#you could have used arianne

[mydemimonde]

'Baby Said' — Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Reader

divider is from @plutism

a/n: this idea came up after listening to 'baby said' by maneskin on loop, love them sm and that song too

Summary: After a few stolen glances and a drink, you walk up to the bar counter where the blonde man that caught your attention is sitting, looking for some fun.

Words: 4061

Warnings: +18 (minors dni), female reader, no use y/n nor specific physical description, desperate reader, swearing, dirty talk, a bit of choking, hand kink, praising, spitting, tiddy sucking, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, slightly dominant aemond, overstim, riding, holy shit so many warnings let me know if i missed one! no proof reading

Strong hands grip your waist as soon as you step foot into the place, soft lips tracing your neck as you grind your ass against his crotch, earning a deep groan from him. He closes the door with his foot and turns your body around to face him, and before he could say anything, you press your lips against his, your hands running over his clothed chest.

He starts walking, pushing you to the nearest wall as your bodies press together. His lips part slightly, letting you slip your tongue inside, and you tilt your head to deepen the kiss. Your hands go all the way up until you get to his broad shoulders, wrapping your arms around him as his hands cupped your ass, making you moan into his mouth.

He pulls away just to attack your neck again, taking his time to kiss, lick and nibble your skin. He pays attention to one particular spot, the one that made you squirm and shiver, something he learned a few moments before. You curse under your breath, and you feel him smirk.

“Eager, are we?” He taunts you, his hand squeezing one of your ass cheeks as you grind against him again, your fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt.

“Aemond, please… no more teasing” you sigh, as if you were annoyed. His blue eyes examining your face, relishing your desperate state —heavy breathing, lips red and swollen, cheeks flushed and enticing eyes.

He brings his hand to your cheek to stroke it as the other one caresses your waist, his head tilted to the side as he smirks. “We have the whole night, baby. No need to hurry” he runs his thumb over your lower lip, your tongue darting out just a little. His eyes widen in surprise when your lips close over his finger, closing your eyes as you suck. When you look at him he’s licking his lips, leaning in again to kiss you passionately, slowly, as if your lips were fragile. The same way he kissed you earlier, in the middle of the dance floor.

It was the second mojito you had with your friends, celebrating that you finally graduated from college. Arianne, your friend from work and college, had suggested that you celebrate by going to the famous nightclub Sunfyre, which was located in one of the most expensive districts in King’s Landing.

So there you were, sitting with your friends around a small round table, the neon lights flickering with the rhythm of the music blasting from the speakers. It was Arianne’s turn to buy the drinks, but this time she went for vodka shots.

You cheered with your friends and at the count of three, you all knocked back the liquid, your eyes closing shut at the burning feeling in your throat. All of you clapped and hollered in celebration, unintentionally attracting the attention of some locals around you, but you actually didn’t care. All you wanted was to have a good time with your friends.

As you listened to one of your other friends Lena talking about some anecdote during her summer holidays, you couldn’t shake off the spine-chilling feeling that you were being watched. You pressed your lips together as your eyes scanned the crowded bar, until you found a pair of blue piercing eyes. A playful smirk adorned the man’s face as he looked at you, he was sitting on a stool leaning against the counter, his back turned to the bartender, legs spread. You’ve never thought that manspreading would look so sexy. You gave him a coy smile before turning your attention back to Lena’s story.

The music played loud in the background, people danced and grinded against each other on the dancefloor, your friends were telling funny anecdotes while you were on the fourth drink of the night and you could still feel the man’s piercing gaze on you. Surprisingly for you it wasn’t at all uncomfortable. It was great for your ego that a man like him was looking at you like that, as if he wanted to devour you. Both of you sneaked glances at each other, but neither of you made a move.

You felt a tap on your shoulder and you whip your head around, as if you were caught doing something wrong. “What the hell are you looking at, hun?” Asked Arianne, almost screaming in your ear above the music. You pressed your lips as she squinted her eyes and looked around, trying to find what —or who— was stealing your attention from them. She gave you a sly grin, lightly slapping your arm repeatedly. “Hot stuff looking at you like you’re a full course meal. C’mon, go over there and talk to the guy! He looks expensive, he could be your sugar daddy” you giggled as she wiggled her eyebrows, taking a sip from her margarita.

What Arianne said was true, he looked rather expensive. His platinum hair combed to one side, clad in effortless style —a black t-shirt with the first two buttons casually undone, the sleeves rolled up revealing his forearms, a pair of dark jeans and polished shoes. You wanted nothing more but to feel his hands on you. Maybe that was the alcohol talking, maybe not. A long time passed since you’ve been properly fucked —your ex broke up with you two years ago, and after that you only had boring dates and bad hookups, leaving you with no other choice but to use your fingers and toys to get yourself off. You needed to get fucked, and this man looked like a good hookup.

Before you could open your mouth to say something, a waitress came up to you and left a drink on the table. You and your friends looked at one another in confusion. “Uhm, sorry, but we didn’t order this…” you pointed at the drink that was placed right in front of you.

“I know. An admirer sent it to you” the blonde woman winked at you and left, Arianne chuckling and the rest of the girls oohing at you. You shake your head and feel your cheeks burning, knowing exactly who sent it. Him.

“It’s a sex on the beach!” exclaimed Arianne. “He’s begging you, honey, and you haven’t had a good shag in a while” she raised an eyebrow at you. You jokingly rolled your eyes and grabbed the glass, turning your attention to the man at the counter, who was unsurprisingly looking at you. You raised the glass and he did the same, cheering with you in the air and at the distance, as he gave you a slight nod. Both of you took a sip of your respective beverages, keeping eye contact.

You placed the glass back on the table, stirring your drink with the straw as you thought about what to do next, the alcohol making you feel more courageous to do something and Arianne’s words ringing in your head. “Hey, mind if I leave you for a bit? ‘M gonna talk to that guy” you got off the stool and point at the counter with a movement of your head, your friends making high-pitched sounds of victory at your decision.

“Go get that dick!” Whispered-shouted Lena, Arianne hitting the table repeatedly. You blew them a kiss and grabbed your sex on the beach, strutting down to the guy. As soon as he saw you his smirk got wider and he sat straighter, looking at you like you were his prey.

“Hi there” you said as you sat in the stool next to him, the short dress you were wearing hiking up your thigh just a little bit.

“Hey. Enjoying the night?” His voice was deep and smooth, making you feel all sorts of things in your stomach. He moved so that he was facing you, his forearm resting on the counter.

You nodded. “Yeah. Graduation and all, quite the occasion to celebrate.”

He lifted an eyebrow, eyes examining your figure. “Oh? Congratulations, then. Cheers.” He replied and again, raised his cup to toast with you. You smiled at him and your glasses clinked. You drank and then, he brought a hand to his chest, as if he was apologising. “Sorry if I seemed too forward by inviting you for a drink. Didn’t dare to interrupt your conversation with your friends when you were so into it... didn't seem fair to steal you from them.”

Now it was your turn to smile. You turned your body towards him too, resting one arm on the counter and crossing your legs. “It’s okay. I was actually going to talk to you, eventually. My friends were insisting.”

He chuckled in response. “Well, thank your friends for me. I’m Aemond Targaryen.” Targaryen… the surname did ring a bell. You introduced yourself as well, and both began talking, enjoying each other’s company. He was leaning over you more and more with each passing minute, and when his fingers grazed over your arm you felt electric shocks all over your body, his gaze on you was so intense you could barely form any coherent thought. He was so close that you could smell his cologne, something spicy and leathery, utterly intoxicating.

“Would you like to dance?” He suggested, narrowing his eyes.

“Of course” he stood up and offered you his hand, which you gladly took. You noticed how tall he was, towering over you and making you feel small. You led him to the middle of the dance floor, and on the way there, out of the corner of your eye, you saw your friends watching you two, proud smiles on their faces.

When you got there your body started moving to the rhythm of the music, feeling Aemond’s hands on your waist as you danced. Your bodies were pressed together amidst the sea of people, feeling his breath on your neck as he moved with you. Feeling bold you started grinding against his body, bringing one hand up to place it on the nape of his neck, his hands lightly squeezing the flesh of your waist. The place was getting more and more crowded; the lights flickering and the fake smoke coming from the fog machines were making it harder to see clearly.

His eyes lowered to your lips when you turned to face him, he started leaning in slowly until his nose nudged against yours. You closed your eyes as you felt his soft lips moving against yours, tenderly yet passionately. His hands cupped your face as his tongue explored your mouth, cocking his head to the side. No one’s ever kissed you like that, he was such a good kisser.

Your hands found their way around his slim waist, the kiss was getting more and more intense that you had to pull back for a moment to catch your breaths. If it weren’t for that, you would still be kissing him nonstop. Aemond took the opportunity to leave soft pecks along your jaw, going down the side of your neck until he sucked on a particular spot that made you throw your head back and whine. It didn’t matter that you were in the middle of the dancefloor, surrounded by people —they were engrossed in dancing and drinking, it’s not like they were looking at you—. You just wanted him.

As if he could read your mind, he looked at you. “Shall we get out of here?”

And that’s how you ended up in the apartment of this stranger, kissing and fumbling with each other’s clothes, feeling his erection on your thigh as he hiked up your dress to feel your skin. Aemond pulls back just to kiss your neck again, it’s like he’s addicted to that part of your body. He grabs your legs and picks you up so easily, you wrap your legs around his waist as he starts moving to find a more comfortable place.

You finally get to unbutton his shirt, running your hands all over the visible skin. He isn’t ripped like the guys at the gym, but you can tell that he certainly works out. He almost trips on the way to his bed, chuckling at the way your hands shake when you start unbuckling his jeans. “Fuck, you’re really desperate, huh?” He deposits you on the comfortable bed, looking at him as he takes off his shirt, your breathing heavy when he unbuckles his jeans, getting rid of them quickly, his cock straining against his white boxers.

Aemond grabs you by the ankles and drags you towards him, making you yelp. He lifts one of your legs to undo the straps of your stilettos, and as he does the same with the other you prop up on your arms to take a moment to appreciate him. His tousled hair, his knitted brows in concentration, his slightly parted lips, his long, aquiline nose and the small and almost invisible freckles adorning his shoulders.

When he’s done he hovers over you, arms on either side of your body as he leans in for another kiss. He’s positioned in between your legs and brings one hand to your chest, cupping your right breast over the dress. You whine in his mouth and he smirks. “I love those little sound you make for me… makes me wonder how you would sound when I-”

“Aemond, shut up and fuck me already” you interrump him in an irritated and desperate tone, catching him by surprise. He stares at you, mouth agape before grinning.

“Relax baby, I’m gonna do just that, but… you’re too dressed for my liking” his fingers start pulling the straps of your dress down. He lets out a gasp when he sees you naked, except for your lacy black panties. He stares at your tits and bites his lip, fingers pinching your nipples. “You’ve got beautiful tits, baby.” He immediately takes one of them in his mouth, his tongue swirling around the pebbled nipple, making you throw your head back and whine, your fingers tangling in his hair.

You grind your hips against his, trying to get some friction on your aching cunt. You’re sure you’re dripping by now, he’s got you like that since the moment he laid eyes on you. Aemond moves his hand down your body while he continues sucking on your nipple. When he finally gets to the place you needed him most, both of you release a moan.

“Fuck, you’re soaking wet.” Aemond says in a low and raspy voice when his fingertips meet the wet spot in your underwear. He kisses every inch of your skin before getting in between your legs and slides down your panties, pleased with the view of your glistening entrance. He traces two of his fingers along your slit, feeling your arousal coating them. “You’re fucking dripping on my fingers, baby. Hmm, the things I could do to this sweet pussy.”

You moan at his filthy words, breath heavy as you watch him kiss and nibble your inner thighs before giving your pussy a tentative lick, eyes set on you, revelling in the way you writhe and whine. Your hands tug at his hair instinctively as he gently sucks on your clit, then he licks the length of your cunt, his grunts sending vibrations all over you.

“Oh, f-fuck, yes” you squeal, eyes closed shut as he buries his face between your thighs, lapping at you eagerly, his nose rubbing expertly against your bud. He pushes you down with his arm when you start bucking your hips, preventing you from moving as he keeps feasting on your cunt. “Don’t— s-stop!” You gasp, back arching as pleasure invades your senses, the band in your stomach growing tighter.

“Y’ gonna cum, pretty girl?” Aemond murmurs around your clit, a small huff leaving his lips when your thighs wrap around his head, pulling him even closer. “C’mon baby, lemme hear you. Cum all over my mouth” He coaxes before sucking your clit again, swirling his tongue around the bud as you fall apart on his tongue, whines and high-pitched moans spilling past your lips. “Atta girl” he praises you as you try to recover from the mindblowing orgasm he gave you. He doesn’t stop sucking at your folds, the erotic slurping noises of his mouth making you blush, licking every single drop of your arousal. Aemond wipes his chin, coated in your juices, and hovers over you again, covering your face with kisses. “You taste divine, pretty girl. You did so good for me.”

He brings his arm above your head, fingers playing with your hair while his other hand gently squeezes your cheeks. “Open” you do as told and he spits in your mouth, you gladly swallow before he kisses you. You moan into his mouth when you feel his index and middle fingers tease your wet entrance. He pulls back to watch your reactions as he slides them in, gingerly moving them, curling them and reaching the rough patch inside you, making you gasp. He smirks. “That’s the spot, hmm?” Aemond finger fucks you, leaving open mouthed kisses along your neck and jaw. You breathe heavily, feeling another orgasm already building. “Fuck, can feel you squeezing my fingers, love. Let go, pretty girl.” His jaw drops open as he watches you come, groaning when he feels your cunt clenching around his fingers. Your lips form a perfect O shape, eyes closed shut and legs trembling. “You look so pretty when you cum, baby.”

