumes]

I like and see the appeal of "Dany, Jon, and Young Griff" as the three heads of the dragon/"new Targaryen trio." I can't help but think, however, that people who are reluctant to acknowledge that the real three heads are likely Dany, Jon, and Tyrion, are simply being ableist.

It makes sense that the three heads are Dany, Jon, and Tyrion, centered around Dany (she is Aegon the Conqueror Reborn; this prophecy centers around her, whether you like it or not).

All three have dealt with an undying threat using fire (the Undying, aptly named; a wight; a stone man).

All three have connections to dragons (Dany the strongest connection, one I don't need to elaborate on, hence being the center of the trio; Jon, who wishes for a dragon "or three," who speaks of a dragon warming things up at the Wall; Tyrion, who adores dragons, who yearned for one as a child and even dreamed of them, who is an expert on dragonology).

All three have had concrete, extensive ruling arcs (and not just "for thematic exploration," as some would have it, but as tangible demonstrations of what Westeros needs, and how Westeros could benefit if they were in charge), as Queen of Meereen, Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, and (acting) Hand of King Joffrey I Baratheon.

Both Jon and Tyrion show up in Dany's House of the Undying visions; Jon as Dany's third ?* in her bride of fire prophecy, Tyrion as a white lion running through grass. Tyrion similarly hears a prophecy of dragons from Moqorro, a prophecy that likely refers to both Jon and Dany, among other Targaryens, and is said to be a snarling shadow amidst them all. If that doesn't scream Tyrion's importance, especially his future connection to Dany and Jon both, I don't know what does.

All three are the third child of their parents, whose mothers died in childbirth, and all three have some kind of rivalry with an elder sibling (though Jon's relationship with Robb is the healthiest and most loving). All three also look up to their eldest brothers. All three had a negative relationship with an authority figure while growing up: Viserys, Catelyn, and Tywin (and for Cat haters, no I am not comparing Cat to Vis and Tywin, except to demonstrate the similarities in thinking and emotional state between the three).

All three suffer a formative betrayal that leads to a physical or metaphysical rebirth, taking place over ASOS to ADWD.

All three know what it's like to starve, be hunted, and live in deprivation. These aren't just random experiences; it's obvious that George is setting them up to brave the harsh conditions of the Long Night, possibly to find the heart of winter together. Being able to endure and survive starvation and the extremities of physical environments like The Wall, the Red Waste, and Slaver's Bay, are building blocks to this.

All three have connections to nomadic cultures that are seen as savage and barbaric––the Dothraki, the Free Folk, and the Mountain Clans of the Vale.

All three are positioned to rectify the wrongs of their houses, though thus far Dany has done the most concrete work in this regard (this is not a slight against Jon and Tyrion). More on this later.

All three are "outcast" POV's, even explicitly referred to as such by GRRM. Jon because he was raised as a bastard, Dany as an exile, bridal slave, and teenage girl, Tyrion as a dwarf who has been abused and maligned his whole life.

All three have had arcs that take place away from Westeros proper; again, this geographic and geopolitical distancing from Westeros only serves to enhance their ideological values as rulers and leaders.

Under the complicated rules of succession, all three are positioned to inherit a title that is not immediately accessible to them: Jon as King in the North (Winterfell), Tyrion as Lord of Casterly Rock, Dany as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Why they can't access it is because of the very things that make them outcasts.

All three are foreshadowed to have three formative romances. Jon with Ygritte, Val, and ?*, Dany's marriages to Drogo, Hizdahr, and ?*, Tyrion with Tysha, Sansa, and ?**. Dany and Tyrion specifically share the parallel of having three marriages, with the first two "failing" in some way.

Their ruling arcs each deal with similar themes: the makings of war and peace, the line between compromise and justice, stirrings of revolution, poverty, hunger, disenfranchisement, exploitation, religion, ableism, classism, ethnic nationalism, etc.

Dany and Tyrion share in common being enslaved. This is a very important parallel that Jon does not have in common with them.

All three are related to, and have thus observed, kings: Jon is Robb's brother (biologically, his cousin) and observed Robert Baratheon; Tyrion is Joffrey and Tommen's uncle, and has extensively observed Robert and Joffrey; Dany is Viserys III's sister, and her POV is a bait-and-switch revealing that the protagonist of the Targaryen storyline is her rather than Viserys.

They have clearly outlined parallels with specific Targaryens from history: Dany with Aegon I, Rhaegar, Aegon V, Aegon III, and the first two Daenerys', most prominently, though the entire history of House Targaryen is centered around her so really every Targaryen could be counted here; Jon notably with the Targaryen bastards/dragonseeds, including Orys Baratheon, Jacaerys Velaryon, and Brynden Rivers; he is also paralleled with Aemon the Pale Prince; and Tyrion with Viserys II.

All three are romantic idealists; Jon and Tyrion are more outwardly cynical and ruthlessly pragmatic, however, a parallel they share with each other rather than with Dany, even if Dany will ~go darker~ in TWOW.

All three identify with beast/monster imagery, and not just because of their house emblems. All three have also been subject to malicious slander, in part because of their association with beastliness/monstrousness. All three are also seen as religious sinners/heretics.

All three have compassion for the marginalized (this is a fact; most ASOIAF fans tend to see Jon as a hero and Dany and Tyrion as villains, for obvious reasons, but as far as the text goes, all three are presented as empathetic toward the downtrodden and oppressed).

All three have both military and diplomatic experience; Jon is the only formally militarily trained one, with a traditional weapon (a sword), while Dany and Tyrion have to use more creative ways to wage war and fight in battle.

All three long for home, and feel guilty for doing so. Dany and Tyrion share a specific parallel of longing for an abstract ideal of home that may no longer be accessible (the house with the red door, the cottage by the sea).

Dany and Tyrion specifically share in common that they were suicidal. Dany was suicidal in AGOT, and Tyrion was suicidal in ADWD. Conveniently, the ASOIAF fandom wants both to die (as heroes or villains), and sees nothing wrong with such endings for them. One can argue that suicidal characters dying in the end is good, righteous, and beautiful, in the ASOIAF fandom (at least when it comes to these two).

Dany and Tyrion share in common that they failed to protect an innocent––Eroeh and Tysha––and this informs their political and spiritual development as rulers.

(*? = fill in the blank as you see fit; it is contentious in this fandom to admit who Jon and Dany's final romances are, and I am not in the mood to argue over this).

(**? = I genuinely am not sure whom Tyrion's third marriage will be with).

I could sit here all day and list parallels. These are just the ones off the top of my head. As you can see, Dany and Tyrion in particular share a lot of parallels unique between them. The experience of having a terrible father, and being alienated your whole life from your own family, while also taking pride in your family name, is something they will be able to help each other understand. The books are clearly setting that up.

Why then do people replace Tyrion with Arya or Faegon or Sansa or whoever else in the three heads of the dragon theory? Don't just chalk it up to different interpretations. The plain truth is that it's ableism. Tyrion isn't an able-bodied or conventionally attractive man and thus doesn't fit the aesthetic component of the three heads.

Yet for all the talk of wanting Dany to be the "antithesis" to house Targaryen, or wanting Dany, Jon, and Faegon to be Targaryens who "end the Targaryen dynasty" (is the dynasty not already ended?), why does no one speak of how Tyrion is the only Lannister in text to actually go against House Lannister, in concrete, material ways, and has suffered the consequences for it? The one Lannister who was barred from accessing his own identity? The one Lannister uniquely positioned to bring down his house?

Perhaps it's because what Tyrion represents is something people are afraid to admit about House Stark (upheld as unequivocally heroic) and House Targaryen (upheld as unequivocally villainous). Tyrion does not just foreshadow the ending of House Lannister as we know it; he foreshadows a RECREATION of it, a REFORGING in a new name and light. Tyrion has experience running the household at Casterly Rock, and did an excellent job of it. He was Hand of the King. He's known enslavement and hunger and violence, which a Lannister typically will never experience. This gives him a unique insight into understanding the plight and trials of the smallfolk who work Lannister lands and the commoners who work at Casterly Rock. Tyrion has not abandoned his identity as a lion of Lannister, even if he feels more alienated from it than ever. Nor has he abandoned love for his family, in spite of his dark spiral in ADWD. Yet his pride in being a lion, him being the only one of Tywin's children to truly resemble Tywin (as per Genna), while also undoing Tywin's legacy of oppression, and his idealism and desire for companionship and empathy, all exist in tandem.

Tyrion WANTS to be Lord of Casterly Rock. He WANTS to rule. He WANTS to be acknowledged as a Lannister. He WANTS vengeance against his enemies, including his own family. He WANTS a wife and family. All of this exists ALONGSIDE Tyrion wanting a simple life, to protect dwarves, enact justice for the disabled, care for the weak and innocent, create more equitable political institutions, foster more accountable ruling for the people, and pave the way for peace. Rather than Tyrion being part of "the good heroic house" (Starks) or "being the antithesis of House Lannister and dying to eradicate the house," Tyrion is clearly a balance forging new ground: an unabashed, proud Lannister, who envisions a future where a dwarf rules Casterly Rock, gets married, has children, may even be ruthless and cunning toward his enemies, but is also empathetic, compassionate, idealistic, dutiful, and kind. The crux of Tyrion's struggle is not "should I be good or should I be a Lannister," it's being accepted as a Lannister, knowing his disability, his status, his appearance, his values, his relation to his family. Tyrion as Hand of the King went against his own family, for both selfish and selfless reasons, and yet protected his family and heritage and strove to forge new ground AS a Lannister, rather than as an anti-Lannister.

This is anathema for ASOIAF fans, specifically in how they engage with Jon, Dany, House Stark, and House Targaryen. For the typical ASOIAF fan, Jon is a classic, traditional hero, unquestioned, unproblematic, unhateable. Jon is meant to "embrace" his Stark bastard identity and "reject" his Targaryen identity. His reunion with his siblings is meant to be nothing more than heartwarming and poignant. House Stark in this scenario is the "protagonistic heart" of ASOIAF, the unequivocal heroes, not problematized by the narrative in the slightest. House Stark "winning" is a moral victory, Northern Independence is reminiscent of anti-colonial justice, and a return to Stark rule is a proxy for GRRM's anti-feudalism, anti-war message, because the Starks are the good guys.

On the other hand, for the typical ASOIAF fan, Dany has to die. Now, some articulate this in the more honest, traditional way: Dany is a villain, destined to be a mad queen, and her death signifies the end of House Targaryen. Others articulate it in a more creative and deceptive way: Dany is just such a good person (with the caveat that she's still a "white woman whose arc is built on the suffering of women of color") that she clearly isn't like the rest of her family, and will happily die for humanity to redeem herself (because she'll still commit a sin; she has those dragons after all) and by dying, House Targaryen will end protecting humanity, where once it "colonized and enslaved humanity." The death of Daenerys Targaryen is supposed to emblematize a moral victory, anti-colonial justice, and a proxy for GRRM's anti-feudalism, anti-war message, because the Targaryens are the bad guys.

What we have here is that one side will win, reunite with his family, get the girl/the title/the house/the power, perhaps reject part or some of it so that the rest of his family can retain it, while the other side will have to die, either as a hero, villain, or redeemed anti-hero, and such death will thankfully symbolize humanity winning, order being restored, feudalism being destroyed, war coming to an end, peace flourishing, etc.

Where does Tyrion stand in this discourse? Usually nowhere. Most ASOIAF fans don't even care to write about his endgame; most of them write him off as a villain. Some think he'll die, some think he'll inherit Casterly Rock, but there isn't much passion in what most people theorize about his endgame. For better or worse, there is at least passion in people arguing over Jon and Dany's endgames.

In the TEXT, however, as I argue, Tyrion is someone who embraces his house identity and pride, while also going against the oppressive values of his family, and doing so in a material, concrete way. Tyrion doesn't cry about how awful Lannisters are, or hate himself for being a Lannister, or tell himself that he should give up his noble title in order to be a good heroic guy and save the day. But he DOES reflect on Tywin's evil, Cersei's greed, Jaime's stagnancy, Joffrey's petty tyranny, the near-enslavement conditions of the smallfolk at Casterly Rock, the corruption of the monarchic system in Westeros that the Lannisters benefit from, the ableism of his own family, how he benefits from the noble name that has also alienated him, etc. He seeks to protect victims of his family, like Sansa and Penny. Under the frameworks promulgated by the ASOIAF fandom, this should not be possible; he either should belong to "one of the good houses" (which the Lannisters clearly are not, and Tyrion is not Jaime, so he does not get the 50-page long PhD essays and dissertations on redemption, gender, and honor that Jaime does, despite being the more major Lannister POV character), or he should hate himself/distance himself from his evil family and die to eradicate their name (while Tyrion is suicidal in ADWD, it's not for selfless reasons; and he doesn't hate himself for being a Lannister, he hates himself for not being accepted by his family, for being a dwarf, for being a kinslayer, for being unable to save Tysha, for being hated by society).

Tyrion doesn't have to despise himself for being a Lannister in order to change his family and even be a class traitor to his own family. He also doesn't have to eschew his selfishly motivated ambitions and desires to effectuate real change. This makes him an excellent character, yet it also makes him one hard to parse for fans, not just because he is morally gray, but also because he defies the ASOIAF fanmade dichotomy of good house=good character/bad house=die (unless you're a teenage-girl coded cishet male character, e.g. Jaime, Theon, or Sandor). Tyrion isn't a selfless, abstract ideal of morally pure heroism. He has real flaws, often discomforting ones, and some of his desires are nasty. His ambition is ruthless. Yet he is still the one positioned to end House Lannister in its current form and recreate it completely.

It's clear that this is what unites the three heads: Targaryen, Stark, and Lannister, the actual heads of each house if they were allowed to be the heads if not for what makes them an outcast within their own family, embracing their names and identities while changing and recreating what it means to be each of these names. All three houses have been enemies at one point or another, but by coming together, these three will signify a real unity. Yet it's hard for fans to apply what Tyrion represents to Jon and Dany, firstly because most fans hate or ignore Tyrion, and secondly because Jon and Dany represent the two ends of the dichotomy I outlined. For fans to accept what Tyrion represents for the other two, they'd have to admit that House Stark is not the progressive, anti-colonial, feminist, pro-smallfolk force for change that fans claim it is, and they'd have to admit that Dany dying to end House Targaryen won't singlehandedly change the world and end oppression as we know it, and that House Targaryen isn't actually the devil.

A House Stark with a bastard as its head, mixed with Targaryen blood, is anathema to the history of House Stark. Have any bastards been Kings of Winter or Lords of Winterfell, save for Bael the Bard's child who killed Bael? Have any Kings of Winter had blood other than First Men blood (knowing that Starks only marry First Men-blooded houses)? Have any Kings of Winter intermingled with the Free Folk and reintegrated them into Westeros?

A House Targaryen with a teenage girl as its head may seem anathema to the history of House Targaryen, but it's not; really, it's a vindication for the women of House Targaryen. Certainly it's anathema to the WESTEROSI history of House Targaryen. What's even more anathema is a Valyrian heading an antislavery campaign and warring with other Valyrians to abolish slavery. This is the aspect of Dany's character that garners the idea that Dany is the anti-Targaryen Targaryen. Yet would not Jon be the anti-Stark Stark, by being half Targaryen and mingling with the Free Folk, when Stark identity for thousands of years has been rigidly defined in opposition to the Free Folk, exclusive of non-First Men blood, and in conformance with the Wall and what it represents?

That's what Tyrion is: House Lannister with a dwarf as its head, a dwarf who cares about women, smallfolk, bastards, commoners, children, and the disabled, who actually wants to protect the people rather than just exploit them, and who has killed and harmed other Lannisters both in the service of that cause and in service of his own goals. The other two heads of the dragon, Jon and Dany, are supposed to represent that balance and nuance as well, between embracing and embodying identity/rejecting its worst parts, destroying the old and ushering in the new.

But it's not in vogue to include Tyrion. He's not attractive enough and he's not able-bodied. He loves dragons, power, wine, and sex too much. He takes too much pride in his own identity and doesn't hate himself enough for being a Lannister. He's too ambitious. He's too ruthless. For a fandom so insistent on the aesthetics and performance of "ending the Targaryen dynasty and ushering in Northern Independence," he fits nowhere into that tapestry, so he is excluded. It doesn't sound as sexy to say he's the third head, not just because he isn't a Targaryen, but also because he doesn't fit the "pattern" ASOIAF fans want, of a "three heads" of the dragon that serves to uphold the centrality of House Stark as heroes and the centrality of House Targaryen as villains.

Yet it's for all of these reasons that TYRION is the third head of the dragon. People will continue to debate this and vehemently disagree (as if it makes sense for a completely minor character like Faegon to be the third head). However, only Tyrion thematically, philosophically, and plot wise fits the conception of the three heads of the dragon, and only he is foreshadowed to have that kind of relationship with Jon and Dany, but especially Dany.

[thevelaryons]

why did daemon chose to marry laena? I have always thought it was because she is prince aemon’s granddaughter and her mother and brother laenor were at some point considered jaehaerys’ heirs, we know daemon is ambitious so marrying her will bring him closer to the throne. but the show made laena (who is interested in flying more than boys) the one who seeks him out, she even admits that she was not his first choice.

The show has a lot of odd writing decisions that depict characters acting opposite from their book counterparts so trying to determine the motivations of the book characters by looking at the show versions is an exercise in futility.

Daemon clearly had a preference for Valyrian women. His favourite paramour was Mysaria, he willingly chose to marry Laena and then Rhaenyra, at brothels he was described as picking the Valyrian maidens, and he had no interest whatsoever in the non-Valyrian Rhea. So just as he had, at one time, wanted to have a family with Mysaria, this time too, with Laena, he could create a family with a suitable partner.

Though I’d say his reasons for marriage were more personal than political. Apart from being Valyrian, Laena is also a beautiful young woman described as having a fiery & adventurous personality, she claimed the dragon Vhagar at a young age, and she is the daughter of two people who Daemon is already familiar with. All of that would appeal to a man like Daemon.

Corlys is the type to keep an egg in every basket so I think he would see the political value of the Daemon/Laena marriage, but Daemon’s actions don’t make him appear to be acting in any political interest.

