#Oberyn Martell x You x Ellaria Sand

[rise-my-angel]

A Poisonous Truth (Part One)

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Female Reader x Ellaria Sand

Length: 25k

Warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, mentions past instances of rape not related to reader, inference to past domestic abuse, sex work/prostitution, smut, m/f/f dynamics, canon divergence, semi slow burn

Notes: Follows along season 4 but the story diverts from canon more and more as it goes along. Ellaria is an active part of the romance story. There are and will be many book elements pulled into the story as opposed to strictly the show canon. I don't know what happened with the length , I'm so sorry.

Part 2 Now Posted

Cross Posted to Ao3

King’s Landing by far is the most disgusting place you had been too. Your journey, if you could call it that, traveling down south had you encountering a multitude of unfavorable conditions, and yet, the capitol was somehow the most unpleasant of them all. When the city had first come up into sight, a distant view coming into the light as the morning sun rose above the red keep. It didn’t even look good then. 

The only part of the city that didn’t look jam packed was the peak where the Red Keep lay, but the presence of your ruling monarch did little to impress. The streets were packed with people, most of whom didn’t seem to have anywhere near the comforts you would have expected of the citizens of the capitol. Poverty seemed everywhere, every twist and turn protruding a foul plethora of odors, and without the brightness of the sun to shine, too busy geaning onto the delicately constructed city centre, the streets felt dark and cramped. 

The only silver lining was that the Street of Silk was just a breath more attractive then the claustrophobic unkempt streets which you had been led there by. A discreet metal sign hanging from the tops of an entrance with nothing more than a mockingbird printed on it, signified the brothel to which you now had to call home. 

Only one real thing could be said about where your life had now led you, a small silver lining to your new accommodations, your brothel was owned by the once titled Master of Coin Petyr Baelish. The only positive of that being that you had consistent access to proper food and clean water, a luxury you were only afforded because such amenities needed to be made for what you were told was, high quality clientele. 

Though, those aren’t quite the words you would attribute to them. High quality only meant, they could afford to pay inordinate amounts of cash to do whatever they want and demand to be spoiled as much as they want. You were told before arriving that, because it was nobles, knights, men of the royal court who you would be servicing, that you would find better treatment here. 

Not even close. The smaller brothel you had found refuge in, was more cramped, dark, dirty, and clean water wasn’t even a guarantee, but the clients were travellers. People in the middle of a journey, looking to find company or reprieve from the quiet monotony of travel. Sure, they weren’t all kind, but they were interesting. Loud, boisterous men, almost more concerned with being seen as strong and entertaining then with the quality of service from whomever they had paid for. 

Quiet folk, wanting the companionship of intimacy to quell the long spells of nights filled with silence. Sometimes, they were simply people just looking to find a bed for the night, and being able to share one with a woman was more appealing then another night on a bedroll laid in the dirt next to the same stinky men they had travelled with for weeks. They were unique, such vast personalities not worried with how they appeared or looked because it did not matter. You remembered having nights where clients had spent more time making you laugh with their stories, then they had inside your body. Other times, they were men eager to teach you something, playful sessions showing you how to yield their weapons leading to an inevitable pin by the stronger warrior. 

Kings Landing was nothing like that. These men, these nobles and knights were not kind. They were greedy, demanding, and rough. They paid high amounts of coin to have the right to use you how they saw fit. The brothel was set up this way on purpose. The loose rules of treatment Little Finger had set into place allowed these rich members of the court to come back time and time again, spending their gold on the right to use you like a doll made for their pleasure alone. 

You had yet to meet the infamous weasel. You knew he was still in King's Landing, but having many cogs in motion at once he clearly felt he had better things to do than run his own business. Olyvar was currently the one in charge, well, in a sense. 

He also was under Little Fingers employ, catering to men with same sex interests alone, that gave him a certain level of time to find new responsibility. Simply put, Kings Landing seemed to look down upon that kind of behaviour, clients seeking out male services being much more uncommon, but highly sought after when needed. It seemed to have given him time to learn a touch of leadership. 

It was Olyvar who had been in charge the day you arrived, which honestly, was far better than meeting the infamous Lord himself. Sure he was personable and charming, most of them here were, but he also, wasn’t the one whom had made the deal to bring you here. Whatever backwater deals had been made to bring you here without any explanation, wasn’t made by him. One woman would later tell you that Baelish was dirty and manipulative, that speaking to him sometimes could feel almost humiliating. That when he held all the cards in a plan that you had no knowledge about, he would take pleasure in knowing he could control you however you wanted. 

Olyvar was still human deep down, which meant that he recognized the mask you wore when you arrived, a level of fear  in your eyes giving away a terror that you tried so desperately to hide in your body language. He didn’t know why obviously, no one knew why, and they never could. 

You had been brought here from another brothel, so it wasn’t the fear of being forced into a position you knew nothing of, no this was a fear you intended to keep silent. The fear of a secret you were once so sure no one could guess, now in a place where someone could know. Someone who may recognize who you used to be. 

Part of you recognized that it was unlikely. It had been well over a year, maybe even closer to two years since that day and you knew you looked different. Your hair, cut, styled, and dyed already hid the resemblance in your face quite well, you wore makeup now, even your body had changed. Recognizable scars that you never used to have, the way you hold yourself drastically altered due to your new profession, even your size, now softer. Weak, under fed, with no muscles to speak of, gave way to much softer, more plush skin. A plushness that lured men into your services with the promise of something to grab onto that matched your softer, quieter disposition.  

Something the other girls here picked up on right away. One you had seemed to form some kind of a friendship with, Genna, had commented on that fact one evening. "Sometimes men ask for me cus they have no idea what they’re doing.” 

Your own body, laying back one arm draped across your stomach while the other arched above your head, hand slipping to rest beneath the pillow, suddenly perched up onto your elbows with a raise of your eyebrows to accompany it. “So they what, ask you to teach them?” 

A smug little smile stretched across her face, “More like they need someone to guide them.” Genna hops back to the bed, knees placed down on each side of your own thighs, as she starts moving her fingertips to dance over them, “Need a girl in charge, show them how it works, tell them what to do.” 

Her fingers reach your stomach, and playfully pulls off the thin fabric you had lazily covered yourself with after your last client had finished with the two of you. In reaction, one of your own hands goes to grab it back, face scrunching in an unconvincing annoyed look. Genna simply jerks it back harder, only to come back with both hands and grasp your wrists holding them in place as she leans over you. “Virgins who need me to show them how to be in charge of little softies like you.” 

Your face barely hid the need to laugh, pretending as if her giggles were one sided. “Oh so I’m such a little softie now, huh? Not sure that's the word big boy was just calling me 10 minutes ago.” Wiggling your eyebrows enough that both you and Genna laughed. 

Releasing your hands, she finally relaxes, flops down onto the ruffled sheets beside you, both of you too lazy to detangle your legs as you both turned enough to see the other. Genna’s own hand comes up to gently move hair out of your face as she speaks. “Yeah, but I reckon that’s why they brought you here.’ 

You only got out a disbelieving look before she continued. “No, I'm serious. Some girls either come in here, hoping that fancy men means more money, and then leave when they aren’t dressed in golden robes bought with piles of their new riches. Those that stay, usually are normal. Here to do a job, smile at men, suck their cock and make ‘em happy. But I think you fit a specific niche.” 

Turning your body to lay on its side, head propped up by your hand as Genna does the same. “Oh, and what would that be?” Part of you already knows the answer, but you want to know what the others see in you.

“Someone soft, someone gentle but not timid. Men who want a submissive girl that makes them feel like they’re really in charge. Willing quiet things who need a big dominating man to corrupt your soft little innocence, instead of just a girl following orders because she’s getting paid to.”

Her hand coming back to stroke stands of your hair, “A real fantasy of a soft sweet girl willing to do anything a big strong man needs and demands of her, simply because she just really wants it.”

Your eyes cast downward for a moment, the faint sounds of giggling and loud moans echoing from other rooms. For a brief moment, you felt like you were somewhere far from where you ended up. Flashing to the reason you were hiding, barely a whisper coming out with a small nod of your head. “Men who want to feel in charge, not just act like it.” 

Genna calls your name, well, what you had told them what your name was, “You still with me? Or all that cock today finally putting you to sleep?” 

And like that, you were back. Back to the name you had given them, the person you were brought here to be. Your secret locked back up, no one to ever find it. Your hand grabbing the pillow behind you and giving her a hearty smack. 

Genna’s yelp only to be followed with a fight to take the pillow from you, giggling turning into loud laughter until the expected sight of two naked girls playing around in bed caught the attention of yet another faceless highborn ready to put you right back to work. 

You weren’t in the building the day Peytr Baelish tuned up. Having spent the morning, up and down the streets with another girl you worked alongside, Armeca. The morning sun grew hotter and hotter, the two of you made your way to get a view of the water before returning back. It was a short reprieve from the life you had created for yourself. Looking upon the strikingly bright blue water that ran from the channel out into the Narrow Sea. An escape that felt so painfully far from your resch.

Getting lost in the striking water, you missed Armeca calling your name until she came up beside you and linked your arm into hers. “What have you never seen water before?” She laughs gently before pulling you alongside her to make the walk back. “We need to get back.”

There had been whispers around the city regarding the King as of late. It was hard to make out the details, whispers amongst the people you walked by on the streets, or fragments of conversation between the knights and nobles. Sometimes you heard things indirectly, the men assuming you weren’t listening too  busy with the task at hand, or more blatantly as men had you and other girls sit in their laps as they drank and traded gossip like a couple of fish wives. 

Honestly, you didn’t know much about how the war had ended, but you knew the talk grew louder after it had. Gathering as much as the North had been defeated, usually only spoken about in shrewd and disgusting mockery of what became of the Stark corpses. Learning that the North was now held by Roose Bolton, a decision no doubt decided by Tywin Lannister you could only guess. Choosing men as heartless and cruel as he to hold the Lannister influence wherever they could get their hands on. 

It made your spine tingle, having a good sense of the kind of men loyal to Tywin. You knew Roose Bolton, since he had known your father. A man just as vile as the plethora of distantly related Lannisters who frequented your services. But you pushed it down. That wasn’t your life anymore. 

Arriving back at the brothel, you finally met the man so mysteriously spoken of, even by those in his employ. Walking in on the tail end of a discussion with Olyvar about preparations of some kind. You stayed close to a wall, Baelish hadn’t been here since you’ve arrived, but he was the one who brought you here, paid off your previous boss to bring you all the way to King's Landing for reasons never explained to you. They were reasons only he knew, and you had a strong suspicion he had no intentions of telling you outright. 

It was Armeca who spoke, bringing his gaze right in your direction. “Preparations for what?” 

Did that unnerving smirk ever leave his face? “For the wedding, of course. King Joeffry’s marriage to Margaery Tyrell is soon approaching, and we’ll need to be ready.”

Baelish had begun walking towards the two of you, but slowly, and not even in a straight path. As if he was toying with you by not just coming up to you directly. “Men all over the city will be busy, worked up, in need more than ever of some close company. But more importantly, visitors. Many head of houses will be making their way to the capitol to attend the wedding, and I need every one of you,” 

Finally coming up closer, he looked at you as he spoke. You hadn’t asked any question, but he answered almost to you as he invaded your personal space. “To be on alert at all times.” He looked at you, watching him with such a hard impassive face there was no mistaking you were trying to play a facade. “You never know what kind of men will walk through our doors in the upcoming weeks, you need to be prepared.” 

Finally he turned away. “All of you.” 

America has already left your side, but you stood there watching him as he turned his back to share some final words with Olyvar before leaving. As he faced your direction, you began to busy yourself, hoping to rush past in a display of needing to change into proper attire, but your arm was grabbed just as your body passed his. 

It was unclear if the look in your eyes was fear, anger, or shock, but that smirk on Lord Baelish's own face stayed all the same. “So good to have you here, my dear. I knew bringing you all the way to the city would work out just fine. “ 

His eyes locked with yours, until he let his hold on you go, and walked out. The girls were right, you were better off never speaking to him directly. Making your way to your quarters you were lost, distracted with uncovering what he meant. 

He couldn’t know. It was impossible. Baelish was the furthest option of anyone who could possibly recognize you, and yet, the way he looked at you, spoke to you. Spies all over the city for various individuals were commonplace in Kings Landing, but part of you wondered, how far did that network reach. Were you really brought here for this, or did he bring you here for something else entirely? 

If he knew who you were, no doubt there was some plan in his mind of how to use you, and the second he was ready to do it you might be trapped forever from making any free choice of your own ever again. If everything went according to plan, you felt terrified towards whatever intentions were in store for you. 

Only, no one’s plans were going to work out the way they wanted. Only one person’s plans would, and it would slowly unravel the very core of anyone you now, or will know. But, it was impossible for you to know that fate was even an option, it was a fate that would, in due time, shock everyone. But for now, you had work to do, you and the others all preparing yourself for a constant flow of brand new rich noblemen whom would continue to line Baelish’s pockets with gold. 

For a while, you found yourself catering to a variety of clientele making their way into the city for the Royal Wedding. Mostly thoughtless Lords looking to take advantage of having a beautiful woman in a luxurious bed. Sometimes married men who can now do whatever they desire with you, that their wives back home have no interest in, but all of whom have little to no interest in even learning your name. 

For a while, it almost felt like a kind of routine, a predictable round of clients coming in and out, so busy that only a few regular faces popping by in the business. The ones you know from multiple visits, commenting that most of the arrivals piled into the city at once, coming from nearby areas. Eager to take advantage of the festivities and attempting to schmooze their way into a closer seat to the crown during the celebration. 

The influx of people was enough for a while to distract you from your encounter with Little Finger. The constant demand of your attention taking the forefront of your mind, but it wouldn’t last forever. As the families closer to Kings Landing had settled in, there was less traffic of new faces as the further the House lived, the longer in between new people you began to see. 

During the early hours of the morning, sun just barely beginning to peek into the sky, pouring just enough light into your room to wake up your distracted mind, was when you had the thought. Standing by the window, a velvety sheet draped over your person, you thought of your home. A pang of nerves all set off at once, your body feeling a flow of anxiety as sharp as the strike of a match. 

He wouldn’t come here, would he? The ruling class here was unarguably Lannister, and his allegiance wouldn’t be brushed off lightly. Not by the hot tempered king, rife with anger and immaturity, and not by the hand of the king. Tywin, a man who only strikes against his enemies with patience and strategy, but aims to devastate when he does. Neither man would welcome him here at the drop of a hat, only willing to switch sides right before the one he started in, lost. Afterall, you had seen almost no Northern men since arriving in King's Landing. 

But it didn’t stop the fear. The growing anxiety of him finding you, how quickly he would drag you out into the streets, humiliate you for all to see. Would he draw the torture out? Bring you all the way back, just to execute you in the place and people you ran from? Or would his anger boil over and end you right there, leaving you in the dirty streets until someone had the decency to move your rotting corpse. 

Either was as likely as the other. The great shame finding you alive and hiding in a brothel in the capitol, the shame it would bring upon him that he failed so badly that keeping you alive would be out of the question. 

Afterall, your father was nothing but a cruel and sadistic man. Put your life on a cliifs edge when you threatened to expose the extent of his cruelness, and when that failed? When no one on your land or in the neighbouring towns could find a hint of you? He had declared you missing, and not long after that, dead. 

You couldn’t be sure why he had waited to declare you dead, when you knew he would never pretend like you were still alive. Maybe to buy him some time to come up with a plausible explanation to why they knew you were dead, but no body was seen and no funeral was held. By that point, you were too far away. You were already travelling south, and what he was saying about you didn’t matter. 

Did Little Finger know? Is that why he brought you here? He finds out the supposedly dead daughter of Lord is hiding with a new identity in a brothel, and brings you here to use as some kind of collateral or pawn in one of the many despicable plans he has? 

Little Finger hadn’t been around for days, and you hoped the much more interesting opportunity of manipulating the many fresh nobles and court members was a better priority. To the people of this city, you were no one. Just a soft face, seen only by rich men looking to fuck, and none of them cared enough to consider your existence beyond that. 

Well, no one cared, until more eyes than just the ever untrustworthy Little Finger, found yours. More eyes than had ever paid that kind of attention to you, and in ways much less sinister than those of your elusive boss. 

The day he arrived, you hadn’t even been aware of his presence until he had already caused a commotion. Too preoccupied with a more senior man, lonely and requesting one of the hot water tubs which rested in a private room with a closed door for client privacy. Not too demanding of a man, just a widowed gentleman looking for a woman to sit on his cock while giving him a gentle scrub while soaking in the warm water. By the time you had made your way into the main room, a trio of men arrived in the brothel, one of which had trained his eyes upon you almost instantly. 

It wasn’t uncommon as of late, for you to be placed near the entrance, welcoming the men coming in with your soft eyes and a gentle touch. You were told it helped make new visitors feel admired and wanted as they found their pick. 

Their early needs were quite simple, really. Leading them to a warm room, and letting them take a seat as you begun pouring drinks. One of them, quite touchy from the beginning. The other two men, bright eyes with smug, satisfied faces made passing comments. Nothing interesting or remotely new, just a back and forth as if you couldn't hear them making lewd comments about you. What others consider regular small talk, was typically replaced with just thirst and greedy touches in places like this. 

The third man has found his way behind you, one hand finding its way under the sheer, loose fabric covering your chest, while the other pulling your hips back into his own. “She’s such a gracious host isn’t she boys?” Chuckles followed, yours with a fake flattery meant to stroke an ego. “Woman like this? She definitely needs some one on one time, to thank her. Don’t you think so, sweetheart?” 

So, you had found the remaining pair, two young beauties, poured their drinks, and left them to their own devices. The two girls each sat in one of their laps. The door to the next room had only just shut, the man finding his own seat nearby and beckoning you to kneel between his legs. As you worked to undress his lower half, he boasted. Lamenting what a great opportunity it was for a girl such as yourself to be on your knees in front of a Lannister. 

Typical. You hadn’t the chance to meet many of them face to face since your arrival, but their presence left a smug trail anywhere they went. Proud and cocky, their family’s prominent rule on the Iron Throne no doubt left any relative in the house the desire to show off how appealing they were. The fact that you couldn’t even tell them what their names were was a big indicator of how unimportant they didnt realize they were. Not that you could ever think of saying it, but you out of all the working girls here, would be able to easily recognize someone of any actual significance. 

You worked him over with your hand as he spoke, the man’s ego not able to keep quiet enough to even let you just get to work. No, he wanted to keep your mouth free still, just so you could shower him with soft, wide eyed awe of his success and skill, the prowess all such men surrounding the family held. 

At first, the sound in the room next to you wasn’t enough to worry. A grunt or yell of some sorts had come from one of the men next door, not exactly tinted in something that screamed pleasure. It was enough for the both of you to cast your eyes to the door, but if there was speaking going on it was quiet enough that you couldn’t hear it through the door. 

The two girls leaving the room whispering urgently to each other as they left. One turned her head to look back at the shut door they came through, only to have the other tug her away out of sight before you could figure out the situation. Another grunt of what sounded much more like pain came through again. This time alerting the both of you enough that he had stood up from his seat. Eyes trained on the door, he gestured for you to silently tuck him back in before he took a step forward. 

Then a loud cry of clear agony let out, finding its way from your ears down into your heart as it began to pump with anxiety. It was more common that a girl would find herself on the end of that kind of pain, then a client. What on earth were the remaining pair doing in there?

An immediate answer found you as the two men from before came bursting through the door, one doubled over as if the other had to carry part of him out. Blood clearly spewing from his wrist and cries of pain coming out freely. Your own companion moved forward to hold onto the wound and made their way to leave, in discernible anger being muttered from one of the men as they left. 

Before the door could shut, you moved to step into its threshold to see what had even taken place. Blood on the table you had just set up, and a number of people standing in the middle of the room who you didn't normally see here. You could see Olyvar at the other end of the room, by the open hall watching carefully but also surprised at whatever had occurred before leaving the room.

You recognized the sound of Tyrion Lannister, you had never seen him here for sex by the time you arrived, but there had been more than one occasion he had to come in to get the guard typically by his side. You don’t remember his name though, you think Armeca was one of his regular girls. 

Then your eyes found them. How you could have possibly missed it before was beyond you, the tall pair in the middle, dressed in golds and orange standing out in the middle of the deeper, more muted colours draped around the room. One of them turning, his body now facing your view more clearly, as the woman behind him wrapping her arms around to follow. 

The man's voice is what really stuck out. “You don’t partake?”  You knew this accent, but it had been many years since you last heard one like it, and it didn’t quite place right away. 

“Oh, I partook. Now I’m married.” Sansa Stark, right. You had heard about after her fathers execution was announced, and rumours of her being held there by the Queen like a prisoner. And whispers followed through Westeros about her being forced into a marriage. Gods, she was still here even now. Married to Tyrion Lannister in some kind of cruel joke on both of them it seems. 

The man in gold, tall and broad from what you could see, with a handsome face to match, noting an angular nose framing him quite handsomely, In the moment, you weren't sure. But, clear dark eyes met yours for the briefest of seconds in the silence before Tyrion begun to speak again. 

“Prince Oberyn,” A cold shiver crept its way down your spine. That’s who this was. You knew this man, or at least, you knew of him by way of reputation. It was another Martell who you actually knew, it felt like a lifetime ago now or a different life to be more accurate. “If I may, a word in private?” 

There was a pause in his movements as he watched Tyrion closely, before separating from the woman behind him to follow the Lannister outside. You could only stand in your place, watching them leave. You didn’t know Tyrion, the whispers about him vary from place to place and person to person. 

He was a Lannister, a member of the most powerful, yet most hated family in the Seven Kingdoms. A family deeply hated by the very man he asked to speak with. On the other hand, he also was said to be smart, very smart, but very despised by his own family. The part of you inside, the one still alive deep down, couldn’t help but wonder what’s to come of that. The old person you once were finding itself lost in wonder of what Oberyn Martell’s presence meant to the Lannisters, and what Tyrion intended to get out of him. 

But, in this place, in this brothel that was not your place. Your only curiosity about the man should be if the rumours of the short Lannister’s prowess in bed was true. It should be on simply providing the Prince as quality of service as you can. Nothing more. 

Though maybe, not quite just those things. You hadn’t heard Tyrion's guard leave, too distracted by pushing down your true curiosities. That’s not surprising, you were never keen on making yourself available to him. He liked the sound of his voice so much that you’re not sure he ever shut up, and insultingly enough, you suspected you just weren’t small and petite enough for his taste. 