When you open your eyes you find Aemond staring at you, a soft smile adorning his face. “There she is,” she caresses your cheek and you chuckle, bringing one of your hands to his boxers. He gulps when you start palming him, feeling how hard he is. He gets rid of his boxers and his cock springs out, the tip already leaking precum. You’ve never seen such a nice cock in your life, all you want to do is put your mouth on it. He reads your mind, once again. “You can suck me another day, all I want now is to bury my cock inside you. Is that okay, pretty girl?” You nod eagerly and sit on the bed, pushing him onto the mattress as you straddle him, taking him by surprise. “Well, well, well.” He chuckles darkly, feeling your hands travel all over his chest and abdomen. He reaches out for a condom in the drawer next to his bed, but you stop him.

“I’m okay without. I’m clean and on the pill, I really want to feel you” you bite your lip, hoping he says yes. Aemond smirks, telling you he’s clean as well, and you lean in for a tender, passionate kiss. You move one hand to grab him, slowly guiding him into your entrance. Both of you let out breathy moans when the tip slides in your wet cunt, stretching you.

“Holy s-shit” Aemond’s head is thrown back, jaw clenched and hands on either side of your hips, his fingers digging in. When you sink down onto him completely, you stay there for a moment, trying to adjust to his size. Your nails rake down his chest and he whines, eyes sweeping over your figure. His hands also travel through your body, up your thighs until he reaches your breasts, gently squeezing them. His hands are big, you noticed.

You start moving up and down his length, moaning and whimpering and head thrown back. “You feel so good, Aemond. Fuck” you murmur, bouncing on his cock. You feel him curse under you, his hips meeting yours in every thrust, filling you to the brim. You let out a particularly high-pitched moan when he brings one hand to your throat.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you?” Aemond rasps, licking his lips before applying more pressure, slightly choking you as you continue moving, increasing your pace. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull at the feeling of his hands wrapped around your throat, driving you closer and closer to your orgasm. “God, you’re squeezing so deliciously, sweet girl. Y’ gonna cum all over my cock, hmm?”

“Oh my God, yes, fuck, fuck, fuck!” You say through strangled moans, cunt clenching around him as you come, collapsing on his chest. He immediately wraps his arms around you as he keeps thrusting up into you, not letting you rest. He flips both of you over, fucking you slowly. You sob when his thumb circles over your sensitive bud, trying to squirm away. “T-too much, please.”

Aemond cocks his head and frowns. “Can’t take another one, huh? I thought you wanted me to fuck you, pretty girl.” He taunts, voice trembling as he ruts into you. You grasp onto his shoulders, nails digging into his skin and tears welling up in your eyes from the amount of pleasure and overstimulation you were receiving. “You can give me another one, baby, c’mon. I know you can” he coos, kissing and nibbling your neck.

He watches with a wicked grin as your mouth hangs open, whines and moans escaping and eyes fluttering when the head of his cock repeatedly hits your sweet spot. “Fucking come, baby, soak my cock.” Aemond commands. The squelching sounds of your cunt while he fucks you together with his praises and moans are enough to make the knot in your stomach finally snap. You moan his name loudly, your legs shaking around his waist.

In the back of your head, you hear Aemond grunting and growling, the sounds he makes are distant over the blood rushing through your ears; but you notice his thrusts becoming sloppier and his cock twitching inside you. “Fuck, fuck, baby, I’m gonna- fucking gonna cum.” That’s what brings you back to your senses, you open your heavy lidded eyes and watch him come. With a few more thrusts he spills himself inside you, coating your walls in warm spend. You’ve never seen nor heard someone come so beautifully, the sight was enough to make you let out a small moan.

His lips were parted, brows knitted together and body shaking above you. Aemond rests his head in the crook of your neck as you try to come down from your highs, embracing each other. You stay like that for a moment before he moves his head to look at you, small drops of sweat trickling down his forehead. You smile at him and close the distance by placing your lips on his, kissing him sensually.

After the make out session, Aemond pulls out of you slowly, hissing at the loss of contact. You bite your lip when you feel his cum leaking out of your pussy, he gathers it and presses it back slowly before giving a kiss to your centre.

He goes to the bathroom and brings wet cloths to clean you up, being careful not to hurt you. When both of you are done, he hands you your panties. You look too tired to stand up, but you know you have to go. After all, it was just a one night stand, and you have to work tomorrow.

“You can stay the night, if you want” Aemond suggests after putting on his boxers. He can really read your mind, it’s kinda creepy, you think. “I mean, it’s too late to go back to your apartment, plus there’s a storm coming.” He presses his lips, as if telling you that you had no choice but to stay.

After weighing your options, you decide to stay. He grins and hands you one of his t-shirts, so that you don’t have to sleep in your dress —or naked. You put it on, smelling the clean fabric and lie down on the comfy mattress, covering yourself with the soft sheets. Aemond lies next to you, and after wishing each other good night, you drift off to sleep.

The next morning, Aemond wakes up to the sound of his annoying alarm. He runs his hands over his face, and looks around the room when he doesn’t find you. A small yellow post it note on top of his drawer catches his attention. He reads it and smiles. You left your phone number and your name below.

“Thanks for an amazing night. Text me if you want to grab some coffee or if you want to do it again ;)”

taglist: @melsunshine @tsujifreya @fan-goddess

[viperixsworld]

GUTS, luke castellan x oc(prologue)

summary: where an aphordite daugther falls for this lying hermes boy.

disclaimer: english is not my firt language.

We don't get to choose who we fall in love with.

Arianne knew that. She believed it to her core. Love was something magical and illogical. Her own father, said it when he told her about her mom. Apparently, she was a beautiful young woman that crossed paths with Nicholas Deveraux (her father) during his travels in Europe before officially settle down in the family business in Chicago.

Everyone expected that Nicholas would come back from Europe with a bad tan and a few souvenirs, not a freaking newborn baby daugther.

Nicholas was a loving father, but not a really smart man. That is It's one of the reasons she didn't question when a man showed up at her Chicago home, offering her only daughter a scholarship to a prestigious boarding school.

Arianne came to camp half-blood when she was thirteen years old. After some encounters with several monsters, Chiron himself went to her doorstep in Chicago to get her to camp.

Nevertheless, during her arrival there was an incident. An incident involving three more demigod, a satire and a cyclops.

Arianne was claimed a few weeks after the attack, same as the two demigos that survived. Luke Castellan, son of Hermes, and Annabeth Chase, daugther of Atenea.

And let me tell you, Arianne Deveraux didn't choose to fall for the son of the Traveler. It was fate, or maybe was her mother ? She wasn't really sure. They started off as friends, adapting to camp at same time, being the same age, having the same friends.

Arianne was a nice, generous and beautiful girl, she was the perfect definition of an Aphordite daugther. Everyone that knew her personally (and even those who didn't) held her close to their hearts. Knowing that if you had to trust someone, you could trust Arianne Deveraux.

It was also a flaw, being the goodie older sister of Camp Half-blood.

At sixteen, she was named captain of Aphordite cabin. At the same time, Luke Castellan was named captain of Hermes cabin. They started to spend more time together, attending bonefire together, sparring together... Then the gifts started, Luke liked how her eyes would shine everytime she opened a present, no matter how stupid or simple. He would get her little details, It was his way of showing love, his love language, and her siblings would beg her to ask Luke to please, please, get them things for the cabin.

On the othet hand, Arianne would be (even without her knowing) the best of the presents for Luke. She was kind and beautiful, and gave him all the attetion he craved. And even Annabeth liked her, and would let her do her hair when she was tired. She was a part of their little, broken family.

Sometimes, Ari would cover up for Luke, when he sneak out to get things for other half-bloods and for himself. Like a PlayStation or some chess board for Annabeth, or his little presents for Ari.

Sometimes, Luke would sneak her in the Big House, to use the phone to talk to her father.

Every friday night, the would sit in the shore of the lake, to talk about everything or to be completly silent. Every time the scar on Luke's face hurt, Ari would stay by his side and try to ease the pain. Every time Ari felt like the stress of carring everyones problems and her owns, Luke was there to relieve her.

They were partners in crime, always there for each other.

That, until an enemy emerges from the shadows and resentment.

That, until one betrays the other.

Until Arianne Deveraux feels love and hate in her guts.

[theswordwrites]

PART ONE (the alchemy)

Juniper receives good news and has no choice but to celebrate with her closest friends, leading her right into the path of Aemond Targaryen (again.)

(TW: 18+ partying, drug use, nothing too crazy!)

word count: 4.3k

NEXT PART

By midnight, June’s feet ached in the heels required by her uniform. It was ridiculous, truly. The gala attendees barely looked at her for longer than a few seconds, so why was she squeezed into a cocktail dress that had probably been handed down a dozen times and shoes that made her calves tense and sore for days? As she ran drinks to and from tables, flashing her best million-dollar smile, she reminded herself the paycheck would be worth it. Her rent would be paid, her credit card debt knocked down, and she could finally buy the cat tree that had been sitting in her online shopping cart for weeks. Maybe she’d even splurge on a night out at The Velvet Throne with her roommate, Arianne, and their friends.

After a night working the Green Party’s latest altruistic-yet-off-putting kickoff gala, she would need at least four martinis and a cigarette. She had spotted Alicent Hightower, as beautiful as ever, gliding through the room in a deep sage silk gown. June wasn’t sure what the gala was raising money for, but they had raised a hell of a lot of it. She had to admit, Alicent was so stunning she might have emptied her own pockets for her, too. The Targaryen-Hightower children had made an appearance. The eldest—whose name escaped her—was drunk by the time the opening speeches began. Helaena had left early, trailed by three bodyguards. She’d seen the second son, Aemond, only from behind. Taller than his older brother, and surprisingly, not wearing green. Odd, considering the rumor was he was at odds with party advisors ahead of the election.

That morning, Arianne, Edith, and Seraphina had dissected the election over bagels and coffee. Edith claimed he seemed different from his father, with more progressive policies aimed at gaining the younger generation's vote. Arianne rolled her eyes and insisted he might put on a good show, but he was just as much a Targaryen as his father, with his scheming grandfather pulling the strings. “I’m sure he’ll say anything to get into office, and once he’s there, he’ll line his pockets like the rest of them.”

June had stayed quiet, editing her thesis on her laptop and mulling over her use of the word "delve." She had no faith in the system, nor those who upheld it. But she had heard a speech Aemond had given about student debt, arguing that education shouldn't have a price because knowledge was power, and everyday people deserved to hold it. It intrigued her—how young he was, and the impact that could have. She promised herself she would research more closer to the election and do her duty as a citizen of Westeros. Her brain was too full of edits and deadlines to give it much space now.

“June, we need more champagnes to the front table, like right now,” one of the other servers hissed at her, voice anything but subtle. She nodded and forced her aching legs to move.

At the table sat the Hightowers and their equally powerful, politically savvy friends. She spotted Larys Strong, who had served the late Prime Minister, looking as intense and off-putting as ever as he leaned on his cane. Jason Lannister's spray tan was a shade too deep, and June had to bite back a giggle. How could someone be so rich and yet so blind? Surely, he could hire someone to remind him that a few hours was more than enough.

She set the glasses down gently, adding a smile and a dragon-embossed napkin. June tried to ignore that Alicent Hightower was looking at her but managed a polite, “Is there anything else I can get for you?”

“I think we’re okay for now, thank you,” Alicent replied, her voice as graceful as her movements.

June smiled again, hoping her lipstick hadn’t smudged, and glanced around the table. The eldest Targaryen son sat to Alicent’s left, and next to him was Aemond, the current parliamentary candidate. He was all sharp lines and elegance, with blue eyes that were now fixed on her. June paled, frozen in place. Her gaze traveled from his silver hair to the scar etched over his eye and then to the gold signet ring on his pinky.

He was a Targaryen in every sense of the word, elegantly leaned back in his chair, hands folded on the table, eyes like steel.

The seconds stretched into an eternity before her brain caught up with her body. With another awkward grin and a slight tilt of her head, she turned—no, scurried—away.

Nothing embarrassed June more than feeling out of place. And that had been mortifying.

Back in the kitchen, she sipped water and fanned her face, hoping she wasn’t too flushed. She quickly asked the manager—an older woman with a sharp determination to break in the new servers—if she could take her first break. The manager nodded, and June didn’t waste a second before slipping outside. The cool air of a late August evening felt refreshing against her skin, drawing out some of the heat as she leaned against the brick wall. Her phone dinged.

TO: JUNIPER GREYSONFROM: DR. ORWYLE

Miss Greyson,

I apologize for the late correspondence. I have just received confirmation that your dissertation has been approved by the committee. Please call my office tomorrow morning to set a date for your defense.

CongratulationsSent from my iPhone

She squealed—a high-pitched, elated sound that escaped before she could stop it. It didn’t matter who heard. She had spent three years on that thesis, hours upon hours of research and writing and scraping by, and now she’d done it. Her fingers found Arianne’s contact, and she didn't care if the brunette was with her “so-not-my-girlfriend” girlfriend.

After a single ring, Arianne answered, “Junie! Are you off work yet?”

“No, not yet. Another hour, maybe. Do you have a second?”

“For my beautiful, smart, strawberry blonde best friend? Of course!” June could picture her now, animated, hands moving as she spoke. Arianne always had a flair for the dramatic—and for flattery, which June usually appreciated.