Prince Daemon fell in love with Laena, the singers would have us believe. Men of a more cynical bent believe the prince saw her as a way to check his own descent. Once seen as his brother’s heir, he had fallen far down in the line of succession, and neither the greens nor the blacks had a place for him…but House Velaryon was powerful enough to defy both parties with impunity.

Daemon is more pragmatic than people believe, so I don’t see him as the falling in love at first sight type. But his marriage to Laena was clearly not about the throne either. If Daemon’s claim is considered low on the line of succession, then Laena’s claim is even lower. Daemon would have to go on a murder spree to eliminate Viserys/Rhaenyra/her sons/Aegon/his sons/Aemond/Daeron, and then he and his children by Laena could be considered claimants for the throne. Clearly Daemon was not doing any of that.

Prince Daemon knew that his brother would not be pleased when he heard of his marriage. Prudently, the prince and his new bride took themselves far from Westeros soon after the wedding, crossing the narrow sea on their dragons.

It’s said that Daemon chose to leave Westeros after marrying Laena. Daemon is many things but not a coward. So it wasn’t simply a case of fearing his brother’s wrath. Daemon, hardly if ever, fears Viserys. Daemon’s marriage to Laena removed him from the political sphere entirely.

He and Laena returned back to Westeros only after they had children, at which point they took up residence with Laena’s family. It’s very unusual for a man in Westeros to be living with his in-laws, but that’s what Daemon did.

Laena is described as a fiery girl and Daemon is given the description of hot tempered. In his wife, Daemon found someone who could match his personality. They’re a very fire on fire dynamic. Just like Laena, Daemon also claimed his dragon. They both seem to dislike the stagnancy of staying in one place and are rather restless individuals (at least until they become parents). For many years, Daemon was stuck in a marriage to Rhea just as Laena was stuck in a betrothal to the Braavosi boy. They both know what it’s like to be devalued, Daemon because of his brother’s dismissal and Laena in general because of her gender being the reason she was passed over as heir to the throne. But neither of them are defined by this, judging by how Daemon chooses to live his life on his own terms and not by the whims of his brother and Laena not being bothered by the distance to the throne. So I’d say their marriage was a case of two like minded individuals finding common ground with each other.

[bloomingforerza]

May I please request headcanons for what kind of wedding and honeymoon the Style Five would have?

notes from bloom: hi!!!! im sorry this took so long. ive been stressing out and i could give u all of my excuses and tragedies but instead i’ll reward ur patience with ur request 🫶🏻🫶🏻

also for general notes please know not all of this is 100% accurate to japan’s marital laws and traditions, i just doubt some of our boys are destination wedding type men, and this is my idea of what they would enjoy.

Haruka Nanase

🫧 You better like water.

🫧 Maybe you won’t have to like it as much as Haru does, but be prepared for Haru to argue for the two of you to be wed in a pool.

🫧 Instead, you may settle for a beach. Haru would be able to rip his tux off after the wedding and take a dip, and you’ll join him as his bride.

🫧 It’s something that’s probably not normal for most people, but for those that know Haru, they know you’re partaking for the same reason you’re marrying him.

🫧 Meeting his elusive parents almost seemed like it was something you had only dreamt. It wasn’t like they were bad or weird people, they were just never home.

🫧 The wedding reception is super awkward for Haru. After being stared at by loads of people, talking to not just his friends and family about the same things and then to your friends and family about the same things was really socially exhausting for him.

🫧 Especially when his ridiculous best friends put together a speech that was actually pretty embarrassing thanks to Nagisa

🫧 So when it’s time to leave for your honeymoon, he’s more than relieved.

🫧 The two of you planned to set out to Okinawa for your vacation. Not too far from home, but also very beautiful and a great place to swim.

🫧 After getting married and not having a moment alone with you all day, all he wanted to do was swim with his wife.

🫧 And the moment you guys were able to set your suitcases in the hotel room after checking in, you changed and raced to the ocean.

🫧 Haru loves that you can bring a slight child-like sparkle when it comes to normal things.

Makoto Tachibana

🫧 This beautiful man is READY to marry you. He was ready the day he proposed and he couldn’t believe it when the day finally came.

🫧 Mako seems like the type to have a traditional Shinto-style wedding. He’d want to have it at a shrine too

🫧 (But if Mako’s fiance is foreign, he would also want to have a wedding that was traditional to your country.)

🫧 Considering it’s a traditional Japanese wedding, you had found the most beautiful white kimono for your wedding day, and it gave you chills looking at it morning of.

🫧 Ren and Ran were 15 now, so thankfully they were allowed to attend the wedding. Makoto purposely waited until they were older so they could behave they way they needed to (and they did great he was such a proud big brother)

🫧 The gift giving ceremony was definitely the most emotional part for you both. Aside from the goshugi, both of your parents had made you both matching aprons.

🫧 He definitely would love to honeymoon with you somewhere you two can be alone. He’s tired of being bothered by everyone

🫧 Probably somewhere in the mountains, in a cabin

🫧 He seems like the wholesome kinda man that’d wanna go camping, sit by a fire and stargaze with you

🫧 He’d dote on you the entire time, just appreciating the fact that you’re his wife now

🫧 He cooks all your meals for you the entire time you’re out there. He doesn’t want you to have to lift a finger after singlehandedly planning the entire wedding.

🫧 He just loves you so much and wants you to know he’d do anything for you. Never hurt him please

Nagisa Hazuki

🫧 Nagisa would love to get married in a penguin aquarium. He isn’t super religious I would (personally) think

🫧 Which mean’s his wedding would probably be more western style. Most traditional weddings aren’t at the penguin aquarium

🫧 He loves the idea of giving you pebbles like penguins do on the days leading up to your wedding

🫧 He’s so excited. And considering he went with the western style approach, he wanted Rei to be his best man

🫧 He almost said no, but Makoto convinced him with a whole “This is so important to him Rei you don’t understand” argument

🫧 Nagisa’s older sister Nanako is just as amazing as your husband. She offered to do your hair for the wedding; and she helped make your day special.

🫧 Since his parents aren’t always the most supportive of everything or everyone, he’s so happy that they love you. His mom greets you with a “I’m going to have another daughters!” the minute she walks into the room.

🫧 He’s sooooo excited for the honeymoon! One of the best places to scuba and snorkel in the world. Koh Tao, Thailand.

🫧 Between the penguins at your wedding and your deep-sea adventure honeymoon, he’s more obsessed with you than ever.

🫧 He’ll find your cute knickknacks while out and about and just buy them; seashell necklaces, little plushies of sea animals, and even some cool pieces of sea glass he’ll occasionally find on the beach

🫧 He’d honestly love to have picnics on the beach every night of the honeymoon. He always says it’s because ‘loves the view’

🫧 He’s so grateful for you and he’s so happy that he can enjoy the things he loves with the woman he loves

Rei Ryugazaki

🫧 Rei’s the kind of man that would love a destination wedding.

🫧 He’ll work hard for it. He wants a beautiful spot for it, and in his mind the best place for him to marry you in Paris.

🫧 He’s a man of beauty, and I personally feel like he’s an art man. He’d appreciate classic and timeless art.

🫧 I think he’d love to tour Italy for your honeymoon and spent a few days in Paris together. He’d need time alone with you eventually.

🫧 But he would 100% plan sightseeing trips for you and both of your families for your wedding week.

🫧 He would love to spoil you when it comes to the wedding and honeymoon. He’d love to just dote on you and show you amazing sights just to see the look of amazement on your face.

🫧 And when it came to the honeymoon, Rei had planned wine tours in Verona, art in Rome, food focuses in Bologna, fashion exhibitions in Florence, and of course a gondola ride in Vienna.

🫧 He’d tell you how amazing it is to be able to call you his wife now.

🫧He loves you so much and wants to give you the world but he can’t, so he’ll show you everything the world can offer instead

🫧 He wants to give it all to you. He would bring down the stars and hand them to you if he could.

Rin Matsuoka

🫧 Rin obviously wants a destination wedding, no questions asked.

🫧 He’d LOVE a Hawaiian wedding. As cliche as it may sound, he loves the way they look in western movies.

🫧 He’d invite his host family from Australia as well. They played a big part in his life, he couldn’t wait for you to meet them.

🫧 Gou was your maid of honor. Ever since you’d first met Rin, just a little while after he came back from Australia, she was always asking if you were dating her big brother yet

🫧 You both want everything to be perfect. You chose millennial pink for your color theme to match some of the flowers at your wedding. The bridesmaids all had flower crowns made with hibiscus, baby’s breath and plumeria.

🫧 The cake was his favorite part. He’d always dreamed of a western style wedding that he had seen in movies, but he never imagined he could live his dreams right here with you

🫧 His mom cried the whole time about how much she’s going to miss her baby boy, but also told you she was glad she was entrusting him to you. She knew she could count on you to make sure this silly athlete takes a break once in a while.

🫧 The honeymoon was set to be in Hawaii, but Rin’s the type of husband who’d love to spoil you. He’ll book a side trip for just the two of you in Bora Bora.

🫧 One of the cute little island houses and everything, with a little wine-stocked fridge. He’d love a night swim with you under the stars

🫧 You’re his real dream come true. Swim is his passion and first love, but he swears you are the key to helping him succeed at everything he does

🫧 He’s going to big spoon you all night, and give you kisses on the back of your head and shoulders before going to sleep every single night he spends with you.

🫧 My personal favorite boy please never hurt him, he would fight off an orca whale for you if it really came down to it

[wardenparker]

The Viper’s Bride - ch 7

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: 20.3k 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* Flirty Oberyn deserves his own neon sign of a warning. References to pregnancy and childbirth. Oberyn has a short fuse. Dirty talk, oral sex (f receiving), hair pulling, spanking, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, cum play Summary: Your trip out to the marketplace ends up being a more fruitful and more meaningful endeavor than you ever could have guessed. And with the burden of secrets lifted, things between your foursome are beginning to progress. Notes: Honestly this chapter brings me so much joy. Things are growing and coming together, and these four have So Much Emotion. I just adore the way they fit together.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6

“I have brought plenty of coins to make sure you buy whatever you wish.” Oberyn confides, guiding you through the halls of the brothel after leaving your lovers to explore the marketplace of King’s Landing together. “Though, we should decide what to do about your ring.”

"Ellaria should have hers back." Although it is the one that he put on your hand at the Citadel, it does not belong to you. It belongs to his paramour, and she was only kind enough to provide it as the answer to a desperate question at the moment. "Whatever you prefer me to wear will be lovely, I am sure."

“I was thinking about that.” He tilts his head as he walks with you out of the building and onto the streets. “Ellaria gave it to you.” He explains. “I was thinking that we could find a ring for her. And one for your Raeden.”

"Perhaps..." Toying with the bauble on your finger and rolling the idea over in your mind, you turn your eyes to him again as he leads you out of the brothel. "We could find some that compliment each other?" You suggest, unsure if he will like the idea. "For all of us?"

“That seems like a good idea.” He smirks and nods as he covers your hand with his own and pats it. “I believe that our lovers would like that. Tell me, is your Raeden’s cum crusting your thighs from the make up sex?”

"I think you would like it if it was," you surprise even yourself by laughing softly, but you shake your head. "He is far too exhausted and our talk was much too serious. But I am sure that he will be recovered by this evening."

“I thought it was disappointingly silent.” He muses. “However, the passion of make up sex is often incredible.”

"I hope not to fight with any of you again any time soon." The people that you pass on the street either pay you no regard whatsoever or they pause to stare. The prince pays them no mind, only giving his attention to you or where his feet will step next, and you try to take your cue from him.

“Fighting is a natural part of love, my star.” He does not always enjoy fighting, but it does happen. “But we will muster along and find a happy agreement.”

"It may be natural, but it is far from pleasant." And pleasantness is something you crave more often than not. You know that about yourself. "There are much more comforting and pleasurable things we could be doing rather than fighting."

“I agree.” Oberyn hums as he looks around. “And perhaps in time, you will realize that not all fights will end like the ones with your mother.”

"I hope to learn it sooner rather than later." He turns you down a lane to the right and deftly avoids others walking by, keeping you close to his side as you go. "There is something else I wished to speak to you about."

“Oh?” He tights his hold on your arm and steers you around a cart that is stopped in the middle of the street. “Anything in particular?”

"There is the little matter of our marriage." You murmur quietly, knowing that you cannot be overheard. "And that it is not yet...official."

Oberyn frowns slightly. “If you were examined by a maester, he would say that your cunt has been used.” He reminds you. “They do not need to know who’s cock filled it.”

Swallowing nerves and the pinch of fear of the unknown that accompanies any leap of faith, you squeeze his arm gently in your hand as you pass by an entire family out together in the street. "What if I were to admit to you that the thought of sharing our marriage bed has already crossed my mind favorably several times?"

It is not often that Oberyn is not prepared for a sassy comeback immediately. The words that he might have said to a mere stranger who admits their want of him are not suitable for this situation or you. He’s not unaware of your growing fondness, but he looks to you again to gauge your honesty. “I would ask you how you and your Raeden feel about such an idea.” He admits. “Along with your own feelings, beyond favorable.”

“It is not for me to tell his tale, but we have both confessed to our own desire to share your bed.” It is not an insignificant thing to confess this to him, and you can only hope that he has no real objections or conditions. “And Ellaria’s.”

“Then when you are ready to do so, you will be most welcomed.” He can’t help the smug smirk on his face and he sucks his teeth happily. “We will spend all day learning what ways pleasure you and your lover.”

“You are pleased.” His smile can mean nothing else. “I know that we began together in a rather odd way, but I—I do wish to be a proper wife to you.”

“You mean most do not beg their betrothed to marry them to save their lover’s life?” He asks teasingly, arching his brow as he looks back at you again. “Shocking.”

“And most do not house their new bride in a brothel,” you remind him with your own teasing tone. “Perhaps we are not proper at all.”

“You are safer in that brothel than the keep up on the mountain.” He reminds you, squeezing your arm against his body, “and there is more entertainment.”

“Far safer.” The market is not far, sprawling out along the city wall that looks out into the Narrow Sea. Tents, tables, stalls, and carts line a winding path that welcomes visitors and buyers to peruse goods at their leisure and haggle with the merchants in the warm sea air.

He chuckles when you do not mention the entertainment. Instead of pointing it out, his brows raise and he immediately steers you towards one stall that has an open flame and the mouth watering scent of roasted meat filling the air. “I did not realize that a stall here had Dornish food.”

“It smells like my grandmother’s house.” A nostalgic scent, and one that almost has you closing your eyes against the happy memories. “She was of House Yronwood, and kept a Dornish cook.”

“Meats here are so bland. It is why I eat so many fruits here.” He groans, walking up to the stall eagerly. “We will have to order some to be delivered to the rooms.”

“To have something of home will be comforting. For you and Ellaria both.” They have come farther than you have after all, and to an entirely different country. The Vale is not so dissimilar from King’s Landing except for being a slower pace of life.

“Do you have favored meals from the Vale?” He asks as he peruses the meats available and points to one particular roasted joint when the merchant rushes over.

"A few. It is a colder part of the world even in summers, so some of my favorite things have been soups or stews." You end up smiling, shrugging as though you have been caught when he sees you eyeing the pastries in the Dornish food stand. "Some sweets, of course."

“We will take four of each.” Oberyn nods towards the pastries and picks up one to offer you. “And a portion of your meats to be delivered to the brothel.”

The honey-syrup soaked fried dough is sprinkled with chopped nuts and dusted with a powder you do not recognize, but it looks delectable and you obediently open your mouth to accept the morsel without a second thought. Oberyn hums, smirking slightly as he feeds you a bite of the pastry. Watching as your eyes flutter in pleasure and your moan makes his cock twitch under his robes.

A distant memory from your childhood floats to the surface, the taste of roses in the honey reminding you of when your grandmother's cook used to serve the delicate pastries with sweet cream and you had tried to soak rose petals in a glass of milk the next day only to be vastly disappointed with the results. "Wonderful," you hum, cheeks warm with delight at the expression on the prince's face.

“Good.” He smirks and takes a bite of his pastry himself before offering you the rest of the treat. “The honey is most delicious licked off a lover’s body.” His smirk turns lasciviously wicked as he chews and swallows while watching you.

"I will bear that in mind..." Leaving 'my lord' or any other honorific off the end of the thought, you find yourself shy to meet his eyes but smiling nonetheless. After being so honest as to tell him directly that you desire him, it seems pointless to be coy about such a thing.

He chuckles, leaning in and kissing the edge of your mouth. Letting his tongue slide out to lap at a drop of honey that had escaped your notice. “You do that, star.” He murmurs when he pulls back.

It should be a sin to desire someone this way, but it is your husband, so the way your knees quake under you and threaten to give out when his tongue touches your skin and his voice pitches low is a welcome torment.

"Something amiss, star?" He asks with the tilt of his head and an amused smile on his lips. "You seem...flustered."

"Nothing amiss." You assure him, though you do feel the heat of your own cheek when you touch your fingers to the place that he just kissed. "Only enjoyable thoughts."

"Enjoyable thoughts become pleasurable moments." He hums, looking back at the merchant to hand over several coins.

"Perhaps not before too long." Without really knowing how ready you are to advance your marriage, the thoughts are firm encouragement. Almost as much as the few kisses you have exchanged.

Once he has paid, he informs the merchant which brothel he is staying in and is assured that it will be delivered with haste. Craning his neck, he looks around and then back at you. "Where to next, my princess?"

There are more merchants here than you have seen collected in one place in a very long time, and you look up and down the rows with interest before a stall catches your eyes. "My lord..." A breath of excitement is very telling from you. "There is a bookbinder's stall. Just there."

He steers you towards it without another word. He has seen your love of books and would never despair it. Encouraged to find that his wife has a love of reading and learning. “We shall see what they have.” He hums. “The library at Sunspear is vast and very diverse.” He tells you. “We have had to split it between the original keep and the Water Gardens, it has grown so large.”

"My father's library was my favorite place in the world," you tell him honestly, the shine of another dream on your face that has nothing to do with carnal pleasure. "There were days I would throw open the windows and let in the salt air from the Narrow Sea and do nothing but drink tea and read books from sunup to sundown."