This woman in front of you, she was something else entirely. Like her lover, she was quite tall, with long curls falling down her back and the orange dress across her body soft and enticing. Her face though, was anything but soft. 

Neither was her voice. “Do all the girls here like to stare, or am I just special?” A smooth yet seductive tone to her voice matched with the sharp eyes trained on your person. 

Your body straightened up as you took a step further into the room, but her own feet moved faster. She hovered above you, eyes unblinking as she searched your person for something unknown. “I was going to apologize for such a mess being caused during a guest's stay, but something tells me you are used to things getting messy.” 

She’s hard to read, but you wonder if she was surprised in any way, her eyebrows raised almost in question as you slipped by her, making your way to the table to gauge how much blood there would be to clean. The silky accent followed in your path as you moved. “I would put all of the blame on my dear lover, but you cannot be with someone as long as we have had each other, without becoming just a little too much like them. If not just used to his temper.” 

Coming up to the table, she stood at the adjacent side and glanced down to the blood you were now moving one of the drinks away from. “This particular mess though, is Oberyn’s speciality, so in this case yes it is his fault.” She chuckled before grabbing the other drink to join the other you had moved. 

“And yours?” You were closer than she expected, seeing a sly glint in your eye the more she looked into them. 

“My what?” Her head tilted slightly, black curls falling over one shoulder slightly. 

Your hand raised up, letting her hair slip into a gentle grasp of your fingers, before sweeping them over the skin of her shoulder to put it back into place. You didn’t look back up as you said, too preoccupied with how she felt under your fingertips. “What kind of messes does a woman such as yourself leave?”  

That feeling sparked across your skin, following your veins and finding a home electrocuting your heat just a tad more, as her own hand took yours into hers. Placing it between both of hers as she turned your palm up and traced the lines laying there. “Only the kinds you could ever want.” 

Eyes widening playfully, mouth opening in a mock surprise. “That I could want? Last time I checked, my services haven’t been booked by any women such as yourself at the moment.” What was it about this woman that kept you speaking in such a free way? She drew you in, but almost like she was a mystery you intended to only unravel at your leisure. Not like a client wanting to appear mysterious simply as boast. 

Her head leaned into your personal space, her words lowering closer to something akin to a whisper. “And has it ever?” Your eyes squinted in question, the woman's hand coming up to trail down your cheek with the touch of a feather. “Has a woman ever had your time in such a way, little one?”  

It was a fight, keeping the pounding of your heart, the thrill of the unknown coursing through your body down and masked by a smirk. Leaning closer, sealing more of the shrinking gap between you. “Not many women in a place like this, other than to drag their husbands right back out.” 

Her curious smirk turned closer to a smile, “Is that why I get those stares? Because I'm usually the bad guy?” 

An actual laugh was finally brought out of you, you could lie and help make the girls she had already encountered look a little more confident, but a louder part of you couldn’t help but wonder if it was the truth she wanted more. So you gave it to her. “The girls stare at you honestly because you intimidate them.” You leaned back slightly to nod at the door you knew the Lannister men had run out of. “Usually orders from paying men are the only reasons women find any pleasure in each other. Most beyond that have no interest in it beyond satisfying the ome giving the gold. It’s your interest in them that the girls find intimidating.” 

Her coy but seductive gaze simmered down into one full of thought. Whatever she had been searching for in watching you earlier, had just deepened how hard she would have to look. “And what about you little one? How do you find me?” 

Your answer was as honest as you had been the entire conversation, and you think that honesty surprises her. “Intriguing. I find you intriguing.” 

Her hand that had traced a path on your cheek moved to run down the length of your hair, pulling a strand to her and laying it rest on your chest. Her hand kept its gentle grasp on the strands as it remained laying on you. “I expected someone as gentle and sweet looking as yourself, to be much more shy and timid. Especially with no experience with another woman.” 

Your hand reached to lightly grasp onto hers, your seductive role had begun finding its end. A much more genuine curiosity though, remained in its absence. “Maybe that’s normal for most girls like me. Afterall men who want me for such gentleness, usually want me quiet and meek to go along with it.”

Both your touches on the other remained, unmoving but not at all eager to let go. “Are you?” 

Softly you smiled, hoping the twinge of rushing emotion was held back, that the conflict you felt within didn’t show in your face. “Maybe if I were better at my job right now I would pretend to be.” 

This time when her head leaned back into yours, you didn’t follow in. The coy flirty games no longer feeling right here. This woman seemed to almost enjoy you being more genuine, but you didn’t understand why. Her hand moving back to your hair, grazing it with her fingers as her palm slipped over to lightly cup your cheek through her hold on your hair. “I prefer smart and honest over dumb and loose. What is your name, smart girl?” 

Lurching in your stomach felt so strong it almost jerked your entire body. Your real name almost bursted out of its own accord, but you forced it down. Sealing it inside you where it belonged. So told her a name, the one you had given the Madam of the previous brothel you had been to. The one where this new lie, this fake identity had taken hold. And you asked hers in return. 

Her deep eyes were a trap, so full of life and emotion swirling through the gorgeous colours. Losing your gaze so quickly in their hold, it took you a few seconds to realize that not only had she answered, but that the answer didn’t actually come out of her mouth. 

No, the answer had come from the same deep toned voice from before. A voice you hadn’t even realized was back in the room or even when he had returned. 

“Ellaria Sand. My paramour.” Both your heads turned to see Oberyn approaching. Yellow robes, rich in colour matching that of the sun, and a chain laying down across his chest holding a symbol you could not quite make out. A strong chest leading up to broad shoulders which held themselves high. 

A confidence radiated from him, but also seemed to also withhold some tension. A steeled gaze as he watches you detach your grasp from Ellaria completely. “Prince Oberyn, forgive me I was simply apologizing to the lady for such an unpleasant greeting upon your arrival.” 

Oberyn Martell was a difficult man to read, while his face seemed to look impassive as he spoke, his eyes very much felt like his companions had. Deep, thoughtful and seemingly trying to figure something out which you did not know. “What unpleasantness?” 

Beside you, Ellaria could be heard chuckling as Oberyn gestured to the table you stood by, “A small amount of Lannister blood spilt is nothing to feel upset about, quite the opposite in fact.”

A challenging look, eyebrows raised as he seemed to wait for your response. Gauging how such a comment would make you feel. You were in a land ruled by Lannisters, afterall. “I simply meant that it is my apologies that such a confrontation even occurred.” 

You were tight, formal, polite borderlining on controlled, not quite what a regular working girl in a brothel would concern herself with, and it seems both saw right through it. Oberyn’s chuckle matched that of his lover. “I told her when one is around you long enough, it’s something you get used to.” 

Their eyes spoke another language to each other, while their words said otherwise. Both had moved to you rather than returning to the others arms. Ellaria simply being closer, getting there first, this time her hand giving a deliberate show of finding a home in the strands of your hair.  Oberyn mocking a betrayed gasp, “Already discussing her opinion about me?”

Her smooth hand found the bottom of your chin, bumping it up to look at her face with little force. “Or just warning her of your antics,” Her own eyes moving from that of her lovers, to a softened but introspective look watching your own face. “This one’s different, aren’t you little one?”

“You are the guest, there’s no need to flatter me. I’m the one who should be buttering you up to sway you to buy my own services.” 

Ellaria’s grasp on you suddenly passed over to that of the Prince. His hold on you, quite different. Having his eyes on yours is just as appealing, but somehow holding an intensity toy had never experienced before. “It is not flattery if it is true, no?” 

You opened your mouth, expression turning to the side as if to hide from his gaze, but he interrupted whatever your inevitable denial would be. “I sense there is a complicated mind behind all of this,” his hand moved to cup the side of your styled hair up in the air. “What's your name?” 

Unlike Ellaria, telling Oberyn your made up name seemed to be the wrong answer. Brows furrowed with Oberyn's squint as he looked at you more closely. Saying your name out loud, as if to test whether or not it matched what stood in front of him. For now, it seemed to pass.

Oberyn moved around you, keeping his eyes trained, never leaving yours as he stood behind Ellaria, pulling her back into his chest, mouth finding her ear, “Tell me what you are thinking, my love.” 

Like an attracted magnet, her arms reached to return his embrace, their eyes watching yours with thoughts you were not privy to. “I think you, my dear, are far more interesting than any of the mindless girls we were shown before.” 

You shook your head, but one of her arms pulled you close, as if to bring you into her own arms. “I wouldn’t be so quick to turn them away, the girls and men here are all quite beautiful-” 

Ellaria’s smile was honest but also a tad coy as she pulled you the rest of the way to stand in her personal space, her arm moving to trace down your neck and collarbones, the other still firmly in Oberyn's grasp. “Every brothel has beautiful people, that's not much of a selling point. You though, your interesting, and that’s far more unique. And like he said, my name is Ellaria, not my lady."

Footsteps approached the room as Olyvar returned. He spoke, but kept his gaze curious onto the scene in front of him rather than looking directly at the Oberyn as he spoke. “My apologies for the delay,” He seemed to slow his words as he spoke, as if trying to figure out what he was watching. “I have had all the necessary arrangements made for both of your stays, if you woul-” 

Oberyn’s voice commanded out, like Ellaria, watching you while speaking to another. “I appreciate your efforts, but our plans have changed.” He said your name, and finally turned to look at Olyvar, “I presume she has other work, but I would request her company be made available to myself and Ellaria during our stay.” 

Your surprise matched Olyvars. “That can be arranged, but we do have a wide variety of quite experienced girls and boys to match either of your needs.” It wasn’t meant to be insulting, you understood Olyvar’s intention. You were still new here, more soft and quiet then other girls and he likely assumed the appetite of Prince Oberyn and Ellaria would require more than what he presumed you could provide. But you still felt it, the attention so dedicated to you leaving you feel, warm. Almost like a tingle of curious excitement. 

Oberyn moved from Ellaria to you, his hands grazing over her body as he stepped in front of you directly. “That won’t be necessary, my paramour and I have all we need right here don’t we?” 

Ever in sync, Ellaria now moved to hold onto Oberyn's back as he did hers. “More than enough.” Turning to face Olyvar, “She will need some of her things moved into where we are staying. I have a feeling she will be spending quite a bit of her time,” Ellaria looking back at you, her tone shifting to sound almost amused. “Entertaining the two of us, won’t you, little one?” 

You and Olyvar looked at each other for a moment, neither of you finding suspicion or any kind of uncertainty in the other. It seems the Dornish couple’s decisions have taken both of you by surprise. So he nodded, calling your name. “I will have some of your necessities moved to their room, if that is alright with you.” 

At least Olyvar also was for hire here, so he understood the rareness of being exclusively asked for by two people for an unspecified number of days, let alone when one of them is a Prince. Both of you knew Little Finger would have simply demanded it regardless of your comfort. You knew you were okay with this arrangement, but you appreciated a small check of your concern from him. So you nodded in affirmation to him, before looking back to the man in front of you. “Who am I to deny a Prince of what he asks of me?” 

He chuckled, his hand trailing down your side almost innocently, before moving to push the small of your back into Ellaria. “Show her the way, my love. We have a very exciting few days ahead of us, I imagine.” 

Guided by Ellaria’s touch, more smooth and warm than the intense watchful eyes of her companion following behind. Ellaria’s arms wrapped around yours as she walked, telling you of the Dornish amenities they have brought with them, boasting of how much better quality wine and food are from Dorne than the drab and somewhat tasteless food this city can provide. The entire time, Oberyn was watching. Tickling the back of your mind the spark of doubt you had been feeling as of late. The prick of anxiety that if Oberyn didn’t seem to know who you are now, he would take great time and lengths to figure it out. 

While you recognized the room they were staying in, you simply hadn’t spent much time in it. It's large, with one large bed with silky sheets and plush pillows strayed about it, deep maroons, purples, and shades of blue matching the drapes on the windows, giving it an air of dark privacy that other rooms did not normally have. It wasn’t unknown for the more wealthy of clients to be able to afford longer stays. Usually men of high houses who didn’t want to be kept in the stuffy air and watchful eyes of the Red Keep. 

You knew the brothel itself held more than one person acting as spies for the various players in the city, but you assumed it was a safer gamble to bet on for a Martell than to stay in the Red Keep where almost every person inside watches some and reports to others. 

There hadn’t been a guest like that in the few months you had been here, but you never expected any stay you’d have in it would be with an unbelievably beautiful woman and a Prince as her companion. Some of their things already finding a home amongst the room, you wonder how early in the day they had arrived. Clearly keeping a quiet profile at first, you had been awake since the sun had also awoken, and you never saw or heard of their arrival. That is, until the draw of confronting a Lannister drew the Viper from his Den. 

While Oberyn spoke, it was Ellaria who kept an arm linked with yours, bringing you around the room with her, the other arm slinked behind your back to hold your waist as she directed you. “You are welcome to anything in this room that we also have, you are not being bought as a prisoner to us, you are free to do whatever you like. As long as it is our company that you return to, instead of whatever spoiled men tries to throw his money at you.” 

Ellaria chuckled in your ear, turning your body to face the Prince as she wraps her own body around the back of yours, “He is either quite brave or quite foolish to speak about your own city men in such a way.” You could not see hers, but by the way Oberyn's own eyes glint at her with a mock offence drenched in a playful familiarity, you begin to assume she is the only one who has the bravery and freedom to tease him so openly. 

“I see right through your games.” His chuckle fades into the sounds of his footsteps as he approaches. While Ellaria keeps a hold on your waist, Oberyn's own hand traces circles around your hip, before leaning into your shoulder blade to find her face. “Were she not trying to impress you, my beautiful paramour would have no qualms about telling me about how utterly foolish she thinks I am.” 

While their own lips met, Ellaria’s hold on you tightened, and Oberyn's hand found a grip on your hip, the other cupping the side of your face. Separating after just a quick kiss, Oberyn tilted his head so his lips were at your ear. “You are a smart girl though, little one. If you think me foolish I expect you to come to that conclusion on your own, not by the tempting words of a manipulative woman.” 

Ellaria responds by pulling you from his hold entirely, the hands on your waist, now across your torso and stomach keeping you away. “If I am the manipulative one, then what does that make you?” Leaning her lips onto the top of your head, she almost started to laugh with her words, “Oberyn is the one who demanded all of your time to himself, I would have asked before making such a request.” 

Both laughed together, as your mind started to wander. You needed to remind yourself what you were here for, what they are buying you for. It had been so easy to lose yourself in their gentle touches and laughter, but they bought you for a reason. 

Your eyes casting back and forth between them, before moving your hands to slip off the light and translucent fabric over your shoulders and down your arms, a pounding heartbeat conflicting with your mind telling you this is all you’re here to be. It didn’t get far, Ellaria’s hands slid to your arms, pulling the fabric back up in place as her smooth palms trail over your skin. 

Oberyn stepped forward, to catch your hands, holding them in the air with an eyebrow raised, waiting for you to begin lowering your arms back down to relax before he let you go. Ellaria’s hold behind you became less possessive and playful, finding a new hold on you around your shoulders with one palm still pressed against the crease between your dress and shoulder. Oberyn tilted your head up to look at him. “I appreciate the eagerness, but this is not why we brought you here.” 

The conflict in your mind started to feel silenced as the pounding of your heart grew louder and faster. “You mean, you’re not interested in-” 

Fingers tracing over your cheeks, his eyes cast down to follow the path he made, the air of play in his presence giving way to something more inward and thought filled. “Oh we are, sweet girl I assure you. That is not the problem.” 

Ellaria was the one to finish his thought process. “We want to spend time with you, for you to spend time with us, talking, laughing, getting to know our little world here more than just what happens between those sheets.” 

Finally her body moves from yours, giving you the physical space to accompany your thoughts. “Why me though? Why choose me out of all the-” 

Oberyn’s voice smaller, less demanding of attention to its tone, lowering down to a much calmer, more personable level. “They are all beautiful and eager to serve, yes. But you are interesting. You fascinate not just me, but Ellaria as well.” His hand finally cups the side of your face entirely, thumb only stroking back and forth lightly as he finds your eyes. “It’s rare to find someone who fascinates both of us so deeply. I requested all of your time, because I want the time and freedom to discover why.” 

It tempted you in a way more than anyone else had ever tempted you in the year and a half you had been this new person. It had been even longer, since anyone had shown you such decency and interest as you as a human being. Maybe it was going to be a mistake, allowing yourself to get attached to two people who inevitably were going to go back to their home and their lives without once this celebration is over. Oberyn voiced one last draw to the offer. “There is nothing we will ask of you in your time with us, other than giving us the chance to strip all of this away.” He gestured around the room, gesturing to the kind of building you were in and what you were supposed to be. 

He tapped the side of your head with his other hand. “What’s in here is far more endearing than what is expected of you.” 

Ellaria was sat on the edge of the bed now, palms braced behind her as she watched closely, watching for the signs of hesitancy or even discomfort that Oberyn may have missed standing so close. “Anything physical with us is incidental. We don’t want you to feel pressured into performing simply because you are normally paid to fuck us. If you want to, it needs to be because you want us. Not because you think you should.” 

Chest rising up and down with an audible deep breath, your mind outweighing the cons of how alone you will be back to existing once they leave, with the pros of how genuine they were speaking. So just maybe, you chose the wrong decision. You nodded. 

Oberyn’s grip on your face pulled you back to look his way. “Outloud. If you are truly okay with this, I need you to tell us. Tell me. Outloud.” 

Doubling down on the bad decisions, that's what you knew you were about to do, and yet, you did it anyway. You jumped into the freezing water with little knowledge of how you were going to swim to the surface. Your hand reached up and held his, your own thumb finding comfort in swiping back and forth against his own skin. “I would like that.” 

Oberyn smiled, and beyond your eyesight so did Ellaria. The pounding of your heart knocking out all other noises as Oberyn leaned into your face close, only for his lips to press against your other cheek. Finally he moved, pushing the small of your back to a table near the back of the room. “Sit, sit. I will get you a drink, I don’t imagine many men in Kings Landing bother to just allow a beautiful woman the courtesy of enjoying a drink with them like an equal.” 

As he begins pouring, Ellaria joins you at the table, the smile on her face light. Little emotion hidden behind it beyond a genuine content. “We have our own wines. You people have absolutely no taste, so we had Dornish wine brought in specifically.” 

Goblets appear in front of your persons, as Oberyn takes the other seat, leaning back with as much a light casualness as his paramour. You tried to match, trying to feel alright with just being yourself here, but you needed time, and you had a feeling neither would rush you into it. 

Oberyn watches you take your first sip, and his next words have a smile attached to them as he watches your surprised expression before eagerly taking another sip. “We have some food, our true delicacies don’t travel as well, but we certainly have enough to prove that the people in the capitol have absolutely no taste buds.” 

You laugh at yourself, as Ellaria comes to your defence “Careful lover, you keep that attitude up and our little bird may start feeling offended that you’re just insulting her home.”  

Oberyn found your eyes again, that squinting analytical expression returning. As if he is once again challenging what your response may be, and you still, aren’t quite sure as to why. But you give an answer that is as honest as you can compose. “I’ve only been here a few months, the food where I was born wasn't much better than here.” 

Oberyn leaned back in his seat, watching you with those challenging eyes “And where would that be?”  He says your name in a question as well, as if your identity was a part of it. 

So you just smirked into your goblet, “If I gave everything away right away, there wouldn’t be any mystery to uncover would there?” 

Ellaria chuckled beside you as she tells you she agreed. Oberyn watches for a moment, “All in good time. I have all the time I need to unravel such a mystery.” He takes another sip of his own drink, before the conversation flows in a different direction. Giving you the time to relax more into getting used to them as the hours of the afternoon begin to tick away. 

With the wedding rapidly approaching, it seemed more people grew tense rather than having the growing excitement of a celebration. Perhaps it was due to the unfavourable attitude King Joffery was so infamous for, perhaps it was the growing frustration of having so much nobility all in one place trying to buy favours with the crown, but you suspected otherwise. 

It was easy at first, hardly feeling like work. Oberyn and Ellaria were fascinating people with rich and wild lives, yet they also found tons of entertainment in the small, almost domestic stories you had to offer. Like the difference in scale of your lives actually made for a complimentary contrast, as opposed to highborns looking down on you for not living like they do. 

Oberyn especially captured your keen eye, a man who holds himself so differently than both men here, and from your own home. He was unashamed of his honestly, and didn’t yield it like a weapon. Sure, there were darker aspects about him that shine through his sheer intensity, but you never got the sense that what he was presenting you with, was anyone other than his real self. He’s not just an act to play with those around him. 

The downside was that he was also interested in pulling that real side out of you. Seeing hints of a much more reserved but polite version of what you should put out to other clients. The first time seeing the Prince without much in the way of clothes on, your guard had been so let down that your instant response was to turn and apologize immediately. 

His deep chuckle only added to the embarrassment flooding your body. “While I appreciate the respect for my privacy, there’s nothing here to hide, I assure you.” 

Slowly turning around, a small smile forming on your face was currently covered up poorly by your fingers casually resting on your mouth almost as cover. I-Shock and embarrassment probably isn’t the reaction you’re used to when getting walked in on, I imagine.” 

As you start to walk into the room proper, you could see Ellaria where she sat clearly trying not to laugh solely at Oberyn's expense. Not fooled for a moment, the two shared a playful glare as he passed her by. Pants on, but not fully done up, giving you a teasing glint of skin and coarse hair if you looked lewdly down further. His broad size and penetrating gaze though, kept your attention. 

“Embarrassed because I’m nothing like what you were expecting compared to your usuals, or shocked because I am?” He was broad and clearly strong, sure. His shoulders and arms radiated strength, but his chest and stomach were much less showy. Scars and faded marks are etched into his skin, and his stomach softer almost like a normal man not trying to show off.

Your hand reached out to trace one scar which caught your eye, and trailed down to the softer skin below. An innocent touch of curiosity, instead of a teasing path with a more direct destination in mind. “It’s just..nice.” His eyebrows raised in curiosity as you continued. “For someone everybody talks about being a feared warrior or an intimidating force, it’s just nice to know that while handsome, you still look like most normal men.” 

Oberyn grasps your hand in his, while his eyes watch yours, he slides your hand down just a smidge. Your fingers touch the very edge of his pants, threatening to dip them inside, before suddenly moving it the opposite way. Up in the air until he could kiss your hand, then pulled you alongside him to where he previously stood. 

Gently helping assemble his clothes should have felt like simple servant work. Oberyn though, would softly take over your task so you could move onto the next part, working in tandem. Almost feeling domestic of sorts. 

As he turns to face you, you look over him to make sure everything is in place, as your palms smooth down his chest to ensure his robe sits cleanly. All you did was compliment him, saying how well the colours match him. 