“It got approved! My thesis, I mean. Dr. Orwyle just emailed. It’s going to committee as soon as I set a date.”

Through the phone came another excited, ear-piercing squeal.

“Oh, Seven! June, that’s incredible! I knew you could do it!”

“I—” June stuttered, adrenaline catching up to her, “I think I’m in shock. I expected another round of edits, you know? The conclusion didn’t feel right on the last read—”

Arianne cut her off before she could spiral into self-doubt. “Breathe, Junie. You got approved! That’s the only thing that matters right now. Any chance you can leave early so we can celebrate?”

June glanced from her phone to the open kitchen door. “Give me twenty minutes, and I’ll be home.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Arianne, Edith, and Seraphina were waiting for her with wide grins and a drink in hand when she finally stumbled through the front door. In the mere twenty minutes it had taken June to get home, they had somehow managed to drape a glittering “Congratulations!” banner across the mantle, fill the room with balloons, and crack open a bottle of champagne. The faint scent of perfume and laughter filled the air.

Her heart swelled as they swarmed her, squealing and hugging her like they hadn't seen her in years. "Junie, we are so, so proud of you!" Edith sang, throwing her long arms around June in a hug that rocked them back and forth. The others echoed their congratulations, their voices bright and cheerful, brimming with the kind of excitement only best friends can muster.

They didn’t give her a chance to catch her breath, herded her straight to the bathroom, insisting she shower and change. She let them fuss over her, laughing as they debated outfits, finally settling on something so skimpy it would’ve made her mother clutch her pearls in horror.

For a moment, June thought of her mother, a sharp pang tugging at her chest. She should call her, share the news— but just as quickly, she shoved the thought away, burying it deep. Her mother had been so distant since the accident, so different from the bubbly, over-involved PTA mom who used to cheer too loudly at every recital, every bake sale. It broke June’s heart, but it had been three years, and she had learned to lock those feelings away in a box that she only opened on rare, quiet nights. She was different now too—tougher, more self-reliant. Or at least that’s what she told herself as she swiped concealer under her eyes and dabbed on a thick layer of blush.

"Come on, Junie, let’s go!" Arianne urged, grabbing her arm with a grin. "The Velvet Throne is gonna have a line out the door!"

She barely had time to grab her purse before they were out the door, tumbling into the warm night air. The city buzzed around them—cars honked, street lights flickered, and the distant thrum of music seemed to pulse from every corner. They giggled like schoolgirls as they raced down the street in their high heels, their excitement infectious. After a few glasses of champagne, the ache in her feet had disappeared and she was ready to dance.

When they reached the Velvet Throne, the line was indeed snaking around the block, a mass of people dressed to impress, chattering with anticipation. But Edith, ever the charmer, knew the bouncer. With a coy smile and a flutter of her eyelashes, they were whisked inside and escorted up to the VIP level.

The music hit her like a wave, a deep, pounding bass that vibrated in her chests. One drink turned into two, two into three. The bartender, hearing their redheaded friend was on her way to becoming a doctor, poured them free shots. June held her breath, pinched her nose, and downed it, wincing at the bitter taste but reveling in the warm, numbing sensation that spread through her limbs. The music was so loud it seemed to drown out her thoughts, and for the first time in a long time, she let go.

She danced like she was weightless, the beat coursing through her veins, her friends spinning around her, hair flying, eyes sparkling under the neon lights. They were all in their own little world, a blur of laughter, movement, and joy. At one point, she caught sight of Edith slipping a small baggie from a man in a dark jacket, his expression unreadable.

Edith grabbed her hand, pulling her into a corner and shouting over the music, "Cregan’s at a party at the Keep! He said we’re invited." She opened her palm, revealing the little baggie with a sly grin. "I say we take our new little friend here," she gestured to the baggie, "and head over! Lots of sexy, rich men and free drinks!"

The girls cheered, their excitement infectious, and June felt a surge of adrenaline. This night was far from over.

The Keep was the heart of King’s Landing, home to the city’s wealthiest and most influential residents. The girls had been to a few parties there before, the most memorable being the one where Seraphina ended up spending the night with a Prince from Dorne. They hadn’t let her live it down for months, teasing her with “Your Majesty” until they were breathless with laughter. The prince had texted her the next day, practically begging her to hop on the flight back with him. Sera had only shrugged, saying that while he was amazing in bed and seemed like a nice guy, living in the public eye wasn't for her.

Arianne and Edith had disagreed, dreaming up all the scandalous headlines they’d make if they were ever involved with someone so high-profile. "We’d be the perfect all-Westerosi girls," Arianne had insisted, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

June, as usual, had just nodded and giggled along, content to listen. But now, with the buzz of champagne and a little powder still fresh in her system, she was feeling more chatty. “How did Cregan manage to get into a party at the Keep?” she asked, her voice louder than she intended, her words slightly slurred.

Edith shrugged, adjusting the hem of her skirt. “Old money, babe. His parents have a house there. I’m sure he’s got connections.”

June leaned in closer, her eyebrows raised, chin tipped playfully. “So, are you two ever going to date? Or finally address all that crazy sexual tension?”

Edith laughed, tossing her hair back, her eyes gleaming under the streetlights. “Ask me that tomorrow,” she replied with a wink, just as a car pulled up to the curb. She quickly touched up everyone’s lipstick and hair with a practiced hand. “That’s us!” she shouted.

The Uber ride was a blur, the city lights whizzing by in streaks of neon and gold. It took only fifteen minutes, thanks to the late-night traffic, but it felt like a heartbeat. By now, it was past three in the morning, and though June wouldn’t admit it, she could feel the exhaustion creeping in, the night beginning to weigh heavy on her bones. Still, she was committed to the bit, the thrill of the night pushing her forward.

Cregan was waiting for them outside, leaning casually against the wall in his usual outfit: an open button-up shirt and jeans that clung just right. They exchanged quick hellos, June’s eyes flicking to Edith, who was already batting her lashes and nodding eagerly at everything Cregan said. She nudged Sera with her elbow, tilting her head toward the two of them.

“He’s definitely ending up at your place tonight, I hope you can sleep through it.” June whispered, twisting the silver ring around her middle finger. Sera managed a quick eye roll before they were whisked inside.

The drunk crowd sprawled across the plush living room seemed almost out of place, like they’d stumbled into the wrong kind of party. The room felt like it belonged to someone who read classic novels by the fireplace or debated politics over brandy. June noticed a distinct lack of personal photos; instead, the walls were adorned with stunning artwork, pieces that seemed to glow under the soft lighting and made her mouth water with envy.

She glanced up, her eyes following the endless ceilings that stretched toward a glittering chandelier, so ornate it looked like it belonged in a palace. Above it, a second level.

“Who’s place is this anyway?” she asked, turning to Cregan.

He tore his gaze away from Edith, though his hand remained comfortably on her lower back. “One of the Targaryens,” he replied with a casual grin. “I play ball with Aegon on the weekends. He’s around here somewhere.”

June raised an eyebrow, amused by the casualness of his tone, as if dropping the name of one of the city’s most influential families was no big deal, “He’s the oldest, right?” Cregan nodded, “I worked their gala event tonight. Rumor has it he left early because he was smashed.”

An arm slid around her shoulder, the weight of it startling her. She could see blonde curls from the corner of her eye. A voice, smooth and amused, spoke close to her ear. “Smashed would be correct, little red. But I have sobered up enough to throw one hell of a party.”

“June, meet Aegon. Aegon, meet Juniper Greyson.” Cregan interjected, gesturing between them. The blonde took his arm away from her shoulders and offered his hand to shake.

June took it, taking him in. While he and his brother shared the same icy hair and serene blue eyes, there was a softness to Aegon’s features that set him apart. His nose had a gentle slope, and his eyes, though strikingly similar in color, lacked the hard edge she’d seen in his brother— but were identical to their mother’s set and shape.

Aegon turned his attention to her friends, his grin widening as he introduced himself. His blue eyes stuck to Seraphina as they walked to the kitchen. June withheld her giggle, watching Sera blush under his gaze.

The girls chatted and the boys eventually drifted away to find more of their friends, not before finding the girls cans of seltzers and bottles of water. June watched as her friends chatted, feeling that odd sensation of being inside the conversation, but also outside of it. She figured the drinking, dancing and coke had caught up to her.

“I’m gonna find the bathroom— be right back.” She gave her friends a tightlipped smile.

“Want me to come?” Edith offered, but June shook her head.

“No, I’m alright. Go talk to Cregan again, he’s been staring at you this whole time.” She nodded her head at him across the room, and he quickly looked away, almost embarrassed that he’d been caught.

The first bathroom had been occupied but what she could only assume to be the raunchiest couple in King’s Landing with the sounds that they were making. She scoffed, sure she hadn’t really ever had mind-blowing sex, but that level of noise was just so obviously unnecessary. The second had just been locked with no answer to her knock. She sighed as she made her way up the stairs, finding not a single bathroom, but a bedroom with one connected. 

After taking care of her business and washing her hands, drying them off on the fluffiest hand towel she had ever touched, she wandered around the bedroom. It felt wrong to snoop, but with the lack of trinkets or personal belongings she assumed it must have been a guest room. The bookshelf was full of classics and history books, a few well-loved first editions she could guess by the aged and worn spines. Now, in the silence, her head began to pound as the music faded away. She counted the drinks in her head. 

One at home. Three at the bar. Add two shots at the bar. One downstairs. Two lines in between. 

She realized she had definitely overdone it. While June enjoyed nights like these with her friends—welcomed them even—it wasn’t something she wanted to make a habit of every weekend. The way her vision blurred told her it would take weeks to muster the courage to drink again. Sitting on the bed, she ran her fingers over the dark green quilt and giggled.

Green. Of course it was green. Like the hand towel and the bathroom rug. She wondered if that’s what the owner of the room had told the interior designer, “Well, you see I like green. And I’m so, disgustingly rich.” She said aloud in the poshest accent she could manage, making herself laugh even harder.

The door swinging open seemed to sober her up quickly, pulling any laughter out of her chest.

She looked up, horrified to find Aemond Targaryen in the doorframe. He was wearing the same dark suit from earlier in the evening, but his jacket had been shrugged off and tossed over his arm and the first few buttons of his shirt were undone. “You.” He said, something like recognition washing over his face.

“Me,” June stammered, feeling a flush rise to her cheeks. “I, uh, just needed to use the bathroom and get away from the crowd for a moment. The one downstairs was occupied by a couple making the most disgusting noises, and the other one was locked—someone probably doing coke or something. I thought this was a guest room. I’m sorry. I should go. My friends might be looking for me.” She rambled on, the alcohol making her spill a play-by-play of how she ended up in his bedroom.

Aemond remained in the doorway, his expression unreadable. Despite leaning against the frame, he was still a head and a half taller than her. “You were at the event tonight, and now you’re in my bedroom. Stalking me?”

“You’re a very tough guy to stalk, Mr. Targaryen. I spent all night knocking on doors until Aegon let me in here,” June found herself looking down at her feet, the carpet much easier to maintain eye contact with. 

“So, you’re friends with Aegon then?”

“No, not really. One of my friends is kind of seeing Cregan Stark, and he’s friends with Aegon. We were out celebrating and he invited us. I didn’t realize whose house it was—or that you must live here with Aegon.”

“I don’t live here with Aegon. The place is mine, but Aegon thought it’d be a good joke to throw a party here.” He crossed his long arms over his chest, and June tried to ignore the enticing hint of skin peeking from his undone shirt.

“Oh, that’s kind of shitty.”

“Kind of shitty should be Aegon’s middle name. I’ve already kicked everyone out. Your friends might be gone, but if my driver is still out front, I can have him take you home.” He gestured to the hallway and began to walk. June followed, too tired to argue.

“You don’t have to. I can call an Uber.” She said, not wanting to be a bother. But she did think, in the back of her mind, that Elide would have a fit if she knew Aemond Targaryen’s personal driver had taken her home. Arianne would pretend to be less impressed, but would hound her later on the make and model; asking if there was a privacy shade and free champagne.

“Ride-share crime has gone up 10% last quarter, I can’t in good conscience—especially not to a constituent.” 

“Trying to win my vote, Mr. Targaryen?” She asked, grinning.

“I was hoping I already had it.”

“You probably do. I saw your student debt speech and liked it, but I’ve been putting off thinking about the election until school settles down. So I can make a well-informed decision of course.”

They descended the stairs. Indeed, Aemond had kicked everyone out, and only Aegon lay sprawled on the leather sofa. “Little red! I see you met my brother, charmer isn’t he?”

Aemond’s gaze was cold as he replied, “Go back to sleep, you oaf. I’m going to have Criston take her home.”

“Oh, I sent Criston back home. Oops.” Aegon giggled, clearly drunker than the last time she saw him. Aemond only sighed as they reached the door.

“I can take you home. I don’t drink, so I’m as sober as can be.”

June nodded, too tired to argue. The liquor made her pliant, and she was eager to get home. Aemond led her to a sleek black Mercedes, opening the door for her with a practiced ease. She found the gesture oddly intimate.

As he turned on the engine, the hum of the car snapped her out of her daze. She glanced around at the luxurious, leather interior. “You’re a PhD student at KLU, right?”

“Stalking me, Mr. Targaryen?” She peered at him.

“Aemond,” he corrected, his tone softer but still firm, glancing over at her as he handed her his phone, maps open and ready for her to enter her address. “Call me Aemond, please. ‘Mr.’ makes me feel old. I stepped out for a smoke this evening and overheard you on the phone. Congratulations, by the way. Dr. Orwyle is not an easy man to impress.”