“It sounds ideal.” He smiles, happy that there are some good memories from your father’s house. “There will be many more days like that in your future.” He predicts. “Although the air will be much warmer and the shade sweet if you wish to sit under an overhang and watch the children frolic in the gardens.”

"I think I certainly will." Knowing that he has so many children already both eases a certain measure of your anxieties about producing an heir as well as heightens them. He is certainly virile, able to continue to father many children through the years to come, and you do not fear sharing a bed with him any longer. But the prospects of childbearing remain terrifying.

He frowns when he sees fear cross your pretty face and he taps your hand to ask silently what is bothering you.

"My eldest brother's wife did not have easy births," you explain quietly, letting your fingers dance across the spines of the beautifully bound books in front of you in a soothing, familiar action. "She nearly lost her life to their son. But both are well now."

“I see.” Oberyn knows well that many women pass while giving life. It is a miracle that his daughter’s mothers had all survived. “Again, wife,” he murmurs softly. “If you have no wish to provide me with an heir, you do not need to.”

"I would not say that, exactly." As it is something that you have actively worked to prevent in the past, and something that you have viewed as your duty for so long, the gift of choice is almost startling. It forces you to think of whether you want to be a mother, or whether you had simply accepted an inevitability. "I think...it deserves to be thought on."

“Then you let me know.” He nods seriously. “After you have made a decision. Your decision.” He knows that you feel it is your duty to provide him with the promised heir, but he does not care about that. He has children, he has his older brother’s son. What matters is that he would not force you to give him a child, like he would not force you into his bed.

"Raeden was correct." The smile you offer him is grateful and true. "I have been most fortunate in the choice of my husband."

"I feel as if I am not so terrible." He hums, slightly smug about his own qualities. "At times."

"There is certainly the potential for fondness," you laugh, knowing that you have already surpassed potential in the few days you have known him.

"Do you see any books that you wish to have?" He asks, picking up a particularly lovely bound book of what looks to be poems to examine them further. With the king's wedding, normal merchants were displaying far costlier offerings than normal with all of the nobles gathered in the city. Soon they would pack these away and it would be a long time before Oberyn steps foot in this place again.

"I would read anything and everything." It is a deep truth, that you will read almost anything handed to you, but you have found yourself hovering over some volumes telling the tales of tragic lovers and another set of volumes telling the stories of sailors from generations past. "These are beautiful pieces. Either one would be a lovely keepsake."

"Get them both." Oberyn hums, looking up from the poems with an indulgent smile. "The ship back to Dorne will be a perfect backdrop for you to lay in a hammock and read on the deck under a sail all day."

"Are we sailing?" As much as you love the sea, you have never done more than look out over it or play in the tides when you were small. It was not ladylike to do when you were older, according to your mother.

"Yes." Oberyn looks out towards the sea. "It is quicker to get to Dorne, I would rather not spend weeks traveling." He smirks. "Plus Cersei has gifted her daughter a ship for us to take back."

“That is very kind of her.” The bookbinder is not very subtle about listening intently, so you smile pleasantly at the mention of the late king’s mother.

"Yes." He knows why you are being so diplomatic, and he approves. Even if he did not share that diplomacy normally when it comes to anyone who bore the Lannister crest.

"We will enjoy our voyage, then. It will be my first time at sea." The binder ties your book sets with cord and leather while you wait, and thanks the prince with an excessive amount of bowing and scraping when payment is given. For you, the joy of new books has already made the entire day most worthwhile and you accept the bundle with great care.

"What shall we peruse now?" Oberyn hums, his own book purchased for Obara. She would like the ofte morose verses. He looks over at you with an indulgent smile. "Jewelry? Trinkets? A new sword for your lover?"

“We should look for rings.” It would be a welcome gift, you think, to show that you had been thinking of Raeden and Ellaria. “Raeden’s sword is very precious to him.”

"Yes, I could tell it was something that he did not wish to part with." He hums, taking your books from your hand and tucking them up under his elbow. "Was it his father’s?"

“It was.” The bond between fathers and sons is not lost on you, having seen it with your own three brothers. Raeden’s relationship to his own father is unique. “It was a gift to him, before he sent Raeden to train.”

“Who was his father?” He asks, knowing that the man should be from a noble house if he was given the opportunity to train.

"Monford Velaryon." The whole story is still somewhat of a mystery, even to you, but you certainly know the great House that your soulmate is descended from. That is sometimes all that bastards know. Raeden is, technically, quite fortunate to have any sort of relationship with his father.

That is surprising and Oberyn's eyebrows arch up as he makes a sound of understanding. "I see." He knows of the man. "The brother of the Bastard of Driftmark." He hums with an amused smirk. "No wonder he treated his own bastard well."

"He rarely speaks of his father, but he has known him a little over the years," you explain the little that you know as the pair of you stroll toward the metal workers and trinket makers at the other end of the market stalls. "He sent Raeden to Lord Royce to train, which is how he came to the Vale."

"Then it is fortunate that he had sent him to you." He guides you towards a stall that has a dazzling display of gold. "I believe that the fates or gods always allow us to meet our soulmate at least once." He informs you. "Otherwise why would the gods, old or new, have us bear each other’s marks?"

“It is not easy to think of things as being left up to chance.” In that, you must agree with him. “You have been very fortunate to have so many years with Ellaria.”

"Yes, I am." He does not doubt that. "It was a chance meeting." He admits, sliding his arm down so he can lace his fingers with yours. "She spilled an entire carafe of wine on me in the little tavern she was working at, fired on the spot and nearly overwhelmed by her misfortune."

“I cannot imagine her as anything but poised, but I suppose everyone is young and nervous once.” It makes you smile, actually. To think of the young prince swooping in to rescue the young damsel he saw in distress.

"She lived above the tavern and was kicked out." He squeezes your hand and frowns at the memory of the past wrong. "When I was done drinking that night – I had dismissed her from my thoughts, after all, what was one clumsy serving girl? – I found that same girl pacing in front of the whore house I was going to seek pleasure at."

“Deciding whether or not to find work?” You guess, nodding solemnly despite reveling in the comfortable way your hand fits into his.

"She was." Oberyn bites his lip and looks at you. "So I bought her first and only night as a whore."

“It seems you are accustomed to rescuing young ladies from possibly terrible fates.” Of course not every whore leads a life of poverty or sadness, and not every woman separated from her soulmate is doomed to misery and despondency. But luckily for you and Ellaria both, there was no need to find out what other possibilities life might hold.

"Perhaps I have read too many stories of fabled knights." He chuckles, dismissing any compliment that you might offer. "It is always an easy read."

“I enjoy them very much myself.” With your hand in his, you squeeze his fingers gently and keep close to his side. “But I seem to enjoy the real men themselves far more.”

"What you do not read in those books is that those same men are quick tempered, stubborn, sharp tongued and deadly." He winks at you and then nods towards the jewelry. "Shall we see what baubles catch our eyes?"

A silversmith and a goldsmith seem to be sharing quite a large area with their backs to the ocean wall, and both men have their apprentices scurrying around doing all manner of small tasks when you and the prince approach. “What does Ellaria like best?” You ask, wanting to make sure the gift that goes to her is nothing short of perfect.

Obeyrn chuckles. "She loves beautiful things, especially ones that caress her skin like a lover." He taps your finger with the ring on it. "Things like this."

“But you do not think it should be returned to her?” The ring is beautiful, its shining stone catching the light wonderfully and scattering it everywhere for all to enjoy, but you would not keep it for a moment if it would sadden her to go without it.

"My lover would not have offered it if she had wanted to keep it." Of that he is certain. It quite possibly brings her great joy to see her ring on your finger, a little claim of her own on his wife. "Offer it back to her if you wish and hear what she says."

“No, I trust you to know her mind.” Just as you would hope he trusts Raeden to know yours. “Perhaps we could find her something that resembles a sun? I have…heard you call her that. And it is a beautiful sentiment.”

"She is my sun and world." He nods, smiling approvingly at your sense of sentiment. "She is very like the bursting sun of Dorne. Radiant and beautiful."

“She might be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” That is something you can easily admit – after all, you have eyes.

"She is enchanting." Oberyn agrees and looks at you. "But she and I both agree that you are just as breathtaking and appealing." He assures you with a small wink. "We have talked at length about how disappointed it is that you would not be joining us in our bed. Before your change of heart."

“Many things have changed in the last few days. For the better, I think.” There is a ring in one of the goldsmith’s cases that holds a red-orange stone in a spiral of intricately woven golden metal, with barbs that neatly resemble the sun’s rays or a great explosion of fire because of the color of the stone. “Do you think she would like this?”

His hand must let go of yours to pluck the ring from the soft cloth it is laying on and he hums as he holds it up to the sunlight to examine. "I think that she would love this to be on her hand while she caresses your skin, or your lover's skin." He admits with a smirk when he tears his eyes off the ring and looks back at you.

“Or perhaps both.” Which might be altogether the most scandalous thing you have ever said in your life, but with a husband like the Prince of Dorne, no one seems to pay it any mind.

"Then she would need one ring on each hand." He chuckles. "My paramour is greedy."

“She should have one for every finger if that is what she desires.” A woman like Ellaria – if there are any other women like her – deserves to be showered with gifts and affection the same as any noblewoman.

"I think you should get her this." Oberyn decides and hands the ring to you before he sets down the books so he can pick up linked chains of gold. "And I will get her this."

“Beautiful.” Nothing Ellaria wears is simple, and the delicate golden chains will flow over or under her dresses beautifully.

"It will drape around her breasts and draw eyes and mouths to her skin." He predicts before he looks towards the goldsmith. "I need two of these." He orders. "I need one for my wife and one for my lover."

The man seems confused at first, but when you neither flinch or react at all, he nods slightly. “Would you like them to be identical, my lord? Or have them specially made for your ladies?”

He turns towards you for your input. "What do you say, star?" He asks seriously. "Would you like to match Ellaria? Wear this and nothing else as you entice your Raeden and your husband?"

“It would be an honor to have something identical to your paramour.” To have something that marks you both as his sounds as enticing as the image he has painted.

He hums in approval and turns back to the goldsmith. "I would like two of the exact same." He orders, handing over the chains. "And we require a gift for my wife's lover."

“What…sort of gift did you have in mind?” It is obviously not the sort of request he is not used to receiving, and even as he sets to work collecting your purchases he tilts his head in curiosity.

"Star?" Oberyn turns towards you and he lifts your hand up to his mouth to kiss the back of it. "What kind of bauble would your Raeden like?" He asks. "I have not gotten a chance to know him quite as well as you so I will defer to your knowledge."

“I think he might like a ring as well.” Not usually one for baubles, you have seen his admiration for rings at other times in the past. Particularly one like his father wears. “Something like a signet? That he could seal letters with.” A nobleman’s signet with the sign of his House is something altogether extremely special, but of course simpler ones exist.

Oberyn's eyes narrow as he thinks about it and he nods. "Yes." He agrees, biting his lip. "Perhaps–" He looks at you in question. "Perhaps he might like a signet with a sword piercing a stone?" He imagines the image of a large stone with the hilt of a sword sticking up from it.

"I think that would be most fitting, and appeal to him immensely." It would be the mark of considering him a man, more than a servant, if nothing else. Sometimes you doubt that your father even knew Raeden could read and write. It was not that he thought his guard an idiot, but rather that he had simply never bothered to notice.

Pleased with your agreement, the prince turns towards the smith and raises a brow. "Can you craft that?" He demands. "I will not accept poor work. It must be a ring that a noble would wear."

"It will be costly, my lord, but it can be done." The merchant nods, again looking between you with curiosity. "Would you like it engraved? A name? Or initials?"

"Does he have a second name?" Oberyn asks you, only aware of the name you had told him. If he were a noble’s son, he might have been given another name.

"Monford." Though Lord Monford Velaryon could not claim his bastard son, he had done the best he could. Giving Raeden his name in another way. "Raeden Monford Stone."

Nodding, Oberyn turns back to the smith. "Have the letters R, M and S intertwined, like this." Oberyn removes his own signet ring and offers it to the smith to see.

Considering the commission, the merchant gives the prince a cost and the amount of time it will take, inflating both for his own benefit. Fast work is not quality, and cheap clients are not worthwhile.

"Five more coins if you have it done tonight." He tells the man, well aware it would not take as much time as he had estimated and ballooned the price to fill his pockets. It was honest thievery and from what he can see, the man has quality goods. "Polished and delivered to where I am staying."

"Tonight, my lord?" The merchant considers for only a few moments, knowing the coin more than warrants leaving his apprentice here to sell his goods while he works. "Aye. That can be managed. The whereabouts of your lodgings will be needed, of course."

"The brothel." Oberyn supplies the name of Littlefinger's establishment and nods, before looking back at his display of rings. "Now I need to find something specifically for my bride."

"And I should like to find something for my husband." You have your own coin, though it may not be as plentiful as his, and have found that you enjoy the idea of the prince wearing a token of your affection. It is nothing so bonding as your wedding ring, but it is a sweet symbol nonetheless.

"Star..." Oberyn turns back to you with a small smile. "You need not get me anything." He hums. "The presence of your beauty and intellect is gift enough."

"If you do not wish to wear a token, that is your choice." Although, you note with surprise that the rejection does not fill you with dread and bile the way it might of yesterday. Instead, only a flutter of nerves makes you shift in place. "But if you are willing, I should like you to have something that I have chosen for you."

"My dear." Oberyn shakes his head and reaches out to cup your cheeks with both of his hands. "I will wear anything you give your husband with pride." He assures you softly. "I just do not wish you to feel obligated to give me anything."

"It is not an obligation at all." That is an easy enough, and honest, reassurance. "It will please me to dote on you. That is all."

Oberyn is not one to not give into his impulses so he does not not resist leaning in and kissing you softly. "Thank you, star." He murmurs, keeping it simple and quick before he is pulling away.

"You will look for me, and I will look for you." The warmth and hazy quality of his kisses are still new to you, and you can feel your cheeks burn when he pulls away. Whatever is given to the Prince of Dorne must be extraordinary in at least one aspect, so you set to work looking through the goldsmith's wears immediately.

"My lord–" Oberyn's eyes turn back to the merchant as he shifts uneasily. "There is a matter of payment for–"

"You will get your coins." He promises him, his voice low and warning. He understands some of the lesser lords would try to pinch pennies and delay payment, but he is not such a man.

"The Prince and Princess of Dorne are not the penny pinching squabblers that you have been used to making your deals with," you inform the merchant, for the first time using your new title entirely on your own. There is a note of pride in your voice that is unmistakable.

Being a merchant in King's Landing, he had known the man was not from around here, but his eyes widen in fright when he hears who he has just insulted. "I– apologies, my lord, my lady." He bows so low he nearly folds himself over. While he might not have recognized Oberyn on sight, he has no doubt this is the fabled Red Viper. The rumors that he had finally wed seem to be true.

"You have a right to protect your business, ser." A ring on the far end of his stall has caught your eye and you wave him over to ask about it. Many strands of shining gold twist around each other again and again in an intricate pattern that your eye cannot trace easily, but both ends of the strand end in viper's heads with precious stones embedded there – one bright red and one deep blue. "This piece. You designed it yourself?"

"Aye." He nods, rushing over to eagerly hand you the ring. Now that he knows how deep your purse goes, he is very happy to accommodate any and all of your whims. "Me wife designs them. She's handy with a piece of coal."

"Very handy indeed." It is a fascinating design, and now that it is in your hand you turn it over several times and chirp with delight when it seems to fall to pieces in your fingers. "It is made to do this?" You ask the man quietly. "To be solved each time before it can be put on?"

He nods, looking particularly proud of that piece since you seem so impressed. "Somethin' to keep idle hands busy." He boasts, puffing his chest out slightly. Oberyn smirks at how he chatters with you while his eyes roam over the remaining rings to find the perfect gift for you.

"It is perfect, I think." May it take every ounce of your pin money, it does not matter. The merchant gives you the price after you insist on paying separately from your husband, and you produce the coins for him with a nod. The ring will be added to your order and hopefully Oberyn will be as taken with the bauble as you are.

One ring catches his eye and he has to reach over the stand to pluck it up to get a better look. Large, clear stones surround an even bigger milky white one. The delicate scrolls etched into the twisted gold reminds him of star dust streaking across the sky when he witnesses shooting stars. It would be the moon and stars, perfect for you.

"Have you found something of interest, my lord?" Ready to cater to the infamous prince's whims in whatever way he is able, the merchant carefully adds the ring you chose to the cloth-lined box he has selected for the prince's order.

"This." Oberyn holds the ring up and looks at the merchant. "Are the stones precious?" He asks. "I have not seen these before."

"Aye." He looks down at the piece and smiles, particularly proud of the way the craftsman ship turned out. "These on the edges are diamonds of different sizes. The center is called moonstone. Particularly beautiful, if I might say so, your Highness."

"It is." He agrees, humming thoughtfully as he looks at the ring. "I want it."

The merchant scrambles to comply, wrapping everything that has been ordered and looks up eagerly. "Is there anything else that I can do for you, my lord?"

"Make sure that you have my other ring available tonight." He reminds the man, opening his purse and starting to drop gold coins into his hand.

"My son will deliver it himself." The man assures him, all but groveling when the prince places payment in his hands. "It is my honor, ser."

“The rest of your coins will be given to him upon delivery.” Oberyn tells him, taking the box and nodding his thanks.

"I think he may tell everyone he meets for the next month that we visited him," you hum as you walk away, slipping your arm around your husband's as you go.

"As long as he does not call me cheap." Oberyn huffs in amusement before spying a merchant with large bags. "Perhaps one of those is in order for our growing purchases." He suggests. Between the books and not the box, his other arm is full.

"My eldest brother's wife favors one of these," you recognize the styling immediately. The material is nicer than the reused ship's canvas that many in the Vale make goods out of, but the style is the same. "It looks near identical to hers, but for the fabric."

"Pick the one you like best." Oberyn tells you, sending you an indulgent wink. "There are still many more coins to be spent if we wish."

"You are an indulgent husband." It earns him a kiss to his cheek before you step forward to choose a bag, greeting the merchant merrily when you come up to her stall.

He chuckles as he ambles behind you slowly. Letting you take the lead in this interaction. Watching you with a certain fondness that he had not expected to have, especially at this point.