Oberyn threading through strands of your hair as he looks over your own dress in the same fashion. Rich and low he smiles slightly as his fingers holding your hair also trace your cheek. “One day we’ll get you clothes that look more like ours. Dorne would suit you much more than this place I'm sure.” 

You brushed it off. You loved the whites, and yellows, and oranges both of them were draped in compared to the dark and muted tones so common here and further North. He didn’t mean anything more than wondering what you’d look like in them was all it was. 

Eventually each night ticked closer to the day of the wedding, but you still found yourself crawling away from the warmth radiating from the couple. You had a welcome place in bed with them, and they were happy to pull you into their arms like they do each other, but once they were asleep you always slid over to be alone. They were kind, but sleeping in such an affectionate and intimate way with two people who would always have each other, and eventually forget you, kept your mind awake to wander until it inevitably got you out of bed to stand alone in thought. 

The lesson you learned the quickest since arriving in King's Landing, was that most of the major players here had a wide reach of eyes and influence. It seemed every other person was some kind of watchful spy for someone else, and the growing whispers passing around gave you the sense of plotting. Like the different persons being reported to all had their own plans setting into place around such a major event. Workers in the brothel always seemed to either be writing something in secret, or scurrying off at odd hours of the day to report to somebody else. 

You were pretty sure you had figured out who reported to who though, some were more obvious spies then others, but then again, a house of whores was not known for their subtlety and subterfuge.

The growing wound at the back of your head seemed to fester more every day, the anxiety of why you were brought here. A paralyzing, sleep disruptive fear that Little Finger had brought you here for a reason, and left you working and waiting until his use for you finally reached its need. If he knew who you were, then someone must have been watching you since you had at least been hiding in The Riverlands.

Too many voices floating around in your head to stay asleep. If he knew, did one of his own spies in this very building have eyes on you right now, did they know why they watched you or were they just told to do as he says? 

Push it down, you thought to yourself. Focusing on this was a bad idea, the anxiety would only spread if you did. Instead your gaze remained out the window, as your mind tried to focus on watching the tiny but of morning sun reach the cramped and filthy streets below it. You knew you were being watched at this very moment, but you were fairly certain there were no malicious intents from the watcher this time. 

Ellaria had a warm presence as she found her way next to you. Both in body, the heat from the warm Dorne sun must be trapped under her very skin, as the air beside you felt warm as she approached. Also though, in her very person. Her radiance was calm, unrushed, and almost cozy, as if the happenings around her did little to even attract her attention. 

Her voice, muttered quietly in the early hours of the morning, felt just as calm. “If sleeping in the same bed that me and Oberyn keeps making you uncomfortable-” 

Your head shook as you interrupted her. “No, no, please. You’re the guests. This is a brothel and you are lovers in a bed that you paid for. What you choose to do in it has nothing to do with me being comfortable.” 

You couldn’t see if her eyes were on you or if they were watching the same drab view of the city as you were. “Does it?” That made you turn to her first, her gaze only moving to yours as you turned to face her first. “Make you uncomfortable?” 

Her sharp features felt somehow soft as she watched you, eyes searching for an answer, not judging, but in a curious sense. They were intense though, consuming your focus like looking at her for too long would cause you to get lost, so you turned your head abruptly. Taking a deep breath as you pulled the thin shawl over your shoulders more. “Uncomfortable is the wrong word. I’m..not quite sure what it is. Being so close to your and Oberyn’s intense little world. As if knowing you are sharing this part of yourselves with me is a strange feeling. I don’t know. Real intimacy is just, it’s strange to me I guess. That’s all.” 

Ellaria knew that was not quite as honest an answer as she wanted to hear, but it was early. Not just in hours, but in your time together. Ellaria preferred to patiently wait outside of the gates, giving you the time you need to make your way down the steps to unlock them. She wants to know you in many ways, but parts of you were closed off, and she was happy to take her time making her way past that. 

Sparing a moment to turn her head, Ellaria watched her lover still laying out underthe sheets. One of the few times his intensity was nowhere to be found. Glancing back at you though, Ellaria knew Oberyn’s approach was not quite the same. Oberyn was smart, and cunning but his nature was much more aggressive. She knew what he was feeling when he declined the other offers in favour of you. So many years together they could communicate through very little, so he knew they felt the same thing. But then that brash, bold nature of his suddenly bought out your entire company for their stay rather than letting her join in on the prospects the pair had already started to seek out amongst the other workers. 

She knew Oberyn well enough to tell that there was something else in his mind about you. Ellaria was more direct and simple. You were beautiful, you looked at her and spoke to her in such a genuine way she had not seen from girls in places like this, there was something about who you were behind the sultry dress and the painted features trying to force you to look just like all the other average pretty whores in here. Who you were on the inside was far more fascinating to Ellaria than the dozens of the small staured, pale girls with the same kind of boring pretty faces willing to do whatever she wanted for the money she offered. 

She had been lost in thought for longer then she suspected, your continued solemn silence feeling more anxious than calming. “That still doesn’t explain why you are wide awake long before anyone else in this building has even opened their eyes.”

Her voice was far away. Were you not close enough to see her long curls loose and flowing, or the beautiful almost pastel colour of the robe she had slipped on, you would have thought there were mountains between you. “I don’t sleep well. Never have.” 

You spared a glance at her, those curious eyes now deep and almost with concern, as if that small response had found something upsetting within her. You couldn’t afford that though, not today. It was too busy today, and too many people in the city to watch all at the same time. You didn’t want Ellaria and Oberyn to be watched for simply being concerned for the feelings of a meaningless whore they hired, whatever you were being watched for, you didn’t want them to be watched for it as well. 

You finally turned your body to her, a small on your face not reaching your eyes, as you gently pushed her back towards the lush bed. “You should get some more rest while you can, you’ll want as much time as you can to get ready.” 

Before her legs could touch the sheets, she turned back to you, cupping the side of your face with a smirk “Why is that? Because all of these highborn women will expect me to spend the kinds of hours on my look as they do theirs?” 

A real laugh finally came out of you, quiet and soft, but genuine, Playfully shoving her hand off of your face you turned her around to the bed, slipping the silky robe off of her once more. “Please you could walk into this wedding right now and look better than any other woman there.” 

Finally you turned to gather some of your own things, ready to take a few moments to wash away the anxiety trapped in your skin before anyone else woke up. “Getting ready is just to prepare yourself for an entire day of dull and uptight Lords all trying to look and act the most impressive.” 

Ellaria laughed as she found her way onto the sheets, making your way to step out. You assuree her once more before slipping quietly out the door. “Trust me, there’s nothing more boring than listening to the Lords and men of the Crownlands all try to pretend they are the most successful House.” 

Just as you shut the door, quiet as possible to not to wake the still sleeping Prince, Oberyn had quietly shifted enough to sit upright, pulling Ellaria up against his chest. Her arm reached up behind her to find a home behind his neck, “I’ve never met someone who works in a place like this honestly confess that she doesn’t understand intimacy.” 

Oberyn, tracing the skin of her stomach he also nudged at the side of her neck to make a spot for himself, began to trace a path on her neck with the tip of his nose before following that same path back down with gentle presses of his lips. “It’s not that she doesn’t understand intimacy, I think she just has genuinely never experienced it.” 

Ellaria’s free hand rested on the forearm across her, caressing the skin as she watched the closed door. “So, what a quiet little poor girl growing up in the Riverlands just decides to sell her body for money, something she is not comfortable with, over any of the other things she could have succeeded as?” 

She didn’t know what kind of things were going through Oberyn's mind, but she suspects he seems to know something she doesn’t. He'll tell her on the way today no doubt, but his answer makes that suspension almost certain. “Her accent is Northern. Or at least, she's trying not to sound like she is. Nothing like the daughter of a Maidenpool fisherman.”

Oberyn moved his lips to the top of her head, pulling her closer into his chest, wanting to lull her back to sleep. “She’s used to telling that lie to brainless men only half listening to her long enough to get her clothes off. Usually they aren’t there long enough to care."

Turning more into his chest, Ellaria felt the pulls of sleep draw her back in. “Why lie to us though? Why not tell the truth when she knows we want to hear it?” 

Oberyn was now much more awake than his paramour, it was going to be an eventful day afterall, and now he was adding a tactful plan to broach the subject to his list of ongoing affairs in this wretched city. Watching Ellaria’s eyes slip shut, breathing softening as she let sleep bring her under once more before his eyes darkened. Watching the door for how long you would take to return. “People only lie about being so unimportant when they are trying to hide, and to her? Kings Landing is the worst place to start telling the truth.” 

He got no response, keeping her in his arms, feeling the rise and fall of her chest move with his, but his eyes still watching the door. As if the solution would come right through it. This early wasn't the time to start. He had been awake when he noticed you slip out of the bed, covering yourself up from a cold that did not exist, trying to hide in the material as if it would protect you from whatever you were looking for in the streets. 

He would think it through more. A better plan laid out more carefully, Oberyn needed to make sure he did not scare you off before he could settle you. You would take your time getting ready for the day, and then begin to assist reading he and Ellaria for the wedding. You would not come yourself in any way, he already knew that. Ellaria likely would make a plea for her to be your escort as Oberyn is hers. He had already seen on a previous day another girl, Kayla, begged you to join her as she made a performance at the reception, even just to watch but you had adamantly refused. 

Oberyn knows you would not risk being so out in the open around that many key figures. For you, that would be too risky. He would though, selfishly he knew, request you not take any of the scattered clientele that may make their way in during the day. Getting you to open up to them would not be made any easier by the constant onslaught of being poorly fucked by the uncaring brutes slinking through these doors.

What he did not plan for, was the events of the wedding itself. The events of the wedding would, in fact, drastically alter any of the set plots in motion for the people of King's Landing.

Your plans for the day had actually been quite simple. You took some time to yourself, walking through a market with more ease than there would be on a normal day. No doubt people all over were flocking to the Red Keep trying to get a glimpse of the ceremony, catching what small glimpses of the royals that they could. 

You had never attended a wedding, but nothing about it seemed particularly endearing. Maybe part of it was you never quite felt comfortable in large crowds, but watching two people become bonded under the eyes of the Seven wasn’t really what you would call entertainment, and the reception didn’t seem better. Too much drinking, too much posturing to the married Lord and Lady to look impressive, and you didn’t even want to think about the bedding ceremony. 

You figure someone such a the King, especially one with the attitude of Joffrey, likely wouldn’t allow that for himself, even though you had heard some pretty nasty rumours that he tried to force his own Uncle into it. For brief moments your mind wandered to Sansa Stark. She would never know it, but you and her seemed to have some things in common. Two women finding themselves trapped from ever going home, stuck in King's Landing to just be used as pawns for whatever games the biggest players had in mind for you. Though you’re not quite sure who got the worst end of the bargain.

Most of the regulars in both brothels you had worked in were content with what they did, but selling yourself for money was supposed to just be something to hide you until you got yourself together, figured out a better place to go, how to get there, who to be when you arrived. But you were stuck, being able to only make just enough gold to pay your dues, not enough to buy a new life. Then they arrived, men with swords claiming to work for House Baelish, and now you were here. 

Walking through the streets of Kings Landing, living life on a cliffs edge wondering how long it will take before someone figures out who you are, and what they would do with that information. At least all of the Lord’s were at the royal wedding, at last you had that few hours to look through the market in quiet peace. 

Wedding festivities are long, typically beginning in the warm afternoon and only coming to a close in the hours of the night when the wine ran dry. There weren’t many clients in the building, a few girls gone to accompany Kayla in her performance. No doubt bringing back a number of men looking to take advantage of her unique talents and whomever else they could throw their gold at. 

But that’s not what happened. In fact, Kayla arrived back soon after her performance, rushing into the door in a total state. Horrified eyes wide open, panting so hard you thought she may faint. And a rushed, frantic tale, of a dead King. 

We all gathered around her, listening to her talk about these, rather unfunny sounding skits making fun of the dead Starks that had won them the war, Joffrey in an unusual state of cruelty as he publicly humiliated Lord Tyrion for the entire crowd to watch. The tears came back, two of the other girls rushing to Kayla’s side, simply trying to calm her down enough to speak through the shock. Then she tells of the King drinking from his wine, and choking on it. Falling to the ground as Lady Cersei rushed to his side as, from what Kayla had claimed, his skin turned purple and bled from his face before everything stopped. 

Cersei having ordered the guards take Tyrion away for the crime, on what basis you weren’t sure, Kayla was too upset. She was brought to a private room to calm down after that, and everyone broke up. Clients leaving to confirm the tale, and little groups whispering about the horrors just heard. 

You and Olyvar were left standing alone in the main room. There was an air between you two, like an electric charge sparkling between you, but in a doubt. You both looked at each other for some moments, eyes far away and trying to put the pieces together, but both of you were unsure of how to say it. You took the bait first. “Why would Lord Tyrion want to make the King choke in front of all those people?” 

Olyvar looked at you, and then around the room. Taking a step closer, you leaned in to match as his own voice came out in more of a whisper. “The man is bold, but not stupid. Public murder doesn’t seem like quite his taste.” 

There was something neither of you were saying, something neither of you were quite brave enough to risk in front of the other. “What has Lord Baelish been so busy with, Olyvar?” 

His head tilted, eyes narrowing at the question, but answered regardless. “He's been busy preparing for an extended trip out of the city.” 

You didn’t move a muscle as you spoke, as if moving too quickly would spook him from this dangerous path you two were on. “Did he say where to or why?” 

He didn’t move either. “No. I tell him everything, he tells me very little, and in return I get to run his business for not asking why.” 

Both of you knew neither was going to say it, or ask it. It didn’t add up exactly, but there were enough questions between you two that a seed of doubt was still there. Would he risk all of his other agenda’s for it? You didn’t know. “Why did he bring me here, Olyvar?” 

He didn’t answer, but his silence was an answer itself. You raised your chin, chest rising with a deep breath before nodding. Your face turning impassive and small as if your head could shake the doubt out of existence. “I will need one of the girls to join me in preparing food for the evening. I won’t presume our usual outside assistance will be available as usual.” 

Olyvar’s face matched you. Impassive and forcing a professional appearance. “I’ll get one of the younger ones to help you. The King was close to their age, I imagine they could use the distraction.” 

Turning to leave, you both had only made it a number of steps before you called his name out. “Since their arrival, how much have you told to Lord Baelish?” You weren’t mad about it, spying was just a part of his life now. He spies on others, and you, and in return he gets the freedom to run Baelish’s brothel instead of taking orders all day. 

His answer though, surprised you. He gaze cast downwards, looking almost sheepish, unsure of himself. Sighing and looking up to you again, a kind fondness for this strange friendship between you two. “Not as much as I’m supposed to.” 

Hearing approaching steps, a soft smile formed on your lips. Olyvar gave one in return before nodding as he left the room. Maybe you should be angry knowing he is spying on you, knowing that Little Finger is holding your identity hostage as he figured out what to do with you. But you can’t blame Olyvar for that, he had shown you nothing but kindness, both in kinship but also in a degree of silence. 

He could have told him the extent to which you had been spending time with Oberyn Martell and his paramour, telling Baelish how suspicious it was that all the Dornish Prince had asked of you was company instead of sex. You’re not sure why he wouldn’t just tell him that, or how that knowledge figured into Baelish’s plan, but with the murder of the King, all you knew is that something was brewing in the distance. 

Ellaria was the first one back, you were already in their room when she arrived. Everyone was in such a strange variety of emotions, that honestly you couldn’t handle it. You were tidying up, sweeping, cleaning dust, making sure all the sheets were fresh. Monotonous work that could distract you enough until the door opened. 

If you were completely honest, you did briefly forget that she was at a wedding where a teenage boy choke to death. You had seen her off, helped her get ready, but enough hours had passed that you forgot the beauty. Her dress was long, down to her legs, covering her arms but the torso left open, shrinking in size until reaching her navel. An almost gold tinted chest covering underneath but showing off the smooth skin underneath. 

Quickly you regained your senses, placing the folded sheets to be washed down onto the ground as you rushed to her. She met you halfway, both catching the other in your arms as you looked her over much closer now, “I heard what happened, the King,” you stammered off looking her over as if she were the one in danger before slowing down. Your hands raised to hold the sides of her now much more solemn face. “Are you alright, you would have been right there,” 

Ellaria raised her own hands to hold onto yours, moving one off of her and bringing your hand in for a kiss, keeping it tucked against the exposed skin of her chest. “I am perfectly fine, I promise.” 

You nodded, worry in your eyes starting to fade a bit, as you ushered her over to a plush seat near the window. “Sit, please.”

Continuing to flutter around her you moved your broom and cloth out of view into a small alcove where some shelves just large enough to fit such supplies sat hidden from client view. 

“Wait, what about,” You looked towards the door, shut firmly and silent behind it as you made your way around to her. “Where’s Oberyn?” Ellaria grabbed your wrist, gently pulling you enough to look at her with a small shush. Though you implored her to sit back down, you didn’t remove her hand on you. 

“He is perfectly fine. He sent me back as he stayed behind to..watch things.” Looking off towards nowhere, her attention moved far off, “It was quite an awful scene.” You cupped her cheek to look at you, as you knelt down just enough to look her closer in the eye. “The Lannisters were in quite a state,” looking you in the eye she relaxed a bit more. “Oberyn didn’t want me anywhere near their wrath, Lady Cersei herself was rather angry and hysterical. Losing her child like that." 

You nodded, before sliding behind her. A hand stroking over the skin of her neck as you began to undo the beautiful, ornate headcovering, which you were pretty sure matched her chest covering. You took your time, making sure you didn’t snag a strand of her thick curls in with the metal. “I can only imagine. Kayla was..very distraught when she returned. We could only just get her to calm down enough to tell us he choked.” 

Ellaria grabbed a hand of yours, pulling it away from her hair as she held it closer to her heart. Both of hers holding it closely, “I knew nothing about the King, I mean I know they say about him, but I had never spoken to him. But he was just a boy. A child. Maybe just a few years older than my oldest girl.” Her voice was far once more. 

The other hand, finishing your work and gently lifting the headwear off to lay gently on a table, you leaned in. Wrapping your own free arm around her front as you lay your head against the side of hers. “Tell me about her.” 

That got her to smile. She needed a distraction, not to think about what she saw, how close in age he was to her daughter. So getting her to tell you about her may help. “Well she belongs to Oberyn that’s for sure.” Ellaria even let out a soft breath of a laugh. “Stubborn. Such a stubborn girl. Always trying to get away with as much as possible, but she has such a soft heart under it all. I think it’s just hard for her to remember it sometimes.” 

She pulled you over to her front, moving to sit you down with her. Straddling her legs so you could make sure to move her gaze onto you. “Why is that?” 

Ellaria sighed. Raking a hand through your hair as she spoke. “She’d probably be able to settle more if she wasn’t still pining for her father’s attention. We named her Elia, after his sister.” 

She watched you for a second, your brows furrowing as you nodded before catching her loose hand to hold in her lap. Assuming she was looking to see if you understood what that meant, she seemed to get that you knew what she was inferring too. Since his arrival in Kings Landing Oberyn had not brought it up once, and you wouldn’t either. That’s a kind of heartbreak that you never quite get over. 

Ellaria at least, seemed to relax under your person a bit more. “Oberyn is a great father not even she would contest that, but I think the older Elia gets, the more of his sister he sees in her. It’s painful. To look at your daughter and be reminded of losing someone you loved so horrifically. It’s put some distance between them, Oberyn doesn’t want his hurt and anger to be taken out on her but it also means Elia wants to try that much harder to pull him back.” 

It was nicer now, both of you close, just holding the other as she opened up to you. This kind of vulnerability wasn’t something you had gotten in many years. “If she’s as much like him as you say, then at least you know she will never just give up on him. She’ll always try to mend that gap.” 

Nodding, Ellaria tried to loosen her hair up a bit from the tight hold it struggled to let go of. She leaned up into you close, “I think I’d like to get all of this off me if you would be so kind.” Bending her head towards the orange dress on her. 

Both of you standing up, you held onto her hips and leaned close to her own mouth. “Lucky for you that’s exactly what I’m paid to be good at.” 

The pair of you laughed, but Ellaria leaned in, her lips brushing against yours as she spoke. “Don’t tempt me, little one. I’ve worked very hard to get to know what's in here,” tapping at the side of your head, “before here.” Then moving her hand to brush down your chest, covered by the loose cheer material. 

You smiled at her before moving to help her undress, “I can’t think of a single person I’ve seen come through here that would pay me money, not to fuck them.” 

Helping her into one of her much more loose dresses, the material much more plush and soft then the sleek silk like material before it. She let you fluff her hair up, loosening it so it fell comfortably down her back. “If we wanted to just fuck you and be done with you, we wouldn’t have had to fight so hard to keep you all to ourselves. Oberyn finds your mind just as tempting as whatever these are hiding from us.” She tugs at your dress once more, before you pull away from her. 

The two of you start to settle back into something much more normal but not before Ellaria gives you a specific piece of advice. “I’m not sure what kind of mood Oberyn will be in when he returns. Such an awful thing to watch mixed with spending far more time around the Lannisters than expected may leave him a bit more aggressive when he comes back.” 

From your spot on the bed, you lean up with your palms supporting you, “Do you- should I..give you space, if he is? So you can,” trailing off, Ellaria still understood what you asked. 

She sits next to you and nudges your chin to look at her. “I am warning you, because so far we have kept our distance. Getting to know you this way, instead of making you think you were just another passing whore to us.” 

You tried to ask why, why would you be different from anyone else. But that seems to be a question that only the two of them know the answer to, that silent understanding they have with one another that you weren’t yet privy too. “Oberyn is a good man, but he can also be very impatient. He’s been careful to take his time with you, but when he is pressed, he can only hold off what he wants for so long.” 

“What are you trying to tell me?” 

Ellaria leaned in, not quite as close as before but enough that her breath could be felt on your own skin. “If the only reason you would fuck him or me is because you are getting paid to, then you need to tell us. Neither of us will push for something you do not truly want of your own choice. If we just wanted another body, we would have just paid any of the others in here and moved on.” 

She knew you weren’t going to answer. You didn’t really know the answer yet. So much was in your heart, so many anxieties in your mind. You had also spent more time with Ellaria alone, you know the desire that grew with each interaction, but Oberyn was a much harder read. That silly little girl in you, the part of you that was supposed to stay hidden, kept telling you that you wanted to spend time with just him. Saying that you needed to spend more time alone with him as if you were still a young girl with a crush.