“Oh.” June’s lips curled into a smile at the praise as she handed his phone back to him. She watched as the map popped up on the car’s screen, showing it was only a ten-minute drive home. “Thank you. I’m excited for it to be over, I think. You studied under Dr. Orwyle?”

She found herself looking at him again, her gaze lingering on his muscular hand gripping the steering wheel. “For my first PhD. He was a hard-ass, but pressure makes diamonds, and I couldn’t have done it without him.”

“Were you nervous for your defense? I know you do speeches all the time now, but I can’t shake the feeling that it’s going to be the hardest part.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” He asked, his voice dropping close to a whisper, as if anyone else could hear him. “I still get nervous. Every time. Whether it's a crowd of twenty or two thousand. But I remind myself that it’s not about me; it’s about the content, about getting people to listen. All the other stuff—the cadence of your voice or your posture—will come naturally.”

She hummed in response, her head resting against the cold window. The city lights blurred past, and she wondered if Elide had gone home with Cregan. “That’s good advice, thank you.”

“If politics doesn’t work out, my mother thinks I should go into consulting. Perhaps I have a knack for it.” He glanced over at her, his gaze intense. June tried to imagine the setting of that conversation. Was he worried about losing, or was the confidence from his team (or his family) faltering?

“You might, but I think politics might suit you better. The whole country seems to be buzzing about you.”

He shrugged, a flicker of something—appreciation, relief?—in his eyes. “We’ll have to see if that's the case in a few months.”

“Oh, this is me, with the red door.” She pointed out, and he brought the car to a slow stop. Before she could unbuckle her seat belt, he was out of the driver’s side and rounding the car to open the door for her. She found his chivalry oddly compelling, a sharp contrast to his earlier indifference to seemingly everything and everyone.

“Thank you for giving me a ride home, Aemond,” she said again, her voice tinged with genuine gratitude and something more. He just nodded, watching her unlock the door and step inside,

Juniper and Aemond failed to notice the blacked out SUV across the street, a long camera lens poking out of the passenger side, snapping away.

okay part one is out! I see this being 7-12 parts, depending on how much i daydream about it in class tomorrow. please leave comments questions etc! so excited to share this <3

[missglaskin]

House Yandere Martell Family (Platonic) HCS

Note-Some inconsistent timeline 

Characters-The sand snakes, Doran, Oberyn, Elia (Brief), Ellaria, Arianne, Quentyn, Trystane 

There was not a hint of surprise in Doran’s features when his brother was told to arrive with a little child in his arms. She must be another daughter of his. Yet that was not the case. The child apparently tried to steal something from the red viper but was caught. Oberyn has taken much interest in her and wanted to bring her to Dorne. 

Oberyn first showed you to Elia who was accompanying him at the time. She immediately fell in love with your cuteness. The sight of her doting on you encouraged Oberyn further to take you with him. They are eager to present you with their home and shower you with all the lavish things they can offer. Elia also convinced Doran to let you stay with them in the sunspear. 

Ellaria and the sand snakes were curious to see you. Ellaria knew you meant a lot to Oberyn because of how often he spoke of you and was willing to accept you into the family. Within such a short time, she grew fond of you. It made Oberyn ecstatic to hear her ask about you. Meanwhile, the sand snakes had varying reactions to their father and aunt bringing a child home. 

Initially, the oldest three were the most distant and hesitant. Tyene was the first of the three to open up to you, laying in the grass next to her as she read her book or sharing a cup of tea with you. Nymeria follows, and the servants report seeing her dress you up and dote on you. True to their word, you now wear shimmering lilac robes like hers. 

Even though she's not as affectionate as her other siblings, Obara made it clear that you would always be protected and would fight anyone if you so wish. Sarella took a little time getting used to you. Your willingness to listen to her, even if you were not particularly interested in the ruins' history, made her happy and quickly fond of you. 

Ellaria’s daughters didn’t take long either. Their mother very much encouraged them to approach and accept you as one of them. Her oldest daughter, Elia shared her love of horses and picked you the best one in her eyes. With Obella, there is nothing she won't do to get your attention. Dorea loves to hand you little things such as fruits or flowers she picked. Loreza, her youngest daughter, was often found leaning against you, at times even sleeping. 

Oberyn's heart was melted by all of this. His daughters mean the world to him. Oberyn enjoys watching you play in the water gardens with his daughters, chuckling when Obella would jump on top of you or when his daughters would pick you up and drop you again. It’s not long before the sight warms Doran’s heart as well. 

While Doran kept his distance as reasoned, you crept into his heart as you did with all his family. Doran eventually demands  that you uphold your studies and dress in his house colors. He was alright with you playing and running around while he went about his business, and he could tune you out until you wanted to show him something.

His children also adore you, but it didn’t come quite easily except for Trystane. Eager to welcome you into the family and after some time, he started referring to you as his ‘sister’. He loved playing Cyvasse with you, and didn’t mind when you would win.

As mentioned, Arianne and Quentyn didn’t immediately welcome you with open arms. But by the end, they have grown to love and protect you just as much as the others. The one who enjoys dressing you the most is Arianne, and Doran notices this more when he also smells the perfume you have is similar to hers. And while Quentyn was told not to smile easily, he of course did when he was with you. 

There is a lot of competition for your attention when it comes to the sand snakes and Doran’s children. Oberyn is the only one who finds this amusing, and it’s left for Ellaria and Doran to find a middle ground/schedule for everyone to agree on. Though that doesn't stop them from breaking it. Arianne claims she needs you for something important only to be found with you on the balcony eating treats or Nymeria pretending to teach you, but you are caught playing around instead. 

They all share a fierce protectiveness when it comes to you. Your safety is something they all agree on. Gods forbid anyone who ever dares to lay a hand on you. There will not be much hesitation with Oberyn and his eldest daughters along with Arianne. Even the calm Doran and the negotiator Ellaria are ever more furious and will demand justice for what has been done. 

In Elia’s death. It only makes the family shield you further. Doran wasn’t thinking of marrying you off as ambitious as he was. But Elia’s tragic death gives him all the more reason to never do so. With Oberyn, he found some solace in you. Oberyn not only taught his daughters to fight in order to protect themselves but to protect you as well if he were ever gone. 

Your safety wasn’t the only thing that matters but your happiness as well. They hated seeing you upset or worse cry. Ellaria, Nymeria, and Oberyn rush to hold you in their arms, their soothing words reaching your ears. Doran, Tyene, Arianne will wipe away your tears, listening to whatever is troubling you. Quentyn and Obara assume someone did this, but calm down when you assure them it’s not. 

They are supportive of whatever you pursue. You love painting? They will provide every color and brush possible. You love sewing? They will bring endless storage of yarns. You love dancing? They will throw feasts every now and then. The family loves to see the excitement on your face when you get to do what you love the most. 

Speaking of pursuits. They are also complimenting you on everything you do. It doesn’t matter if you give them the most horrendous painting or bake them the worst cake they ever tasted; you are still showered with praise. Anyone who says otherwise will be silenced by the glare the whole family gives them. 

It allows you to basically get away with anything. Doran, while he sees everything you do, pretends that he doesn’t and if he does scold you-it’s usually just for a show. Ellaria makes excuses for you. Oberyn just laughs and claims you are taking after him. There’s also the younger children joining and causing more mischief. With the older finding it all amusing and encouraging you further. 

The Martells are quite affectionate with one another. You hear the word ‘I love you’ more times than you count. There are also the head ruffles, the squeezing of your cheeks, them holding your hand, and clutching you tightly to them. More often than not, you are found in a cuddle pile. All the sand snakes or Doran’s children on top of each other, embracing you or sandwiched between Ellaria and Oberyn. With Doran, he has you seated next to him, your head leaning against his shoulder. 

[absurdthirst]

The Dornish Sun {Oberyn Martell x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 18.1k

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

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

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

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

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Oberyn Martell MasterList ||

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

****

“Daughter, you need to give yourself time-“

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

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

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

**** 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

****

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

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

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

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

**** 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Exquisite, my princess.” Ellaria declares breathlessly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

****

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

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

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

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

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

****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

**** 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[jackoshadows]

Why not? thought Jon. They are all convinced she is a princess. Val looked the part and rode as if she had been born on horseback. A warrior princess, he decided, not some willowy creature who sits up in a tower, brushing her hair and waiting for some knight to rescue her. - Jon, ADwD

What Jon is actually scoffing at here is the naivete and idealism of the songs of Westeros about chivalry and knights - which is pretty standard stuff for a pragmatic character like him. No Florian the fool from the songs is going to come rescue Val. And ADwD ends with the giant actually slaying the knight trying to take the princess from the tower! Talk about subverting tropes!

Jon is not scoffing at the 'princess in the tower ' but the willowy creature brushing her hair and waiting for some knight to come rescue her.

Jon is not mocking his own mother, Lyanna Stark, or her circumstances. From everything we know of Lyanna Stark, she fits the description of the 'warrior princess' that Jon is referring to. From the little bits and pieces we get of Lyanna it's a certainty that if she were imprisoned somewhere, she would be trying her very best to escape instead of believing in some knight from the songs.

Because, you know what? Like her son, Lyanna was brutally pragmatic as well.

The mirth curdled on Robert's face. "The woman tried to forbid me to fight in the melee. She's sulking in the castle now, damn her. Your sister would never have shamed me like that." "You never knew Lyanna as I did, Robert," Ned told him. "You saw her beauty, but not the iron underneath. She would have told you that you have no business in the melee." - Eddard, AGoT

"Robert will never keep to one bed," Lyanna had told him at Winterfell, on the night long ago when their father had promised her hand to the young Lord of Storm's End. "I hear he has gotten a child on some girl in the Vale." Ned had held the babe in his arms; he could scarcely deny her, nor would he lie to his sister, but he had assured her that what Robert did before their betrothal was of no matter, that he was a good man and true who would love her with all his heart. Lyanna had only smiled. "Love is sweet, dearest Ned, but it cannot change a man's nature." - Eddard, AGoT

This idea that Jon's statement is irony considering his own mother at the TOJ also stems from the fanon that Lyanna was imprisoned by Rhaegar and the KG in the Tower of Joy and waiting for Ned to rescue her.

The higher likelihood is that the TOJ was where a pregnant Lyanna took refuge during Robert's Rebellion, safeguarded by the KG.

By the time Ned gets to the TOJ, the rebels had brutally murdered Rhaegar's children and wife and Ned was still Robert Baratheon's right hand man. If the KG fought with Ned and his men, there can be more reasons than just that they were holding Lyanna prisoner. We don't know the circumstances of what actually went down at the TOJ, why Lyanna was there and what happened when Ned got there.

So, no. Jon Snow is not scoffing at his mother Lyanna who, from everything we know of her, was not someone waiting for a knight to come rescue her.

At no point does cynical Jon Snow expect Val to save herself or be in charge of her own escape. After all, she is still a prisoner of sorts and later, a refugee at the Wall. What he is appreciating is the attempt. That Val is not sitting around trusting that someone is going to get her out. There is no one and Jon cannot help her. And yet she tries. That is what he admires.

Just like with Alys Karstark who comes to him for help in escaping the clutches of her uncle. What he admires is her bravery in the actions she takes to gain back power.

Arianne Martell's chapter is literally titled 'Princess in the tower' and no knight comes to save her either while the pragmatic and cunning Arianne attempts to use the serving girls to get a message out to her confidantes while agonizing over what is going on. It does not succeed but she still tries.

And like Jon Snow scoffing at the songs of knights rescuing ladies, Arya similarly mocks the songs of ladies throwing themselves off towers because their prince is dead.

He is a man of the Night's Watch, she thought, as he sang about some stupid lady throwing herself off some stupid tower because her stupid prince was dead. The lady should go kill the ones who killed her prince. -AFFC, Cat of the Canals

What's the point in killing oneself rather than seeking justice for the death of a loved one?

Speaking of Arya, nowhere is this more evident than with Jon's attempts at saving Arya Stark. In ADwD 'Arya Stark' is literally a princess in the tower. For the Northern rebels fighting to overthrow the Boltons and consider Robb Stark to be their king, according to GRRM's World of Ice and Fire app (the official app guide to ASOIAF), Bran and Rickon are princes and Arya is a princess.

From Jon Snow's perspective Arya is held prisoner in Winterfell by Ramsay and while he knows Arya fights back, he also knows there's no chance for Arya to win.

He'd had Mikken make a sword for Arya once, a bravo's blade, made small to fit her hand. Needle. He wondered if she still had it. Stick them with the pointy end, he'd told her, but if she tried to stick the Bastard, it could mean her life. - Jon, ADwD

Like Lyanna before her, Arya is a warrior princess and yet Jon Snow also knows that it's going to be hard for Arya to successfully get to him at the Wall. Which is why he attempts twice to help her - once by sending Mance to go get her and the second time when he breaks his sworn oaths and rallies the Freefolk to attack the Warden of the North. Jon is not expecting Arya to successfully execute her own escape from the powerful Boltons. He is not mocking Arya or Lyanna for being princesses in a tower.

And Jon's mockery of the naivete and idealism is not entirely wrong as we see from Sansa's story. Sansa, who naively gets taken in by Dontos and entrusts information to him because she equates him to the Florian of the songs and thinks he is there to save her.