To your delight, when you ask the merchant about her wares, she happens to have a bag made of the same disused ship sail material that you are so used to seeing. The pattern that she has stitched into it is a beautiful pattern of roses and their vines that make it a breathtaking work of art. Something so delicate with such a strong material takes a talented hand, indeed.

Oberyn looks around the waterfront, aware that there are many eyes on the two of you and he smiles. Let the word get back to Cersei that he is walking the streets of the city.

"Where else shall we walk?" It is impossible not to notice the eyes on you as the prince helps you carefully layer the purchases into the beautiful bag and put it on his shoulder. "Is there anything else you wish to explore?"

“You have said it has been a long time since you have come to King’s Landing.” He reminds you, taking your hand again and holding it rather than having you hold his arm. “And it might be years still since you return. Is there anywhere you wish to visit?”

“I was brought to be presented to the king.” The way you shrug your shoulders gives the impression that it was no great adventure and it certainly was not. “It was endless social engagements under my mother’s thumb. I see now that she was trying extremely hard to have me married quickly to be rid of me, but obviously that did not happen the way she wanted.”

“May I ask why?” Oberyn asks curiously. “You are a beautiful woman and I have no doubt there were many lords to wish you as a wife for themselves or their sons.”

“I have always been bookish.” It is not something you regret, though clearly something others do not find as desirable. “An educated girl with an opinion is not usually a lord's first choice for his son. Too headstrong. But I think also that my eldest brother, who came with us, had been directed by my father to be quite picky about my match.”

“I see.” He wonders why the man had been so choosy but it does not matter now. You are wed to him and he enjoys your intellect. “If you had a cock, maesters would be impressed with your eagerness to learn.” He snorts. “Women bear our children and yet some feel that they are weaker.” Shaking his head, he sends you a small smirk. “If they truly understood that a smart woman controls her lord with ease.”

“My father was content to let me choose for myself until my mother convinced him to accept your brother’s offer.” Walking along the market together is rather aimless now, but you still enjoy it. “But marrying for love when you are a nobleman’s daughter still does not allow the possibility that you should love someone of a different station.”

“You never told your father about Ser Raeden.” He can’t fault you for that logic, sure that you wouldn’t have been allowed to marry him. Most likely Raeden would have been sent away.

“There would not have been a point.” As unfortunate as it is, and as kind a man as he is, your father still only considered matches of rank or wealth for you. “I struck a deal with my eldest brother after his second child was born. If our father allowed me to stay unmarried, I intended to live with Antony and his wife and help to raise their children. A spinster aunt would have taken the place of needing to hire a septa to educate them, and Raeden would have simply stayed in service to our family.”

“Then I apologize for leaving your brother without his spinster sister.” Oberyn jokes dryly, sending you a wink.

“I hope that one day my brothers might be able to visit us in Dorne?” It is a long journey from the Vale, but it would sadden you immensely not to ever be able to see them again. They have been your constant companions for your whole life. “I think you would like them. Particularly my second brother. He has more of an artist’s temperament.”

“Your brothers are welcomed in Dorne any time they wish to visit.” He promises with a serious look. “I regretted not being able to see my sister more and I would not wish that on any brother.”

“Perhaps I will write to them tonight to tell them so.” You squeeze his arm gently in your hands as you walk together. “Who knows how long it will be before we are allowed to leave King’s Landing. I will write to say I am safe, that we are married, and that they are welcome whenever they choose.”

“We can arrange for you to send a raven.” Oberyn offers. “We do have a few that are designated for the Vale, we will acquire more.”

“I would be very grateful for it.” He might protest, but the prince truly is a kind and most helpful man. “But all of that is really only to say that the most I have seen of King’s Landing is the inside of a handful of ballrooms and assembly rooms.”

“Then I shall take you to a favored tavern of mine.” He decides with a grin. “The Coachman is where I have shared many drinks and laughs when I have had to be here. The wine is not Dornish, but it’s drinkable.”

"In fact...that is one of the only places in the city that I have been before." It makes you tense, to remember that night was only a few days ago. It seems like months or even years. "But I expect you knew that."

His head tilts curiously and he looks over at you, wondering at your unease. “Why would I know that, Star?”

"Perhaps she simply did not tell you where we were." That is the most likely explanation, even as you trail your eyes down to your feet to watch the toes of your boots appear from under your skirt with each step. "I would be interested to know what Ellaria did tell you about our first meeting."

“Hmmmm.” Oberyn knows that his lover does not keep important things from him so it does not bother him too much that she had met you before he had. “I’m afraid that she did not tell me.” He admits as he stops and turns towards you. “This is the first I am hearing of such a meeting.”

"I thought she would have told you..." Suddenly terrified to have spoken out of turn despite the prince not appearing to be upset at all, your eyes stay glued to the ground rather than looking up at him. "It was the day before we were invited to break fast with Queen Cersei," you murmur, convinced he could start railing at any moment. Your mother would have, certainly. "She sent a note to the Red Keep asking me to meet her. I–-I brought Raeden. For protection. As I had no idea who she was."

Chuckling, the prince shakes his head, admiring his lover’s tenacity and her capabilities. She is not a woman who sits on her hands and worries. “And what did you think when you met her?” He asks, wanting to know what impression you had of her.

"That she was very protective of you. And that she loves you very much." Both of which are true, but at the time you had not known what to make of the conversation.

“I believe that no one could argue that point.” He agrees, squeezing your hand. “Ellaria would take issue with someone arguing that.”

"And now that I know her a little better, I would never dare think otherwise." The action brings your eyes to your joined hands and you smile weakly. "I thought she would have told you."

“My lover is independent.” He hums, watching as you fluster slightly. “She probably thought that if she knew what to expect, she could manage to redirect my attention if needed.”

"I would not blame her for wanting to know what I am like." After all, you were as much a stranger to them as they were to you.

“It speaks very highly of her view of you that she did not tell me about the meeting.” He admits. “She felt no need to warn me.”

"Is that what it means?" You look up at him with nerves written on your face.

“Nothing to fear, Star.” Oberyn winks at you and smirks smugly. “My lover knows what I like, and she knew I would be very intrigued by you.”

“Then I am glad to not have disappointed either of you.” Feeling the earnestness of the moment, you bring his knuckles to your lips to kiss them and find it much easier to smile. “Should we go then? Being there for perhaps ten minutes in the middle of the night, I have very little memory of what it was like.”

“We shall.” Oberyn turns back and guides you a few blocks over to the Coachman’s Tavern, grinning when he hears the rowdy noise from inside spilling onto the streets.

The inside is crowded and rowdy just as it was a few nights ago, but there seem to be more people eating meals and fewer just drinking for the sake of it at this time of day. Fewer dancing girls too, from the look of it. If Oberyn is aware of the looks, he ignores them, catching the attention of one of the serving girls and smirking. “A table and some wine.” He demands.

“Aye.” She nods, giving him a sultry smile and pointing. “Just there. I’ll fetch your wine.”

“Come, princess.” His hand is still firmly linked with yours as he pulls you towards the table that had been pointed out. “We will share some wine and discover more about each other.”

“What would you like to know?” There can be no secrets now – the two things that you had kept from all others are things that you had divulged to him very easily.

“Anything you would like to tell me.” The bag on his arm is set beside the chairs and he watches as you sit down before he sets his royal self down beside you with a slightly dramatic flare.

“I do not think there is terribly much interesting about me that you do not already know.” His complete attention flusters you all over again, but the difference is noticeable. This is a pleasant, warm, encompassing feeling. Not fear. “I am passably accomplished. My singing and dancing are exemplary, but playing music and needlework are less so. I can paint, though, and I know geography and the noble houses of Westeros.”

“What did you do when you were a child?” Oberyn asks, leaning in and watching you with interest. He wants to know about your past, your interests. The things that he has long learned about his lover, he will now learn about his wife.

“Played with my brothers.” With those being such fond memories, you smile and lean closer to him in turn. “Antony, Bennick, and Corwen always seemed very amused by me, even when I was very little. As if a little girl made no sense to them. So they taught me to fence with sticks and climb trees and tumble around with the dogs instead.”

He smiles, imagining you running around and fighting with your brothers. “My daughters do the same.” He tells you. “They are fierce and strong like I imagine you must have been as a little one. Clamoring on your papa’s shoulders and demanding sweets.”

“Bennick would sneak us all sweets when the septa wasn’t looking.” The memory makes you smile. It’s such an innocent thing but it felt like being bandits. “Mother was very strict about treats, but Ben always found a way.”

“Sweets are demanded often around the halls of Sunspear.” His youngest especially. She has a sweet tooth that rivals her father’s. “The cooks keep pastries and cookies for the girls to ‘steal’.”

“It makes you feel terribly clever, as a child.” The serving girl comes over, depositing two goblets on the table and the wine, but giving her full attention to Oberyn when she simpers and asks what else he wishes for.

“Are you hungry?” Oberyn looks to you as he asks, pouring wine into your goblet and pushing it towards you.

“I—yes, actually.” The food in your room was probably wonderful, but you hadn’t had any stomach for it this morning. “If you are,” you add quickly.

“Food.” Oberyn decides, turning back to the server. “Whatever is best.”

“Aye.” The girl casts a glance at you but nods and walks away without a fuss.

He chuckles quietly as he turns back towards you and arches a brow. “What do you think of her?” He asks teasingly. “Do you like the width of her hips? Her breasts were very big.”

“I hardly noticed,” you admit. It felt very much like the girl was judging you, so you barely gave her a second look. “I…I have only noticed a few women in my life. Like that.”

"So you are selective." He nods as if he is learning some kind of great insight into the way your mind works. "That is good to know."

“Perhaps.” He seems to approve of this, and you smile as you drink your wine. “There are very few women in the world who are not beautiful somehow, but to be entranced by them is something different.”

Being entranced is a rare thing. He knows this because there have been very few lovers that have actually entranced him. "I know exactly what you mean." He agrees as he reaches for his own goblet. "True intoxicating beauty is something that is rarer than the most delicate bloom."

“You are very lucky to have Ellaria.” You tell him honestly, safe in the knowledge that you have shared with him. “She is precisely that rare. Brynna was that rare, too.”

He reaches out and finds his fingers trailing over yours. "You are that rare as well, star." He assures you. "Just like they are. Yet you have your own beauty that shines through like the softest moonbeams."

“I have spent my entire life being told by my father and brothers that I have a lovely smile and beautiful eyes. I thought them my only good features until Brynna and Raeden began to teach me otherwise.” His fingers are warm and teasing, stroking your skin softly, and you stretch your own to touch his skin as well. “Now to hear you say such things?” It makes your cheeks burn and your heart flutter. As if your whole body could take flight. “It is more than I could have imagined.”

"They do not see the fire in your eyes." He insists, curling his fingers around yours and toying with them idly as he keeps his eyes fixed on yours. "The strength in your spine and the love in your heart." He adds. "It is wrapped up with a clever mind and a selfless determination to make sure that those you love are safe."

It is hardly likely, when you look back at the prince – at your husband – that he does not know what he is saying to you. But you wonder if he knows how fully he sees into your heart or how he sees things about you that even Raeden did not perceive at first. And you wonder, too, if he understands the desire you already have to keep him safe. “You are a very insightful man,” you murmur, lacing your fingers together through his. “I hope I am able to live up to what you think of me.”

"You will not disappoint me." He murmurs, leaning in to press his lips to your fingertips one by one. "You cannot, because all I wish is for you to be yourself."

“I will always do my very best to make you happy,” you promise him quietly. And if that means more moments like these in the years to come, you will be very grateful.

He nods and then the server comes back with the large platter laden down with food and sets it down in front of Oberyn. "Anything else my lord requires?" She purrs as she leans over to give him an up close view of her breasts.

“You will be the very first to know if he does.” The girl’s forwardness does not bother you so much. She earns her coin how she can and that is her business, but you are obviously enjoying an intimate moment.

Her eyes cut over to you and she would dismiss you completely to turn her attention back to Oberyn. Annoyance at her treatment of the woman in his presence makes him strike out, grabbing her chin and narrowing his eyes on her own wide ones. "Do not disrespect the princess of Dorne in my presence again." He warns her slowly, his voice low but the fact that he is not yelling is more dangerous.

“M’sorry, milord.” The panic on her face is obvious, eyes flicking frantically between his face and yours, pleading for help but too frozen to pull away. “Never again, milord!”

“Husband…” Slowly, you are unsure if you should say anything at all but you feel badly for the girl. Your hand rests gently on his shoulder, not willing to test his temper any more. “You cannot blame her for liking your attention. No harm was done.”

Oberyn watches her for another moment before he finally lets go of her chin and leans back, looking over to you. His temper got the best of him and normally Ellaria is the only one who can somewhat reign him in, but your soft words had soothed his ire. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out two coins to drop onto the table as he looks back at the server. "Go."

The girl disappears faster than lightning in the sky, and you breathe again softly. “Every person in the world cannot expect to have seen a portrait of every royal. Everything is fine.”

"Princess or whore." He growls slightly, cutting his eyes around towards you again even though they are not quite as dark anymore. "To ignore a lover in their presence is an insult. One I do not accept lightly."

“And I am sure she will never commit such an offense again.” The hand you have on his shoulder presses slightly more firmly and you hold his eyes. “All is well, my prince.”

There is an excitement that washes over him with the firmness of your touch and voice. His cock twitches and he grunts in agreement. "It would be a shame to waste the food."

“It would.” The tray that was delivered holds meat pies, cheese, roasted vegetables, and even a portion of sweets to share, and you offer him an encouraging smile. “And it all looks very well. So why do not we eat, and talk more, and afterward we can return to the brothel?”

"That sounds like a plan, princess." Oberyn's dagger comes out of its sheath and he spears a potato to offer to you.

Conversation returns and you watch carefully as his humor returns to normal. The meal is filling if not the most delicious thing you have ever eaten, and you distinctly remember the moment of being fed that Dornish pastry in the market earlier when you offer him a bite of the little spice cake and its apple filling from your own fingers.

Oberyn hums but his favorite part of the treat is letting his tongue lap at your fingers. Smirking when he watches your eyes widen and he leans back to swallow. "Shall we return to our quarters?" He asks, the meaning much heavier and intimate than previous.

“That…seems wise.” The way he looks at you gives you the impression that he is going to devour you whole – something you have only seen in Raeden’s eyes before this moment. It is not at all unwelcome, but it does make you a bit nervous as you rise from the table. Once again, you find yourself worried about being a disappointment to the prince.

He sees the way your expression changes, your lips pinch together in harmony with your brows. You are uneasy and he will not have that. "Yes." He hums and stands to offer you his hand. "We will return to our quarters and then...." He shrugs one elegant shoulder. "We shall see."

******

Returning to the brothel bears almost an odd sense of calm and even welcoming, although you have not seen Lord Baelish’s face since yesterday. Or perhaps it is somewhat because of that fact. Either way, you and the prince are greeted cordially by Cal near the entrance and he takes the bag of purchases up to the rooms you have been using after asking if the prince has any other needs to be met. The obvious hope in the man’s voice is not something you can blame – just like the attention of the serving girl at the Coachman. The prince is irresistible.

His eyes flicker back to you and then to the man who had spent several nights in his bed since his arrival in King's Landing. "Some wine, Cal." He hums, sending him a wink. "I do not know where the night takes me but I think that you need rest from my attentions, no?"

His disappointment shows in a pout, but he just nods before veering off course to obtain more wine for the prince’s chambers. He will deliver everything at once, including the various packages of food that were delivered to the door just a few minutes ago.

“Shall we go see if your Raeden is awake?” Oberyn offers, sure that you are not wanting to immediately jump into anything intimate.

“I’m sure he would like to see you, as well.” Now that you know there is an attraction there, you would not deny them time together, just as the prince has not denied you time to be with Raeden.

“That remains up to your lover, much like it is up to you.” He strolls with you down the hall, smirking at the sight of a large breasted, giggling redhead dashing towards one of the rooms farther down from yours.

Inside the rooms that are designated as yours and the prince’s, Ellaria is sprawled out with a sheet of parchment and quill in her hands, both of which she disregards entirely when Oberyn appears in the doorway. “Lover,” she smiles broadly and rises from the bed elegantly to embrace him. “How was your walk?”

Like everything in Oberyn’s life, he embraces his lover with a passion that would have you believe it has been years since they have been together rather than hours. His mouth slots against hers hungrily and he slides his tongue against hers for a long moment before he pulls away. “It was perfect.” He hums, turning his head towards you with a smile. “The princess has excellent taste.”

“Is that so, Beauty?” Ellaria hums and leaves a kiss on each of your cheeks. “You must have impressed him.”

“We…” Your cheeks burn at the attention, but you clear your throat as Cal comes into the room and deposits your things on the table before leaving again. “I found something for you. That I truly hope you like.”

“For me?” Her kohl lined smokey eyes widen and she does not know to look pleased or shocked that you thought of her while you were with the prince, your husband. “That is incredibly generous of you.” She muses, stepping closer and caressing your cheek with an amused smile. “Buying my affections, Princess?” She teases. “There is no need.”

“It is a token of appreciation…and affection.” It is becoming increasingly clear to you that Ellaria makes you nervous not because she is so impressive and confident – though she is – but because you are attracted to her.

“I accept any and all tokens.” She leans in and hovers her lips over yours but does not kiss you. “You are most generous.”

“You have more than earned my appreciation.” The pull is far too great not to close the distance between you, but the kiss only lasts for a moment before you part again with your skin on fire. “I will wake Raeden and we will give you your gifts.”

Ellaria steps back from you and finds Oberyn’s side, watching with speechless interest as you disappear behind the door to your chambers. “That was unexpected.” She murmurs, reaching up to touch her lips.

******

“My love?” When you push open the door to the chamber you have been sharing with Raeden, there is little light to be found. He has lit no candles and left the curtains closed, so perhaps he truly has slept the afternoon away. “Are you awake, Rae?”

Raeden groans softly, turning onto his side and his eyes flutter open, only to see dim light. “My love?” He croaks out, raspy from sleep. “Here.”

“Returned to you safe and sound, as promised.” He must have been far more exhausted than you thought, making you feel all the more guilty for fighting with him earlier today. Setting yourself down on the edge of the mattress, you lean over to dust kisses across his cheek and lips. “Sleep, darling. I am sorry to wake you.”