Conflicting with the other part of you. This fake name, this unreal identity that grew up in Maidenpool and worked in brothels because sex was just another activity to you. Oberyn wasn’t supposed to care about who you are, he was here to fuck you while he stayed in the city then leave you forever. You shouldn’t want to spend more time with him.

Standing up you found yourself moving pour yourself some wine, as if you could simply drown that stupid girl inside of you down with the taste. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you both will move on at some point regardless.” Your swallow was audible, loud and painful. It would take closer to drinking the entire jug to drown this out apparently. 

You didn’t turn to face her as she spoke, you couldn’t. Not right now. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” You shut your eyes. Another sip. Drown it out. Two beautiful people show up, give you a sliver of attention and you attach yourself to them like a lech. You were entertainment to them. That’s all it was. That’s all it could be. Nothing else made sense, you were just a whore in some brothel. 

So you tried again, tried playing the part they wanted. Spinning around to lean against the tale edge as you spoke, glass lifting up to your lips as you spoke. “Well the last time I checked, this city isn’t quite Sunspear is it? Your lives are a long ways away from my own.” 

Ellaria didn’t answer. The door opening that moment, with Oberyn walking through. He was quite calm in fact, nothing like the unnerved distance Ellaria had returned with. You didn’t want to look at him either. You felt embarrassed, so you simply turned away, fussing with the sheets on the bed as they embraced. “You are okay, right? Everything is,” her voice trailing off. No doubt looking him over to ensure everything was in proper place. 

“Everything is fine, don’t worry about me.” His voice was quieter, no doubt pulling her close to him, “And you, my love? Are you okay?” She must have nodded, you weren’t sure. All you could do was fuss with a bed that no doubt would get ruffled again in an instant. “I would have spared you the upset and gone alone had I known it was going to be that ugly.” 

A kiss shared, your grip turned harder. An intimacy, a love you never had, and in this name, never will. Your growing attachment to them feels suffocating. You’re knuckles straining from the grip on whatever you picked up, why did they want to know you? They had each other, they didn’t need to know you this way. Out of all the whores in this brothel, why were you the only one they were interested in, like that? 

Their talk turned to muffles, clearly wanting to keep you out of it. Maybe Olyvar kept your small little room available, you could just return there. Let them play out their desires in peace for the rest of their stay. Your heart pounded in your chest, the suffocating feeling growing tighter and tighter. Everything inside you was so loud that you couldn’t even hear them speak anymore. 

It had been a long time since you had felt this kind of resentment towards this life. You didn’t even have one to go home to, that choice was taken away from you. It was either this now, or the road. At least your childish heart couldn't get attached to people alone out in the open air.

Just as it was too much, just as your heart constricted, refusing to let your lungs breathe, you fell backwards into a deep warmth. Something all encompassing, flooding your body with heat, forcing your heart to go back to normal, the tightness in your chest relaxing. Oberyn’s voice at your ears, the deep bass rich in tone, matching the rich scent always accompanying him. “You can get away with telling Ellaria that you’re fine because she doesn’t like to push people.” One by one your senses regained their ability, the warmth was his broad chest against your back, his hands reached around you, holding your own firmly as he pries your fingers open trying to take the painful strain off of them. “But this,” his palms rubbing over the top of yours, forcing out the tense hold in them as he says your name, “This is not fine. You can’t just stand away from me with tears in your eyes and tell me nothing is wrong.” 

You hadn’t realized you had been crying, you weren’t sure when you started, or what train of thought even forced them out. “It’s- there's nothing to worry about. Let me just finish up he-” 

Oberyn cuts you off, saying your name much more commandingly, almost angry as he grabs your hips to spin you and face him. He yanks you close to him, leaning over you, his face torn between frustration and concern. “You are only fine when you think we’re looking. The second you think no one's watching I see you trying not to fall apart.” His hands move from your hips to cradle the sides of your face. “Talk to me.” 

It wasn’t what you wanted to say, but it slipped out before you could stop it. A small, cracked voice peeping out, “Why did you pick me?” His brow furrowed in confusion. “You didn’t come here to waste all your time just talking, you came here to fuck. Why bother spending time with me like this?” 

Voice breathless and weak, you were just tired of it all. Oberyn’s forehead came to rest on yours for a moment, both your eyes shut at the simple contact. “I am a man who always knows what he wants. I walked into this building with Ellaria, and we quickly chose whichever body attracted us the most.” As if he could feel your pull, his grip on your cheeks and jaw tightened, pulling you against him closer, your torsos almost pressed against the other. “But then there was you, and I could feel your place in my heart even then. We aren’t spending time with you because we are bored, we chose you, I chose you because the last time someone captured my attention so quickly and deeply was when I met Ellaria.” 

Oberyn kept you in place as he moved slightly, his nose trailing down your own. “If I just fucked you, then you would have felt like everyone else. And I don’t want you to be everyone else here.” 

They hovered over yours, like Ellaria before, you could feel his breath on your skin, but then he sealed the space. You expected a man like Oberyn to kiss you like he lived his life, fast, harsh and demanding but passionate. Passion was there, but he was much kinder than you thought. 

Moving his soft lips against yours, not trying to pry you open and taste you more, just your lips moving together with a tenderness unknown to you, the feeling on your cheeks being his thumbs stroking back and forth in place. Your hands hovered over touching his waist when he pulled back ever so slightly. Your lips jutting forward to chase his, as he gave you one more, then pulled you chin up to look at him. 

Brown deep eyes locking your own gaze into his. “If this part is all you want that’s okay. But I want more. And I want you to give me that chance.” He tugs your chin up more, “I need you to say what you want. Out loud.” 

Finally you allowed your hands to touch at his waist, nodding first in his hold before remembering his demand. “I do, I do want that. I’m just..no one’s ever.” You sucked in a breath before the tears had a chance to water up again. “My body’s only ever been the things people are interested in. I’m not used to this.” 

Oberyn pressed his lips against yours once more, pulling away as he nudged his nose against yours, one hand coming to cradle the back of your head, as he pulled your body into his chest completely. “You’ve been patient with us the past few days. Answering all our questions and stories. Now, let me repay the favour.” 

The yes this time came from you leaning in to kiss him. A kiss that sparked something deeper in Oberyn's chest. His hands gripped tight, jaw clenching. “Lay on the bed.” 

While you moved back, there was just enough hesitation in your eyes for Oberyn to gently rub a thumb down your cheek before taking a step back. “Not for that. Not now. I’m going to give you something I think you need.” 

As you lay back, Oberyn kept his gaze locked onto you. Shedding the lushious white robe he had worn to the wedding, and pulling off the shirt covering his chest. When you raised your hands to pull the thin fabric down your shoulders, he grabbed at your hand. 

Shaking his head with a look of disapproval. A better view, you could see just how broad this man really was. Tall and large, taking up your whole view, a dark chest littered with faded scars and muscle that gave way to a softer stomach below. 

Lurching his body forward, Oberyn propped himself over top of you, as he grabbed your jaw, holding you in place as he kissed you. This was harsher, more demanding, much more what you had expected. His soft lips contrasting with how much he took and took, how he molded your lips to his control. 

Your hands began to roam the path of his chest and back, your touch enough to jolt his body like a fire had sparked below him. Simple lips against yours turned to biting, small whines from your mouth filling into his own groans. His tongue tracing your lips and moving in at your gasp. His tongue stroked against yours, before moving back to a biting kiss. It was almost messy, but Oberyn was in full control. He moved your mouth exactly how he wanted it, and all you could do was grab at his skin, push your palms up against his stomach and whine. 

One arm wrapped around your side and pulled you closer into his body before he laid down closer into you, pressing his weight more and as he began to pull his lips away, just out of reach, and then back. A few times he would do that, pull away just enough to nudge his nose against yours before recapturing your lips again. 

It was almost soothing, like his lips against yours and the back under your palms forced your anxieties down. No greedy touches, groping that bordered on painful, vulgar dribble meant to do nothing more than boost the man’s own ego. Just his touch, his mouth sealed against yours. Your bodies moved together, almost grinding of their own accord but he kept his attention on your lips. 

You think he mutters your name a few times, but the blood is ringing in your ears so loudly that you barely hear anything over his deep grunts and the desperate sound of trying to catch your breath anytime you remotely separate. Finally, Oberyn pulls back saying your name once more. “I want to do something for you, will you let me do that?” 

Your chest heaved against his, nothing but the thin sheer material of your dress keeping your bare chest from pressing against his. You only nod, fingers pressing down harder on the skin they lay, when Oberyn grabs your jaw, tilting your head to look into his eyes. “I need you to tell me, little one. Use your words.” 

High pitched and breathless, you spit it out. “Yes, please. You can touch me.” You want to shut your eyes, body buzzing from his intensity, but the hard and serious gaze towards you, a silent but unquestionable demand to look at him. 

The hand on your jaw slides down, facing down on the sheets beside your head, as he moves his other arm down. Tracing the soft skin of your thigh, whatever was exposed when you lay down. His nose once again rubs against yours, before moving to your cheek, and moments later, his lips, light as a feather press against your throat. The feeling like rushing water being dumped on you, your back arching with a gasp as he chuckles. “How often do men take their time with you?” 

His hand slid higher, but wasn’t greedy, a slow ascent to its peak, unphased by the warmth flowing from it the closer he got. You shook your head vigorously, “Never, they, they don’t- it’s not what they want.” 

Oberyn bites down on your skin, lips and tongue following to ease the bright sting. His bites burn down the length of your neck, only to have his kiss apologise against them on his way back up. “A shame. They’re missing out on something very addicting.” Reclaiming your lips, Oberyn moved his hand up right between your legs. 

Cupping your mound, he laughs into a harsh biting kiss when you gasp, hips lurching into his hand of their own accord. Thick fingers trace up and down against your entrance, gathering up whatever slickness he is given, before sliding them up to your clit. 

His first touch isn’t gentle, he grasps it in his fingers when you whine loudly. Gentle shushing purrs against your mouth, as another finger once again toys against sliding inside. Oberyn's fingers rub harshly, but soaked with your own juices and lingering on whichever pattern had you pressing against him the most. One of your hands found the back of his neck, a tight hold between his skin and wanting to thread through his hair. 

When the other hand found his chest, you moved your way down to the waistband of his pants, but it all stopped. His fingers pressed into your clit with an unrelenting pressure, but didn’t move. Snatching your hand from his skin he slams it down up above your head. “I-, I jus-”” you stammered, unable to find the right words between the hold on your wrist and the fire burning on your clit as he pressed down. 

Oberyn bites your bottom lip, tugging it just slightly to watch it bounce back into place with gritted teeth. “This is not about me. I am touching you, not the other way around.” 

Slowly he starts moving again, much more gentle circles against your clit, as the finger toying at your entrance slides in, so wet there is no resistance, he buries it as far as can reach. “Bu- But don't you want,” 

His finger strokes against your walls in tandem with the rubs of your clit. He chuckles, almost a deep and threatening laugh. It would be intimidating if you didn’t know any better. “Oh I do, little one. But I won’t fuck you yet.” The second straggling finger on his hand slides sin with the first and you squirm helplessly against the fire coiling inside you. “When I fuck you, I want your heart not just your cunt.” 

You can’t respond, his lips and tongue consume you. Flaming inside your mouth, and as it flows down your body like a spreading blaze, and meeting the white burning between your legs. You tense up, your body pressed against his large frame as you coil like a spring inside. 

You clench against the thick fingers inside you, causing Oberyn to release your wrist, holding your hand against his now, fingers tangled with each other. “Oberyn, please," You couldn’t think, you don’t know why it was a beg, or a question, you just wanted, needed him to bring you over the cliff into the waters below. 

His lips commanded you as his fingers wound you, your moans turn to whines the closer you get. But there was one final push he knew you didn’t realize you needed. “I’ve got you. Give it to me, my love.” 

Your orgasm hit you with no remorse. Your body shook as it felt like everything hit you at once, pleasure, pain, burning, sting, all mixed together as you barely have enough air in your lungs left to breathe out his name. 

There were a few moments that went by before he moved away from your cunt. Very slow pull of his fingers out of your warmth, as his rubs on your clit slowed to a stop, His hand once again cupping you entirely as the fog lifted. His nose rubbed against yours again, a manner almost loving and romantic. Your free hand slid down to the front of his neck against his collarbone, stroking the skin there back and forth. 

His lips around your ear, a much more playful yet condescending tone you’ve come to enjoy almost mocking you. “I assume none of these men also have ever made you cum, even if they meant to, have they?” 

Laughing filled the air between you. He didn’t need the answer, he already knew. Especially in a place like Kings Landing, the men here didn’t exactly emulate the aura of generosity. “Where did Ellaria go?” 

Smiling with nothing but fondness, Oberyn finally moved his hand away from his spot between your legs. Flopping onto his back, he pulled you right with him, your body splayed partially on top of his chest. “I’m sure she found some kind of trouble to keep her entertained. She wanted to give us privacy.” 

Trying to ask why, Oberyn leaned up enough to force you into a sitting position, putting his hand around a cheek covering your mouth with a thumb. “You’re not who you say you are.” 

In an instant dread slapped you in the face, you were right. He knew. If Oberyn knew who else in the city knew? Why wouldn’t he say anything, when did he find out? Your eyes were wide, full of fear but everything else from you was silent, unmoving like stone. When you tried to shake your head, his grip got tighter. 

“I’m not asking you to tell me, not right now. But I want you to think. When you are with me you are safe, no matter what, everything you tell me will not leave this room. But we do need to discuss it. When you’re ready.” Laying back against the sheets, Oberyn pulled you with him, laying your head on his chest, and your hands delicately placed near the softer stomach below. His own hands stroking the skin where he touched, fingers grazing the pulse on your wrist to feel you calm down. 

“Does Ellaria know?” Your voice was small and meek, unlike anything about the person you were trying to play. 

“She knows what I know.” You felt confused, trying to ask him why she wasn’t here then, but Oberyn just pulled you closer. “Having both of us in the room for this would be too much. Neither of us want you to feel pressured to talk just because we both are there.” 

You felt lips at the top of your head, and for the briefest of moments, you snuggled closer into his chest, trying to shut out the fear with his touch. Nothing about today was right. It was all wrong, for everyone. Whatever the future held for you it was now stripped of any certainty, but they weren’t pressuring you. They didn't threaten you, or hurt you for it, and for that all you can say to him, “Thank you. I just..can we stay like this a while longer?” 

His own head stayed against the top of yours, feeling him nod in agreement. For a while you just stayed like that, your anxiety threatening to take you over while Oberyn tried to tame it down with his touch. At some point you must have fallen asleep, because the next time you opened your eyes, a smaller dainty hand was draped across your stomach, having pulled you into Ellaria’s soft body behind. Oberyn on his side as well now, keeping you tucked in his chest while Ellaria’s lay like a guard behind you. 

You just shut your eyes, when you wake up things will be a little better you hope. Evening will have fallen over the city, and you three would share a meal, then relax like usual. At least for tonight, you could pretend as if things weren’t all about to fall apart. 

The quiet didn’t last long. It was only a matter of time, hours, days, for everything to come out, the instigator for the conversation though, was surprising. At the present moment, you were currently kneeled on the bed behind Ellaria who was sitting on the edge. Both of you laughed with each tug you had to make at her hair to undo the mess. 

Both her and Oberyn have been much more freely touchy towards you and you felt much more natural in returning it. You’re not sure if he told her directly what happened between you, or if she just knows her paramour so well that they both knew she could tell. Either way, both of them seemed to find a way to have their hands on you or vice versa almost all the time. 

It was when you went to start smoothing her hair down, that she had gotten the idea. You didn’t know much about traditional Dornish hair styling, but you had simply commented that it was nice to see her leaving her hair flow down naturally most of the time, as opposed to here. Saying that no matter what some of the girls suggested, you could never bring yourself to spend so much time on those styles, that Ellaria’s was much more like where you were from. 

“They don’t like those elaborate updos in the North?” You had paused for a moment, your hands falling from her hair and splat onto her shoulders, your fingers briefly gripping the skin there. Both you and Ellaria could see Oberyn clear as day in the mirror reflection, she watched your face as you looked at Oberyns. His head nodding briefly, a calm softer smile gracing it. 

A reassurance that he and Ellaria were on the same page, that you didn’t have to keep such an elaborate ruse in front of her. She was safe too. So you blinked a few times, wiping away the conflict, and simply laughed. “Northern women traditionally prefer to keep it down like this. I’m not sure if it’s solely because we see these weird Crownland styles and feel like they are obviously just to show off, or if somewhere back years ago we realized longer hair keeps your head warmer the closer to Winter we got.” 

Ellaria had reached behind her and playfully tugged a strand of your own hair near her face, holding onto it almost to keep you close enough she could see you in her own field of view. “I’m glad. You look far better when your hair is free to sit however you want, and of course, when you don’t have to paint your pretty little face up with so much makeup just to impress these dogs.” 

This time she had definitely looked at Oberyn, almost trying to poke at him with a smirk on her face. He had come up behind you, his large hands placing themselves on your hips as he draped his body over your back. “I would have to agree my love,” his fingers tilting your face up to look at him, as they then ran across your lips. “You’re infinitely more beautiful when you’re not just trying to impress us. Besides, I can't do this whenever I want if you colour them all day.” Leaning in to capture your lips with his. 

While his tongue had taken charge of your mouth, one of his hands blindly reached up to grasp Ellaria’s shoulders around you, and pulled her to the edge of the stool she sat in, putting her back right into your hips as Oberyn's hand stroked the skin on her neck. 

She hasn’t kissed you yet, even though she has touched you all morning in the same tender ways she does Oberyn. You’re not sure if she wants you to make the first move, so she knows this is what you want as well, or if she is waiting for something. When Oberyn pulled back from your lips, Ellaria took her chance, standing up and turning to hold you in her arms like Oberyn before, only hers were draped across your collarbones and the tops of your breasts. 

Looking him in the eye, Oberyn glared back as if deeply offended. “He’s had enough time with you already, don’t you think?” A smile took over the facade quickly. “It’s our turn to play, little one. Come,” she patted your hip, close to the edge of your ass. “Show me one of those hairstyles I keep seeing these women around here are always doing.” 

That’s how you ended up behind her, untangling the mess. It had not gone well. It was fun, and you both were laughing at how needlessly complicated it was, but neither you or Oberyn could figure out if it was just you who did a bad job, or if the style just looked terribly strange on Ellaria’s beautiful face. 

The day had been full of fun but endless teasing. Oberyn’s shirt had not been put back on since it was pulled off earlier by Ellaria. They had almost taunted you in their fucking, both of them making sure you had your eyes on them at all times. Oberyn’s dark and intense as he handled her more rough the longer his eyes watched yours, and Ellaria’s consumed with desire as she watched your voyeurism. Tempting you with their sex, trying to guide you to them as if saying “This could be yours as well, just open up and let us in, and this can be you too.” 

They had made a point not to hide their fucking in front of you, in fact, both putting on very deliberate shows, trying to get you off through sight alone it seemed. Tempting you to trust them with your heart before you trusted them with your body. 

At the present moment, Obeyrn hadn’t been away from the room for long. You had made an offhand comment about after you were done, you would go check if their washing was dry and bring it back. The man never ceasing to be a surprise, simply waved his hand, telling you to stay as he went to do the work you know the Royals here never would consider doing the work their servants were for.

Finally done, you had just placed your feet on the ground, you were greeted by Olyvar’s entrance. Calling you over to him, a serious look trying to bask itself as simple professionalism. His voice speaking out loud seemingly for whomever may be outside the open door. “Problem with another room, I just need you to keep some left behind belongings under closer supervision.” As he handed you a simple pile of what appeared to be a man's robe, and some jewellery, neither of you looked down at the pass over. 

You could feel it under your hand, right at the bottom. Paper. Small, scrunched paper being very carefully placed into your palm. “If you could, right away.” You nodded. 

There had been somewhat of an understanding between you and Olyvar. How much Baelish had disclosed to him you didn’t know, but it was clear that both of you were trying to protect that secret without stepping on anyone's toes. It may be Baelish he did the spying for, but none of the spies in Kings Landing did it out of pure loyalty. It could just have easily been Lord Varys the one who he passes on to. It wasn't personal.

You moved right away. The small alcove in the room was just out of sight of the door, you would have to be right beside it to see into the darker corner. Sometimes things left behind were kept under lock and key in certain rooms to avoid theft. Most of these men wouldn’t fare well being told someone stole something they left behind in a brothel. This room was one of them. 

Just as you started to walk over, Olyvar began talking with Ellaria, trying to use the conversation as a way to pull her out of your sight. As you stood in the small shelf space placing the items down, you pulled the paper out. 

A note. A note much like the ones he would sneak to Baelish for information. You didn’t know how he learned this, but you knew you didn’t want to. Your heart jumped in your chest at the words. 

“The Bird has flown North. The Rock shines bright in its absence.”

He knew. How could he know, how would he have found out? You couldn’t think, you couldn’t even hear. Voices were chatting away in the main room, but you were paralyzed. Staring at the ink scrawl as if it would tell you something different by sheer force. It was one thing to know Baelish brought you here knowing who you are, that was enough to leave you in fear. But this? This was something else entirely. You had to focus, act normal for now. The amount of people you can put any trust in was dwindling. 

You took a few deep breaths, hidden in the darkness. You could make out both Oberyn and Ellaria’s voice, and Olyvar in response. You could handle it, it was just them. But it wasn’t. Because footsteps, loud, thundering footsteps in tandem rang through the hall and into the door. 

A deep voice spoke, but far unlike Oberyns. This one, booming, full of command with no smoothness or comfort. “Prince Oberyn.” 

You pressed your back up against the wall, all air leaving your lungs. “Lord Twyin.”  This was all wrong, not now, it can’t be. Did he give you this note because he knew who was coming? The sounds of people leaving the room, doors shutting behind them leaving the room in a strange silence. 

They didn’t say you were here. Olyvar and Ellaria walked out, they knew you were here. What was said between them all? You couldn’t come out now, you can’t make your presence be known, not to him. Everything could end right now if you do. So you stayed, pressed against the wall, unable to give whatever privacy Lord Twyin has requested. 

Oberyn’s voice rang out, “Would you like to sit?” A shockingly polite no thank you came from Lord Tywin. The same politeness still, as Oberyn offers wine. You could partially see Oberyn from where you were. You couldn’t tell if he knew you were here or not, if they had said anything when leaving. Currently he wouldn’t be able to see you, but if he or Tywin moved to a closer angle, no doubt one of them would. “I’m sorry about your grandson.” 