Come to the godswood tonight, if you want to go home. Sansa had prayed so hard. Could this be her answer at last, a true knight sent to save her? "Florian," Sansa whispered. A shiver went through her. "Sweet lady, I would be your Florian," Dontos said humbly, falling to his knees before her. Nodding, Sansa took a step . . . then spun back, nervous, and softly laid a kiss on his cheek, her eyes closed. "My Florian," she whispered. "The gods heard my prayer." She flew along the river walk, past the small kitchen, and through the pig yard, her hurried footsteps lost beneath the squealing of the hogs in their pens. Home, she thought, home, he is going to take me home, he'll keep me safe, my Florian. The songs about Florian and Jonquil were her very favorites. Florian was homely too, though not so old. - Sansa, ACoK

This naivete is exactly what Jon Snow is calling out. He's not mocking the likes of Arya or Lyanna who are pragmatic types and who take action to correct wrongs rather than believing in a sexist code of chivalry. From Lyanna disguised as the knight of the laughing tree (Because Westorosi sexism means she would be mocked, scorned and chided for being a knight - look at the mockery Brienne is exposed to) and helping Howland Reed to Arya stepping in to help Mycah to Brienne stepping in to help at the inn at the crossroads is what is actually true chivalry.

Brienne is no knight and yet it is she who is attempting to rescue Sansa Stark, not some knight from the songs. It's Brienne who exemplifies what being a knight is despite not being a knight from Sansa's songs.

It's fandom that valorizes and equates the 'princess in a tower' to certain female characters and upholding some notion of traditional femininity inspiring chivalry or some such nonsense when the books themselves don't make this distinction and never has.

Like this popular post:

Now, I agree that Sansa, Jeyne and Gilly do push the Hound, Theon and Sam to help them (Though Sam has always been a helpful type of person and Theon's arc is equally about his growth and interaction with the spearwives rather than simply Jeyne inspiring chivarly in him)

However why are Sansa, Jeyne and Gilly labelled 'princess in the tower' characters? Sansa and Jeyne are prisoners certainly. But so are many other characters. Theon is a prisoner. Is he a 'prince in a tower'?

Arianne's chapter is labelled 'The princess in the tower' because she is literally imprisoned in the Spear Tower. Val is first placed in the King's Tower and later Hardin's Tower.

How is Gilly a 'Princess in the tower' type character? Because she needs help? Because she does not fight with a weapon? Gilly and Sansa have nothing at all in common. Her childhood was different, her experiences are different and her journey is different.

"As you command, my lady." A spasm of anger flashed across Gilly's face. "Don't you call me that. I'm a mother, not a lady. I'm Craster's wife and Craster's daughter, and a mother." - Sam, AFfC

ADwD has entire mountain clans and Northern houses marching in the worst winter storms and expecting to die fighting against the Boltons - for princess Arya Stark!! The Lord Commander broke sworn oaths that have held for thousands of years for Arya Stark! What is that if not Arya inspiring hope, heroism, courage and chivalry?

Can we not label Arya Stark a 'princess in the tower' character who inspires the Lord Commander to save her despite heretofore not being willing to break oaths for anyone else, including Ygritte whom he loved?

And yet she is not included with Sansa, Jeyne and Gilly because she does not fit into their idea of 'uwu soft female characters' inspiring chivalry and hope. Daenerys inspires thousands of freed slaves to fight for her. One handed Jaime - one of the most selfish characters in the books - goes back and jumps into a bear pit to save Brienne, risking his life and freedom for her.

At it's core the book is only critiquing sexist and idealistic notions of knightly chivalry with it's 'waiting for some knight to rescue them'. Lyanna, Arya, Sansa, Jeyne, Gilly, Theon, Dany, Tyrion, Jon, Sam all need help to survive, they all struggle, they all have their vulnerabilities and they all inspire others to help them.

[kolibrieren]

I had to see some foolishness come across my dash the other day, so I'm having another rant:

Replika designs being very bland and samey is INTENTIONAL. There are two major reasons for this deliberate design choice by the authors of Signalis, both of which are central to the game's themes:

The Eusean Nation is a totalitarian facist shithole where people are forced to contort themselves into conformity, or face retribution from the state. The state craves power through removal of individuality in their citizens, and reduces living to a repetitive, mass-produced nightmare as part of this process. Homes are the same. Tools are the same. Food is the same. Jobs are the same. The only people who experience variation from the mean are outsiders like Arianne and her mother, who were so far outside outside the Eusean Nation (physically and socially) that they were outside its' control. At this point, the only personal identity a person has left is their name and their face. The Rotfront medical records show a diverse and distinct list of citizens who are easily distinguishable from each other by what they look like and who they are - which is where Replikas come in. A mass-produced android workforce is the ideal new frontier of oppression and control for the Eusean Nation's leadership. Replikas are built to look the same, act the same, even think the same. Even between models, which must be different by virtue of their different roles, distinctiveness is erased. If the nation could do this to their human citizens as well, they would. They've settled for replacing humans workers with Replikas instead. This also reinforces conformity for human citizens as well - every single police officer is the same woman with the same face, every bureaucrat, every construction worker. Human citizens see the same things every day, and now they see the same people too. It is endlessly repeating, a state-enforced fractal nightmare to break people down into powerless, interchangable parts. .

During the course of the game, you are playing as Elster. You are not merely observing her, you ARE her, and you see the world through her eyes. Because she is experiencing psychosis caused by persona degradation, she frequently has flashbacks and hallucinations that twist her world into a repetitive nightmare. The same locations, the same obstacles, and the same people, over and over and over. At the bottom of the mineshaft, Elster sees rooms from Sierpinski 23. As she trudges deeper into the nightmare, Elster sees Penrose 512 again and again in different states of repair. Elster sees Lilith in Arianne and Arianne in Falke. All STARs look the same and use the same subtitle colour (dark green). All EULRs look the same and use the same subtitle colour (brown). It all repeats. Elster cannot tell them apart, especially when they're all mass-production models, and so neither can the player. The Replikas look the same for the same reason there are a hundred LSTR corpses in the elevator shaft. Her nightmare is cyclic, and repetitive, and never-ending.

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

Random question: if, say, there were no available Targaryens to declare for — could the Dornish join the WotFks? If so, could they support Robb should he promise them the Mountain’s head and Tywin Lannister executed, etc.?

Could, sure, almost anything is possible. Would... well, you have to take into account these important facts:

"Only if we lost." "If? The word is when. Dorne is the least populous of the Seven Kingdoms. It pleased the Young Dragon to make all our armies larger when he wrote that book of his, so as to make his conquest that much more glorious, and it has pleased us to water the seed he planted and let our foes think us more powerful than we are, but a princess ought to know the truth. Valor is a poor substitute for numbers. Dorne cannot hope to win a war against the Iron Throne, not alone." —Arianne and Doran Martell, AFFC, The Princess In The Tower

"It is an easy thing for a prince to call the spears, but in the end the children pay the price. For their sake, the wise prince will wage no war without good cause, nor any war he cannot hope to win." —Doran Martell, ADWD, The Watcher

Robb could reach out to Doran, but that's no guarantee the prince would answer. Doran would have to weigh the odds for a while before committing to Robb's cause, and a promise of revenge might not be enough to make up for the probability of so many losses. Also, Robb might be expecting Dorne's military strength to match the North and Vale (50 thousand men), but the truth would be much lower than that (if they are less populous than the Iron Islands, more like 10-15 thousand men), and that's another factor Doran would have to account for. Even sweetening the deal with a possible betrothal/hostage (as the Lannisters did with Myrcella) might not help with Doran's reluctance.

Furthermore, considering Dorne's location within Westeros (far to the south and behind a mountain range), Robb would have to be considering a very different military strategy* than he did in canon before reaching out to Doran. Robb attacked the Westerlands in hopes of drawing Tywin away from the Riverlands and away from King's Landing, which never quite succeeded. He would have to get much closer to KL, with hopes of using Dornish spears in a pincer movement. (The hammer and the anvil!) Or maybe Robb would have had to go down the Westerlands/Riverlands to put pressure on the Reach, and would want Dorne's help there? Either way, bringing a Dornish army north takes a lot of time, Westeros is big, and the strategy would have to factor that in as well.

It's not surprising that in canon, as far as we know, the thought of Dorne only barely crossed Robb's mind.

*(Note I am generally not a military strategy kind of answerer, for your more specific sorts of questions please look to @warsofasoiaf.)

[leupagus]

BRB giving all the Lannisters a way more satisfying story arc than the one the show foisted on them

x

The wedding celebrations for Trystane's brother Quentyn and his new bride Desmera Redwyne lasted for nearly a fortnight, with dancing and feasting and even fireworks set off over the bay at the Water Gardens. Every noble in Dorne (and half the nobles of the Reach) had come; even Prince Doran had attended, and it seemed to do him good. His pain-lined face had been wreathed in smiles and he had sat at the head of the table at nearly every meal, coming out from his seclusion for the first time in ages.

Trystane noticed, too. "I don't think I have ever seen Papa so happy," he whispered, leaning toward her during the feast on the last night.

"It's because he has got rid of one troublesome son," she teased him, tapping her finger on his nose. It was true enough: tomorrow, Quentyn and Desmera would travel back to the Arbor where they would take up their duties as heirs to Paxter Redwyne.

Trystane scrunched his nose and moved closer to her on the bench, sliding his arm around her waist. "Soon he will be got rid of another," he murmured in her ear, kissing her gently on the cheek, then the neck.

"Ah, ah, this is not your wedding yet, little brother," warned Arianne as she briskly tapped them on their shoulders, pushing them firmly aside so that she could sit between them. "Room enough for the Mother, if you please."

"You're my sister, not my mother," Trystane grumbled. "And there isn't enough room for your backside!"

"Trystane!" Myrcella protested, but Arianne had it well in hand.

"If I were Mama, I would spank you on yours," she told him, and swatted at him anyway. Trystane yelped and hit her back, and their end of the table erupted into chaos as brothers and sisters, cousins and friends all shrieked and jabbed at each other, tickling and pinching as one can only do to those one truly loves.

Arianne and Myrcella had been thick as thieves when she had first arrived at Sunspear, still dreadfully homesick and afraid. Uncle Tyrion had promised her that the people of Dorne would treat her well; but though everyone had been kind, it was only Arianne who had truly been a friend at first. She had sneaked into Myrcella's room and hid behind drapes or under the bed to jump out at her, shown her the sights of the Water Gardens and Planky Town alike, even encouraged her to speak with Trystane, who at 15 had been terribly spotty and sulky.

Then Arianne had gone to visit her mother and her family, in far-off Norvos. It had been planned for only a few months, but the time had stretched on and on, and only Quentyn's marriage had brought her back at last. Myrcella had missed her even as she had grown closer with Trystane, and part of her dreaded their marriage that would take her away from the drowsy warmth and comfort of Arianne's company, even as it would deliver her back to her family at King's Landing.

Later that night, Myrcella crept into Arianne's chambers and hid inside the great wardrobe, keeping the door half-open as it had been already. (Arianne was shockingly untidy for a princess, and refused to allow any servant in her quarters to deal with the resulting mess. She used to drag Myrcella to her rooms once a month or so and make her sit on the bed, while Arianne picked up the clothes strewn about the floor or flung over the backs of chairs and complained about her own bad habits. Already, Myrcella thought, Arianne could do with a good cleaning.) A short while later the door to the chamber opened and Myrcella readied herself to jump out, just as Arianne had done to her so often.

But Arianne was not alone.

"—Yronwoods aren't pleased by the match," someone was saying. "Lord Anders thought Quentyn would marry Gwyneth, after being fostered with them for so long."

It was Ellaria Sand. She hadn't been seen overmuch at Sunspear since returning from King's Landing two months ago, Lord Oberyn's body in tow. Since then she'd avoided the court, instead spending time with Oberyn's daughters. The few times Myrcella had seen her, Ellaria had been as warm and friendly as before, but with a knife-edge to her smile that Myrcella recognized all too well from the courtiers in the Red Keep. She'd had taken care not to be alone with Ellaria, nor with the Sand Snakes, since then.

"Then Lord Anders is a fool," said Arianne in her sing-song voice, "and should be regarded as such. Gwyneth is a lovely girl, but she is far too little for a Prince of Dorne. The Arbor is a more valuable holding and the Redwynes far more valuable allies."

"And once Trystane is married to his blonde bastard girl, you will have both your brothers safely out of Dorne," said Ellaria. There was the sound of clothing being moved about, and Ellaria sitting down. "Really, dear, you ought to have someone clean in here. There could be mice, for all you know."

Arianne laughed, as though Ellaria had only insulted her housekeeping. Myrcella's hands clenched into fists. Was this what Arianne truly thought of her? And in Dorne, of all places! Where Ellaria herself, and all her lover's daughters, carried the last name of Sand! Ellaria had made much of the Dornish saying that bastard children were born of love and passion, and thus as trueborn as any child conceived by wedded parents. But clearly she held Myrcella in as much contempt as any of the rest of them would back home, if they knew the truth.

They never knew King Robert, the man who'd never once looked at her or her brothers but with resentment and bitterness. None of her mother's children had been loved, not by that oafish lumbering stag who saw them all as shackles that tied him to the Lannisters he hated so much. What shame was there in knowing her true parents, at least, loved each other? And loved their children, even if only one could dare show it? Myrcella wanted to burst out of the wardrobe and declare that she would gladly call herself Myrcella Waters — Myrcella Lannister — and dare anyone to judge her for it. 

But she huddled further into herself and listened, to hear what else Arianne might say.

"I've stayed away too long," is what she said, "if you're this comfortable calling poor Myrcella such names. She's done nothing to you—"

The scrape of a chair signaled that Ellaria had risen once again. "Her family murdered your uncle, who you seemed once to love—"

"—and yet I have been informed of a certain present you sent to Queen Cersei just a few days ago," Arianne overrode her. "A snake, with Myrcella's pendant in its mouth. Hardly subtle, my dear."