“No.” He shakes his head and lifts himself to his elbow with a groan and a yawn. “If I sleep much longer, I will not sleep tonight.” He frowns. “Unless it is night now?”

“It is nearly dusk. I am afraid we were gone longer than I expected.” In truth, all you had thought was for a stroll down the market lane. Your adventure had been far, far better than that. “There is food and wine in the other room. Perhaps…we might spend some time with the four of us together?”

“Of course.” He will always do what you wish to do. He is wearing his drawers when he crawls out of the bed and stretches. He hadn’t felt comfortable stripping down again after the earlier confrontation since he would be here alone with Ellaria. “Let me get dressed.”

“The prince’s gift for you should arrive tonight.” It is his to give, and you won’t spoil the surprise if he intends it to be one, but you still smile while Raeden dresses. “It is…well, I hope that you like it as much as I think you will.”

“He…got me a gift?” He is pulling on his undershirt when he freezes, his head whipping around to stare at you in confusion. “Why?”

"Because he is fond of you." You can certainly venture that far, offering him a reassuring look. "And because you are my soulmate, and a good man. Those are all excellent reasons."

“He should not have.” He frowns slightly, aware that he has very few coins to buy gifts for anyone. His belongings had been in his trunk when it was delivered but his coin purse was far lighter than he had remembered it being.

"There is something for all of us, my love." Seeing the anxiety on his face, you stand again and reach to hold both of his hands in yours. "He does not expect anything in return. It is a gesture, that is all. For all of us."

“Your husband is a generous man.” He is aware that there is no way he could afford to keep you here, safe and belly full. He is grateful that the Prince has seen fit to be a benevolent man to you and your lover.

"You deserve to be treasured." And although it is not always easy for him to believe, you will tell him so every day. "Come, my love. Finish dressing and we will feed you. You must be ravenous."

“Of course.” He will want to come to be where you are. Especially since you mentioned food. It has been some time since he has eaten, since he was asleep.

The prince is handing coins to a stout young man delivering a package when you and Raeden come back into their room, and you are glad to see that Raeden's ring has arrived without trouble. There are bowls and platters of all manner of Dornish delights spread out along the table for enjoyment and Ellaria is enjoying a plate of comforting food with pleasure. "It appears everything has been delivered."

“It has.” Oberyn looks very pleased as he gestures towards the table of food. “While we ate some already, let us indulge more with our lovers.”

"You already know I cannot say no to sweet delights." There is an entire bowl of the honey-soaked pastries that you had indulged in at the stall. The merchant must have noted your obvious enjoyment of them.

He chuckles and picks up a pastry when he joins you beside the table. “Then we will have to make sure you have something sweet every meal.”

"He is extremely pleased with something that has happened today," Ellaria assesses, knowing Oberyn's moods as well as her own after so long together. "You must have enjoyed yourselves thoroughly."

“We went to find gifts.” Oberyn purrs. “There is one gift that is a matching set, for you and the princess and one day I will have you both model it for me.”

"Oh?" Ellaria hums her approval. "It must be very salacious if you are so excited to see them worn."

He smirks, aware that his lover is very versed in his tastes. He sets down the box that was just delivered and moves to the one you and he had brought to open it and pulls out the packets with the necklaces. “Just them lover.”

The identical multi-strand necklaces are beautifully crafted, and Ellaria sighs in delight as she pulls hers out of the wrapping and holds it up in the firelight. "Lover, it is stunning," she coos honestly before her eyes slide over to you. "When your princess is ready we will wear them together. It will be a beautiful sight."

“Yes it will.” His eyes shift from his lover as he strokes her arm to your Raeden. “Ser Raeden and I will be hard as stone taking in the beauty of you and the princess wearing nothing but these golden chains on your skin.”

Raeden's cheeks burn but he does not deny it, looking between the two people across from him before his eyes move back to you. "You are stunning in everything, my love," he answers diplomatically. "Any ornament pales in comparison the two beauties at this table."

“A poet.” Oberyn’s eyes flash in surprised delight and he hums. “Perhaps I shall give you your trinket next?” He looks to you to see what you think about this.

"It is hardly a trinket, but yes. Please do." You nod approvingly and sit back, hoping that Raeden will love the gift like you think he will.

He’s a man who gives gifts often to those he loves, but he does not love Raeden. He wants the man, he wants you and your lover in his bed but he has not yet formed the attachment to him that seems to be so easy with you. Still he had wanted to gift Raeden something to show the man his place, that Oberyn was not going to send him away from your side. “Ser Raeden, your lover told me your full name and I decide that my Princess’s lover, her soulmate should wear something both honorable and intimate.”

"Then you know who my father is." It is not a common name, and unmistakable to a noble with such a vast knowledge of the nobles of Westeros. If you had told the prince his full name, then Raeden has no doubt that the prince knows whose bastard he is.

“I do.” Oberyn nods seriously. “Which is why I know the sword you carry is a gift. I should have recognized the sea horse in the handle before now.” It’s subtle and small, but visible when you are looking for it. Raeden had left his sword in his rooms when he went to sleep while you walked with your husband.

"He did the best he thought he could for me." Though it was not always perfect, at least he had some connection. To the man himself and to his family. They knew he existed, which is more than many bastards can say.

“I know about bastards.” He knows that he is luckier than most, all his bastard children are accepted, loved. He would tolerate nothing less than that. “Yet the next time you send your father a letter….” Oberyn reaches for the box and hands it to him. “Seal your missive with this, if it is your desire to do so.”

Raeden opens the box with tentative fingers, curious as to precisely what might be inside. There is a small cushion inside and the glint of gold atop it and Raeden looks up at the prince curiously before reaching in to the little wooden square to extract an intricately carved gold signet ring. The carving bears the image of a sword hilt extending out of a stone, some of the blade exposed to make the image all the more dramatic. Engraved in the band, the letters RMS are intertwined beautifully and delicately, making him gasp quietly. "My lord..." he looks up at the prince with awe. "This symbol. Is it Dornish?"

“It is your symbol.” Oberyn tells him. “Your sword from your father and the stone to signify your lineage.” He clasps his hands on the other man’s shoulders. “You bear no shame of being a bastard in Dorne and your signet should be worn with pride.”

"You cannot mean..." There is water in Raeden's eyes when he looks over at you and then back at the prince, trying to fully understand what has just happened. "Your Highness it is...it is more than I could have dreamt." His own signet and his own symbol is tantamount to having his own House. It legitimizes him in a different way – not as the son of his father but as the beginning of his own lineage. It is an act of graciousness that frees him in a way that could not be imagined and he looks to you again with wide eyes. "My love, did—"

"It was Oberyn's idea," you tell him honestly, seeing the way he is so overcome with emotion. "I suggested something for you to use in your correspondence. The symbol was of his own creation."

“Lover.” Ellaria is soft, melting into Oberyn’s side as he watches the man try to compose himself and nearly fail at it. He understands why this is so emotional to him and he turns his head to look at Ellaria before back at Raeden. “Your sons will bear your symbol.” He decides. “Under the Dornish banner.”

Swallowing fresh tears, Raeden squeezes his eyes shut before extending his hand to the prince in gratitude. "I will endeavor to deserve it with every breath I take, my prince." This gift is far more than a trinket. It is a future. A future at the hands of the man who has married his soulmate. Fate is very strange indeed.

The prince takes Raeden’s hand, jerking him towards his body to clasp his arm around him in a fierce embrace. “I know you will.”

Having nothing like Raeden's restraint, you have been sitting to his side with silent tears streaming down your face and you wipe them now to move closer to your soulmate and offer him a kiss. This is a moment of pride and you know he has desired something like this for his entire life.

Oberyn steps back from your lover, allowing you this moment together. Your history is far longer than his own brief one with the man. Ellaria cups his cheek and turns his head towards her so he can be gifted with a kiss of his own. “You did a wonderful thing, lover.” She whispers against his lips.

Raeden turns the ring over twice more in his hand before fitting it to his finger, overwhelmed and beaming with such unexpected pride at wearing his own symbol. At having his own symbol. A knight in service to a prince with his own lineage to begin. That is an extremely remarkable thing.

“It is not so very momentous,” you murmur after the pause, picking up the small box that contains Ellaria’s gift. “But this is my thanks to you.”

Letting go of her lover to take the box, Ellaria hums and her eyes find yours. “I already know it will be beautiful.” She declares. “In everyone’s eyes, you are Oberyn’s wife and could easily pretend I do not exist.” Oberyn would never allow that to happen, but some other woman could try. So it is only fair to acknowledge that, the way you acknowledge her lover's generosity to Raeden.

“You are his soulmate.” It is every bit as important as being his wife. Arguably more so, and you reach across the table to squeeze her hand gently in yours for a brief moment. “And the mother of four of his daughters. You have been the most important woman in his life for many years. And I am grateful to you for accepting and welcoming my presence. I know that if you did not, things between all of us would be very different.”

“They would.” Ellaria knows this and she smiles at you as she opens the small box and looks down. Biting her lip when she sees a small flash of gold wrapped in cloth. Reaching down and pulling it out, she sighs softly and smiles. “It is beautiful.” She murmurs, admiring the ring before looking back at you.

“I thought it only fitting, considering you gave me your ring at the Citadel.” The expression on her face is one of true appreciation and perhaps even happiness, and it warms you through completely to see it.

“I will be proud to wear it.” She sets the box down and slides the ring on her finger before she reaches for you. Pulling you in for another brief kiss to show her affection.

There is a comfort in it this time, something warm and welcoming, and you are smiling when you sit back again. “There is something for you, as well,” you remind your husband, knowing that the last two remaining boxes are your gifts to each other. The things that you had selected separately as surprises.

“Yes.” Oberyn smiles as he moves towards the box once more to pluck out your ring. “A wife should always have a gift from her husband.” He does not actually know about what a wife should or shouldn’t have, but he will treat you as he has his lover.

It is an elaborate thing. Shimmering stones that twinkle in the candlelight like stars surround the milky center stone, and you gasp softly to see the way it seems to grow ever more brilliant from every angle you examine it. “It is beyond words,” you murmur, looking back up at him. It slips onto your finger so easily that it truly seems meant for you. “I will treasure it always.”

Oberyn nods, pleased that you approve of his gift to you. Smiling as you admire it on your hand. Each one having a ring on it.

The moment lingers, as does the sentiment, and you get up from your seat to step around the table. Perhaps the pull between you is only imagined since your vows and perhaps it is not, but either way it is strong. You lean over at his side to give your husband a kiss, murmuring thanks to him softly.

“You are welcome, Princess.” He winks at you. “You deserve to be adorned in all manner of beautiful things.”

“I would say that you deserve the same, but you have already ensured that for yourself,” you tell him, offering Ellaria a smile before you move the box in front of him. Only his ring remains. “The last is for you, husband.”

Oberyn takes the box and looks at you in curiosity before he opens it. The ring makes his brow furrow and he picks it up to examine it. “How intriguing.” He hums as he starts to fiddle with it.

Ellaria and Raeden lean in to watch his fingers work the knotted metal, only for all three of them to look delighted when the pieces finally fall into place and reveal the design of intertwined snakes. You are all but holding your breath, hoping he will like the unconventional jewel, but the way he examines it with such care bodes well.

Oberyn’s chuckle is delighted as he sees the emerged pattern. Grinning at you when he can tear his eyes from the ring, he reaches for you. “Princess, I will wear it always.” He decides as he pulls you in for a kiss to thank you.

The warm moment does not make Raeden’s stomach twist the same way it would have yesterday. The emotions that he was determined not to allow to rule him are not as heightened with all of the revelations that have come to light today, and the burden of his own blood is eased by the ring he now wears. Such a small thing, but with so much meaning.

“I am glad you like it.” His kiss floods you with pride and pleasure, and you cannot help but smile broadly. “The merchant’s own wife designed it, he said. He was very proud to think you would wear it.”

“I am called the Red Viper.” He muses, stealing another quick, yet passionate kiss before he pulls away to put the ring on. “It is fascinating to see how it comes together.”

“It is one of the few things I knew about you before meeting you.” It fits his finger well, and you are glad to see him so happy with the choice. “Your color is red, and the other stone is blue…like my own House’s banner. It felt appropriate.”

“A perfect choice for a newly made match.” He assures you, reaching out with the hand that has your ring on it to caress your cheek. “I will carry a piece of you where I go.”

“And I you.” And how glad that makes you is something that settles over you like a warm blanket.

“This is a welcomed outcome.” Ellaria hums, smiling at Raeden. “We will have to exchange tokens of affection later.” She decides with a playful wink.

“It seems so.” He does not blush, truly, but he does feel the warmth in his cheeks under her gaze. Desire is a powerful feeling and this is a most powerful desire. “Perhaps,” he swallows the nerves that plague him, watching you with your husband. Be it the remains of jealousy or something new and bold in him, he looks back to Ellaria. “We could take our own walk? Some time?” He cannot buy her precious baubles, but he cannot deny wanting to spend time with her.

Her brow arches and there is a sense of the cat who got the cream reflected in the curve of her lips. “I would love to stroll through wherever with a handsome and kind man such as yourself.” She nods. “It will be good for all of us to become social, I believe.”

"It will give us a chance to know each other better." He ventures, seeing the glint in her eyes.

“I always enjoy getting to know handsome men better.” She purrs, stepping closer to your lover and laying her hand on his chest before looking at you. “As much as I do beautiful women.”

"That is..." Tearing your attention from the prince, you look back to Raeden and smile gently when he nods. "That is something that we have agreed that we would like to explore," you tell both Ellaria and your husband with equal seriousness. "Our disagreement ended with some things coming to light that have put us both more at ease with our desires."

“Oh?” She can guess what the root of the problems were, but she will not voice those opinions until you share them with her. As free as she is with her own affections and ideas of love, not everyone is.

"Sometimes the things that we were taught and the things that we feel are not always the same." You know that Ellaria understands you, her eyes are full of understanding as she nods. "Sometimes the ferocity of anger and fear is necessary to see the errors we have made in our own minds."

“Yes.” She nods, looking back at you seriously. “As free as Oberyn and I are, we would never overstep.” She assures you with a soft smile before looking back up at Raeden.

"Life has changed swiftly around us." Raeden acknowledges, for the first time, allowing himself to be caught in admiring her. To simply exist in the moment. "To change with it might be freeing."

Ellaria hums and despite your own shared kisses with her that were not permissible, she reaches up and cups your lover’s cheek carefully. “May I kiss you?”

It would be the first time since he saw his mark on your thigh that he has shared intimacy with any other person, but he nods as he holds back his own nerves about this bold step forward. Whatever claim Ellaria Sand has on him, it began the night the three of you met at that tavern and has taken deep root without regard for restriction or restraint.

“Thank you, lover.” She hums quietly, raising up on her toes as her hand slides behind his neck to press her lips to his.

It is certainly not the polite, chaste first kiss that you exchanged with the prince at the Citadel, and the way it seems to envelope all of Raeden's senses is a heady, dizzying feeling. She fits into his side and against him so well that he could deceive himself into thinking she belonged there if he gave it too much thought.

Oberyn watches the kiss develop before turning to observe how you feel about watching your lover and his kiss.

It is odd, because by all accounts you should be jealous. You should despise seeing Raeden so thoroughly kiss another woman. But you surprise yourself by smiling. "They look well together." Is what you end up whispering to him, finding that once again you truly want only what will make Raeden happy. If that means that he visits Ellaria and shares his bed with her? He has said it does not mean he loves you any less, and you believe him.

“Yes they do.” His own smile curves his lips, his hold on you tightening slightly. “They will be a vision of sweaty limbs and cries of pleasure when the time comes.” He predicts. “Have you ever watched your lover pleasure himself, Princess?”

“Sometimes.” The question makes you bite your lip as you fight self-consciousness. “We have rarely had that much leisure time in our encounters, you explain, watching now as Raeden’s hand slides across Ellaria’s back. “The first morning here was the first time we have been able to wake up in each other’s arms.”

“Watching your lover touch another is very much like watching him pleasure himself.” He leans in and whispers. “Often when I see Ellaria with another, my cock is aching.”

“It is appealing to you…to watch them.” It does not need to be a question, because you can see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice. The arousal makes his tone huskier as it darkens his eyes.

“Yes it is.” He hums. “Just like I would like to see you and your lover together.” He has thought about that and honestly never imagined an opportunity for it to happen, but perhaps now it is not so out of reach.

“I have never…been observed before.” It had been, along with your experiences with Brynna, something too shameful to speak about. But if your first lover being a woman was not so wrong, then perhaps neither are some of the other desires that you have been denying.

“If you wish it, watching you sit upon your lover’s cock would be a thrilling experience.” He hums. “One of Ellaria’s most favored things is to have her cunt licked while she is on my cock if we have another in our bed.”

The way you have to shut your eyes immediately to call yourself to order means that you have to miss the moment that Raeden and Ellaria break from each other. Desire hangs heavy between them like most air in the hottest days of summer, and their hands grasp tightly to each other.

Raeden pants and his lips tingle, his cock tenting his breeches from how hard he is. Almost wishing that he had worn the robes that Oberyn had given him, it would have covered his reaction to kissing the Prince’s paramour.

“If you fuck and fight as well as you kiss, you may be Oberyn’s favoured man in many ways,” Ellaria praises, keeping the hand on Raeden’s chest curl into his shirt to keep him close.

His eyes flutter and his cock twitches. “I would like to show you.” He admits, voicing his wants more quickly and freely than he had ever admitted before or ever thought of admitting.

“What does our princess think of that?” Ellaria looks to you with curiosity, ready to take Raeden to bed at a word but not if it will cause more issue.

“Of—” In truth you had almost lost full faculty of yourself from the images that the prince was painting in your mind, but you manage to steady yourself. “What do I think of…?” To your utter surprise, what you feel is glad for Raeden. “I cannot think of anyone I trust to treat my soulmate with as much care as I would.”

Raeden’s eyes widen in surprise. Despite the conversation, he had honestly thought you might protest. His gaze slides over to Oberyn, who hums and nods. “She is not shy about what she likes.” He promises the other man. “And she will suck your soul out through your cock with her talented mouth.”