“Are you?” Were you not so utterly terrified, you may have wanted to laugh. Not everyone is as cold and unfeeling as you, you thought. 

Oberyn took it with little offence. “I don’t believe a child is responsible for the sins of his father. Or his grandfather. An awful way to die.” 

“Which way is that?” Why would he be asking that? What game could he be playing involving his own grandson's death? Oberyn seemed to sense whatever intent Tywin had walked in with. His cocky voice rang out, asking almost in jest if this was supposed to be an interrogation.

Twyin’s next words made little sense to you. “Some believe the King choked.” 

Your eyes were stuck on a meaningless wooden panel on the floor. Believe? Why would some believe that but not others? You remembered, vividly Kayla’s horrified face as she returned, telling a horrible tale of the boy choking in the middle of the ceremony as he fell to the ground. Turning purple as the air in his lungs has no way to go. Oberyn, though, seemed to know exactly what this game was. “Some believe the sky is blue, because we live in the eye of a blue eyed giant. The king was poisoned.” 

Your eyes widened, head turning to the room catching a glimpse of Oberyn on the bed, eyes watching Tywin, anticipating whatever it was he was going to say. Everyone said he choked, no one had told you otherwise, but you suppose, you didn’t ask. 

“I hear you studied poisons at the citadel.” Oberyn wasn’t even phased it seemed. Confirming to the Lannister that's why he knows it was poison. What you thought or even suspected made less and less sense. Tyrion poisoning his nephew made little sense, but Oberyn’s made even less. Joffrey was a cruel boy, but his slights weren’t against Oberyn, or even Dorne. 

Tywin began to speak, as if filling the gaps in for your slow mind to keep up. “Your hatred for my family is rather well known. You arrive at the Capitol, an expert in poisoning. Some days later my grandson dies. Of poisoning.” 

Still on the bed, still unphased. “Rather suspicious. Why haven’t you thrown me in a dungeon?” He was never going to, that much seemed obvious. 

“You spoke with Tyrion in this very brothel on the day that you arrived. What did you discuss?” You struggled. This wasn’t your game, you were never exposed to the politics, you never watched and learned the games the highborns and royals all crafted. Tywin never answered Oberyn's questions directly. And again Oberyn being utterly unphased by whatever accusations he was implying. 

“You think we conspired together?” Oberyn was up, moving out of your view. Tywin simply asked again. You shouldn’t be here. You had no idea what Oberyn had discussed with Tyrion that day, it wasn’t your business or place to know.

Oberyn’s voice grew cold. Dropping whatever charade he was toying Lord Tywin with. “The death of my sister.” 

“For which you blame me.” Your fingertips dug into the wall behind you, a painful strain as you desperately tried to keep grounded. You definitely should not be here. 

Oberyn’s voice was quieter, you had to guess merely feet away from the Lannister. He was restrained, but a viciousness hissed behind them. “She was raped and murdered by the Mountain. The Mountain follows your orders, of course I blame you.” 

Your chest heaved in desperation, trying to breathe but it felt like you were constricting again. Dumb little girl, thats what you felt. You never questioned why he was here, why he came to a land full of a family he hates. He was here for something much more. 

“Well here I stand, unarmed and unguarded. Should I be concerned?” Tywin was almost condescending, as if trying to goat Oberyn into something. But neither man was a brawler, and certainly not stupid. Games you didn’t understand. 

Oberyn didn’t take it. “You are unarmed and unguarded because you know me better than that. I am a man of reason. If I cut your throat today, I will be drawn and quartered tomorrow.” 

Tywin wouldn’t budge if you had to guess. “Men at war commit all kinds of crimes without their superiors’ knowledge.” 

“So you deny involvement in Elia’s murder.” There was a silence between them. Your bated breath listening to something unfold you had to right to, but yet, made your little fake life feel even smaller. It took a moment. Both men do doubt staring intently at the other before Tywin spoke. 

“Categorically.” 

Eyes shut, you had to pull it together. Neither man was fooled by the other. Both of them knew exactly what had happened, but that's how Tywin works. Passes his dirty work to others who will do the job and take the blame. No trace leading back to just his words. Your father worked exactly the same. 

Oberyn came back closer into view, his tone clipped and restrained. “I would like to speak to the Mountain.” In a cruel twist, you ended up thinking exactly what Tywin said, only he was far much more condescending. That you were sure the Mountain would love that meeting.

“I could arrange for this meeting.” Confused, you watched Oberyn diligently. He knew the game Tywin was playing, but you weren’t so sure Tywin knew that. 

“But you want something in return.” Tywin and your father were made for eachother, both powerful commanding men only doing things for others if he could find a benefit for himself. 

“There will be a trial for my son, and as custom dictates, three judges will render a verdict. I will preside. Mace Tyrell will serve as the second judge. I would like you to be the third.” 

Oberyn only asked why. Lord Tywin was granting him a strange amount of respect for the threat he poses to his person and his family. “Not long ago, the Tyrells sided with Renly Baratheon. Declared themselves enemies of the throne. Now they are our strongest allies.” 

You knew the Tyrells somewhat. As a girl, you met The Lady Olenna, your mother hated her, but the woman seemed somewhat fond of you. Sometimes you wonder if the wit you developed not long after that, had influence rooted in Roses. You had also met Loras a few times since being here, though you were mostly busy trying to figure out if he was genuinely trying to hide his preference for men or if he just wasn't subtle. You could at least take some pleasure in knowing at least you were better at keeping a secret then Loras.

Oberyn’s response was dangerous. “You made the Tyrell girl a queen. Asking me to judge at your son's trial isn’t quite as tempting.” 

It was only just audible. A breath of a laugh leaving you, before you could worry if Oberyn had heard you, it was too late. 

“I would also invite you to sit on the Small Council.” His body turned away from Tywin, that hit something in him. Oberyn's head lifting up, a darkness masked behind a stone wall in his face. Then his eyes found you. Pressed terrified against a wall, hiding from Lord Tywin. Your eyes pleaded. You wanted to apologize, you wanted to run, but you were stuck. Tywin, unable to see the exchange continued, “To Serve as one of the new King’s principal advisors.” 

Whatever running through his head, slunk back down out of sight. His head lowering just enough with his deep brown eyes soft, reassuring. Telling you not to be scared of him of all people. Then a shift, cocky and ready to play as he turned to the Lannister once more. “I never realized you had such respect for Dorne, Lord Tywin.” 

“We are not the Seven Kingdoms until Dorne returns to the fold.” And which family had actively made that next to impossible? “The King is dead, the Greyjoys are in open rebellion. A wilding army marches on the wall,” 

Wildings? That was news to you. “And in the East, a Targaryen girl has three dragons. Before long she will turn her eyes to Westeros. Only the Dornish managed to resist Aegon Targaryen and his dragons.”

There it was. Dorne was the only Kingdom in Westeros ever to resist the Targareyans in the past. It had nothing to do with his grandson, he just wanted to find a way to use Dorne for his own advantage. 

“You’re saying you need us? That must be hard for you to admit.” Oberyn's condescending tone couldn’t even bring you out of your thoughts enough to be amused. No doubt he saw through this, right? Tywin Lannister is not a man trying to reunite Dorne with the rest of the Kingdom to work with them in equal peace. 

“We need each other. You help me serve justice to the King’s assassins, and I will help you serve justice to Elia’s.” No, you thought. No he won’t, justice isn’t what he's looking for. He’s placing his own son on trial at the behest of him and his malicious sister. There was no justice here and he doesn’t care about any kind of justice for Elia Martell, or her children. Men like Tywin Lannister have no compassion. 

You’re not sure how long you stood there in silence, still pressed against the wall, but slouched down. Almost as if you were about to slide to the floor under the weight of everything. The sound of the door shutting registered in the back of your mind, but did little to entice you to move. At some point your eyes slid shut, watching the words swirl in your mind. 

It wasn’t until the soft sounds of footsteps came in front of you, did you open them, bringing yourself back to the present. Looking up slightly to face him, his own face lost in his own thoughts, eyes scanning you up and down for a moment. “I think there are a few things we need to talk about.” 

With a deep sigh you moved yourself up and off the wall, following Oberyn’s arms gesturing to the main room. Ellaria stood near the wall, and briefly the dread built, the anxiety of angering both of them. As she moved towards you though, the feeling of your heart dropping settled as her outstretched arms pulled you into her body, soft hands finding your face. “You’re okay?” Nodding her face lightened in relief. “What happened?”

Your hands grasp her wrists, as you look down. But it was Oberyn’s voice who answered for her. “It would seem more than just Lord Baelish knows you.” Not looking up, you pulled Ellaria’s hands from your face before stepping away. 

There was only so much you could see when you looked out the window, but the crowded, filthy city streets below. “I don’t know which people may or may not know. I don’t know how far South the it spread.” That growing anxiety felt too much, like it had tipped beyond its peak and now weighed you down with exhaustion. This was a ruse you didn’t think you would still be anywhere near here. If the walls were closing in on this secret, you’d rather at least be able to tell someone who you didn’t hate. 

Instead of either of their warm, all encompassing embrace you’d come to know, you simply felt Oberyn’s hands on either side of your arms. His voice is quiet, almost soothing in its calmness. “Unfortunately, sweet girl, it doesn’t need to spread that far. All it takes is the wrong person to see you, and they’re already writing to whoever they’re working for.” 

You think you hear Ellaria coming up beside Oberyn, and you turn in his grasp suddenly, looking up at them both. “Is that how you knew? Why you’re even bothering with me in the first place? Someone told you I’m alive, so you spend time with me, and get me to tell you who I am and use it to your own advantage?” 

That wasn't a fair accusation, but you were upset and it just spilt out in anxiety.

Ellaria’s grip on Oberyn's waist tightens as Oberyn steps forward, forcing your chin up with his fingers, and for once you understand his reputation. This plotting darkness behind such rich brown eyes is seeping with intensity, though it’s not quite anger or contempt as many likely have been subjected to. “I knew who you were, because unlike the unsuspecting men who just follow your father without question, I’m not fooled by a half baked story of a Lord’s missing daughter, who unceremoniously turns up dead, yet no one ever saw a body.” 

When your eyes widen, one finger under your chin climbs up, stroking lightly against your bottom lip. Oberyn then says your name, your real name. “We spend our time with you, because we wanted to know you. Both of us saw you, and knew there was more to this,” His head looking your sultry attire up and down, “then what you’re trying to convince people of. I’m not some Lord looking to take advantage of you, or a Lannister using you for leverage I don’t need, and I am not one of your father’s allies willing to sell you out just to gain favour with the despicable man you ran from.” 

Finally, his gaze softened, Ellaria calmly watching his tension slip back down. “I wanted you to tell me yourself, because that meant you trusted me. Not because you’re scared of me.” Waiting until you either said yes, or nodded in understanding, Ellaria slid between you both, Oberyn's own hands going to hold her waist in return as Ellaria once again cupped one of your cheeks. 

“You are safe with Oberyn. Safe with me. In this room you have us, you don’t need to keep all this building up inside. All we want from you, is to just let us in.” Your own eyes shut as you let out a breath. First feeling her forehead gently press against yours, and then the sensation of your face being pulled in. 

If Oberyn’s kiss was overwhelming, Ellaria’s was intoxicating. She wasn’t commanding, but almost guiding, wanting you to just let her kiss you the way you need. Pulling away too soon, your eyes remained shut for a brief moment, fluttering open as the breath of her chuckle hit your skin. “I’m sorry. For everything today. It’s all just so much in my head, I don’t know, I wasn’t really thinking clearly.” 

Oberyn’s head leaned into Ellaria’s shoulder, “Don’t apologize. Neither of us have any need for you to say sorry. Besides, I assume this was the first time you learned most of that news. That alone would be enough to overwhelm anyone.” Finally he moved away from Ellaria, and gestured to you to come over to the bed. “Come. We’ll just sit and have a drink. However much you want to tell us, you can do so at any time. If I wanted to interrogate you, I’d simply give you vague threats about your intentions being in the capitol, not fill you with wine and share your bed.” 

Gods, that was something else entirely. Being in the room hiding from the one man who would have no qualms using you as a pawn for his newly secured power in the North was one thing. Listening to him come in and imply a Prince conspiring to murder a kid was another. 

You found a smirk made its way to your face as Oberyn handed you a drink, feeling more yourself now that your heartbeat has stopped feeling like a constant explosion. “Well if you do, let me know. I’ll practice walking around the room shirtless with a condescending attitude.” 

Before getting a word out, Ellaria pulled your legs to drape over hers. “Oh you don’t need an excuse to do that, Sweet girl. Neither of us will stop you from slipping this off.” Her finger toyed against your sleeve fabric. 

For a while things were a bit calmer, but you weren’t sure what to say about anything otherwise. That trickle of worry slipping back into your head, telling you that it doesn’t matter that they want to know you, or if they like you. Reminding you that when they leave, you’re back alone in this city and no ready plans of where to go or how to escape the capitols always watchful eyes. 

No one brought up Elia. None of you needed to. Oberyn wasn't here by coincidence, and neither were you. Something would snap eventually. It always does. So for now, things kept going and you could just pretend.

The lovers had a routine, your time became equally split between each of them. Oberyn’s new place on the small council kept his days busy in the Red Keep, so Ellaria had your time during the day. The woman was light, and full of life. Listening to her spin stories of the people she’s met, places she’s been, trouble she’s found herself in and it all makes you yearn for a kind of freedom you never had. 

Evenings and into the night were spent with both of them usually, but Ellaria gave him the space to keep you all to himself most of the time. To them, they had spent many years together, giving up time with each other to allow them separate time with you which didn't even phase the other. 

This particular evening, Ellaria had found a spot at the table away from you both, so she could write to her daughters in peace. You and Oberyn had moved to the bed, trying to let her work quietly, but the distance did nothing to deafen your laughter. 

“I’m just saying, picturing you as a full Maester might be the most absurd thing I’ve ever imagined.” Your body splayed out, only your elbows holding you up slightly as Oberyn splayed over your legs, keeping you trapped from scrambling away further. 

“What? You’re not turned on imagining me dressed in boring rags? Puttering around weak and feeble from like the Grandmaester Pycelle? Only getting your attention from whines and sympathy?” Making his way up so he took up the space over your chest, smile shining as he dares you to picture that. 

Almost without thinking, your head leaned back in laughter, before you flopped your body back down entirely on the bed as you spoke. “He’s not as weak as he plays at. You wouldn’t believe the stories some of the girls come back with. Based on what they say he’s probably that slow because he’s constantly exhausted from the night before.” 

For a moment your eyes widen, realizing you’ve spilt something the Grandmaester probably would like to keep secret. Oberyn’s fingers start toying with your dress, forcing a frown like a child, “Well if you’re so enamored with him, I’m sure he’d love to work something out.” 

Slapping at his hands to shove him away, but he’s faster and more sly, tugging and pulling just enough to almost expose you. 

His laugh is deep and almost adorable at your disgusted shout through laughter, “Stop, if you’re gonna be that disgusting you’re not allowed to touch me.” 

All he can do is once more moving up your body more, such clearly fake sincere looks on his face. “So I’m not good enough you admit,” Nose brushing against yours as you rustle under him, “We can always roleplay if that helps.” 

His smirk was too much, summoning just enough strength to shove his broad chest away from you, so you could sit up properly. “Alright , enough.” Playfully pointing at him turns into a light smack as he tries to grab at your hands. “I was amused imagining you so uniform and boring, but now I’m just horrified.” 

Settling closer to your own body, he starts to tenderly push the messy pieces of hair back into place, almost without thinking. “They aren’t all boring at the Citadel,” pausing in his movements for a second he half shrugs, “Well, most of them are. I forged six links before I had enough of how incredibly bored I was. Besides, I have needs I’d prefer not to ignore.” His hand traced down your dress’s neckline before sliding his legs onto the bed properly to lay next to you, more propped up. 

Laying now on your side to see him properly, your head sat upright on your palm. “Is that where you got your name? From the poisons you studied there?” 

A fond smile crossed his lips, “Somewhat. It didn’t start spreading around until after I had left, when they realized I found ways to use poison with my weapons instead of replacing them. What did you think it referred to?” 

Your free hand resting along your hip gestured up to his body before finding a tiny grasp on the edge of his shirt. “I always just assumed it was because everyone always said you fought and moved so fast and sleek as you fought. Viper, because that’s like how snakes move around.” 

Oberyn moved to grab wine that was previously being ignored. Helping move you to sit propped up, face turned closer to his. “That’s a reasonable guess. But people simply realized that a snake’s bite is far more dangerous than how fast it moves.” His hand coming up to your lips, a tight watchful gaze behind his dark eyes as he gently pours some into your mouth. “You wouldn’t believe the ways you can hide a poison in plain sight.” 

His hand pulled away, as you drew a hand up to your chest in mock horror, “I should have known. Feeding me with something to trick me into liking you. I knew a man so attractive but charismatic was just too unrealistic to not be a trick.” 

You watched the muscles in his neck move as he took a sip of his own, but watching the barley held back lust pleading to be let out in your eyes. Reaching blindly behind to put it back down, he pulled your chin in with his fingers closer to whisper, that sly seductive look painted all across it. “That’s hurtful, if I slipped you anything, it would be much more likely an aphrodisiac, get you more worked up to my touch, not more brainless.”

Oberyn captured your lips in a brief kiss, just with enough force to start pulling you under his spell before he pulled away. As he leaned up so his torso sat upright, you leaned in to sit almost cross legged beside him, looking now with genuine wonder. “But really, there’s that much to learn about poisons that you can spend years on it?” 

You could see his thoughts drifting, even as he looked you in the eye, for a moment he was drawn into his own plans it seemed. He returned to you almost in a blink, seemingly pushing whatever it was down for the time being. “Most of them are quite similar. But it’s those very tiny changes in your mixture that can turn it in either direction.” 

His hand reached out, cupping your cheek as he lost the other part of him in your eager and intrigued expression. “For some using a tasteless and painless way to kill us preferred. Most don’t deserve to go otherwise, especially in such a spectacle.” 

Grabbing the hand on your cheek, you brought it around to kiss his knuckles. Holding it to the exposed skin near your heart. “And the others?” 

Oberyn knew you didn’t have any intentions asking that, you were a curious little thing after such a reserved existence. Still those thoughts flowed back to the surface. He’s not sure where you fit in with this plan, or how it will play out. Ellaria has spent years by his side to understand what she was getting herself into when coming here. 

You came here under someone else’s orders, for a reason unknown to either of you, but more and more you were creeping your way into his. Mapping a way to keep you safe, without leaving you behind in the dark. 

The next few days were going to determine many things for a number of people in the city, including himself. So he had to think carefully, and for now, he could only answer carefully as well. 

“The other kinds are cruel. A burning pain that can leave one in such agony they want to end themselves before the poison finally does. It’s rare that someone would deserve to die like that. But they do exist, and they’ll get nothing more than what they deserve.” 

Oberyn's eyes flashing dark and intense, lost in his pain, his rage. So you pushed gently at his chest to lay own, draping your body over his chest and captured his soft lips with yours to soothe the darkness away.

For now that was enough, but you felt something more again. An approaching storm you wouldn't be able to navigate alone.

A unknown that plauges you with fear.

#oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell imagine #Oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell x female reader #Oberyn Martell x reader x Ellaria Sand #Oberyn Martell x female reader x Ellaria Sand #Oberyn Martell x you x Ellaria Sand #game of thrones fanfiction #a song of ice and fire fanfiction #oberyn martell fanfiction

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Kinktober Day 18

Kinktober Masterlist

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Reader x Ellaria Sand

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting with ANY of these Kinktober prompts will be blocked.

Warnings: Pegging; piv; unprotected sex

You’re looking for something else when you find it. 

Ellaria’s requested that you get a particular dress for her from her trunk, and you’re glad to do so, but as you’re searching for it, your hands curl around something unexpected. It’s hard, and long. You glance about to see if anyone is watching you. You don’t know what it is you’re holding, but you have the sensation of engaging in something illicit. Turning back to the trunk, you bite your lip, hesitantly sliding the fabric back from the object. You get just a glimpse of the rounded ivory tip before you hear the footfalls of someone approaching. 

You hurriedly shove the implement away again before rifling through the other garments. 

“Have you found it?” Ellaria asks. It’s another moment before you’re loosening the dress she requested from the pile of other garments. You stand, drawing it over your arm and nudging the trunk closed. You turn to her, proffering it. She smiles, taking a step closer and gently grasping your chin, dropping a sweet kiss to your lips before she takes the dress from you. 

You follow her dutifully out of the room to prepare yourselves for the evening’s festivities. You do enjoy Dornish delights, but you find yourself distracted throughout the evening. 

What was it that you’d seen in the trunk? And why does Ellaria have it?

--  

“You’ve been awfully quiet this evening.” 

“...Hm?” It registers with you far too late that Ellaria’s spoken to you. Casting an eye back in her direction, you find Ellaria and Oberyn sharing an amused gaze. You feel caught out and embarrassed, and you hurriedly turn your gaze from them again, hand scrubbing bashfully at the back of your neck. You have only a moment before you feel the bed dipping behind you, and then each of them place a hand on your thigh, the heat of them bleeding through the fabric. 

“Have you something on your mind?” Oberyn asks as he nuzzles tenderly against your shoulder. 

“You must,” Ellaria plies, “If you cannot focus on us for more than a moment.” 

You smile, tipping your head to the side and affectionately butting your forehead against hers. 

“I…I saw something today that I did not recognize.” 

“Oh? Something at the feast?” Oberyn asks.

“No…No, something…” You peer at Ellaria warily from under your lashes. “Something in your trunk. I was looking for the dress you wanted.” 

Ellaria’s brows tip up, an intrigued smile curling her lips. 

“And just what is it that you found?” 

“Well—I don’t quite know what it was.” 

“Did it worry you?” 

“No, it…It intrigued me,” You admit, face heating. 

“Now I must know what it is,” Oberyn insists. 

“Why don’t you get it and show us?” 

You hesitate to do so, but you know that you’ve drawn too much of their attention to distract them from this. You slide off of the bed, out of their reach, and round to Ellaria’s trunk. You kneel down in front of it, pushing the trunk lid open. You pike around it until your hands close in on the item again. You glance up and find Ellaria laying in her belly, head perched on her hands as she waits attentively. Oberyn is just behind, more interested in undoing the lacing on the back of Ellaria’s dress. 

You bite your lip, peering into the trunk before you finally lift the item, still wrapped in fabric. Ellaria lets out a pleased little giggle. 

“Is that what’s thrown you so completely, you sweet girl.” 