Ellaria did not answer, and Myrcella put her hand to her mouth to keep her own silence. Her pendant had gone missing during the wedding celebrations, she had thought a victim of one of the more energetic dances on that first night. But Ellaria had got hold of it somehow? And sent it to Mother as a...threat, it seemed. Or a warning.

"What do you want, Ellaria?" asked Arianne with more gentleness than Myrcella felt capable of. "The Lannisters have already suffered, even if not by our hand: their patriarch dead, their firstborn dead, their brother Tyrion probably dead and certainly dead to them. Even Casterly Rock itself is in dire straits, from what I've heard. You've spoken to my father a great deal of vengeance — but where will it end? Will it be satisfied with Myrcella's death? Or do you need every child of theirs to die, before killing Cersei and Jaime?"

"I—" Ellaria's voice was thick, and there was a long moment of quiet before she spoke again. "I do not know," she said at last, as if confessing.

"Well, I do know," said Arianne briskly, "and I will tell you, if you will listen."

"...I will," said Ellaria slowly. Myrcella hardly dared breathe.

"Good. I did not linger in Norvos for nothing, much as I love Mama. Do you remember Illyrio Mopatis, the magister from Pentos? We met him years ago, when I was a girl and you and Oberyn took me with you to Essos. You were pregnant with Dorea, I think, and Obella and Tyene followed you everywhere with pillows for your chairs. Illyrio then got you a litter and had you carried everywhere."

"Gods, yes," Ellaria said, chuckling. "And he had one to match!"

"Uncle Oberyn kept crowding out the litterbearer in the front so that he could carry you," Arianne said. "At any rate, I saw him — Illyrio. He came for a visit to Mama's estate, and we spoke at great length about certain plans he has been making."

Ellaria's laugh now was sour. "Ah yes, he and the Spider have been making those plans for nearly twenty years, haven't they? Put the Targaryen boy back on the throne with the assurance that this one is sane." She snorted. "They thought Rhaegar was sane, too."

"If by 'this one,' you refer to Viserys Targaryen, his sanity is a moot point," said Arianne. "He's dead. Has been for several years, apparently. But his sister Daenerys has survived. She's been making quite a nuisance of herself in Slaver's Bay. Along with her three dragons, Illyrio tells me."

"Dragons?" Ellaria scoffed. "Illyrio's always said a great number of things. That never made any of them true."

"Which is why I want you to go and find out what is true. Meet with this Daenerys Stormborn yourself. Take her measure. I could only discover so much in Norvos, with Mama's eye always on me. She doesn't approve of Papa's conciliation to the Red Keep, but stories of Targaryen princesses and their dragons aren't to her liking, either."

"Are they to your liking?" Whatever response Arianne made, it seemed to satisfy Ellaria. "Very well. I have two conditions."

"Only two?"

"First, I shall first go to Pentos first and speak directly with Illyrio. He never could lie to me, and if he is so sure Daenerys Targaryen is the true ruler of Westeros then he'll be willing to back that up with coin and supplies. Which we'll need, in abundance."

Arianne sighed. "Very well. Though if you venture so close to Norvos, Mama will insist you visit her."

Ellaria made a prevaricating sound. "Your mother always liked me best."

"She did. And does. What is your second condition?"

"Our daughters come with me. All of them."

"No," Arianne said flatly. "Aside from the fact that it will look strange to have all the Sand Snakes gone, Lorenza is barely seven years old. You would take her across the Narrow Sea to a slave city?"

"Better than leave her here, where Doran can fill her head with his witterings about peace and forgiveness," Ellaria snapped. "If she dies — if any of us die — at least we will not live like your father."

"Take Nymeria and Tyene," Arianne countered. "Obara, if you must. The rest of the Snakes are better off here. What would Sarella do in Meereen, or Astapor, or Yunkai? Those cities do not have a reputation for academic pursuits."

"She can bring her books with her. All of us go, or none. I want nothing of Oberyn left behind for someone else to take from me."

Arianne sighed. "I'll consider it. But I want you to consider, too. If this Daenerys Stormborn is what she is said to be, she will retake the Iron Throne 'with fire and blood.' Take care that it is not your blood, my dear."

They spoke for a bit longer, until the bells chimed the hour and Ellaria departed. How long until Arianne went to bed? Myrcella might stay here the whole night and then what would she do? Who could she tell? Who did she want to tell?

"You are thinking loudly enough to wake the entire palace, little lioness," said Arianne, and opened the wardrobe door all the way. Myrcella shrank back but it was no use; Arianne was looking down at her, shaking her head. "Let's talk, so that you might be a little quieter."

"Are you going to kill my brother?" she asked, not moving.

"No," Arianne said, with a certainty that Myrcella could not help but believe. "Nor will I let anyone else. We do not hurt children in Dorne." She held out her hand, and Myrcella took it.

They sat down on the bench near the window, the one that overlooked the whole of the palace and beyond that, the city of Sunspear itself. The stars here were clear and bright, even with the torches and lights from below burning merrily at this late hour.

"Tommen's in King's Landing, not Dorne," was the first thing Myrcella could think of to say. "And he's not a child anymore." Nor am I, she thought.

Arianne rolled her eyes. "So literal. I forgot this about you. You're right — he's a man grown now, and a husband soon, and already a king. But he is not to blame for the way things are now, anymore than Viserys and Daenerys were to blame for what their father and brother did during the Rebellion."

"My father always said Uncle Stannis should have killed them when he had the chance." She could remember that argument well, as it was one Robert made whenever Uncle Stannis irritated him — which was often. You had only to take them and drown them, and you couldn't even manage that! My brother the great tactician, bested by infants! 

"I very much doubt your father said any such thing," said Arianne tartly, "Though I am sure King Robert said it often enough." She tilted her head as she regarded Myrcella. "When did you first realize? About your parents?"

Myrcella hesitated, but it seemed silly to pretend ignorance now, of all times. "I've always known, I think. When the ravens came from Dragonstone, from Uncle Stannis, saying that we were bastard-born...it wasn't a surprise." Nor had she been surprised at her not-uncle's blunt declaration, cutting himself off from all claims of blood and family. Stannis had always been a hard man to love; she suspected he found it hard to love others in turn. Perhaps it had been as great a relief to him as it had been to her, to know there was nothing that bound them to each other after all.

"I am glad you know," said Arianne, "but that is one reason I wanted you to hear Ellaria's plans, as well as my own. She wants to hurt your mother and father very badly. Her rage has made her blind. My hope is that distance, as well as time, will allow her to see clearly again. But in the meanwhile it is best for everyone if you and she are far away from each other."

"But...those things you said, about Daenerys Targaryen. You want her to come here?"

Arianne sighed and took Myrcella's hands in hers. They were small and soft, dwarfed by Myrcella's long fingers. "Daenerys Stormborn is coming here. Nothing can stop that; sooner or later, she will arrive with her dragons, and she will take the Iron Throne. If your brother and your parents are to survive it, they must have somewhere to go. Someone who will take them in."

Myrcella stared at her. She couldn't mean Dorne; for one thing, Mother would never agree to live out her days here, strolling about the Water Gardens and bathing in the Summer Sea. For another, the Martells and the Targaryens had a complicated enough relationship; even Doran, even Arianne, wouldn't risk the wrath of a new queen by hosting the old king.

"Perhaps Highgarden—" but even as Myrcella said it she could see it for the farcical suggestion it was. She'd never met the Queen of Thorns, but she knew the Tyrells had sided with the Targaryens during the Rebellion; Olenna Tyrell would be only too happy to turn the Lannisters right back over to Daenerys should they put a foot wrong, even if Tommen's marriage to Margaery went through. Which left—

"Casterly Rock," she said, and felt ashamed that it had taken her so long to understand. "You want me to hold the Westerlands." It made sense: Jaime was still in the Kingsguard and likely to remain so, and Uncle Tyrion was long gone (and would be barred from inheriting anyhow, given the accusations that he had murdered Grandfather). Uncle Kevan and Lancel might have claims to it, but Tommen's last letter had mentioned Lancel's latest obsession with some odd religious sect that had gained popularity in the Crownlands. Which left...herself, of all the remaining Lannisters.

Arianne nodded. "Casterly Rock. You were raised to be the wife of a great lord. But I think you are better suited to be a great lord yourself." She lifted her eyebrows. "More importantly, little lioness, what do you think?"

All at once she wanted it more than breath: a home of her own, a castle, a people, a kingdom. A chance to be fair and kind and noble not just amongst the simpering painted faces of court, but in a place where fairness and kindness mattered. She could take Casterly Rock and make something more of it than the just golden bank of Westeros. Myrcella could feel a ravening hunger in her that she'd never imagined, that would take all of the Westerlands to sate.

Myrcella held on tightly. She could feel her fingers turning to claws, her hair a wild mane. "Yes," she said, her voice barely above a whisper but roaring louder in her head, in her throat, in her chest. "Yes."

[aegor-bamfsteel]

Hello, do you think that the fact that D&D gave the young Griff/aegon VI plot For Jon Snow, is this an indication that young Griff is not a Blackfyre but really the son of princess elia martell?

Hello there, anon. You could also make the argument that as someone who hired the Pyrite Golden Company to fight for her cause for the Iron Throne, that Cersei might also have gotten some of Aegon VI’s plot line. I think Aegon’s non-inclusion was because D&D wasn’t sure why he was in the story, (especially since he’s only in a few chapters of the last published book, so D&D couldn’t really adapt the source material) because, as they said, “themes are for 8th grade book reports”. D&D often omitted (Arianne and Quentyn Martell, Jeyne Poole, Lady Stoneheart), dumbed down (Varys, Littlefinger, Xaro Xhoan Daxos, Septon Meribald, Ygritte), or combined characters (Aliser Thorne, the Umbers and Karstarks, Sansa’s S5 plot, Ellaria Sand for the older Sand Snakes) without regard for character development or narrative significance. This doesn’t mean Aegon isn’t Elia’s son; in fact, the show (and especially the spin-off show, House of the Dragon) embraced the idea that Tárgaryens (really Jon and Dány) were special due to their bloodline, which is a common criticism against the theory of Aegon not being a Târgaryen (having a better blood claim doesn’t mean that person is fit to rule); remember, in the scene where Gilly reveals that Rhaegar and Lyanna were legally married, she doesn’t even mention Elia’s name or that of her children, to make Jon’s claim and name “Aegon” (the main name for Tárg kings) that much more ✨ special ✨. In addition, the later seasons of GOT paid more attention to the Lannisters and their dysfunctional dynamic—to the point that Tyrion and Cersei are having cordial conversations by the end of S7–and D&D wanted to keep Cersei as the villain as long as possible (no matter how contrived it got, like the KL smallfolk accepting a queen who just burned down their main holy shrine) because Lena was one of the show’s best actresses, so they had her be the one for Dány to attack rather than Aegon. Then there was also the repeated attempts to hide Dark!Dany (though it had been foreshadowed since S1 when she burned her slave alive), and destroying a surrendering city to try to kill her nephew rather than a stranger would’ve made the crime seem worse to the audience (although in the last episode they basically held our hand and told us exactly why she had to die after KL’s destruction). I wouldn’t use the show as evidence for or against Aegon Son of Elia, because the show lacked the understanding of why the character would be important. Thematically speaking, it would make the most sense bookwise for Aegon to be Elia’s son, as the Tárgs’ most dangerous enemies to their power tend to be other Tàrgs, as well as undermining the Tàrg Exceptionalism that shaped a lot of their personalities.

[viperixsworld]

GUTS, luke castellan x oc

(chapter one: new kid)

summary: Arianne and Luke just existing in camp and being the it couple.

disclaimer: im in introduction mood, so sorry. im thinking of making this story a full of oneshots and not a chapter after chapter think, idk. Enjoy this!!!

Set in Percy Jackson and the Olympians E1S1

Cabin ten, home to Aphordite's children. If Barbie and a military battalion had a kid, it would be the tenth cabin on Camp Half-blood. Arianne Deveraux was named captain and head counselor of the tenth cabin the day of her sixteen birthday, and since then she had to deal with all her brothers and sisters.

Two days later, Luke Castellan asked her to accompany him to a counselor meeting.

Said counselor meeting was actually a secret, not so secret, party for older campers, that had absolutly nothing to do with the fact that Chiron was out of camp in a secret quest and Mr.D had being persuaded with coke zero.

"Come on lovie, let's have some fun"

Wasn't he charming?

Apollo kids were at some (probably stolen) dj stuff, while Castor and Pollux were serving drinks and food. And every camper at sight waves and said hello to Luke. Three years at camp, and Ari was just starting to understand how deep Luke's influence run in the campus.

"So... are you gettin me a drink or what, champ?"

"And they said you were meek" laughed the boy.

"What can i say? Looks are deceiving"

"You don't have to swear it"

Later that night, when they had to break up the party after the earlier arrival of Chiron, some Demeter kid spread the rumor that captains of cabin 10 and 11 were making out behind a tree at the bonefire.

Some months after that, it was natural to see the two of them walking aroud camp, training together or swimming at the canoe lake. Her brothers and sisters would wait in the door of cabin 10, waiting for her to arrive past the curfew just to watch them say their goodbyes until next day.

"Quick! Hide behind the curtain!"

"Mitchell, she's gonna see you"

"Shut up, Val"

Arianne just draw her palm to her face as they stayed at the front door of cabin 10, her back facing the window while Luke only bit his tongue to avoid laughing at he situation. When Ari lifted her eyes from the floor, she found Luke's eyes just looking straight to her, as if he was trying to remember every little spot of her face, as if he was about to spend so much time without seeing her.