“I want for you to be happy, my love,” you remind him. A soft kiss across the table is very different from the one he just shared with Ellaria but that is because you are different women.

“I love you.” He reminds you. “It does not change that.” He never wants you to think that his love for you could wane because of spending time with another.

“No. It does not. Nor does it change my love for you.” You clasp his hand before sitting down again. “Enjoy yourselves, my love. When I hear Ellaria’s cries of pleasure tonight I know I will be in complete agreement with her about your talents.”

Raeden's chest puffs out slightly, proud of your favorable view on his talents even if he is wary of how he will measure up to the Prince and the numerous lovers Ellaria has had. "Come lover." She takes his hand and smirks salaciously at the two of you. "Let us adjourn to the other room and I will find out firsthand if mounting that cock of yours is as pleasurable as I imagined when we bathed together."

“They will enjoy their night thoroughly.” You do not have any trouble believing that as the door shuts behind them.

"Now..." Oberyn hums thoughtfully as he watches the door close and he turns towards you. "We just need to decide how we will be enjoying our night." He says with a small smirk. "Indulge in reading, perhaps?" He offers playfully, though he knows that if you were not willing to fuck him, he would not protest.

“At first, perhaps?” There is a certain pleasure in being read to, but it is not what is at the front of your mind right now. “But…perhaps there might be other indulgences to be had?”

"What indulgences are you interested in, princess?" Oberyn demands, lifting his hand to your cheek and letting his fingers drift down your throat and over your collarbone. "I think I should buy you more dresses." He hates that you are wearing one of your dresses from the Vale. Too much skin covered for his liking. "Sheer ones. Flowing and letting the warm sun kiss your skin like a lover." He smirks. "Easier to disrobe."

“We can call for a seamstress tomorrow, if you wish it.” There was a dressmaker at the market today that you noticed had excellent wares, and your mind drifts momentarily to wondering if she could make something that combined the things you found comfortable and your dresses from home with the more freeing things the prince enjoys about the garments of his homeland. For now, though, you tilt your head at him. “I hope this dress will not be too difficult for you to remove? It is one of my favorites.”

"May I remove your dress?" He asks, arching a perfectly crafted brow. "See the body of my wife in her full glory and touch her?" He rasps out. "Make her cry out and shake in pleasure and fill her with my cock? Fuck her until she is limp with exhaustion and her body tingles, never to forget my touch."

Each and every time he postulates in such graphic terms, you feel your whole body turn burning hot with desire that you had been clouding over with embarrassment. Not knowing how to understand your own feelings, you had denied them. Now, as you hear Ellaria giggle and moan for the first time in the room next to you, you will attempt to simply allow yourself to want him. To want this. “Yes.” Your nod is more confident than your voice, but they are united in their message. “Take me to bed, husband.”

“Perfect.” Oberyn’s smile is anticipation and desire fused together and he steps around you to work on the laces of your dress. He is an expert in lady’s dresses and yet the only reason he does not pull his dagger to cut through the ribbons keeping the fabric on your body is because you had told him it is a favorite. “No more of this.” He vows, Finding another layer of laces and cloth beneath the dress. “It will be far too heavy in Dorne.”

“I will save it for if we ever visit my brothers.” Having him touch you even a little – even through layers of fabric – is like being burned in a wholly desirable way. “Or perhaps a seamstress can make it appropriate for Dorne. For the heat, and for the eager hands of my prince.”

“You will be free in the silks of Dorne.” He assures you. “Sliding over your skin like a lover’s hand. “Flowing around your legs and giving your lovers teasing glances of your body.”

“You and Raeden would have me in as little as possible.” When his fingers finally find the bare skin of your back you nearly gasp.

“Naked would be preferable.” He agrees. “I am a simple man.” There is nothing simple about Oberyn Martell but he manages to say it without chuckling.

“I doubt that.” Though it does make you smile as you look over your shoulder at him.

He does chuckle at that, bending down slightly so he can press his lips to your shoulders as he starts to push your dress down to pool at your feet. “Desire and lust are very simple.”

The heavy, structured dress barely deflates around you, but billows when it hits the stone floor to leave you in your stays and thin shift. It is more layers, more covering, and despite having been bare in a bath with him just yesterday you feel positively exposed.

“If you want to stop, you tell me.” Oberyn watches as your shoulders round slightly.

“Being nervous does not stop me from wanting this.” It does, though, make you turn around to face him. “I do want this, I promise you.”

Oberyn reaches out to capture the back of your neck, dragging you closer to kiss you like he had kissed Ellaria earlier. Passionate enough to steal his breath as he passes it to you.

To be so utterly intoxicated by him is disarming still, but tonight you welcome it. Passion as you have only experienced with one other person seems to soak into every aspect of your being. The strokes of his tongue against yours are equally coaxing and demanding, making you gasp into his mouth and quake in his arms as though you had never been touched at all.

As he kisses you, his hands slide up and own your body, blindly working your stays until the material falls off your waist and he pulls it off your body. Gathering the material of your shift up in his hands, he starts to pull it up over your hips.

It takes so little to bare yourself to him, and yet when he leans back from kissing you to take in the full sight, it feels as though you have laid the world out for him. Your world. The greatest gift you have to give is yourself, for better or worse, and this time your hands are on him instead of hiding your body from view.

"Beautiful." Oberyn praises, his hands reaching for his belt, eager to unknot it and to be as bare as you are. The need to touch you has been building since the day that you first met and even if it has not been but three days since then, it seems as if it has been a lifetime.

His garments are much simpler than yours, despite being more sumptuous, and you watch with breathless attention as he pulls open ties and buttons to rid himself of every piece. The next time you will do everything yourself without him even needing to lift a finger.

His boots are kicked off and his breeches unlaced, Oberyn looks back at you. Dark eyes roaming over your body and he smirks. "Go lay down, princess. Spread your legs and show me your beautiful cunt."

The sprawling bed is more than enough room for the two of you, and his dark eyes on you would be enough to compel you there even if his throaty voice was not so commanding. While normally you would object to being given orders, the tenor of the prince's voice when what he wants is within reach makes your pussy drip.

Your thighs spread and Oberyn groans as he sees the glistening sheen of your cunt lips coated in arousal. His own hardening cock twitching and he swaggers towards the bed with his breeches still on for a closer look.

It must be what deer feel like under a hunter's eye, but no deer has ever laid out for their hunter so easily. He knows precisely what he wants and how to achieve it, and your chest heaves, imagining this man lowering his mouth to you.

"You are like a shining star." He praises, reaching down and pushing his breeches down so he can kick them off. His cock juts up proudly and he kneels on the bed, eager to join you and touch you.

"It is hard not to feel like one when you shower me with such praise." You reach for him, already wanting him as close as can be.

Kneeling on the bed, he smirks and starts crawling towards you. "You want to consummate our vows, princess?" He asks with a growl.

"Gods...yes." He prowls closer and you seem to melt immediately in response. Breathless and covered in gooseflesh from wave after wave of arousal, if you were not already laying down you might have dropped to your knees at that question.

"I am glad you are not a shy, virginal miss." He admits, kneeling between your thighs and sliding his hands up your thighs. "So you are not shocked when I do this." He drops his head down and dives into your cunt with his tongue.

The ferocity of his resolve has your head dropping back to the pillow and a whimper crossing your lips immediately. Every encounter you have ever had has been clandestine and your own sounds of passion have always been muffled because of it. The idea that you do not have to hold back tonight is making your mind spin as much as anything else. Your knees draw up to your chest and your back arches, your body undulating with pleasure beneath him and your hands twist in the sheets on either side of you. A virginal miss you are not, but he is still only the third lover ever to touch or taste you in this way.

As much as Oberyn likes to receive pleasure, he also likes to give pleasure. Some might think it's his ego or reputation that makes him focus on his lover, but it's the sounds they make. Pulled from them by the flick of his tongue, the curl of his fingers or the thrust of his cock. "Hmmmm." He groans as he looks up at you and smirks at the rapturous look on your face as he devours your cunt.

There is no tentative exploration, no time spent delicately mapping the dips and dimples of your skin. There is only the fervent and greedy sounds of Oberyn's tongue spearing into your pussy as your soft sounds of pleasure grow slowly but steadily louder. His hands squeeze and grope your hips and thighs, coaxing you to start rolling your hips against his face. He pulls his lips away to smack them. "Enjoying yourself, princess?"

"My–" A gasp passes your lips when he licks a stripe up the length of your slit. "My husband is very p–pleased with himself." Even teasing him comes out stammered as your whole body shakes with every stroke of his talented tongue.

"Very pleased, wife." He chuckles before he reapplies himself to making your cunt cream and quiver with pleasure while you shout his name. In part to show you what he is capable of when you visit his bed, but mostly because he wanted to taste you. So he is.

The first time your hand strikes out to steady yourself against him it is a very odd sort of revelation. Raeden has never had hair on his head for as long as you have known him, and you were careful not to dislodge a single strand on Brynna's head for fear of discovery. But now? This is your husband. And a man who has made his fame as a lover, no less. So when your fingers find his hair by accident you let them explore, wondering if the prince will enjoy such a sensation.

Oberyn groans while your nails scratch against his scalp, eyes fluttering as his tongue swirls even faster. You have discovered his love of having his hair played with and his fingers dig into your hips.

"Gods." The more you explore the more he dedicates himself to his task, and your voice cracks as it raises. That familiar feeling of a knot twining around itself in your belly is building like a wildfire and you cry out wordlessly.

When you start to cry out, Oberyn is instantly addicted to the sound. Sucking your clit into his mouth, his chin gets soaked in a flood of your cum as your cunt spasms around nothing. This bliss is not unfamiliar, but it comes with an intensity this time that has you shaking and arching off of the mattress. With the freedom to be vocal you very well might cry yourself hoarse but for pleasure like this it will be exquisitely worthwhile.

He loves how your cries ring in his ears, very different from the quiet moans that he had barely heard the first night that you had stayed here. Your wedding night. Now it's loud and telling everyone who passes by that you are being pleasured in here.

When the dam breaks you feel every inch of your body tense up, spasming tightly so that even your fingers twine into his hair with fervor. The crashing waves of pleasure turn the world blank around you until you soften, going limp against the bed and sighing with the first breath you've taken since you started cumming.

Oberyn pulls his lips off your clit with a smug, satisfied smile as he watches you try to catch your breath with a soft puff of air. "Did your husband disappoint?"

"Of course not." If you could move you would be crawling down to him to return the affection but you will need at least a moment or three before you are anything but limp. "I knew you would not."

"Good." He purrs, smirking and he drops a kiss on your hip before he climbs up your body. Dropping another kiss on your lips before he caresses your cheek and shifts to lay down beside you.

The taste of your own arousal from his lips has you humming again, drawn to him and rolling over to your side to stay close to him. Your hand wanders tentatively, tracing the muscles of his chest and arms dreamily. "Are all women so similar that you know our bodies by instinct?"

"Years of practice." Oberyn chuckles, as he runs a finger down your arm and then around your nipple, looking down and watching it stiffen even more from the gentle pressure.

Your breathing turns shallow all over again, your back finding that familiar arch to chase the soft sensation of his touch. As if following it could make it more firm. "You have learned your skills well."

"Yes?" He smirks as the nipple tights even more, gooseflesh breaking out over your flesh. "You enjoy my touch, wife?" He asks softly. "You are not just enduring my touch?"

"I would never have endured any unwanted touch." That was a promise that you had made to yourself, but now you shake your head and inch closer to him on the bed. "I...cannot explain why I have felt as drawn to you as I am. But perhaps it is lucky."

"Many have been lucky." He admits, deciding that he is done teasing your nipple and he pinches it, rolling it in his fingers just harshly enough to make your breath hitch.

The feeling is sharp, shooting directly between your legs and making you shiver. "I have no trouble believing that you have entranced anyone you have ever crossed paths with."

"I wanted you from the first time we met." He confesses easily, watching you with dark eyes as he continues to pinch and pluck at your breast. "Your spine. Your defiance."

"I am far less defiant after cumming," you laugh softly. Spine, though, you have. In this moment it comes in the form of cupping your hand over his, showing him the much rougher pressure you prefer to be touched with. Featherlight touches are pleasurable to begin with, but the mornings you are sore after taking Raeden are always your favorite.

Humming delightly, he is thrilled that his lady wife is not the prim and proper miss he had feared. You like a rougher touch. "You like a little bit of pain with your pleasure, star?" He growls. "How do you like to be fucked, princess? Should I have Raeden come in here and show me?"

That suggestion conjures an image that makes you whine instinctively. Allowing yourself to accept these desires you once considered sinful encompasses more than you might have been willing to admit to yourself. "Raeden is sometimes afraid to hurt me," you admit. Though other times his passion knows no bounds. "I..." A gasp passes your lips again when his fingers twist your pebbled bud sharply. "I think...to be wanted as a woman is more pleasurable than to be worshiped on a pedestal."

"You like it rough?" His eyes flash and he leaps up to his knees to reach down and grab you by the elaborate braid that your hair is tied up in. He pulls you up, not harshly enough to hurt you but enough that you hiss.

The initial sharp sound from the back of your throat is nothing compared to the next – a vocal moan that would embarrass you if you were not so intrigued by the prince's seeming glee at this revelation. "I want to know what it is like," you tell him, chest heaving even at the thought.

"I had thought to take you slow, sweet." He admits, holding your hair and wrapping his hand around it. "But now I think the princess would like to be treated like a whore." He taunts with a grin. "So I will fuck you on your knees until your arms give out."

"You are pleased with this?" The depth of the rumble in his voice says he is, and the way he bends your back with your hair tight in his grasp. If this is how it felt to him to have your fingers in his hair a few moments ago, you fully understand how much he enjoyed it.

His cock presses against your ass as he positions you how he wants you, spreading your knees farther apart than normal, pushing you low to the bed. The smear of precum dribbles across your ass and he twitches when you moan again. "I do." He grunts. "You will look good, exhausted and dripping my cum."

The cool air washes across your skin and raises gooseflesh all over again. The way he has you positioned means your cheek is pressed into the mattress and your cunt is on full display while he takes in the view of you. "I think it will be harder to exhaust me than you expect."

"You do, hmmm?" He smirks wickedly and raises the hand that is not wrapped up in your hair. Bringing it down sharply on your ass.

"Ah!" The sound could be mistaken for pain if he was not looking at you, but the way you squirm and roll your hips back to him to ask for more is very obvious. That cry was pleasure and pain combined, the very way you hoped it would feel.

"You would not doubt me if you had been paying attention to the cries of pleasure last night." He hums, slapping your ass once, twice, three more times one right after the other.

It was not the time to listen last night, it would have angered or frustrated you rather than proving any other kind of point. But instead of saying so, you whimper eagerly and try to look over your shoulder at him. His hold on you is too tight to allow it and somehow that is even more arousing. "Prove it to me."

He puffs up his chest, his grip of your hair even tighter with the way you twist your head. With his cock, firmly in his hand, he pulls back the foreskin that covers the sensitive tip and he pushes his hips closer to line up and sink into your cunt without warning or any pause until he is buried completely in your warmth.

"GODS." He feels thicker than Raeden once he is inside you, making it not matter in the least that the prince's cock is not quite as long. Your whole body seems to shift to accommodate him and when you moan again it is pleading. More. More of this. It is exactly what you want.

He gives you long enough to cry out to the seven before he is pulling his hips back. Barely giving you time to miss the feeling of him inside you before he is snapping his hips forward and filling you again.

It is a feeling so sharp and dizzying that you are glad to be pressed into the bed with your ass in the air or else your mind might spin. The brutal pace he sets has you sobbing in pleasure and moaning at the sharp pull on your scalp. The bed creaks beneath you, and though there is no headboard to bang against the wall the frame certainly knocks against stone with every thrust.

The hand in your hair serves to keep you near, using it as if he were holding the reins and riding a horse. The swings of his hips slap against your ass and he watches your body bounce and jolt from the force of his thrusts. "You feel me now, princess." He hisses, gritting his teeth and increasing his pace.

You can feel nothing but him, and the overwhelming sensations are flooding your body to make you crave that same rough touch everywhere. While one arm braces you on the mattress, your other hand kneads your breasts and pinches harshly at your nipples, giving yourself the extra sensations your body is seeking.

Oberyn growls watching you and approving of you taking your pleasure for yourself. Once you are used to being in his bed, he will have someone bite and suck your nipples while he fucks you.

The great cacophony of sounds overtakes everything else. Every sense is his, every sound and sinful scent. The grip of his hand on your hip is bruising and you relish it, hoping to ache there tomorrow as surely as you will ache between your thighs. The prince’s talent has not been exaggerated, not at all, and you are climbing that peak to pleasure again more quickly than you ever thought possible.

Oberyn rides you hard, the slap of skin filling the room, sweat glistening on his skin. He changes the pace, instead of hard and fast, it's hard and deep. He makes sure that you feel every fat inch of his cock as he pummels it into you, your back arching at every thrust when he bottoms out.

When your second peak washes over you it is more like the crashing of a great wave on the ocean. It comes with a cry of his name – perhaps now the fourth time you have ever said it and this time you feel as though it is the only word you have in you. Your body locks down on him, drawing his cock as deep inside you as you possibly can while you spasm beneath him, all the while praying for more.

As soon as your grasping cunt relaxes around him, he pulls free, letting go of your hair as he rolls you onto your back and shuffles his way between your thighs again. His cock bounces, dripping with your release and still rock hard since he has not found his own pleasure yet.

Instinct and want give way to all else tonight, and when you push up on shaky arms to kiss him it is a devouring thing that demands to be known. Your own attraction has cracked and become hunger and you will not apologize to anyone for it anymore. Not even yourself.

If he’s surprised by the ferocity of your kiss, he does not allow it to be seen. Matching it, battling with your mouth even as he is pushing his cock back through your folds and impaling you once again. Swallowing your gasp of air as he fills you again.

Being under him in any way is wonderful, you have decided, as his renewed thrusts crush you to the mattress again with a force that speaks of desire that easily equals your own. This time your arms and legs twine around him to keep his deep thrusts close and encourage him to grind his hips as far into your body as he can.