She sits up, the loosened dress slipping along her shoulder as she takes it from you. You shut the trunk, kneeling up onto it as she unwraps the fabric. The phallic ivory object makes you balk, as do the straps hanging from it. Your eyes wander it with a wary curiosity that turns to amusement as Oberyn cuddles up against Ellaria’s back, practically purring. 

“How does it…I mean, how do you…” You start tentatively and trail off, unsure of yourself. Ellaria casts an eye back toward Oberyn. 

“Shall we show her, lover?” 

“She does so love to learn,” He agrees, batting his pretty dark eyes at you. 

--  

You’ve never seen Oberyn like this before. You’ve seen him laid out with men, and with women, but you’ve never seen him begging, or on the verge of tears. You turn to look at Ellaria as she runs her hand over Oberyn’s chest, pricking her nails along his skin. You eye where the implement is being eased into his body. She’s taken your prince apart with her fingers and tongue, stretching him with the care that they’ve always taken with you. 

Perhaps he catches your nervey expression, because he manages to grace you with a smile. He raises a hand to your cheek, stroking tenderly along your cheek. 

“Are you in any pain?” You murmur. 

“The sweetest kind,” He swears. 

“Come here,” Ellaria orders softly. You hesitate, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his forehead before sliding back toward her. 

“Get behind me,” She urges. You do, crowding up against her back and peering down at Oberyn. You curl around your arms around her middle, pressing your bare body to hers. She smiles, glancing back toward you. 

“Are you ready?” She asks. 

“Is he?” 

“He is,” Oberyn pipes up. You giggle, pressing your face into Ellaria’s shoulder. She begins to roll her hips, driving the toy more deeply into Oberyn. You bite your lip, watching Oberyn sag and shiver into the bed. You find yourself rolling your hips into Ellaria’s, as if you can egg her on—as if she needs egging on. You smooth your hands up her belly, palming her breasts gently. Ellaria smiles, tipping her head back against your shoulder. You nip her shoulder, rolling your fingers across her pebbling nipples, then giving them a light pinch and a tug. 

She groans, her hips stuttering into Oberyn’s. His groan punches out of him, his head tipping back to bear his throat. You raise your hand to your lips, slipping two of your fingers between your lips and giving them a suck. Then you slide them down between Ellaria’s legs, swiping at her clit. She sighs, rolling her hips between your fingers and Oberyn. You shiver, your body tingling with the sensation of Ellaria pressing back against you, her hair brushing against your shoulder, and the sight of Oberyn so flustered and excited beneath the two of you. 

He peers up at you with hazy eyes, sighs and groans falling from his parted lips. You slide your hand from Ellaria, fingers slick with her, and grasp Oberyn’s cock. He sighs, pressing up into your touch pleadingly. You whine, grinding up against Ellaria and rolling with her rhythm. You’re a little surprised at how worked up you feel like this, with the sight of Oberyn so worked up, and the feeling or Ellaria taking the reins. 

“Sweet,” Oberyn plies, taking hold of your hand and giving you a tug. You frown, glancing at Ellaria as if for permission. She chuckles, tipping her head toward yours and giving you a warm kiss before drawing away.

“Go on,” She chuckles. You smile, giving her a sucking kiss before drawing away. You shuffle around to him again, straddling his hips. He reaches down, grasping the base of his cock and teasing it along your slick cunt. You bite your lip, resting a hand on his chest to steady yourself. You feel Ellaria go still behind you, giving the both of you a chance to adjust. You moan softly as you take Oberyn in, your cunt throbbing around him. 

“Already so wet,” He teases, “Just from watching us?” 

“She did a touch more than that, Oberyn,” Ellaria argues tenderly. She gives an experimental press of her hips, pushing Oberyn’s cock deeper into you as he answers the movement. You groan as Ellaria curls close to you, beginning to worry tender kisses and bites along your neck and shoulders. You roll your hips with hers, as you did before, and grin when Oberyn lets out a hiss. He slides his hands up over your thighs, giving them a squeeze and a light slap. 

You curl over him, catching his panting mouth in a kiss. He hums, hands sliding up over your back. He curls one around your nape, keeping you close as you trade heated, panting kisses. He growls sharply into your embrace, and before you can question it, you feel Ellaria bowing over your back, trailing her lips along your spine. You can feel her pick up her pace, giving harsher, shorter shoves. You lean back just a touch, resting your hand on his chest and beginning to bounce on Oberyn’s cock at the same pace that Ellaria fucks into him. 

Oberyn just lays there, taking what he’s given, grinning and urging the two of you on. You think he may just tuck his hands contentedly between his head if he wasn’t so hellbent on touching you. 

“I think we can finish him off together,” Ellaria urges, hooking her arm around your middle and controlling your pace. 

“I think we should make him wait.” 

“If I have to wait, so do you,” Oberyn groans. You grin as Ellaria slide her hand down between your legs, teasing your clit. 

“Not necessarily," She teases, then seems to take Oberyn's pouting mouth and pleading eyes into account. "But perhaps not. The night is young."

Tag list: @leaveinthelurk ; @missredherring ; @fangirlfreakingout ; @stevie25 ; @jvalentinesworld-cokes-hyna ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @karie-me-home ; @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly ; @guyfieriii (tried to tag and it won’t let me D: ) ; @moonlightburned ; @amneris21 ; @shiftingsands14 ; @cloudohell ; @blueeyesatnight ; @inlovewithhisblueeyes ; @reaperofmen ; @winchestershiresauce

#Oberyn Martell x Reader #Ellaria Sand x Reader #Oberyn Martell x Reader x Ellaria Sand #Oberyn Martell x You x Ellaria Sand #Kinktober #Kinktober 2022 #Youvebeenlivinfictional Kinktober 2022

[redahlia-writes]

Hi my dear 🫶 for the wip word guessing game, I'm giving you the word "honey" 👀 I hope everything's well with you!

hi darling and thank you !! how are you?

this is from the sequel to little prince which yes has been in the works for a while i have nothing to say in my defense [absolutely NSFW]

“I want to watch,” she whispered, voice thick as honey and just as sweet, teeth grazing the ends of your earring before she kissed the juncture where your jaw met your ear. “Let me see him make you feel good, sweet one.”

send a word in my ask box, if it's anywhere in my WIP docs l'll post the sentence (or paragraph) that it's from!

#ask games #lovely lovely people #oberyn martell x reader #ellaria sand x reader #oberyn martell x you x ellaria sand

[palioom]

day seventeen - threesome

pairing: oberyn martell x f!reader x ellaria sand

word count: 723

warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n; threesome, f/m, f/f, f/f/m, fingering, face sitting, unprotected sex, creampie, cum play

• kinktober 2023 masterlist •

“Just look at her.” Ellaria cooed, running her knuckles over the other woman’s cheek. All blissed out, eyes glassy and a drunken smile on her face, moans and whimpers falling from her pretty lips where she laid on the silken sheets.

Shaking from Oberyn thrusting into her, forcing her legs to stay open despite the overstimulation, his broad palms on the inside of her thighs. Teeth bared as his hips snapped into hers, the wet sounds obscene.

“She is divine.” He groaned, reaching for his lover's face and pulling her towards him. Needing something to occupy his lips while his cock was buried inside of their partner’s tight cunt. “Just like you, touch her.”

Ellaria grinned into the kiss, her fingers finding the woman’s clit, moaning at the sounds she produced.

“Too much.” She whimpered, back arching and writhing on the bed, her body on fire. They had been in bed for hours, taking turns pleasuring each other, but mostly it was Oberyn and his paramour worshipping her. “Please.”

“She can beg so sweetly.” Ellaria laughed, her other hand reaching for hers and guiding it to her own cunt, humming at the feeling of the fingers beginning to work. Sloppily, too far away in her mind to really be of help, but giving her best. “She certainly deserves a reward, my lover.”

Oberyn grinned, the sight of his two favourite women too much to bear for much longer. One of his hands moved to cup the younger woman’s breast, watching her mouth fall open in a silent plea.

“I think her mouth wishes to be occupied.” He teased, and immediately Ellaria moved to straddle their lover’s face, sinking down upon her as her lips found Oberyn’s again. Moving her hips as fast as she liked, chasing her own pleasure as the eager tongue below her began to lap at her, trembling hands holding onto her tanned thighs.

A symphony of muffled groans and whimpers, Ellaria’s tanned hand still rubbing tight circles into her, glancing at how Oberyn’s cock drove in and out of her.

The younger woman’s body began to tremble, floating on a faraway cloud while every single nerve of hers was assaulted by pleasure. The thick cock which felt so perfect inside of her, the wet squelch of his cum being pushed out of her as he prepared to give her more of him. The divine cunt on her face, sweet and dripping down her chin as she lapped at her, wanting to feel Ellaria cum, wanting to do good for both of them.

Unable to do much more than whimper into her, all while the noises of their lips meeting made her wish she could watch.

“Our sweet dove is close.” Oberyn groaned, his voice strained and his rhythm faltering. Still, he put all of his power into the thrusts, wanting to feel that magnificent cunt around him just once more for tonight. “Such a pretty thing, all for us to do with as we please.”

“She is.” Ellaria agreed, her other hand pinching the woman’s nipple. Her own movements became sloppy, angling herself so her clit got more attention. “The perfect little toy, so eager to please. So deserving of her reward.”

Their voices were muffled by the Dornish woman’s thighs, but what she heard made her whine loudly.

“Cum for us, my dove.” Oberyn demanded, his lips finding Ellaria’s again. “You’ve done well.”

It was as though her own orgasm triggered that of all of them, her body writhing and her cunt convulsing around Oberyn’s cock which began to twitch and spill inside of her. All while Ellaria’s release covered her lower face, the sounds of her moans so beautiful as she came.

Riding out the last waves before they laid down besides another in the silken bedsheets, breathing hard. She could barely feel the soft and rough hands smoothing over her body, mind hazy and completely fucked out.

“She deserves many more rewards.” Ellaria cooed, kissing up her neck, watching Oberyn push the cum back into their lover’s cunt, sucking them clean after. “Don’t you think?”

Oberyn chuckled, nodding. The idea to add a third to them was one of the more brilliant ones they’ve had in recent times, especially with such a sweet thing as the woman laying between them, drifting into slumber.

“Many, many more.”

#oberyn martell #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell fanfiction #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell x ellaria sand #prince oberyn #ellaria sand #oberyn martell x reader x ellaria sand #ellaria sand x reader #game of thrones #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #kinktober 2023 #my writing

[wardenparker]

The Viper’s Bride - ch 1

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

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

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 9.9k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: terrible parents, age gap 10+ years, arranged marriage, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol* A slap! Mentions of menstruation, fleeting mention of a suicidal thought, threats of violence, bathing, so much foreplay, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, fingering (anal), MM coupling, MMF threesome, anal sex, oral sex (f giving and receiving), FF coupling, technically this is an orgy. Summary: Upon receiving news of your arranged betrothal, both you and Prince Oberyn of Dorne make your ways to the Red Keep for King Joffrey’s impending nuptials. However, his arrival to the city is significantly more playful than yours. Notes: Welcome to soulmate story number seven! This summer we are getting hot and heavy in Westeros with everybody’s favourite promiscuous prince. Buckle up, my darlings, because this one gets spicy right off the bat 👑💖

Oberyn frowns slightly as the oil slicked hands of the servant press into the arches and joints of Doran’s feet, making his older brother hiss in pain. It must be a harsh day for him, his wheeled chair a near constant as it is now too painful for him to walk even short distances. A far cry from the hale and hearty brother he had grown up with as the youngest of the Martell princes. He knows the oil is warmed, the scent of eucalyptus and mint filling the air as it is worked into the skin, hopefully providing some relief. “I can come back, brother. Let you rest.”

“This is important.” Doran insists, not dismissing either man from his presence. His own discomfort is a stark reminder of the sacrifices that must be made for the throne of Dorne. “You know the Baratheon boy is to marry.” The fact that King Joffrey’s mother is a Lannister makes him an unsavory topic between the Martell brothers, even as Marcella Baratheon plays in the water gardens a mere thirty yards away.

Stiffening instantaneously for a moment before he forces his body to relax, Oberyn despised the mention of anything to do with the Lannisters, including that bastard on the throne. Everyone knows the rumors and with the golden mane of the boy and the tales of evils he has done, he’s inclined to believe it. “Gods be praised.” He murmurs sarcastically, reaching for the carafe of wine and the spare goblet that had obviously been left in anticipation of his visit with the elder prince. “What poor girl is marrying that…king?”

“Margaery Tyrell.” The elder prince huffs derisively before leveling his younger brother with a serious gaze. “You are to attend the wedding in my stead.”

Rolling his eyes, Oberyn sighs heavily. It will be two weeks of hard traveling to reach King’s Landing. All for a wedding he does not wish to attend. “I will extend the Martell family’s feelings.”

"You will be gracious and accommodating." Doran warns, knowing that the Martell family's true feelings are not appropriate in any way to be expressed at a wedding. "There will be some other business for you to attend to in King's Landing which is far more important."

“Yes, there is that wonderful brothel down in Flea Bottom.” Oberyn muses, grinning at the idea of bringing Ellaria there. The last time he had come, it had been two years before he had met her.

"Oberyn." His brother's voice has a warning tone to it. "I beg you not to waste your time in brothels on this trip no matter how enjoyable a pastime it may be. There is someone you need to meet."

He snorts and shakes his head. “I have no interest in meeting boring nobles with their equally boring wives.” He tells him. “I’ll be with Ellaria anyway.”

"No, you won't." Doran jerks away from his servant in frustration and turns to fully face Oberyn. "I will not have that woman jeopardize the contract I have signed when the ink is barely dry. Leave her home, Oberyn. She will be here with open legs when you return."

Oberyn’s brow arches up dramatically. Doran has never had issue with Ellaria, even counting her as a confidant in his absence. She is the mother of four of his children and a member of the family despite there being no vows between them. His soulmate. “What contract?” He growls.

"Leave." He hisses at the young man who was tending to him and he backs off immediately, taking the pot of oil back into the interior of the palace as fast as his feet can carry him. "It was time, Oberyn," he intones seriously. "Far past time, but I have let you have your freedom as long as I was able."

“Let me have my freedom?” His hackles rise and his eyes narrow. “I have my freedom because I wish it.” He reminds his brother. “I am not the head of the Martells like you, and you have your heir.”

"I have one heir." Doran bristles, but the raised tension between the brothers is his own fault. A product of the tension and pain he was already feeling today. "If anything should happen to Trystane, it will be you on the throne. And though I have great love for my nieces, none of them can be a princess."

“Our house will endure like it always has.” Oberyn snorts, dismissing Doran’s concern. “If the time comes, I will marry Ellaria and claim my Sand Snakes as legitimate.” He takes a long sip of his wine, humming at the delightfully floral note.

"The chance for that has passed." It is Doran's turn to be dismissive, sitting back again in his wheeled chair and adjusting a cushion under his arm. "Your objections to marriage have been noted, brother, but it is time to make a respectable husband of you. Ellaria will understand. She is an intelligent woman, and I'm sure would not abandon you as your mistress." Oberyn prefers the term paramour, and though it is accurate now, it will be more complicated once things are settled.

“Brother, what have you done?” Oberyn demands, slamming his goblet down onto the table.

"You know exactly what I have done." There is no chance, in his mind, that Oberyn has not deduced that a marriage contract has been signed, but Doran still sighs heavily. "She is the only daughter of a noble family. The father let her go without a match for some time while her brothers all married, but her portrait is beautiful and he assures me that she is accomplished." Reaching for the wine glass that Oberyn has rejected, Doran takes a gulp rather than a sip. "And she has no marks, blessedly."

“The agreement was my soulmate or no one.” Oberyn hisses, his gaze turning withering. “I will not marry some cow faced northerner.”

"Every place is northern to Dorne," Doran waves one hand dismissively and sets the wine glass back down on the table between them. "The contract is signed, Oberyn. You will not make a liar or a fool of your brother by denying it, and I am not going to try to force you to spend time with the girl or even like her. But you will marry her and produce a legitimate heir." The contract is full of terms to be adhered to, and the fairly enormous size of the girl's dowry includes access to trade routes that will greatly benefit the people of Dorne. There is no downside to this arrangement in Doran's mind, aside from having to have this discussion with his brother.

Oberyn’s lips press together in a firm line and his chair scrapes back as he stands. “Then you fuck the girl.” He hisses. “For I will not be gracing her bed.” Turning on his heel, the prince storms away before he loses his infamous temper.

Doran breathes a sigh, reaching for the goblet again to drown his frustrations in the wine that his maester has instructed him to avoid when he is in pain. "Fuck it," he grumbles harshly. Oberyn is going to make his life a living hell anyway, he may as well be drunk for it.

******

“Marriage!” Oberyn scoffs angrily, pacing in front of the lounge where his paramour is currently sprawled. “As if I am some fresh-faced maiden. How dare he sign a contract on my behalf!”

"I smell Mellario behind it," Ellaria admits, watching him pace back and forth like a caged beast. Oberyn had come careening back into his chamber like a sandstorm and now he was seething. "Doran has never had issue with your arrangement before now, and suddenly he is concerned about heirs? I would not be surprised if her change has come."

“Or he cannot get his cock to rise.” Oberyn winces at the idea of his own cock not working, but with his brother’s declining health, he would not rule it out. “I will not do it.” He decides. “We will leave for Braavos if he decides to push the issue.”

"My love," Ellaria sits up, shaking her head. "If you leave here, I would follow. You know this. But you would still have four daughters you would not be able to see and we both know that would break your heart." His children are the most important thing in the world to Oberyn – everyone knows this – and Doran would certainly use them as a punishment for insubordination. "Exile is no choice, Oberyn. Even self-imposed."

Pausing mid-stride, his robes swish around his legs as he turns to stare at the woman who had been with him and by his side for nearly twenty years. “You would have me entertain this idea?” He demands, surprised she would consider this.

“I would not have you be less of a man than you are.” For all her complexities, Ellaria Sand is not the temptress or the snake that some make her out to be. Her genuine love for Oberyn is rooted in as much respect as it is passion, and their four daughters currently have a father that they can look up to as a good and wise man. “What is the worst this girl could be?” She poses the question carefully as he shifts his weight anxiously in front of her, and she folds her hands in her lap. “Ugly? That is not her fault. The sun and good company can make anyone more beautiful. Cruel? Doran has already said you do not have to spend much time with her. Or perhaps childish? Spoiled? Then you treat her like a child and send her to her chamber without a treat if she misbehaves.” There is anger in his face, which Ellaria hates to see, but she tries to be encouraging. Motherhood has taught her that encouragement can be a balm on almost any wound. “So you would be married. What does that signify? Nothing in so far as you and I are concerned. You are still my soulmate, my love. And the father of my children. She cannot change that.”

“You are my sun.” Oberyn reaches down and takes his lover’s hand to draw her to her feet. Pulling her against his body, his broad hand covers the small scar on her side, a knife wound that he had earned in the fighting pits. “My world.” He promises, leaning in and pressing his lips to hers in a passionate kiss, trying to rid himself of the idea of tying himself to another. Ellaria is his soulmate, which is why he had said that he would only marry the woman who bears his marks.

"And no one will ever change that." She vows just as solemnly, giving herself over to the kiss without restraint. There are parts of his world that she does not stray into, or they would have fought with Doran for the right to marry years ago. The elder Martell brother may not mind her as Prince Oberyn's paramour, but she is not what he would envision for a princess of Dorne, nor does Ellaria particularly want such a title. For Oberyn she might have borne the duty of it all, but he never asked that of her and she was grateful. Now, whoever this girl is that is being thrust into their life will bear that burden instead. Ellaria does not envy her the responsibility.

******

“My love, you must calm yourself.” Within the walls of your chambers, Raeden Stone knows that the two of you are safe. Your maid will not interrupt unless necessary and she is sworn to protect your happiness and well-being above everything else, including your parents. “Stop.” Striding across the room, the sword at his side clanks as he grabs your hands filled with dresses, and takes them from you. “We cannot flee under the cover of darkness like we are thieves escaping the sword.” He knows that if he is caught, he will be killed or sent to the Wall as well.

"I won't do it." The very idea is offensive, leaving the taste of burnt crumbs in your mouth and the feeling of insects crawling on your skin, so that even with Raeden clutching your hand all you can think of is being rid of the horrible sensation. This whole horrible situation. Your eyes are already red from tears, their dried tracks left on your cheeks and down your neck, yet still more threaten to spill over as he holds you still. "I won't marry a stranger and move halfway across the world. I won't leave you behind!"

“You will not need to leave me.” Setting the clothes down on the trunk that is meant to be packed for your journey to King’s Landing and then to Dorne, he cups your cheeks. “I will pledge to accompany you.” He promises, his dark eyes boring into yours. His heart aches but he had known this day would eventually come. “I will ride into all seven hells if need be to stay beside you.”

"Why can we not just tell them?" Your smaller hands wrap around his long fingers, holding tight to him as though he might disappear if you let go. "To marry my soulmate should not be such a shocking thing to do, surely?" Having gone over and over it in their time together, you know why. Status. For a young noble woman to marry a bastard of no consequence, soulmate or otherwise, would be unacceptable in any part of Westeros.

“I have no name to offer you, other than Stone.” Raeden reminds you, aware of his station. He had only become a trusted member of your guard when he had risked his life for you nearly three winters ago. No one knew of the shared marks on your skin. No one could know. “No coin, no land, no future.”

"I could be your future." The argument is an old one. Aged and worn like the stones in your floor. The fact that you would abandon your station and your family for him is moot now that your father has sold you. "Three brothers married wealthy wives and yet I am the sacrificial lamb to be offered up to the lecherous second prince of Dorne." The stories of the man's temperament and deeds preceded him, of course. Lusty and vengeful, the second son of House Martell was to be feared never spoken of above a whisper in polite company. And now you have to marry him?

“I have heard he is handsome.” Despite his own heart aching at the thought of another touching you, he has to make this seem like a good thing. “They say he will treat any in his bed respectfully.”

"He could be the most handsome man in all of Dorne and he would still not be as handsome as you." Soulful eyes the color of chestnut shells, plush lips, and a perpetually mischievous smile when he’s pleased, there is no one more handsome than Ser Raeden Stone. Firm muscles and an impressive strength make him as formidable on the battlefield as they do in the bedroom - a fact which you have kept mum about for years now. Raeden's broad frame and towering height envelope you fully when you wrap your arms around his waist and bury your face in his chest to muffle a sob. "I will never lay with him. Or love him. Not as long as I live."