"Guess we have public tonight".

"They being spying us the whole day, I really hope they're not that bad when monsters are around"

Luke took a step foward, and before she could say her goodnight, he grabbed her face with two hands and kissed her on the lips. It was sweet and innocent and felt like being on a Pegasus. Her heart was beating faster than being chased by a monster and she actually heard the voices of her siblings giggling and clappin their hands.

"See you tomorrow at training, lovie"

Ari opened her eyes, finding Lukes mischievous grin, who was already on his way to his cabin.

"You just gave them a show" the girl complained

"No, your face did" responded the boy.

"I hate you".

"Nah".

She waved her goodbye to her boy with a foolish smile plastered on her face and prepare herself mentally for the nightmare of children behind that pink door. So, before entering, she breathed in and out three times, and stepped inside. She found all of her siblings looking at her, grinning at her, while poorly hidden behind curtains or under blankets.

"If your not dead sleeping before the count of ten, I will personally hunt you one by one in Capture the Flag"

This being said, the children practically flew to their bunkbeds as she directed herself to the twinbed she shared with her half-sister Silena.

The black haired girl was pretending to read a Vogue magazine when Ari just threw herself on her bed.

"Stop the act, Silena. I saw you looking out the window with Mitch and Val" said the captain.

Silena just left the magazine on the nightstand and looked at her big sister. They endured this for five seconds before brusting in laughs and putting her hands over their mouths to avoid bringin the attetion of the younger.

"Is he a good kisser?"

"Silena!"

"Don't shout! A girl just wants to know, don't blame me"

"It was all right" Ari said just staring at the ceiling "He felt right, get me?". Silena just looked to her sister in admiration, a look of pure happiness.

"Got it" she responded "Ugh, I'm so jealous... wish Charlie wasn't that dense".

"Give him time... it's not an easy task falling in love with a daugther of the goddess of love".

"Says the one with a boyfriend".

"Hey! It took time too, you know? Charlie will get it, don't worry about it. And if not, you can always leave it to your big counselor sister who can give him more chores!"

Silena just pushed her a little and they laugh again, falling sleep on the same bed after their conversation.

Later the same night, Arianne and Silena were woken up by a loud thud and the sun rays that sneak to the pinkish courtains. Apollo was feeling it today, huh? Arianne got off the bed, stretching after spending the night sharing a single bed with her dear sister, who kicks like hell.

"Mitch, what's going on si early?" she asked her little brother, who was running around the cabin with only one shoe one.

Did she sleep in? Why is everybody up that early? It was only 8:30 in the morning, most of the campers (especially HER campers) wouldn't leave their cabins until 9:00 for breakfast at mess hall.

She was sure as Tartarus that it wasn't inspection day, and she knew because the one in charge of that, was still lying in bed trying to get up. And Silena was really serious when it came to inspection day.

"A new kid entered at camp last night! Michael from Apollo said he killed a minotaur entering camp with Grover! Gods, he said the kid kept the horn!" said the boy before sprinting out the cabin.

What?

"Sil? Wake up, come on".

"Only five minutes" she murmured.

"Get your ass up!"

They dressed as quick as they could, (easy for Ari because she went to bed with the clothes from the day before). When both of them get to the mess hall, everyone was talking about the mysterious kid that one handedly got to kill a minotaur.

Apparently, poor boy passed out from the attack and was recovering in the infirmary, not even Apollo's children had access right now by Chiron's orders.

Silena went to their table, as for Ari, she was getting her food when Chris Rodríguez and Clarisse La Rue were having a conversation about it.

"I mean, a minotaur is big thing Clarisse".

"Beginner's luck, Rodríguez" said the Ares kid.

"Don't be mean, Clarisse" scolded the Aphordite's daugther entering the chat.

Despite being two opposite poles, La Rue and Deveraux had a good friendship and mutual respect. That probably comes from the close relationship between their godly parents (so to speak).

It was kind of relieving for Clarisse to know someone that she didn't need to impress. And for Arianne it was nice to have someone that wouldn't just underestimate her because of her looks, and actually saw that she wasn't a shallow, pretty face and that she could defend herself as well as any other demigod.

"Bet he's the son of Ares" said Chris "A new baby brother, Clarisse!".

Needless to say, Chris earned a hit from the Ares girl.

"What problem do you children of Hermes have with betting?" asked Arianne laughing while serving herself some pancakes with strawberry syrup.

"Make's life more insteresting, lovie" said a voice behind her, while an arm rested comfortably on her shoulders. "What are you three bickering about this morning, huh?" said Luke's voice.

"Good morning for you too" Arianne greeted.

With his arm still on her shoulder, Luke left a discret kiss on her hair. " What are the news?" he asked.

"Newbie kill a minotaur last night, and everyones freaking out" Clarisse said disdainfully.

"Unclaimed?".

"Seems like we'll have the bullslayer at our place, bro" said Chris before he and Clarisse went to their respective tables.

"Be nice to the kid, he is probably super scared right now" Arianne told Luke, gettin face to face.

Luke raised an eyebrow questioning her words.

"Im always nice to new campers".

Arianne just grinned and pecked his cheek before going to her sister, who was eagerly waiting for her pancakes.

[a-libra-writes]

Yaaaayyyyyy requests are back!!! I love your writing so much😭😭😭😭 can i ask for my ASOIAF bois: Jamie, Stannis, Jorah, Sandor (feel free to change the list) when they found out their s/o is injured but their s/o was hiding it from them because s/o didn't want them to worry?

Your boys are at the front :> along with some others i thought of and have been requested over the past few weeks.

Jaime - This man has the nerve to get annoyed with you, asking all sorts of questions about how it happened or how bad it is. He is just as bad about hiding his own hurts, emotional or physical, but does he recognize the irony here? No. The more severe the injury, the more irritated he'll be, and if someone actually did it you can bet Jaime's going to be reckless about retaliation. That may be why you hid it in the first place! He has no experience with treating wounds, so finding some way to retaliate is the only thing Jaime can think of doing to help.

Stannis - Oh, he'd be beyond annoyed with you. It seems reckless to him - yes, he'd worry, but that would only be natural. Expect a lot of grumbling and a lecture as he looks over the injury and does what he can. He'd check on you regularly, even if he's busy, or at least send a maester to ensure it's healing properly. Even before he found out, Stannis probably picked up something was off, but couldn't put his finger on it - now he understands you were trying to walk normally or mask pain. Stannis might take it a little harsher than you intended, wondering why you felt the need to hide it. Was there a different reason?

Jorah - Jorah does not take this well, and that may be the reason why you hid the injury in the first place. You being wounded feels like he's failed in some way - failed to prevent it, failed to help you care for it. He'd be insistent on helping care for it and you'd end up listening to some lectures as he did so. Jorah wants to be relied upon and to be useful, so it's painful when you don't go to him with something like this. He forgives you quickly, though; he always does. Jorah asks you to promise to tell him next time your hurt, maybe even begs. He hates that you could've been hurting and he didn't know it.

Sandor - His temper flares up once he figures it out. He knew you were moving strangely, and why'd you hide it? So he wouldn't worry? The Hound might bark a laugh at that, if he wasn't so pissed. It's fucking stupid to not treat a wound like that, and he tells you as much. There's been plenty of times where he's disregarded his own injuries, but that's different. He's used to being hurt, taking punishment - you aren't that way. You shouldn't be. As much as he distrusts maesters and healers, you both find one, and he glowers the whole time. Well, at least his foul mood is concentrated on someone else ...

Asha - She could just smack you upside the head. She still might, if you resist getting treatment. While you're being taken care of, Asha's really letting you have it. You aren't one of those empty-headed Ironborn warriors, so why are you endangering yourself? She isn't amused by it being for her sake - she's strong, she can take it. She could've gotten you help. Asha's anger fizzles out quickly, especially if you're already contrite. Once the healer is gone, she takes your hand and makes you promise not to hide next time.

Arianne - She knew something was up! You can't hide the injury for long, because she was noting your different gait, your change in attitude. She just confronts you directly, so your plan of hiding goes out the window within days. She might throttle the maester who tried to hide it too, but that's for later. Arianne helps change the bandages herself, speaking quietly yet firmly that she doesn't want you to do this again. The way Arianne sees it, worries you all the time, so it's only natural she gets a taste of her own medicine once in a while.

Ned - If he's busy and you're clever about hiding it, it may take some time for Ned to notice. Some things may strike him as odd, like if he noticed you walking strangely one day or you seemed tight-lipped, but once he finds out the full truth he just feels confused and guilty. Ned doesn't consider any worrying to be a burden; he ought to worry, as your lord husband, and he wishes you came to him rather than hide it. He also feels more guilt over not having noticed right away. With a serious expression (yet still in his soft voice), Ned would ask you to not hide your pains next time, and he'll do the same.

Benjen - He caught onto you acting and moving strangely, and considering how observant he is, figured you'd hurt yourself in some way. There's plenty of ways to get hurt on Castle Black, let alone the constant aches that come with the cold. When some time passes, he eventually brings it up with you, since you aren't mentioning it. He figures that you didn't want to worry him, but Ben wouldn't hide such things from you, so he'd rather you be upfront with him - and once he figures it's a more serious wound, his usual lighthearted, joking expression fades and he asks you to not hide such things. He'd be actually upset if you hadn't sought any treatment. Out in this cold and wilderness, you must let yourself accept help.

Mance - He understands, regardless if you're a Ranger with the Wall or a wildling he met far beyond it. No matter which side, showing weakness is often not an option. He figures you're wounded because he notices you walking and moving differently, trying not to put too much stress on it. He'll just ask you if he can look at it and try to help - and he's surprised if you were hiding it for his sake. It seems a little silly, but Mance would never mock you. Mance just asks that you tell him next time - he insists upon it - so he can help. He'll worry much less if he directly treated the wound.

[goodqueenaly]

I'm rereading AFFC and wondering if you have any thoughts/speculation on why Gerold Dayne has such a dark reputation in Dorne. We see it in action of course with Myrcella but in Arianne's POV and her later conversations with Doran, it's clear that his reputation preceded that act and he's explicitly described as the most dangerous man in Dorne but without any real explanation of why exactly. What might a knight like Gerold do to earn a reputation like that, to be considered "poison" even by someone as bold as Oberyn?

I think this is where the failure of Gerold Dayne as a would-be badass (which, of course, was the author's own, unsuccessful intent) becomes most obvious. "Show, don't tell" does not have to be an absolute rule in writing, but as you correctly note, we are shown nothing of Gerold Dayne's backstory or prior actions and instead almost entirely told what to think about Gerold Dayne. The most we can say about Gerold prior to AFFC is that he was occasionally a sexual partner to Arianne - a description which in absolutely no way justifies denoting him as "the most dangerous of all her [i.e. Arianne's] little group of plotters" or, even more laughably, "the most dangerous man in Dorne". Yes, a character who is willing to start a war by mutilating, with the intent to kill, an adolescent girl is a pretty terrible person - but we have no context on why Gerold was the sort of person who would have done that, or why everyone reacted so uneasily to the danger he ostensibly presented.

Hopefully, the author has more in mind on what to do with Gerold in TWOW so that we can get a better sense of where Gerold actually gained the reputation the author so badly wants us to believe. Certainly, the author has created his share of characters whom we might call mad, bad, and dangerous to know, but I think it will depend on what sort of danger the author wants Gerold Dayne to represent. Is Gerold a highborn sadist in the vein of, say, Aerion or Joffrey, people who enjoyed the pain they could inflict with the power their positions provide? Is Gerold ruthlessly ambitious in the vein of, say, "Big" Walder Frey, born to (relatively) little aristocratic inheritance but willing to do anything and everything to get himself into a greater power position? Does Gerold believe himself justified in the vein of, say, the Shavepate, willing to shed blood, even the blood of children, in the name of his cause? Does Gerold think of himself as some nationalist hero for Dorne, or does he only care about whatever his personal end goal may be? Any or none of these could be true, but whatever the author does choose I think may impact how he demonstrates Gerold Dayne's (apparently) dangerous reputation.

[atopvisenyashill]

elia sand, queen of (what’s left of) the seven kingdoms

HEAR ME OUT.

probably the biggest and most important question after you accept “king bran in harrenhal” into your life, is but bran can’t have kids. that’s correct. or well, it’s potentially correct - everyone in universe seems to think he won’t be physically capable of having a child because of his paralysis. BUT. that doesn’t mean he won’t marry nor does that mean that there isn’t a potential benefit to him not being able to have children.

now, there have been several marriages made to bring peace after conflict - dorne is involved in several of thess with the matches of maron & daenerys as well as daeron & myriah. the marriages of robert & cersei and jaehaera and aegon iii were…less successful attempts at this. so even if bran isn’t expected to have kids, it’s possible that a marriage for him would see prudent as a way of brokering peace in some symbolic way. what better candidate than dorne, really, given the similarities between their people and what dorne & the north have lost (in differing colors for formatting reasons)-

"I promise." Promise me, Ned, Lyanna's voice echoed. The prince is a sentimental man, and he still mourns his sister Elia and her sweet babe.

Lyanna had only been sixteen, a child-woman of surpassing loveliness. Ned had loved her with all his heart. "As children Elia and I were inseparable, much like your own brother and sister."

That was his curse. Robert would swear undying love and forget them before evenfall, but Ned Stark kept his vows. He thought of the promises he'd made Lyanna as she lay dying, and the price he'd paid to keep them. "If you die before you say her name, ser, I will hunt you through all seven hells," he promised.