Braced above you, Oberyn's necklace swings between you as he rocks his hips forward. Crashing them into yours over and over as he grunts and groans when your cunt flutters and squeezes him.

Like the torrents of a storm-blown sea, every rock of his hips sends you reeling. There is no mercy from his force and at the same time you would not want there to be. Wordless cries from both of you flood the air as your slick bodies move together and you start to feel his thrusts grow steadily less measured.

Oberyn watches you, memorizing your face as you start to come apart underneath him again. Feeling his own end getting closer with every thrust. He shifts, grabbing your hair and pulling you up to crush his lips to yours while he pushes you over the edge again.

It is fortunate that when your body stiffens and pulses for the third time, that your mouth falls open wide instead of clamping shut, or else the slide of his tongue against yours would be cut short quite unfortunately. But instead you cling to him, kept close by his grip and your intertwined bodies, desperate for him to find his own end and feel even a morsel of the pleasure he has given you tonight.

He is desperately close, body tense and every spearing of his cock and his tongue into you is accompanied by the groan that is breathed into your mouth. Only to rip his lips away from yours to groan your name as he thrusts deep one last time and rocks his hips to grind deeper, shooting his spend deep into the hot cavern of your womb.

A deep, comforting silence falls between you as you both work to find your breath again. The only sounds for a long moment are panting and the soft sounds of endless kisses as you both float back down from your peaks together.

"No one can say you aren't properly wed." Oberyn hums cheekily, smirking as he twitches inside you and your walls grip him in reflex. "How do you feel, princess?"

“As though I will still be feeling you tomorrow.” You giggle slightly, feeling the sound come from deep in your chest. “If that is how you fuck your whores, they are all of them very lucky.”

"It is how I fuck anyone that likes it rougher." He hums. "Although I did not go quite as hard as I could have." He admits. He didn't want you to be horrified by it if you were not used to such things.

Your eyes widen slightly but the idea of more, but at the same time it sounds good enough to have you sighing. “I hope you are not too surprised at me. For that to be how we are together the first time.”

Oberyn chuckles and he leans down with a softer kiss before he pulls out of you. His body shifts and he leans on his elbow to gaze down at you with a smile. "There is nothing surprising about our needs, star." He assures you, unable to resist sliding his hand down your body to push your closing thighs back apart so his fingers can be soaked in a combination of your fluids. "It was perfect because it was honest, genuine."

Curled into his side, the fact of his fingers between your legs is an odd comfort. The fact that he is not simply turning over to sleep is not what, apparently, most women receive from their husbands. “Do you enjoy this?” You ask him, looking down at his hand with curiosity. “To feel what has come of pleasure? Wonder if another child has been made?”

"I always enjoy pleasure." He trails his wet fingers over your mound and circles your belly softly, where your womb would possibly one day house his heir. "If your tea has not been drunk, then perhaps a child has been created." His dark eyes find yours, soulful and full of interest. "If a child has been made, would you be proud?"

“I think…I think I would be, yes. Although I would probably cling to Ellaria with nerves.” He knows your apprehensions about childbirth now, and surely understands why you will be glad to have an experienced mother nearby for your confinement. “Although,” you tilt your head at him. “I am curious to know how you know about my tea.”

"There are few methods that are used to prevent children." He smirks and slides his hand back down to dip it back into your cunt to gather more of his seed. "I have brewed tea for my lover, and if you wished, I would brew it for you now." He offers softly, circling your womb again as he looks at you expectantly.

Leaving it up to you is a surprise, but you give the idea real thought now that he has given you the opportunity. The silence lingers, but finally you look up to meet his eyes and shake your head. “Let a babe take root whenever the gods will it. I will grow your heir proudly.” It is a duty, as well as this boundlessly growing affection for him, and you lift your head to kiss him softly. “Thank you for giving me a choice.”

“The choice is always yours, Princess.” He promises you softly, pleased that you are willing to see what the Gods will. It speaks to your growing bond, only three days old and he knows that he is irresistibly drawn to you. Feeling as if you were fated by the seven or the old gods themselves.

Your fingers gently stroke the long line of his cheek and that pull you feel around your heart is beginning to feel undeniable. But you smile, that soft affection lining your face, and lean up to kiss him. “We will let the gods decide, then, when your first heir is born. I will stop drinking my tea for now.”

“If you stop drinking your tea, your Raeden cannot finish inside you.” He reminds you softly. “My named heir will be of my seed.”

“I remember our agreement.” The choice is not one to be taken lightly, but it is of great importance. “It is enough that I might be able to one day bear the children of both the men I treasure. That yours must be first is a matter of more importance than just desire.”

Oberyn nods, his face filled with respect and pride at your decision. “I will not mind you carrying your soulmate’s child.” He promises. “As many as you would wish to have them bred on you.”

“We will see.” It makes him more extraordinary than you can say, that he is so willing to accept Raeden as a part of your life, and instead of trying to form that particular thought you end up kissing him again. “Thank you for what you did for him. To not have a place in his father’s House or a name he can take pride in has caused him great pain through his life. I know it means more than all seven heavens to him.”

“He is a good man.” Oberyn knows that just from his few interactions with the man. “He is honorable and honorable men deserve to feel as if they have a place in this world.”

"You are both good men." you tell him without the intention of brokering a single doubt. "And Ellaria and I are very lucky to have such soulmates."

He smiles, accepting the compliment and nods. “Handsome men.” He adds with a roguish wink.

It does not matter that he is correct – that both he and Raeden are incredibly handsome on their own and that together they present a nearly irresistible pair – you must tease him for it at least a little. "And terribly humble," you add, rolling your eyes for effect.

“Terribly.” He agrees with a grin as he leans down and kisses your jaw right before he nips it with his teeth. “Shall I tell you about all the men and women who want me? Crave my cock and my attention?” He teases. “But I wish to be right here.”

"I have watched every person you pass by fall instantly in love with you in at least some small way, and I have only known you for three days." That he wants to spend time with you is precious enough, you will not waste it with hearing of any others. When he wants to be with them, he will go to them. And if they become important enough in his life, you will surely hear their names and learn their faces. "But I am glad to know that you enjoy the time we spend together."

“I am sure there is more time to come.” Of that he is certain, feeling that it will be important as time goes on.

______

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My Masterlist!

[rubendiasthoughts]

I loved writing this one so much!! Thank you to the person who requested it 😘

Wedding with Ruben Dias - headcanon:

-Okay, so I think the way Ruben would propose would be pretty casual. Like I just don't see him renting out a fancy restaurant or anything like that. I feel like he would maybe take you on like a nice beach or something, somewhere where there's not a lot of people and he would maybe organize a little picnic or something like that. I think he would want it to be a surprise and he would want you to think that it's just a normal date. So you two would sit on the blanket, watch the sea and the waves for a little bit. And maybe he would lead you by your hand, closer to the shore. And then he would get on one knee and propose. He would definitely tell you how you are the girl of his dreams and he would promise to take care of you for the rest of your life.

- But he would definitely tell at least one of your girlfriends that he's going to propose, just so that she can take you to get your nails done and stuff, because he knows you would be sad if your nails weren't perfect for the pictures.

- I already talked about this, but I feel like Ruben could be the guy to ask your parents for permission. And he would promise them to always take care of you and protect you.

-And he would tell his own family that he's planning to propose too! His mom would be so happy, maybe she would say something how you are definitely a keeper 🥺

-I think planning a wedding with Ruben would be the best experience. He would definitely have his own ideas and opinions that he would share with you, but at the end of the day I feel like he just wants you to be happy and have the wedding of your dreams. Maybe sometimes when you guys are cuddled up on the couch, talking about the wedding you ask him something like "You think we can have that? " and he's smiling "we can have anything you want, sweet girl" and gives you a forehead kiss.

- And when the wedding day comes I think he would be super calm and collected. Just because I think he is so sure he wants to spend the rest of his life with you, so he's just like "what is there to be nervous about? ". You would probably be much more nervous than him, worrying if everything will go the way it's planned and all of that. I feel like his approach would be more like: he gets to marry you so he doesn't care if something else won't be perfect.

-And when he sees you for the first time, walking down the aisle, he has this little smile on his face and he's literally looking at you like you are the most beautiful thing in the world. He wouldn't be able to take his eyes off of you, like you are the only thing he could see.

-Let's just take a moment to think about Ruben standing there in a suit 😫

-His brother is the best man for sure.

-When he is putting the ring on your finger, he's looking into your eyes with a serious look on his face. And can you imagine how great he would look with his wedding band on his finger?? 😭

- And when he's allowed to kiss his bride for the first time, he would grab your face in both of his hands, your hands resting on his stomach. And the kiss would be sooo good! I feel like he would kiss you very gently, but at the same time with a lot of passion behind it.

- The first dance would be so sweet and cute. Honestly I don't see Ruben doing any kind of crazy choreography, I think you two would just slow dance, he would hold you close to him, look into your eyes with a smile on his face, maybe you would rest your head on his chest for a little bit too. He would whisper to you, telling you how beautiful you are. And I feel like the song you two would dance to would be one of those old love songs.

- The guests would maybe make little toasts, talking about your love for each other and stuff - your maid of honor, his best man, your friends, family, maybe even some of his teammates. Ruben is definitely raising a toast "for his beautiful bride".

-And for the rest of the night you would have so much fun. You would be dancing with all of your friends, celebrating your love surrounded by all the people you love. Just imagine Ruben laughing with his friends 🥺

-You know the thing they sometimes do at weddings, when they seat the bride on the chair and the groom is supposed to take her garter off using only his mouth? Ruben would dive under your dress, he would plant a few kisses starting from your ankle up to your thigh.And when he takes your garter in his mouth, he would lightly graze your thigh with his teeth. And when he comes out from underneath your dress and he takes your garter out of his mouth he has the goofiest smile on his face. And when he sees your red face and how you try to hide your face in your hands he laughs, takes your hands away from your face, leans over you and gives you a kiss.

-And the wedding night would be an absolute dream. Ruben couldn't wait to finally get you alone. You two would stumble into the room, Ruben holding you in his arms, hands around your waist, kissing you passionately. He would take off your dress and lay you on the bed. Then he would hover over you, his forearms resting next to your head as he would look into your eyes. His nose would nuzzle against your neck and he would say "gotta take care of my wife now, make her feel good". He would kiss every inch of your body, constantly whispering praises. He would fuck you in missionary, your legs wrapped around his waist. And when he finally pushes inside you it would be so slow, but his thrusts very deep, hitting your sweet spot with his every stroke. His breath would be heavy, panting above you, relishing in your cute, little moans. Feeling you squeeze around his cock would trigger his own orgasm. He would hide his face in your neck when he shoots his cum deep inside you. And after that, he would craddle you in his arms, pressing kisses to your head.

I haven't written anything about how honeymoon with Ruben would be like in this piece, because I feel like maybe I should do a separate headcanon about that? Let me know if you would be interested ❤

Thank you for your support, hope you enjoyed this 💞

[lulublack90]

About Me

Hi there, Lulu here.

I do have a real name but I prefer to go by Lulu on here and Ao3 so please use that.

I go by she/he/they. Call me what you want I don't mind. It changes day by day for me in the real world, but my friends and family don't know that.

I'm pansexual but again only a few people know that.

I'm in my 30's but have the maturity of a teenager unless I'm in parent mode when I have to pretend to be a grown-up (It does not last long!).

I am a huge huge huge Harry Potter fan (Fuck JK, she's a dick!) My house is full of so many HP-related items. In fact, I think every room has something in it, thank the gods my husband is also a massive nerd.

In case you can't tell I am Neurospicy. I am in the middle of getting diagnosed with ADHD and by that I mean I am procrastinating actually starting the process.

Now where was I?

Oh, yeah I like so much stuff I can't think what else to put here but yeah Harry Potter, mainly Marauders era but I love anything really.

My fav ships are Wolfstar (I've loved them since I was a young thing and didn't even know it was a thing." Jegulus (My new love.) Dramione (Lord have mercy) Drary (Lord I need more mercy) Pandalily (Meep!) Dorlene (Squeek!) I like Marylily as well but not as much, but I love them when I read them.

My asks are open and you can send me whatever you want, no hate please no one needs that in their life and Tumblr is my happy place don't spoil it.

Things that make me happy

You guys. Honesty it's Tumblr, I've only just really found this and all you amazing people who like my silly stories that I've only been writing regularly since December 23 when I found you all. My husband and son make me happy and so do my dogs and cats. I love watching storms and autumn. I read a lot, I crochet, I knit, I write. I am a huge fan of chocolate. If you give me chocolate I will be your friend.

Music

Bowie. Nuff said.

But yeah I like a lot of different stuff, it depends on my mood as to what I listen to. I drive my husband mad because I like songs by lots of people but I can't remember what they're called or who they're by.

Books

My all-time favourite book will always be Prisoner of Azkaban. It is my happy place.

My house is full and I mean full of books. I don't actually know how many I have but last time I estimated I had 300 in my bedroom alone. (There are piles of books in every room 😬)

ACOTAR!!!

Shows/movies

Harry Potter, The Martain, The Princess Bride, Labyrinth, Hunger games, Twilight (Don't judge me they got me through a dark time.), How to train your Dragon, Disney anything, plus others there are so many and I'm bored of listing.

Good Omens, Schitts Creek, Parks and Rec, Bake off, Handmaids tale, It's always sunny, community, Harbin hotel, archer, vampire diaries. Plus more but yeah typing.

Okay I think I'm done but who knows I might add more if I remember.

Love you all

Lulu

xxx

My Ao3 List

These are my fanfics on my ao3

Bitten M- Remus, Sirius and James head to the forest for a fun full moon. Everything is going great until one of them has an accident. (This was the very first fanfic I wrote. It's okay.) Wolfstar. Complete.

The Prisoner T- Sirius Black has been wrongly imprisoned for 12 years. He's bided his time but now its time to escape and right the wrongs of the past.

The Prisoner of Azkaban as told by Sirius Black, filling in the gaps starting with his escape from Azkaban. Wolfstar. Complete.

The Cupboard E- Hiding from Filch and awaiting rescue things get a bit close in the cupboard between Remus and Sirius. Wolfstar smut one shot. Complete.

Birthday E(I think, I'm not good at telling) Sirius finds Remus alone in their dorm room instead of enjoying the party downstairs. Wolfstar. Complete.

The One That Got Away E- James agrees to throw a party at his house. Sirius asks to bring his little brother, how could that possibly affect James at all? Based on the micro fic series I wrote in January. Jegulus. Backcould Wolfstar. Complete.

Jegulus Prompt Series All the prompts I've written on here in one place.

Wolfstar Prompt Series All the prompts I've written on here in one place.

The Way They Were T - While Harry is clearning out Grimmauld Place he discovers that Wolfstar were a thing.

Love Hate and the Ability to Change M - Sirius is taking Remus to the hosital wing on the full moon and Regulus catches them kisses. After some rather nasty words Regulus tells Sirius something about himself.

The Way They Are M - Part two of The Way They Were. Harry and Draco spend more time together and Draco finds another box for Harry, this time from Remus.

[tb3ih]

BLOOMING SEASON (pt. 2), kamisato ayato/reader.

SYNOPSIS... people like Kamisato Ayato who are not like the seasons do not have hearts that can withstand the test of time OR perhaps at the end of the day, you are well-deserved of change (or Sora says so).

⋆ warnings, kamisato ayato & fem-presenting!reader, gentle angst, hehe in-laws, THE CHILD (sora), introduction of reader's family, + comfort for once :) [making a part 3 bc i want a better happy ending tbh]

⋆ notes, thinking about how i was just sobbing my eyes out to 'nobody gets me' by sza for no reason

⋆ tags! @stellakito @iiyumii @neverlandlostchild @hotgirlshit5 @jureminha @yunniemai1 @iamnotobsessed @irisxiel @lumpywolf @mrs-heelshire @kunikuzushisbeloved @pineapplesneedrights @kiyoomiwo @hyunromi @simplyhumanlol @esthelily @chiisananingen

"Y/N-CHAN?" you know that voice too well, all the might in your body you used to hold yourself together wavering at the simple honorific.

your twin brother looks half asleep, deep burgundy hair lopsided and unstyled, black yukata not even properly tied, and eyes hardly able to remain open. even the guards at his chamber doors appeared startled.

you choke out his name, unable to even make it a step before your throat starts burning and closing up. gou wastes no time in rushing forward in that instant, vision alight and a worried emotion in his eyes as he pulls you into him.

for once in your life, you are grateful for him having grown into such a tall, well-built older brother, his arms firm and unyielding in the way they hold you against his chest. if you remember correctly, this was the way it had always been when you as the only daughter of the hayashi clan took the brunt of the elders' prevailing orders, from attending events in place of your late parents to managing foreign affairs for the clan.

or even giving yourself away to kamisato ayato in hopes of civilizing relations between the clans.

arms tightening just a little as you continue your sobbing, his eyes fall to akane who stands a little distance back carrying your resting daughter.

"anata? is everything alright? who's out there at this hour?" emica, gou's bride and perhaps one of your most cherished people, steps out from the bedchamber as well. gou is hesitant to let you go, but he does, allowing you to collect yourself just a little to face your sister-in-law. "y/n-san? you're—oh archons! come here, sweetie!"

you waste no time rushing into her arms, the smell of peach blossoms and the ocean filling your senses as she envelops you. if your loveless marriage had brought you any sort of joy (other than your daughter) it would be that gou was able to marry for love. kaedehara emica, oldest sister to kazuha and named matriarch of her clan in absence of her brother, she was a samurai to be reckoned with. albeit her brazen attitude towards the elders of the hayashi estate, she was kind and always ready to welcome you into her arms.

"gou, honey, bring sora to the twins' room and let her rest in there," emica says, her hand soothing against your back as she allows you to weep on her shoulder. "poor lady akane has had a long night and doesn't need to hold her anymore."

gou nods, "of course, dearest." another attendant appears to guide the three away down another hallway.

it takes a few minutes for you to recover, but emica is patient, never faltering in comforting you. after all, having been engaged only a few weeks before your parents would pass, she too would come to witness the cruelty of the elders and their treatment of the only daughter of such a highly regarded clan. she would scowl at the thought.

emica hums, "y/n-tan, are you hungry?" you meet her eyes, her expression soft and warm. "i bet cook will make his favorite patron some omurice if she were to ask~ hm?"

you laugh a little, throat a little hoarse from crying. you were a little dizzy, so you supposed some food wouldn't hurt. plus, chef was perhaps second to only your mother in terms of authority figures in your childhood. it would be a shame if you didn't stop by to pay respects to him. "i suppose you're right..."

your sister-in-law giggles, slipping an arm around your waist to walk beside you to the kitchen. "of course i'm right, i'm always right."