“You will be his wife.” He swallows as he says those words. “You will bear his children, love or not. And I will protect you.” It will be his own special kind of hell, watching you grow with a child that is not his, marry a man who is not him. “You must not tell him, love.”

"How can you be so calm?" You demand, looking up at him with fear and hurt swimming in your eyes. "My father is sentencing me to stand at the side of another man and you...my love, I cannot believe you are accepting of this?"

“I have no choice but to accept it.” His voice hardens slightly. “If we try to run away together, we will be caught. I will be killed or sent to the Wall.” It rankles, but he had known that one day you would be married off. “I cannot protect you if I am dead or taken the oath.” He growls, shaking his head and leaning in to press his forehead against yours. “I cannot risk leaving you alone.”

"Only cruel gods would have given us to each other as soulmates without ever intending to allow our love." It is an unfairness of life that you have lamented more than once, but right now it feels as though a dagger has been plunged through your heart and twisted violently.

“The gods know of our love.” Raeden knows it, sighing softly. “We are together and we will still be together.” He kisses you softly. “I spend more nights in your bed than my own. It will be the same in Dorne.”

"I will not allow it to be any other way." Despite the fear of the unknown, the thing that you can cling to is the strength of your feelings for Raeden Stone. Since the day he arrived rather triumphantly in your life, he has been a constant and welcome presence and you will not allow any power to steal your soulmate from your side. "No prince from Dorne will ever keep you from my arms."

“There is my girl.” Raeden smiles, happy that you are calm again and he presses closer to you. “Now…do you wish that I take your mind off your worries?” He coos softly.

“I always wish for you.” Though time is precious now, as you leave for King’s Landing in just three days and the road is no place for a romantic interlude. Raeden will not even be allowed to ride in your carriage during the journey. His place as your guard demands that he protect you, not indulge in you. Although he is fully capable of doing both.

The grin that you have said melts you flashes across his face and he pulls back so he can remove his belt and sword. “Then let me make you forget about Dorne, forget about marriage and only think of me.”

******

The painstaking journey feels ludicrous, and your weary mother certainly has not made it any easier with her complaining. The decision for your parents to accompany you was entirely your father’s and even then it was only so that he could brag to his small group of friends that he attended the king’s wedding. If this were only about delivering you to your groom, he would have sent you with your guard and your maid and thought no further on it. As it is, you have spent every day sitting beside your mother’s lady’s maid in the cramped and uncomfortable carriage praying that you might get even ten minutes alone with Raeden before the end of the day. It has hardly happened, and you have found yourself near tears rather constantly. Ignorant man that your father is, he imagines you so delirious with joy that you are weeping for your good fortune. The truth could not be further away.

“Do not fret.” Your mother assures you softly. “We have long had daughters marry in Dorne or Dornish brides sent to us.” She reminds you. “While most will look their noses down at a Dornish man, we know he will treat you well.”

“I still do not see why this marriage is even necessary.” And since no one has offered you any sort of explanation, you’re inclined to just ask. “My brothers married wealthy women. We do not need the favour of House Martell. So I am forced to wonder again why I am being offered to them in sacrifice.”

“Change is coming to Westeros.” Your mother leans in, her words quiet and fervent. “Dorne is the last kingdom that still has royalty. You will not just be a lady, you will a princess.”

"I do not want to be a princess." You inform her flatly, ignoring the way her lady's laid looks aghast at your ingratitude. "My own maid had more freedom than I do. At least someone asked her if she wanted to be shipped south like chattel. And she was even able to say no!" Though Clarey had served you since you came of age, your own maid had been able to marry her soulmate and had recently discovered she was with child. Your father had considered himself quite magnanimous for not breaking up that family to send her to Dorne with you.

“You would have your father break his contract with Dorne?” Your mother asks, appalled at the mere idea. “You were born into a noble house. You have grown up knowing your father would arrange a marriage for you. Most are married at seventeen.” She clicks her tongue in disappointment that you are forever ungrateful for the time your father had allowed you to remain unwed. If you only knew the rumors that had swirled.

"If you always planned to marry me against my will then I wonder that you waited so long." Staring out of the carriage window, you can see Raeden up ahead, face drawn in concentration as he keeps constant vigilance over the route you are traveling. "Why not have signed me away to the Starks when I was born?" The bitterness in your voice is obvious. "Then I would have been a queen."

“You will watch your sharp tongue, or you shall be sent to your room without dinner.” Your mother hisses, sitting back and shaking her head. “Your father wanted to hold out hope for a soulmate.”

"I am not a child, as you so love to point out when it is convenient to you." The threat of no dinner is nothing when you have no appetite to begin with. It would be a blessing not to be stared at over a meager meal. "And you can hardly send me to my room when I haven't one. We will not even arrive in King's Landing before first light tomorrow."

Your mother’s hand strikes out, slapping your cheek with a sharp crack. “You will not shame your father and house.” She hisses. “I have long begged your father to marry you off, to stop giving into your childish notions, but no more. You will marry Oberyn Martell.”

If the impulse to cup your own cheek was present, you don’t give in to it, not wanting to show the satisfaction of acknowledging that she has caused you pain of any kind. At the moment all you can really think is that it is good Raeden did not witness your mother striking you, or he may have given himself away with his reaction. “At least in Dorne I will never again be forced to breathe the same odious air you have exhaled.” No one in all of Westeros could ever have mistaken your mother for your ally if they saw you interact in private – it is only her sickly sweet countenance in public that made others think that she had babied or favoured you in any way. More than once in your life you’ve wondered how such a hateful woman could even grow a babe let alone birth four of them.

“You will learn your place soon enough.” She promises you. “You are a woman, not a man.” Her disappointment in you pours off of her in waves. “Be thankful your father did not choose a fat, aging lord.”

“Fat and aging means he would die faster.” At least antagonizing your mother is passing the time, you decide, staring straight ahead at the pompous boil of a woman who has lorded herself over you for the last twenty-five years. “I think I would do very well as a widow.”

“I wonder if your bravery would falter learning that your guard will not be staying with you.” The sly, evil menace in your mother’s voice is clear.

“Of course he will.” Brazen confidence is the tone which drowns out your panicked fear, and you tell yourself not to look outside and give yourself away. That could ruin everything in less than one heartbeat. “He swore to Father to protect me and Father accepted.” If something had changed, surely Raeden would have told you.

“Hmmmm.” Her smile is acidic, her fingers twisting around her handkerchief. “You think you are soooo clever. That I did not know.”

“Honestly?” Honestly you really did not think for a second that anyone besides your former maid knew anything, but you swallow down the boiling acid in your throat and keep your chin poised to stare your own mother down. “I do not know what you could possibly mean.”

“I birthed you.” She snorts, a very unladylike sound. “You think I do not know when my daughter had decided to spread her legs and become a Stone’s whore?”

Of course the thing that bothers her most is that Raeden is a bastard – Stone, as they are named in the Vale – and not an actual concern of safety or care. “I can assure you, that is not the case.” Though saying it would be a waste of breath, nothing you have done with Raeden could mark you as a whore. Just a woman very much in love with her soulmate.

“At least you just bled.” She scoffs. “Not carrying a bastard in your belly.” She leans in, her eyes flashing with malice. “Behave. Or I will allow your father into my bed for the night and he will do as I say. Including making sure your precious Raeden rides home to the Vale with his lord, your father.” She threatens.

Though you have serious doubts that your mother’s cunt is magical enough to control your father’s thoughts, it isn’t a chance you’re willing to take. If Raeden is ordered to return to the Vale and you are forced to ride for Dorne without him, you are more likely to see the bottom of the seas than your marriage bed. “My Lord Father loves me and wishes to protect me,” is all you say in response.

“Your Lord Father will do what makes me happy.” She promises you with a self-assured smirk. “Especially now that I have convinced him to marry you off.”

“It was you?” You should not be so shocked. Her hatred for you has been obvious from the time you were a child and had never seemed to waver. Your father, on the other hand? Doting and indulgent, always picking flowers for you and bringing you books instead of suitors. Your brothers are strong men with discipline instilled in them. You had been allowed to read and dream and sing and ride at your leisure. Of course his sudden change of heart was down to your bitter, angry mother.

“Who else?” She sneers. “Your father would be content to keep you around until you are nothing but a spinster. You are already past your prime. Luckily enough, the Prince of Dorne already has eight bastards.”

The way her utter dismissal of you makes your blood boil is beyond explanation, but as you squeeze your hands together in the pockets of your robe, only one precious thought floats to the surface. “My only solace is that if I should ever see you again after this week, Mother, you shall have to curtsy to the person you despise most in the world.”

“I will not.” She hisses, glaring at you. “I will never bow to a little whore like you.”

“Oh, but you will.” A victory, even a small one, is enough to grasp at as you square your shoulders again. “When I am Princess of Dorne it will be required of everyone save King Joffrey himself. You included.”

“Bitch.” She hisses, glaring at you. “I should have drowned you the moment you slipped from my womb.”

“A regret you will live with forever.” If Knocking her from her wicked confidence is the best you can do in this conversation, you will not take that for granted, for your mother has always been a formidable enemy. “Now leave me to read, Mother. Lest you earn yourself another wrinkle and find your hair a shade greater than it was when we left home.”

“I will be overjoyed to not see your face every day.” She spits, hating that you don’t seem cowed by her threats. “Dorne will be eye opening for you. And everything you deserve:”

“As you say, Mother.” Without another word, you take the small book of histories from your reticule and open it to the place where you left off last night, too distracted by Raeden’s handsome face to give any more thought to words. False confidence is a thing you learned very well in the face of your mother’s vitriol, and apparently on this one occasion it has actually yielded a victory. You may still be terrified of your future in Dorne, but she never needs to know that.

******

“This city still smells like shit.” Two weeks of travel has left Oberyn irritable, grumbling as he pulls his horse up to the gates of the city. “Let us go find comfort and a bath.” He tells Ellaria, unable to stay in the carriage and deciding to ride ahead of the contingent of troops Doran had sent with him.

“At the brothel, my love?” She smirks at the suggestion, far less uncomfortable from travel than he is. “A bath, fresh food, and a good fuck will restore your mood.”

“Of course.” Oberyn scoffs. “I will not accept chambers in that keep.” He hates even being here and seeing it. Wanting to burn it down, considering his sister, niece and nephew died in that keep.

“Nor should you.” As a prince he should have the most resplendent rooms available, but they both know what would happen if Oberyn ever set foot in the Red Keep beyond the wedding in two days. “We will visit this Littlefinger you have spoken of?”

“I had sent word that we were arriving.” He chuckles, smirking at Ellaria because she knows him so well. “Tell me you don’t want a hot bath and an even hotter cunt?”

“If I am honest, I am ravenous for a cunt to bury my tongue in.” There is never any judgment between them, or jealousy, and Ellaria sighs indulgently at the idea of a slick cunt and perky tits to indulge in. “Will you share with me, lover?”

“Always.” Oberyn waggles his brows. “We will pick out a whore together.”

“A favorite pastime.” Ellaria laughs softly. She has not spoken a word about Oberyn’s intended bride since they left Dorne and she won’t until it’s necessary. His mood is volatile here in the northern capital and she does not relish his moments of anger.

“Silk sheets.” Oberyn groans, not willing to admit that he is weary of travel, but he needs to recover. Especially if he is to be meeting this bride. He had decided that the poor girl deserves to be told in person that he will have nothing to do with her.

“Silk sheets. Roasted meats. Wine. Berries and nuts fresh from their trees.” She giggles when his hand slips inside her dress to caress her skin. “And a pert ass for you to bury yourself in.”

“We could get two. A man and a woman.” He reasons, smirking at the idea. “Perhaps we will have Littlefinger line them all up for us to choose from.”

“As many as you like, my love.” After all, it is not as if the coffers of Dorne lack for funds. They have brought a fortune with them under Doran’s insistence that Oberyn shower his intended with gifts – and a second fortune to pay for the bills his natural extravagance will no doubt incur. “We will have whatever you desire. And when you have had your fill we will rest and then begin all over again.”

“Wine.” Oberyn decides, frowning despite thinking of nicer things as the two of them enter the walls of King’s Landing. “I will need a lot of wine.”

Their destination is not far, but the duo of Oberyn Martell and Ellaria Sand attract attention by virtue of their combined beauty and the onlookers who cluster to gaze at them make their journey last longer. Oberyn sends their driver off with the carriage to find stables nearby and Ellaria wraps her arms around him when he returns to her side in the steps of the building. “Do you hear the false moans, my prince?” She pouts in sympathy for the unsatisfied women inside as they cross the threshold together. “We will make them scream so they never forget us.”

Oberyn smirks, holding her hand with no shame. He does not hide Ellaria, she is his paramour. Much more than that, although that is something that is kept between the two of them, private at her insistence so she does not become a liability to him. “We will, my love. Every whore in this brothel will pout when you leave.”

“Very pretty pouts, I hope.” Ellaria loves a very pretty pout when the time is right. To be begged to come back to bed. To have a lover cry her name with such passion that their heart aches for more. She saunters into the brothel beside Oberyn with her head high and looks around as the prettily dressed woman at the entrance fawns over Oberyn. Everyone fawns over Oberyn, that is of little interest to her.

Oberyn eyes the cunts and tits on display, lifting a brow when he sees earrings through one woman’s nipples. “I see we are in the right place.” He smirks, watching as Littlefinger rushes over to the pair.

“Prince Oberyn.” Though he does not ever bow deeply, he does bow, eyes tracking over to Ellaria with an oily smile. “My lady. What an honour to be graced with your presence. What can we provide for you this morning?”

“My lady?” Ellaria scoffs, making Oberyn smirk and squeeze her hand. “We will be needing accommodations for the duration of our stay in King’s Landing.” Most brothels do not rent rooms and he is sure that Littlefinger’s establishment is no different but Oberyn has learned that his title and the gold of his coin makes things possible when they previously weren’t. “For now, until it is ready, we need baths and whores to join us.”

“The duration of your stay?” The man does not bother to hide his surprise, but smiles broadly like the showman that he is. “I will send someone to ready your accommodations,” he promises, hand on heart. “Our baths are this way,” Littlefinger motions deeper into the building. “Do you have a preference for who should join you or shall I send you a variety to choose from?” There is enough gold dripping from the Prince of Dorne that Littlefinger will unfold the world of pleasure at his feet if that is what he wishes, without worry for his ability to pay what is owed.

“Your choicest men and women.” Oberyn looks over to Ellaria for her approval. “Clean.” He insists, although Littlefinger’s whores are always of a higher caliber than most. “We will send the others away once we have chosen.”

“Leyth.” Littlefinger waves to a tall, buxom girl with orange curls down to her waist. “Tend to the prince and his lady for me,” he instructs her, obviously trusting that she can do the job. “Anything they need, you will acquire for as long as they are here, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” The girl called Leyth nods and smooths her thin skirt, looking between the beautiful prince and his stunning lady. “I will be happy to serve them.”

“Good.” The chuckle that bubbles out of Littlefinger is full of approval. “Take them to the baths and then fetch them food and wine.” He smiles at Oberyn, a thing dripping with false charm. “I will send you a selection of company to choose from.”

“Berries.” Oberyn adds, the need for fresh fruit after weeks on the road is great. Ellaria chuckles, well aware of his fondness for snacking, especially when he is fucking.

“Berries.” Leyth bats her eyelashes prettily as she leads the pair down the hall. “Do you prefer sweet things, your Grace?”

“Hmmmm.” He doesn’t answer one way or the other, although his gaze is sliding up and down her form and he reaches out to caress her ass through the sheer robe she is wearing.

She hums right back at him, playful but bidding, and slows her pace slightly to let him touch as they turn the corner to the bathing room. The deep bath in the floor sits full and waiting for paying customers, beautifully tiled with trays of soap and sponges for gently scrubbing skin. The oiled waters smell of flower petals, and two baths are even littered with the things. Leyth walks toward the bath of floral water with a sultry smile and a swing in her hips. “I will wash you with my own hands if that is your wish, after I fetch you food to break your fast.”

“What do you say my love?” Oberyn asks Ellaria. “Leyth and whoever catches our eyes?” He would love to see his paramour’s thighs spread for the orange haired beauty. “Or would you prefer to choose the woman?”

“You are lovely, Leyth.” Ellaria praises, already having decided that she likes this woman’s spirit as well as her figure. “We will see who else catches our eye when they arrive.”

“Show me your tits.” Oberyn commands the woman. Eager to see if they are as perky as they seem or if it is an illusion of the gown she is wearing.

Obedience is necessary to work for Littlefinger, but Leyth is lucky to have been given to this couple she finds so attractive. She slips the ties from her shoulders and lets her silken dress fall to the stone floor with pride. Her body is well worth selling and has given her a good living, so she proudly bares her large tits and curved waist to this prince when he demands it.

“Very nice.” Oberyn groans with a smirk. “They will look lovely bouncing when you ride my cock.” He predicts. “We can undress ourselves.” He promises, turning to Ellaria and pushing aside her own gown so he can cup her bare breast, tweaking an already hard nipple.

Ellaria moans happily when the girl excuses herself to fetch their food, and drops the traveling robe she was wearing to the ground immediately. “Lover…” she sighs, her body arching to seek Oberyn’s touch instinctively. “You were right about this place.”

“Of course I am right.” He teases playfully, leaning in and dragging his nose along her throat. “Now, we need to wash so we can be ready to play when the whores are brought in. I want to feed you fruit while a tongue is buried in your cunt.”

“Leyth is a beauty.” Ellaria disrobes easily and quickly, leaving her things scattered as she steps into the bath built deep into the floor. It is warm and smells sweet, like summer in the Water Gardens. “Pale, but I like her freckles.” She looks up at Oberyn with admiration as he shrugs off his own robes. “I like your freckles better, though.” Especially the one on the inside of his right thigh, high on his muscled leg where she can kiss it before swallowing his cock.

“Just like her tits are gorgeous, but yours have suckled four of my children.” His cock twitches and he kicks off his boots, throwing the loose, pale yellow shirt off and reaching for his leather breeches.

“Hers are bigger than mine.” Ellaria chuckles at the way he loves tits. “Enjoy them, lover. I know I shall.”

“You always do.” He chuckles, thanking the gods that his soulmate is just as adventurous as he is. “Maybe she will be the only one we choose for now.”

“Perhaps.” Sighing as she lays back in the water, Ellaria tilts her head and soaks her hair, enjoying the way she feels cleaner already. “Perhaps we will develop a taste for sun-red hair while we are here.”

“Whatever we develop a taste for, we will indulge in.” Oberyn does not mind sharing her, doesn’t get jealous because she is his sun and world. No one could break their bond.

“Come to me, lover.” She beckons him with both hands, pouting for him prettily. Now that travel is behind them, Oberyn is already cheerier and it lightens her heart. “Soak with me. It has been weeks since we had a bath.”

“With pleasure.” Stripped down, Oberyn strides over to the bath and starts to descend the stairs to join her in the deep tub.

Ellaria moves to him immediately, arms welcoming him home and lips finding his with a deeply satisfied moan. Her legs are around his waist as quickly as his hands find her ass, and his growing cock twitches against her soft skin.

Oberyn turns around, letting his paramour cling to him as he drops down onto the seat under the water. “I love you.” He murmurs quietly against his lips.

“As I love you.” Since the day they first spoke the words to each other they have not wavered, and Ellaria runs her hands across Oberyn’s skin reverently. “My warrior.”

“My sun.” Oberyn squeezes her ass and rocks her onto his hardening cock. “My world.” The passion between the pair has not wavered over the years, growing stronger in a way that could only be because of their soulmate bond.

“Oberyn.” No matter how many times she takes him, the stretch of his cock inside her takes her breath away. Her hands find his shoulders to cling to him as they find their pace, with his grip guiding her as she begins to bounce on his length in earnest.

“Too soon, my love?” He teases, knowing she is far more than adequately wet. She is dripping.

“Never.” She shakes her head before throwing it back, letting her moan ring out through the echoey chamber. “Never. I am always yours.”

Multi-tasking is a gift that Oberyn has. Results of a wandering spirit and a restless mind. It was one of the reasons he had joined the maesters and eventually left after forging eight links. He reaches for the perfumed soap and a rag to wash his lover.

They are fully enraptured with each other when Leyth returns, and she sets the tray down beside them before seeing about pouring two goblets of wine. It’s rare to have pairs of lovers visit the establishment but not unheard of, and she smiles indulgently, watching the passion they share for a moment before making herself known. “I can do that for you, your Grace,” she offers, knowing her employer will be upset if she neglects them.

Even with Ellaria impaled on his cock, Oberyn tears his mouth away from her lips and looks over at the woman. “Join us and bring the wine.” He orders. “Are the others coming?”

“They are right here.” Leyth slips into the water easily, taking the sponge from him and resumes the work of bathing his lady without missing a beat. Four women and two men all of varying ages and looks pour into the room behind her clad in next to nothing looking apprehensive.

“Do not be shy.” Oberyn turns Ellaria’s head and groans when she clenches down around him. “Any who wish to not join us may leave now.” He does not want someone who is timid.

The most tired looking of the women takes the youngest girl by the hand and leads her from the room with a respectful nod of her head, and one of the men bows before stepping out behind them. "Leaving us with five supple bodies to learn," Ellaria groans appreciatively. Between Oberyn's cock and Leyth's hands massaging her back as she washes her, this is surely already one of the seven heavens. One of the girls is the first to step forward, beautiful dark skin on display and bright eyes full of mischief as she easily discards her meager dress and slips into the water right away. She has heard legends of the second prince of Dorne and intends to find out for herself if they are true.

“Eager.” Oberyn chuckles and beckons her forward. “I like that.” His eyes slide past her towards the remaining man, tall and broad. His tawny skin clear and it’s obvious that his cock is starting to harden as he watches. “You—” he motions towards him. “Do you suck cock or like cock in your ass?”

"I like whatever you like, my lord." After all, is that not what he is here for? Being a man with a voracious appetite for pleasure makes him an asset in a place like this.

Oberyn growls, eyeing his cock tenting the loose trousers he is wearing. “Strip and join us if you are going to.”

Spacious as it is, there is not enough room for everyone in the bath, and the last remaining girl lays down bare on the edge after everyone has climbed in and patiently plays with herself while she waits her turn. There is plenty to feast her eyes on until one of them decides to bury their face in her pussy.

Twitching inside his lover, he kisses her gently and pulls her off his cock. “Go play, my love.” He urges her, knowing she wants to do more than just be touched.