Archmaester Brude, who was born and raised in the shadow city that huddles beneath the crumbling walls of Sunspear, once famously observed that Dorne has more in common with the distant North than either does with the realms that lie between them.

"Robert, I ask you, what did we rise against Aerys Targaryen for, if not to put an end to the murder of children?" "Four lives will suffice for me. Lord Tywin's golden twins, as payment for Elia's children. The old lion, for Elia herself. And last of all the little king, for my father." "The boy has never wronged us."

but why justify elia sand specifically though? well-

Robb bristled at that. "The Westerlings are better blood than the Freys. They're an ancient line, descended from the First Men. The Kings of the Rock sometimes wed Westerlings before the Conquest, and there was another Jeyne Westerling who was queen to King Maegor three hundred years ago."

Arianne read the letter thrice, then rolled it up and tucked it back into her sleeve. A dragon has returned to Westeros, but not the dragon my father was expecting...Fire and blood was what Jon Connington (if indeed it was him) was offering as well. Or was it? "He comes with sellswords, but no dragons," Prince Doran had told her, the night the raven came… “Elia's son... I would weep for joy if some part of my sister had survived, but what proof do we have that this is Aegon?"

wild Elia Sand, a maid of ten-and-four.

Five yards from the gates Elia Sand came flying from the cloud of dust behind them to rush past both of them on her black filly. “Are you half horse, child?" Valena asked, laughing, in the yard. "Princess, did you bring a stable girl?" “I'm Elia," the girl announced. "Lady Lance."

Not even Lord Rickard's daughter could outrace him, and that one was half a horse herself.

When his fallen foes sought to ransom horse and armor, the Knight of the Laughing Tree spoke in a booming voice through his helm, saying, 'Teach your squires honor, that shall be ransom enough.' Once the defeated knights chastised their squires sharply, their horses and armor were returned. And so the little crannogman's prayer was answered.

"Rise. Tell me, who is Lyanna Mormont?" "One of Lady Maege's daughters, Sire. The youngest. She was named for my lord father's sister."

so two joust loving, sassy 14 year old girls are rolling up to A Targaryen Prince who is about to be TESTED by all his Promised Princeliness. Elia Sand, named after Elia, Rhaegar’s wife, and Lyanna, who has a living namesake in Lyanna Mormont. robb justifies his marriage to jeyne by saying kings have married westerlings before…and if elia and aegon elope like some other Unruly 14 Year Old/Targaryen Prince, he has the power to legitimize her, and this excuse could be used again.

As everyone decides what should be done about Bran’s marriage, Elia Sand is pressed forward - she’s around his age (only four years older), she has been legitimized (is perhaps even going by Elia Martell), she is, like jeyne westerling, a crownless little queen without a princely son or a living kingly husband. And as people start to grumble about her baseborn heritage, Arianne will point out that no one is expecting Bran to have children, and it’s merely symbolic - a way of giving Dorne a say in rebuilding Westeros, and if attempting to reunite what’s left of the kingdoms.

[horizon-verizon]

https://pbs.twimg.com/media/GTWaWYQXIAAtVwv?format=jpg&name=900x900

I love takes like these because it proves they never read the series. Nothing about this is Targaryen-centric, it is very much a summary of Westerosi patriarchal feudalism except for the dragons.

Tywin is a callous opportunist, willing to sacrifice his daughter on the altar of his own ambition and selling her off to the highest bidder, a man who abuse her and repeatedly raped and beat her. He would have married her off again despite Cersei begging him to not force her to do it, he would have sequestered her at Casterly Rock, taking her piece off the board until he found something useful for him. Did OP read Cersei’s famous monologue during the Battle of the Blackwater in ACOK, “we were so much alike, I could never understand why they treated us so differently” ?

Rohanne Webber (Cersei’s great-grandmother) became a widow for the first time at the age of ten, at age thirteen, she was married again to a fifty-five-year-old man, who soon die, and six months after his death, she gave birth to their son, who was weak and died within three days. Her third husband choked to death on a chicken bone, while her fourth husband died of the Great Spring Sickness. Rohanne bore a daughter but the girl did not live a year. She was married and widowed four times before age twenty-five.

Hoster Tully tricked Lysa into aborting her child with moon tea because of his classism and hastily married her off to Jon Arryn, a pedophile who was decades older than her, to secure an alliance that would help them win Robert’s Rebellion. She suffers countless miscarriages and stillbirths, and nothing is done to make Lysa adjust to her new life away from her home and family and people.

In spite of Dorne allowing gender neutral succession, Arianne Martell, who should be learning how to rule properly, is reduced to “feasts and frolics, and the entertainment of distinguished guests”, has been shuttled from suitor to suitor as well, treated as a pawn by her father, who hided the truth from his daughter for years and trusted his son more.

The Freys are basically a case study in a family that has rotted from the inside out because of their succession obsession. Being the next lord/lady of the Twins is all-consuming to the point where we get a rather sad insight into the Frey style of family relations, where you cannot trust anyone. Family members should be the people you can trust the most, ideally, but for the Freys “relative” is just another word for “threat”.

Joffrey Baratheon claims the Iron Throne as Robert Baratheon’s eldest son. His uncle, Stannis, claims Robert’s children are all bastards, making him, the first of Robert’s younger brothers, the real heir. Renly is younger than Stannis, but claims the Iron Throne anyway. Stannis goes so far as resorting to dark magic to murder his brother and thus becoming a kinslayer, tries to sacrifice Edric Storm, his twelve years son nephew, and will burn his daughter alive.

Intelligence is in short supply, what can I say?

[eruherdiriel]

Who's getting married at the end of ASoIaF?

Marriage, alliances, and heirs are all tied together in Westeros and are important parts of the nobles' lives. Since A Dream of Spring is never seeing the light of day and The Winds of Winter is a big fat probably not "we'll see," I will go to my grave haunted by this question. So I decided to reason it out. My Jonsa brain wants it to be them but that seems potentially too "happy." But who else could it be?

George made the comment in May 2016.

Yes, I mean, I did partly joke when I said I don’t know where I was going. I know the broad strokes, and I’ve known the broad strokes since 1991. I know who’s going to be on the Iron Throne. I know who’s gonna win some of the battles, I know the major characters, who’s gonna die and how they’re gonna die, and who’s gonna get married and all that. The major characters. Of course along the way I made up a lot of minor characters, you know.

I've decided to look at living POV characters, except for the one-offs, some as individuals and some as couples. Many POV characters are not "major characters" in my eyes and there are some non-POV characters who are more important, but this was the most objective way I could find to decide who made the list. POV characters are bolded in blue.

I initially read George's comment as meaning two mains are getting married, but as I wrote this, I second guessed myself and thought maybe he meant a main character and someone else. But since marriage is transactional and important to the highborn characters in this story, most of them will get married eventually (unless they die or join a celibate order), which brought me back around to thinking GRRM did mean the marriage would be between two key characters. And it would be relevant to the plot, and not mentioned as an afterthought in an epilogue or family tree. Otherwise, why call it out? With that in mind, let's begin.

Sansa and Tyrion are already married, but GRRM spoke in the future tense so he wasn't referring to an existing marriage. The relationship was unconsummated, their stories have diverged, and they are headed for an annulment. I can't see anyone we know ending up with Tyrion. His plotlines with women have involved prostitution, assault, unfulfilled desire, and violent anger. He seems more likely to kill another partner than marry again. More on Sansa later.

Bran is a possibility plot wise, but who would he marry? Meera is significantly older when they meet in the books, so I don't think that match is realistic in this context. And if Bran is the Summer King, he will likely have to marry a southerner for political reasons (unless there is a new succession plan and/or he can't have children). So it's probably someone we don't know yet or has been mentioned in passing. The last book would also need a time jump to make Bran of marriageable age, or the last two books would need to cover much more time than the previous five.

Arya's arc isn't about who she marries. In fact, she tells us whose plot is about marriage.

“You,” Ned said, kissing her lightly on the brow, “will marry a king and rule his castle, and your sons will be knights and princes and lords and, yes, perhaps even a High Septon.” Arya screwed up her face. "No," she said, "that's Sansa." (A Game of Thrones - Eddard V)

But if further convincing is needed that Arya's storyline isn't about marriage, know that a search for "Arya" and "marriage" or "marry" in the books mostly returns results for Sansa talking about marrying Joffrey and then talking about Arya, lol. There's a few other contexts, particularly with fArya, but this one jumped out at me:

Robb was to marry one of their aunts, and Arya one of their uncles. "She never will," Bran said, "not Arya," but Maester Luwin was unyielding, so there they were beside Rickon. (A Clash of Kings - Bran III)

She's not going to be old enough at the end of the series anyway, unless there's a time jump. Next.

Arianne and Aegon/Young Griff: This seems like one of the most possible impending marriages to me, no matter who the Young Griff is in truth. A strategic Dorne marriage is plot relevant and makes sense with Arianne's arc. However, I think it is possible the Young Griff dies before the end of the story. He also doesn't qualify under my slightly arbitrary logic for who a major character is. And Arianne barely qualifies.

Daenerys is dying. Take it up with George. Though technically still married to Hizdahr zo Loraq, maybe she marries a Greyjoy (Victarion or Euron) before she dies, but it won't be relevant long term. Next.

Cersei and Jaime are doomed, as a couple (not that they can marry anyway, as much as they have wished to) and probably individually. Cersei is also vehemently against getting married again, and there's no more Tywin to force her.

Aeron Greyjoy: Can Drowned God priests get married? Doesn't matter. It's not him.

Areo Hotah has two chapters and only made this list because I checked ASoIaF wiki for POV characters to make sure I got everyone with more than one, lol. No weddings to see here.

Asha Greyjoy is sort of married already? Perhaps she gets out of it and later marries a Northerner to ease relations between the North and Iron Islands. A non-POV character likely, but maybe Jon??? Huh. It's not the least or most possible thing here. Not what I expected coming into this.

Brienne: Like Arya, marriage isn't the point of her narrative. It could become important for her to marry in the aftermath of all the wars. But for major characters as her suitor, there's none that make sense. Her interactions with Jaime serve to humanize him and complicate her, but they're not ending up together, even if Jaime ends up alive.

Theon's not getting married if he lives.

Sam is a member of the Night's Watch and technically can't marry. Maybe he gets released from his vows or there is no NW in the end and he is free to marry ... Gilly? Some rando in the Reach? Even if he's not in the Night's Watch, there's that whole maester thing that should prevent him from having a wife.

Davos is already married. Next.

Barristan Selmy is old and a long-serving member of a celibate order.

Jon Connington will be more focused on getting his "son" a match.

And we are back to Sansa. I won't go through all the potential suitors for her. See this brilliant post for that. Given Sansa's narrative themes and that she is headed for a leadership position, a good match for her will be extremely important. She has also been involved in too many marriage plots for one to not work out and be relevant to the larger story.

Jon and Sansa are undoubtedly two of the major characters of the series. Marriage and children are referenced explicitly and implicitly throughout the books for both of them, and they are two of the most romantic characters.

I would need to steal her if I wanted her love, but she might give me children. I might someday hold a son of my own blood in my arms. A son was something Jon Snow had never dared dream of, since he decided to live his life on the Wall. I could name him Robb. (A Storm of Swords - Jon XII)

Implication of bold text = he dreamed of it before, and here he is doing it again. Notice also that he's thinking less of Val specifically and more of what a marriage would give him access to. Sansa does something similar when thinking about Willas.

If I give him sons, he may come to love me. She would name them Eddard and Brandon and Rickon, and raise them all to be as valiant as Ser Loras. And to hate Lannisters, too. In Sansa's dreams, her children looked just like the brothers she had lost. Sometimes there was even a girl who looked like Arya. (A Storm of Swords - Sansa II)

(The parallel content of these passages is ... a lot. One sentence for finding love with Val/Willas, then multiple sentences [three for Jon, four for Sansa] about children. The opening sentences are flipped in order [purple and pink text], and there's the shared idea of dreams [in red] and wanting to name their children for people they've lost [orange].)

Who knows how much time the final two books cover, but Jon and Sansa are both of marriageable age by Westeros/George's standards and will be more so by the end of the series, with a much more appropriate age gap between them than a lot of other possibilities. A union between them makes sense, since Jon would get to become a Stark, something he has always wanted, thought not in the way he dreamt might happen. Sansa would get her true knight, though he is imperfect and not the fantasy version she imagined when younger. It solidifies Stark power in the North. The last book was originally A Time for Wolves, after all.

The questions it leaves though are when does this happen? What does Jon's punishment or social status look like if he plays a role in Daenerys's death (for kinslaying and potentially queenslaying)? Is forsaking the Targ name and kneeling to Bran enough, or does he have to serve an exile period? (Am I letting the show influence me too much with these questions?) Can he acknowledge any children he has, or does that get in the way of the Targ line coming to an end, even if the children are Starks (or Snows)?

The final possibility is George changed his mind since that comment. The garden grew in a different direction. This feels hollow and unfulfilling, especially if you take the view that GRRM is deconstructing tropes so he can reconstruct them. There has to be a hopeful marriage/romance after everything else. And marriage is a big enough point in the books for there to be at least one that helps wrap up the story.

Summary of potential matches between two named characters (does not meet full criteria):

Arianne and Aegon/fAegon

Sam and Gilly

And between POV characters (meets full criteria):

Asha and Jon? (Once again, huh.)

Sansa and Jon

But since Sansa is the character I am most confident in having a plot-relevant marriage, Jon x Sansa wins.

This was not rigged, I swear.