"I'LL kill that bastard, i swear it to celestia," gou seethes, setting his cup of tea back on the table. "how dare he speak in such a manner? has he forgotten his place?"

you are currently on your third plate of omurice, eyes observant as you watch the couple before you take in the information you have just set before him.

emica laughs softly, "now now, dear i'm sure even y/n would like to push war as one of the very last options of action. i'm sure she's at least thought of something more civil which might resolve the conflict at hand. y/n?"

you clear your throat with a sip of milktea. "divorce. seeing as how the yashiro commission had much to gain from this union, we have nothing to lose except friendly relations." you take another bite and speak once more after swallowing. "besides, had it not been for the hayashi clan, the raiden shogun would not have even considered a pardon for the yashiro commission all those years ago."

gou snorts. "i'm sure there are many things this whole damn city wouldn't have had, if it weren't for the most gracious hayashi clan." he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before once more meeting your stare. "your solution would definitely be opposed by the elders, is that something you're willing to take on?"

emica takes your hand squeezing it lightly and offering the warmest smile. she turns to her husband. "even if it isn't, she mustn't forget the simple fact that she won't be alone and never again will be."

the thought has you smiling softly to yourself. in light of all the struggles and conflict within the noble clans of inzauma, you were happy to find a home within the people you cherished.

"AUNTIE! auntie!" two giggling and nearly identical figures come running up to you, hugging at either of your legs. akio is the one who exclaims out, asking "when did you come home?"

kentaro, tugging gently on the skirt of your kimono on your left, though curious, refrains from being as loud as his counterpart. "is everything okay, auntie?"

you kneel down, embracing the two in a tight hug, ruffling their burgundy hair just enough to get them to exclaim out. you supposed they were at the age where they liked to keep up appearances, even if just a little. "now now, didn't your mother teach you it's rude to bombard guests with questions all at once? hm?"

reaching out to poke him lightly on the cheek, kentaro makes a frown, mumbling a small "told you so" to his brother, who in return sticks his tongue out. you let go of them, opting to hold their hands instead.

"auntie and cousin sora are going to be staying here for a while, there's some building going on back at uncle's mansion. is that okay with the twins?" you feel a small pang in your heart at the mention of your husband, whom the twins hardly ever see.

the two nod, akio once again speaking first. "that's okay with kentaro and akio! i hope the building gets done soon!"

kentaro hums in agreement. "as long as auntie is comfortable in our home."

"akio! kentaro! where are my little boys?" emica calls them from the entrance of the courtyard, waving lightly to you. the boys respond accordingly, going to run off to their mother, but not before kissing you on either side of your cheeks and racing off.

standing up once more, you wave back to your sister-in-law before she heads in with the boys, reminding you of why you came out to the courtyard, to begin with. "okaasan?"

sora stands behind you, a couple of sakura blooms in her hands, the beautiful pink petals still crackling a little with electro. you smile warmly, holding your arms out to catch her in your arms and hoist her on her hip.

"having fun?" sora giggles, nodding and showing you the bloom in her hand. her vision glows on her headband, lavender strands of hair threatening to spill out from behind the hairpiece.

"akio and kentaro were showing me around the garden and i thought okaasan might like a sakura bloom!" her smile is proud and chuckle.

"well, it's very beautiful, thank you." the two of you watch as she brings her powers to life, electrifying the petals only to scatter them in the air above. "where did you learn to do that?"

sora giggles. "guuji yae! i finished my lessons at the shrine early and she said to practice this so i could show you." pausing, she continues the next part a little softly. "okaasan's been sad lately and hasn't been playing with sora..."

an ache pulls at your heart. "awh, my sweet, i'm sorry," you apologize, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. "it's true, okaasan's been a little sad lately."

her small hands go to twist lightly at your hair. "does okaasan's heart hurt? sora's heart hurts a little when she's sad too!"

oh, my little sora...

"y-yeah... okaasan's heart hurts a little." you watch her expression carefully, her violet irises continuing to be attentive to your hair.

she taps her chin, as if to think. "hmm, kentaro says to get better from being sad you have to say 'farewell' to the things that make your heart hurt." sora smiles as she lets go of your hair, seemingly satisfied with her styling job. her eyes focus on your own.

"sora loves otosan, but if okaasan is sad, sora thinks it's okay to say bye-bye."

the pink sakura petals have begun to rain down, floating slowly with the absence of wind. sora cuddles softly against your chest, yawning softly. you think back to when ayato had called you naive to hope for love. "sora loves okaasan too."

you stare at the falling petals, the courtyard shifting in hues with the setting sun. it is quiet where you stand holding sora, the trees mute and the clouds watchful as they pass a mother and daughter from overhead.

your chest does not feel heavy when you weep this time, but rather, the ache seems to lessen as you cry softly with sora against you. it smells like spring all around you and you are comfortable in your kimono in the early evening. there are potted glazed lilies that have begun to peek out to watch you, the naku weed glowing softly around the perimeter. perennials all around have also begun to fill the greenery with pretty colors.

just as seasons change, you thought, so should you.

part 1 ! | part 3 ! | part 4 ! | part 5 ! (still in progress)

© tb3ih mmxxii all rights reserved.

[eternal-love]

Austin and Me

“Fairytale wedding”

“Wife to the ‘king’. Icon to the world. Destined for more.”

Summary: At 18 years old, she fell in love with Austin, at 20 years old, she became his wife, by 22, she was his doll. In which Cynthia’s life changed drastically after falling head over heels with a man that promised her the moon and the stars. She takes us down the memory lane of what could’ve been— the perfect marriage.

Inspired by the book: Elvis and me by Priscilla Presley.

I do not condemn any of the portrayals I decide to do about certain people, it’s just fanfiction. And it would be divided in parts.

English isn’t my first language so I’m trying my best!

Part 1, Part 2

Weddings are supposed to be big and beautiful days for the bride to celebrate her upcoming life, well mine wasn’t. Being pregnant before marriage was a huge no with my parents, so I was terrified to tell them. I was 20! I wasn’t even out of their house yet. I had to tell Austin first, but I was terrified, what if he didn’t want to have a baby? He was 27.

At first he was perplexed, he blinked a thousand times more than I’ve ever seen anyone in my life. I was ready for him to shout and blame me but he didn’t.

“I’m gonna be a daddy…” Austin muttered under his breath before a smile appeared on his face. He grabbed me and kissed me all over the face. “We’re gettin’ married, baby!”

I was giggling excitedly, it was the weirdest thing I’ve ever lived. Ever since I was a young girl, I’ve always dreamed of having a romantic proposal— not this. But I read the room and un destroys that he was short on money. We thrifted my rings that same night, to me it was beautiful.

I waited a while before telling my parents, we were having dinner at him. My mom and dad sat besides each other in front of me, meanwhile my younger sister and brother sat on each side of me. I had kept my hand hidden and kept trying to use my left hand but the excitement got to me.

“I’m getting married.” I said nervously as I showed off my ring.

“You’re what?” My mother put her utensils down slowly, so did my dad.

“Austin… proposed.” I stuttered once again. “I said yes.”

“You do know what this means, do you, Cynthia?” My father said sternly as he wiped his mouth with a napkin.

“I know…” I knew he wanted me out of the house as soon as the wedding took place, I would only be able to visit home and never stay here again, just like my older sister did. “I’ll be out of the house once the reception is done.”

After dinner I was in my room, dreading the decision I made hours ago, was I even ready to be married? I loved Austin but to spend all my life with him. Soon enough my mom and younger sister were there with me, laying in bed, talking to each other.

“Y te juro que el me hablo pero bien lindo, ¿cómo lo iba a rechazar? (And I swear he talked to me sweetly, how could I reject him?)” I groaned to my mother, my little sister giggled.

“Yo se, yo se (I know, I know).” My mother rubbed my head softly. At the end of the day, I’d only have my mother to cry to.

“Can I be a bridesmaid?” My 12 year old sister asked excitedly, the same exact excitement I felt when my older sister got married and I had the privilege of being one of her bridesmaids.

“Of course.” I told her with a big smile.

————————————

I always wanted to have a big wedding, like the ones of fairytales. With the big dress and big wedding, I tried to tell Austin that but he was quick to always shut down my wishes.

“Baby, a big wedding it’s just too much work for the both of us. And I ain’t going to risk our baby.” Austin said as he placed his hand on my lower stomach.

“I know I just— I’ve always dreamed of my wedding being big and beautiful.” I said softly as I then pressed my lips together.

“Now— what happened to the twinkle in your eyes?” Austin rubbed my cheek softly. “All that matter is that we’ll be husband and wife, and that we’ll have a small baby with us…”

He made me feel as if wanting a big wedding was just a silly and egoistic wish, how dare I want to stress myself planning wedding and harming his baby on the process?

We looked through a bunch of salons for the reception and we ended up finding one we both liked. It was pretty and small, to keep it private like Austin wanted. I already had on mind how I wanted to look that day, my mind was all over Priscilla Presley’s wedding look. I wanted that bouffant and a similar dress, I was already skinny but with the pregnancy— I looked bloated. I needed a vintage wedding dress and so I went on the look out for one. Austin had bought himself a nice tuxedo, he had recently dyed his hair black because of a Broadway play he was doing.

The day of the actual wedding, I was excited beyond belief. I woke up at 4 AM, so did my mother and sisters. I did my makeup on my own but my room was a mess, my older sister, Jackie and my younger sister, Pattie, we’re getting ready there with me. I did my usual glam— just this time I added three pairs of falsies, Jackie helped me do my hair that day, she helped me tease it into a bouffant, then my mother helped me put on my veil. I would be lying if I said my father didn’t cry, it was the first time I saw him cry in all my life, he just hugged me tight.

The wedding was quick, we said our vows but the good part would be the reception. As we entered the salon, the guests were already there as ‘Venus’ by Frankie Avalon played on the background, I felt so— lucky. I was marrying who I thought was the love of my life.

“I’m so happy, baby.” Austin said as we sat at our table, he was squeezing my hand.

“Me too.” I whispered back to him.

My dad ended up accepting Austin as my husband, as he watched how Austin handled me so tenderly, how his big hands cupped my face, how his hand wandered around my waist as we talked to guests, how he kissed my cheeks countless of times.

“My little girl’s gonna be a good wife.” *My dad told Austin as they shook hands. Then my dad walked up to me and hugged me again, crying again as he took a step back to watch me. “Mija, tú sabes que tu mamá y yo siempre vamos a estar para lo que tú necesites (Mija, you know that your mama and I will always be here whenever you need us.)” My father said sweetly.

I cried a lot that day too, I never wanted to stop living with my family, we were very close, but I was maturing and growing up, I was starting my own family and I had to be strong.

Austin and I got married on February 12th, 2018, while I was one month into my pregnancy. We went back to his house, he carried me bridal style and laid me on the bed, he got on top of me, he kissed me.

“My wife.” He whispered softly before kissing me passionately.

It’s not like it would be my first time with him— but it felt magical. I don’t know why I felt so taken care of. I was scared, I never knew you could have sex while being pregnant, but he told me he had been doing his research. He made sweet love to me that night.

I was now Mrs. Butler— it had a nice ring to it.

I know some of y’all might not like Austin on this fanfic! He might be an asshole half the time.

[anna-n-hetfield]

Sweetheart Like You

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x OC!female

Summary: Elaine’s vault practices arranged marriages, and she feels trapped. What happens when the bride offers start to come and her father choses the worst one?

Warnings: arranged marriage, mention of abuse.

Author’s note: The Ghoul isn’t in this chapter just yet.

Masterlist || Two

Growing up as the only daughter was hard on Elaine. Her father had high expectations for her like staying presentable for the suitors that would be coming around. Her mother had told her that one day a man would offer them the right bride price, and that she was to marry him. Her two brothers worked the fields in their vault, and they were constantly flirting with every girl there or from the nearby vaults. But she wasn’t even allowed to say hello to a boy her age for fear of looking impure.

Elaine was expected to dress as modestly as possible. The only time that the woman were allowed to wear the vault suits was when there was a vault meeting and when they went to the surface for the gardens. Honestly there were only a few who went to the gardens which were the gardeners, and Elaine was a teacher.

Elaine wanted to find love and end up with the right one that she chose, not her father. She didn’t want the fights that her parents had, and she didn’t want to not know who she was going to spend the rest of her life with. So when the offers started to come in, she begged her father to let her choose. He just shushed her and said, “This money is for us since we will be losing your income. I must decide on the highest price, not your feelings.”

”But I should have some say in who I’m with,” she argued. Her brown hair fell in her face.

Her blue eyes looked at her father’s aging face. His hair was losing the brown and going more and more gray with each month. It was going to be long before it would all be gray. His matching eyes met hers, shooting daggers.

���Elaine, you will marry who I tell you to. There’s nothing to worry about. All of these offers are from people in this vault, so you will at least get to see us,” he replied with anger in his voice. His dark eyebrows were drawn tight, showing his frustration.

“I don’t know them. What if they are mean? What if they hit me?” she asked. Her hands were clenched at her side. Elaine knew that this was pointless. Her father couldn’t be reasoned with. It had always been his way or no way. It was how he got on the vault council after all.

”Then you don’t give them a reason to be mean or to hit you!” he yelled, slamming his hands down on the table. “Now, stop arguing about this with me. This is the way things are done. Your mom didn’t get to decide, and neither will your future sisters-in-law. That’s just how it is done!”

Elaine’s mouth fell open in shock. She had never seen him like this. The anger in his body kept him tense. Backing away from him, she left his office and headed towards the door to leave the dorm. Elaine wasn’t going to stay here with him in a rage like that especially when it is directed towards her.

Her pipboy dinged with a message from Jacob Lawrence. He was an electrician that she had been talking to and somewhat flirting with. She had seen him at several vault meetings, and he had approached her after one of those meetings when she happened to be alone. Everyone knew that you didn’t just approach an unmarried girl without going to their father. Elaine had hoped to see if it could work with him, but she didn’t know how much the bride offer would for her would be.

Meet me in class.

The message was simple and meant to be that way. If someone saw it, it could be easily explained off. She would be disowned entirely if the whole vault knew that she was meeting up with a man. Plus, she didn’t know how her father would react. The best case would be that you would just remain unmarried, but be on your own. The worst case, you would be sent to the wastelands off of the entire vault grounds. Elaine wasn’t prepared for that yet.

Elaine let that thought go as she turned down the hall and opened the door to her classroom. Jacob turned towards her, and the smile on his face almost made her forget about what her father said. She ran into his arms, hoping that her father wouldn’t notice she was gone right then.

”What’s the matter?” he asked, his rough voice a whisper in her ear. His dark hair brushed along her skin.

Elaine was shocked a bit by the fact that he seemed to know something was up with her, but how did she explain this to Jacob? He never really seemed to think much about the bride offers or at least he didn’t bring it up to her.

”The bride offers are coming in, and my father has said that he isn’t allowing me to have a choice or at least some say in that matter,” she replied, tears starting to form.

Jacob’s arms tightened around her. “Hush, I’ll put in a good bid. One he can’t refuse,” he assured her. His hands rubbed her back as he held her.

Elaine sighed heavily. “I don’t want the whole bride offer thing. I want to be able to freely choose who I marry, not who my father chooses,” she pointed out.

Jacob pulled back and looked at her confused. “But that is how it has always been done! Every vault does it,” he explained. “It’s tradition. I promise your father will choose me.”

Shock was an understatement. Elaine had never talked about this with him before, but this was his response to her worry. She opened her mouth to say something as she pulled away from him, but didn’t know what to reply with. How would someone respond to that? Jacob seemed okay with the tradition.

A bell rang announcing curfew. She pulled back and said goodnight to Jacob. When he offered to walk her back to her place, she shook her head and said, “What would people think if they saw us together and you escorting me?”

He blushed and nodded. “You’re right. But you will see. Harvey will find that I am the best option,” he said, clearly trying to assure her.

They stepped out of the classroom while looking around to make sure no one was around. There was a sigh of relief from him when there was only them. It may be easy to say that he needed help with something academically, but her being 25 and the bride offers coming in. It would be too suspicious, and it would get back to her father. It wouldn’t benefit her to anger him anymore that he already was.

”Goodnight, Elaine,” he said, heading off towards the dorms.

Elaine watched him disappear into the halls for a second and wandered over to the elevator that lead to the surface. What was it like up there? Were there still people on the surface? Did they arrange marriages like they did here in the vaults or did they just do what they wanted? She looked down at her pipboy seeing a curfew warning pop up. She felt like breaking down in tears. How was she the only one who felt like this?

The other girls always seemed excited when the bride offers started to come in. Always talking about the best ones and who they hoped their father would choose. She even remembered one gushing about how her father let her look at the applications before choosing. Yet, she was the one that had been dreading this, and as she looked back at the elevator, she wondered just how bad was it on the surface.

***

The next few days, Elaine had been avoiding her father which was easy enough with him locked away in his office. She went to work, pretending like there was nothing wrong. And on her way back to the dorm she went by the elevator. She would stop and stare at it for a few minutes. Today though she wasn’t alone.

”Life up there is dangerous.” The voice came from behind Elaine which made her turn and see an elderly woman with a cane walking up to her. “It’s much safer down here.”

”I don’t know why you say such things,” Elaine said, trying to hide her inner feelings.

”I know that look. Running away may sound good, but you can’t possibly know how much more desperate people are up there,” she replied. Her weathered skin showed that she had to be a gardener when she was younger. “No one is safe up there.”

”But at least they aren’t being sold off by their own,” she muttered under her breath.

The elderly woman shook her head. “Just know that the grass isn’t always greener on the other side just because it looks like it,” she said as she started to walk off.

Her pipboy dinged. Her mother was calling her home, saying that there was something exciting waiting for her.