"We may learn to enjoy King's Landing after all." Ellaria laughs, happily letting hands explore her skin. Leyth and the man gravitate toward Oberyn, and she is happy to drown herself in a sea of pussy until she is drunk on the sound of women's pleasure.

When he is close enough, Oberyn reaches down and cups the man’s cock firmly. “What is your name?” He demands, squeezing him gently and jerking him slowly.

"Cal, my lord." His eyelids flutter slightly at the firm touch, eager for more. "Or whatever you want it to be."

“Cal….” He smirks and presses his thumb against the head of the man’s cock. “Have you ever been fucked by a Prince?”

The way Cal shudders and his breath hitches is reverent, and he shakes his head as he tries to remember to breathe. "No, your Grace. But I would like to be."

He turns to Leyth, jerking his chin up. “Kiss me.” he orders, stretching his neck out and lets go of the man’s cock so he can slide his hand around him to press between the cheeks of his ass.

The room fills with moans as Leyth eagerly complies, licking into the prince's mouth with surety. She knows her skill and she hopes to impress, even pressing closer to him to wrap her own hand around his cock.

Oberyn hisses, his tongue sliding against hers happily as he finds Cal’s puckered hole quickly and starts to rub around the opening.Hands are everywhere as Cal lowers his head to lay kisses along the taut muscles of the prince's neck, one hand caressing his skin and the other groping for Leyth's breast to squeeze the supple flesh and play with her nipple. They are paired together often, when clients wish for a show, so he knows her body as well as any instrument.

“You are lovers.” Oberyn groans, pushing a finger inside the man’s quivering hole. On the other side of the bath, Ellaria and the ebony skinned beauty are tangled together in a passionate embrace.

"Sometimes." Leyth agrees, leaning over to give Cal a kiss without missing a single stroke of the prince's cock.

The sounds of heavy breathing and pleasure are filling the bathing room and he can feel the way Cal’s body squeezes his finger as he pumps it into him to stretch him out. “So do you want his cock or his tongue while I fuck him?”

"If I have his cock, I will feel every time you fuck into him." She moans at the idea, chest heaving with just the thought. "You will be driving us both wild with pleasure."

He chuckles and nods, pulling his fingers out of the other man. “Then get on your knees and let him slide inside your cunt.”

Kneeling on the bench where he had been sitting, Leyth presents herself easily for both men to appreciate and sighs out loud when the familiar stretch of Cal's cock presses inside of her wet heat. She knows that Cal is truly the one getting spoiled today and hopes the prince lives up to every rumour for his sake.

Oberyn can’t help but reach out and slap her ass and groans when her generous skin jiggles. “I will fuck you after I have had my fill of your lover.”

"He is insatiable," Ellaria offers, chuckling deeply before burying her face in the cunt nearest her talented mouth. Oberyn is not the only one with an endless appetite. It is one of the reasons that they have so much fun together.

“It has been two weeks.” He huffs, rolling his eyes. There hadn’t been any place to stop and fuck while on the road. He was pent up.

"No one here will complain, my lord." Cal promises, burying himself again in Leyth's cunt and groaning at her heat. "The stories of you are legend, and most of us are eager to know if they are true."

“They are true.” Ellaria pulls his tongue out of the cunt to purr her vote of confidence.

“Thank you, my love.” Oberyn chuckles and reaches for the oils that are kept on the edge of the bath for things such as this.

"Then we will add our praise to the stories that already exist." Soon Leyth will be able to do nothing but take the thrusts from the two men above her, but for now she meets each movement with a roll of her plush hips.

"We are yours for as long as you wish to stay." It is only half of a promise from Cal himself, having been instructed by Littlefinger himself to give Prince Oberyn whatever he wants, but at least now Cal can make the vow with pleasure.

Oberyn has no doubt that these people have been told to do whatever he or his paramour likes but he will only take what he deems right. “Only if I bring you both pleasure.”

"I cannot imagine you have trouble giving pleasure." Cal moans, bending over Leyth's back to present himself to the prince for the taking.

Coating his cock in enough oil to wash his entrance, the water in the bath sloshes as he shuffles closer and takes himself in hand. Pressing closer and pushing the head of his cock against the other man’s hole and slowly rolls his hips forward to break him open.

Cal curses, eyes rolling back into his head as the prince's girth fills him, and in turn pushes his cock further into Leyth's fluttering pussy. The bathing room may as well be their own private party in this moment, because of the large handful of people indulging in each other no one notices Littlefinger lurking by the doorway. True pleasure is rare in a whorehouse, so this is sure to be a lucrative visit for the proprietor.

Oberyn lets out a lusty groan when his hips are flush against the other man’s ass. “You do not flinch away.” He praises, wrapping his long arms around the man so he can cup Leyth’s generous breasts while he waits for the man’s muscles to relax around him.

“Pleasure is a gift.” Cal’s body shudders as he takes Oberyn fully, the stretch of him making the man pant and reach back to grasp the prince’s hip. “You have a very large gift, my lord.”

Oberyn chuckles quietly, pleased with Cal’s words and leans in to nibble on his ear. Enjoying the way he shudders again. “Let me show you what I can do with that gift.”

******

The Red Keep looms above you when you finally step out of your carriage, trying with all your might to block out your mother’s voice muttering indignities that your party was not greeted by a royal retinue at the city line. What utter nonsense. Your house is ancient and wealthy, yes, but certainly not royal and there is no reason for the royal Baratheons or Lannisters to pay you any heed. At least, outside the carriage, you can finally be more than a foot and a half away from your mother again.

“Alright, pumpkin?” Your father beams down at you before swinging off of his horse.

“Of course, Papa.” Of course not is the truth, but after days of spitting venom you are too tired to put up much of a fight. Besides, now that you know this is your mother’s doing, it is hard to be upset with your father for simply being a fool.

Your father beams at you as he steps beside you and offers you his arm. Not having an opportunity to talk much on the road, he wants to assure you. “I understand you are nervous because you have not been to Dorne, but your grandmother and her mother are from Dorne.” He reminds you. “And there is family in Braavos and across the Narrow Sea.” The long tradition of finding love outside the Vale is common, your father finding the free-spirited prince to be a far worthier match for you than some sniveling little lord grasping for favor. The idea that his daughter will be princess is also a factor.

“I shall visit them all at my earliest ability.” The idea of traveling to see family you have never met sounds infinitely preferable to spending even a minute in the presence of the prince you never agreed to wed, and for a moment you almost relax at the idea.

“I doubt your husband will allow anything other than you spitting out his heirs for the next few years.” Your mother scoffs. “You will be visiting his bed.”

“That is not for you to know or to decide.” You tell her, though the fact that she may be right makes you sick to your stomach. Two steps behind the three of you, Raeden could not have missed the comment but you cannot exactly turn to look at him.

Raeden keeps his gaze down, your mother’s words in his mind as he tries to decide if he had made the right choice. Perhaps he should have run away with you. He’s noticed the captain of your father’s guard eyeing him so he had tried to be as impassive as possible. His heart aches at the idea of you in the Prince’s bed, despite the rumors of his prowess and propensity for men and women, something that he shamefully shares with the Prince of Dorne. He had fought his attraction to the other men around him. Not even sharing it with you.

“My lord. My ladies.” A steward in the hallway bows to you dutifully and opens his mouth to welcome you to the Red Keep, but a swish of skirts and a silky smooth voice cuts him off from behind. “Lollard, I will greet my guests,” she instructs, sounding nearly severe before her voice pitches up to something delighted and seemingly terribly excited. “I was so pleased to see your banner approach that I could not help myself.” The woman declares, and you cannot tell if she means it or not. “Lady Margaery Tyrell,” she introduces herself with a broad smile. “It was I who sent your invitation. Welcome to King’s Landing, and to the Red Keep.”

“You are even more beautiful than your portrait, Lady Margaery,” your mother gushes, simpering to the woman who appeared to be several years younger than even you. “And how thoughtful of you to include our House in your nuptial feast. We are honoured.”

“It is I who am honoured.” She steps toward you with a smile. “To have the future princess of Dorne amongst my guests, and of course the ancient connection between our Houses makes us loving cousins, does it not?” The marriage of a Tyrell daughter into your House was four generations ago, but Margaery has never been one to overlook a string that might be pulled in her favour. At least not after her grandmother pointed it out.

Future princess of Dorne. Raeden’s fists clench at his sides as he tries to ignore the fury in his heart at that simple phrase. You will be a princess, and the gap between your stations will be more vast than before.

“We are flattered by such a personal welcome.” Beside you, your father is talking and patting your hand on his arm, but you barely hear him. Each time another person calls you princess or refers to the man who bought you, you feel closer and closer to being sick all over the floor. Or perhaps sinking in a wasting depression. If both are possible simultaneously, that may be the answer.

“Forgive me.” When you find your voice it almost cracks, but you put one hand to your stomach delicately. “I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Lady Margaery, but I am afraid I feel quite ill from weeks of travel. Would it be possible to be escorted to our chamber so that I might be well enough for a turn around the gardens later?” An ally – any ally – may be worth grasping, and you enjoy the way this young woman made your mother frown by not paying attention to her. For right now, though, you would do anything to be alone so that Raeden could visit you.

“Forgive me.” Margaery bows her head respectfully and gives a small, sincere smile. “My manners have forsaken me.” She gestures towards the keep. “Allow me to show you personally to your rooms. A light repast has been laid out for your pleasure as well.”

“How very kind of you,” you murmur, knowing you won’t touch a thing. The reality of your situation has stolen your normally healthy appetite.

Clever blue eyes catch the subtle grimace when she mentions food and yet she doesn’t comment on it. Sensing that you will have much to talk about, Margaery had invited you to stay in the keep as her guest after learning of your betrothal to Oberyn Martell. “This way.” She smiles and motions towards the left corridor.

Though you might not be fond of the games of society, you were raised in them, and you have sense enough that when the future queen offers you her arm you take it. That is how the first glimpse many guests to court ever have of you is strolling arm-in-arm with the woman who will become queen in two days time. It does not matter that you just met. It does not matter that she is chattering away politely while you simply smile your polite smile and nod. The future queen of the Seven Kingdoms and the future princess of Dorne paint a very pretty picture on their way through the halls of the Red Keep with your family trailing behind. If you weren’t so desperate to be alone with Raeden again and attempt to forget all this is happening, you might more fully enjoy the way your mother is green with envy.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle    

TVB: @janelongxox @ischysiaclark @amneris21 @septimaseverinaficrec @ficsbynight @inkededucatednnerdy @spookyxsam @fishingforpike @spishsstuff @theolddemon @heareball @thatrageingbisexual @dinoflower @i-am-amora-the-enchantress @smallestsnarkestgirl @kiki13522 @wheresonichedgehogwnt @br33zy-blizzardz @justpeachyandyou @rhymingtree @sophiedore1700 @benwitcher @secretmoonsalad @emily-12342 @victorian-cherub @princessloveweird @savannaisthebombdiggityyo @darkness-falls-xo @dont-tell-anybody8973 @fishingforpike @julesonrecord @gooddaykate @pedropascalfan221 @trekinthruthestarswars @thgswsnitg @gianlucasnutella @lilwrldbigwlrd @eddie-munsons-mommy @margaridass @monicapennington @im-sylien @we-could-have-been @stinkyfishy @boo8008 @whatthehellisgoingonsblog @rollerblader527 @ace-spades-1 @whydoilovehim @theolddemon @heareball @coldlonelydays @movievillainess721 @catsandgeekyandnerd @imtheonewhothrewthepaper @bucketbunny @soivebuiltupaworldofmagic @justgonewild @quinnnfabrgay @s-stark @emilianamason @missmarmaladeth @trimbooksflatlink

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Oberyn Martell #Oberyn Martell x you #Oberyn Martell x reader #Oberyn Martell x female reader #Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand #reader x m!OC #male OC #female reader #male original character #Game of Thrones #soulmate au #arranged marriage

[yeollie-plz]

Lords A Leaping

Day 10 of Pedromas! | Masterlist

Oberyn Martell x F! Reader x Ellaria Sand

Synopsis: Oberyn lets you and Ellaria take control.

Genre: smut

Warnings: sub! Oberyn, power bottom! reader, dom! Ellaria, pegging, oral m! receiving, anal sex, blindfolds, bondage, kissing, fingering, hickeys, f! masturbation

Gif credits to owners!

When Ellaria first suggested you to take more control in the bedroom, you were a bit taken aback. Oberyn was usually the one in the dominant position. Ellaria sometimes would take it as well. But you? Never.

After a bit of convincing, though, you agreed. Especially when she came to show you what she had made for you.

You weren't sure how she got it but as she removed the silken covering, you locked eyes with a replica penis. It was attached to a sort of leather buckle system as to attach it to you.

Your jaw dropped at the sight, it was very similar to Oberyn's own member. Almost down to the vein. It was gorgeous.

Ellaria showed you how it worked that night. Attaching it to herself and letting you feel it, fucking you with the crafted dick. You had to admit it was was very nice, not as warm as a real penis but it sure did the job. Oberyn might just like this.

That night as you made your way to his chambers, you had the fake cock tucked away in your bag, along with a few other special items. Opening the door you saw Oberyn laying sideways on the bed. He was perched on one elbow, stark naked, already ready for you to join him.

You smiled to yourself, loving the fact that he was already so pliant for you. As you glanced to the corner of the room, Ellaria sat there watching you carefully. She nodded to you to continue.

You set the bag down on the floor at your feet. Stripping yourself down as well, swaying your hips a bit as you did. He looked at you like he wanted to devour you.

You leaned down, letting your breasts push out to tease him a bit as you did. Grabbing the blindfold and the rope from your bag, holding it out to him so he could see what it is.

His eyebrows furrowed as his eyes squinted, trying to see what you had. He reached out to touch the soft fabric finally realizing what it was. Smirking, knowing what you were about to do, he leaned forward just a bit to allow you to fasten the blindfold around his eyes.

"Tie his hands too, love." Ellaria says from where she's sitting. You follow the orders without question.

Now that Oberyn is fully constricted, you can begin the main event. Well the lead up to the main event. Starting at his thighs, your fingers ghost across his skin. His body bucks up at the ticklish feeling. Upwards you go, gaining more and more reactions, he's already so sensitive. Must have been waiting for this, for you.

You swallow, almost nervous. When your hand finally makes it high enough to the soft skin of his neck, you put a bit more pressure there. Gaining a gasp of shock from him, you know he's sensitive there. Smirking to yourself, you bring your lips down on his neck. You lick stripes over his Adam's apple and towards the shell of his ear. Now his hips are bucking up, the feeling going straight to his dick.

Loving what you are doing to him, you continue to suck at his neck, leaving small bruises behind. You lick up his chin and across his bottom lip, his mouth opens in anticipation. Kissing him, you push your tongue into his mouth, fighting with his.

He's all but begging at this point with how easy his body is reacting to yours. Then there's the annoyance of not being able to use his limbs and touch you. Oh, to feel your warm skin under his fingertips.

As you pull your mouth away from his, a string of saliva still connects you two. It gives you an idea. You lick down his chest, across his stomach, and down his happy trail. Oberyn's hands pull at his restraints. He needs to feel you.

It's almost as if you can hear his thoughts because right after he is thinking that, you sinking your mouth down onto his cock. Taking almost all of his throbbing member into your mouth. You gag just a bit as his dick hits the back of your throat. But of course, Oberyn loves the feeling of you choking on him and moans.

You don't suck him fast, you take your time. Pulling off his dick slowly, making sure to run your tongue along the underside of it, as you make your way to the tip. You kitten lick his sensitive tip, his body tenses. Smirking again, you sink down onto his dick again, moaning at how much control you have over him. You continue this for a while, keeping it slow and steady. You don't want him to cum yet, but you also want him to be pleasured.

"Why don't we have some real fun with him?" Ellaria questions you. You had almost forgotten she was there and when you glance over at her through your lashes you are drooling at the sight. Her hand is playing with her soaked folds as the other is massaging her breast.

With one last deep swallow of his dick, you are pulling off of him. The cold air mixed with your leftover saliva, causes him to shiver. You left your hands tease up his body again, but this time a bit faster.

"Bend over for me." You whisper in his ear before licking the shell of it again. He gulps in anticipation, he really has no clue what you are about to do with him. And since he has a blindfold on he doesn't physically see you get up off the bed and retrieve the replica penis.

With a bit of resistance from his tied hands, he figures out how to flip himself over for you. Ass now in the air, hands gripping the woven material of the headboard to keep his body up for you. You encapsulate his body with yours, despite yours being smaller, and grip his dick from behind him. You stroke it twice before trailing your hand up his chest and pushing two fingers into his mouth. He licks them greedily.

Now that they are properly coated, you bring them back to his ass. Pushing them past the ring of his asshole, slowly, knowing it probably hurts. But he welcomes the stretch and moans at the feeling.

"Please." Now, he is begging.

But you give him what he wants, pulling your fingers out of his ass and pushing them again, matching the pace you once were using on his dick. You curl your fingers inside of his cavity, hoping to stroke his prostate. Although it obviously feel good, you don't think your fingers are quite long enough to reach it, but soon you will be able to.

His hips are bucking into the sheets, you know he is loving the feeling of his dick stroking against them. Usually, Ellaria would stop this sort of disobedience from someone, but she isn't so you don't either. He should get a bit more pleasure if he wants, anyways.

You push a third finger into him, it slides in easily with the other two and you know he is ready. Pulling your fingers out you move to grab the device. He lets out a sound of confusion at the loss of your touch.

You stroke his ass in reassurance, "Patience, you'll love this."

A sound of tentative agreeance. You buckle the device to your hips, it surprises you when it presses lightly onto your clit. You weren't expecting that. You were getting off enough by pleasuring Oberyn, but this was an excellent bonus.

You spit into your hand and stroke the phallice, coating it. As you press the tip to his prepared asshole, it slides in easier than you expected it. And Oberyn sure isn't expected that stretch because he lets of a surprised noise. Sure, he's been fucked in the ass before, but not with a device like this.

It's a new sort of feeling for the prince, it isn't as warm as a real penis and a lot stiffer, but not unpleasant. With a bit of a learning curve, you push the entire fake cock into him, now hitting his prostate. The instant pleasure of this action causes him to lose his balance a bit.

You start the thrust in and out of him, hitting his prostate each time you do. Oberyn never lasts long like this, and you are kind of grateful because your hips already burn. Knees scrape the soft sheets, as you aren't used to being the one fucking someone.

Oberyn has now let go of the headboard and is using his elbows to prop himself up. This helps you hit even deeper into him, the sheets around his dick are now fully helping to bring him closer to his peak. You are fucking him and he is basically fucking the bed.

Hips meet yours as he fucks his ass back onto the replica dick, needing to get off. You let him, hands grabbing him to pull him back even harder onto it. Pace now faster than you have been going all night as the fake cock is also hitting your clit. You now need the pleasure as much as he does.

One last snap of your hips and he is shooting ropes of white cum into the sheets, staining them with his spend. Moaning out your name like it is a prayer.

<- Previous Day | Next Day ->

Taglist:

@britlord @kittenlittle24 @godlypresley @amyispxnk

#fanfiction #fanfic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #12 days of pedromas #pedromas #oberyn martell #prince oberyn #oberyn x reader #oberyn x ellaria #game of thrones #got smut #got fanfic #got fanfiction #oberyn martell smut #oberyn x you #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell fanfiction #ellaria sand #ellaria sand smut #game of thrones smut

[moireia]

lost and led by stars — the titles of alyssa snow

"I’ve been given many titles throughout my life. Bastard, Lady, Princess. I have no desire to add Queen amongst them." —Alyssa Martell, 302 AD (inspo)

taglist ✨: @dragonsbone @lorettastwilight @dio-nysvs @julianblackthcrns @arrthurpendragon @endless-lilach @drbobbimorse @luucypevensie @the-witching-ash @megdonnellys @emilykaldwen @ocappreciationtag want to be added/removed? click here!

#fyeahgameofthronesocs #fyeahgotocs #ocappreciation #asoiaf oc #ochub #allaboutocs #alyssa snow #got oc #game of thrones oc #oberyn martell x oc #oberyn martell x ellaria sand x oc #fic: lost and only led by stars #that is grey wind in the last gif he survives the red wedding for reasons and alyssa adopts him in her north arc I love that gif so much #this set literally took months lmao #honestly it was the quotes that were the trickest but I'm so pleased with them now #finally posting this so joey stops yelling at me (affectionate) #but seriously thank you dear friend for all the help! #rei edits

[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.

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

[mrsbrekkers]

𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐒

🕊.⋆｡ what is this? me posting? that's c r a z y. long story short, my ibf convinced me to finish the first ever smut i started last year and left. now i have finished it!

with this though, my blog is now 18+! if you are under said age, please either escort yourself stage left, or don't comment about it. i cannot control your internet intake, but that doesn't mean i should know about it!

also, be nice about this because it is my first smut so ya. i am pretty proud though!

anywho!

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ; oberyn martell x ellaria sand x you [ no use of y/n ] 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ; smut! light choking + degradation. fingering f!receiving. uses of pet names [ dove, sweetling, lover ]. 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ; 1364 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ; a beautiful sunset seems to be the perfect time for a warm bath, and maybe some fun with your dornish paramours :)

SMUT UNDER CUT!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Soft, dimming rays of the setting sun laid against the warm yellow curtains, a cool breeze brushing through the otherwise still air. A sense of quiet had enveloped the oncoming night, and you stood, enjoying the dornish sunset. Many claimed the sunsets in Dorne were among the most beautiful one could witness, and while you’d never believed it before; you certainly did now. The colors blended into a beautifully painted picture, almost amplifying the colors of the gardens below your balcony. A soft voice came from behind you, a handmaiden parting the curtains. “Your bath has been drawn, my lady.”

“Thank you, Sanira. If you could so kindly summon the prince and his paramour. Then you can retire for the night,” you said kindly, watching as Sanira turned and scurried to find who you’d requested.

Moving through the parted curtains, your fingertips followed the moving curtains, pulling them closed once more. Your soft steps followed to the bed, covered in red and the warmest of yellows, contrasting each other in an exquisite manner. Quietly, you sat, wine cup in hand as you thought of the night ahead of you. Memories leading up to tonight were vivid in your memory, demanding they be seen.

A knock came at the door, followed by the sound of quiet footsteps, but you knew those footsteps anywhere. “Oberyn, Ellaria,” you spoke smoothly, looking up at the two.

“Little dove,” Ellaria spoke first, her voice velvety as she took your free hand, pulling you lightly up to your feet. Her lips were against the skin of your ear in seconds, her fingers dancing around your waist, gently pulling apart the strings of your dress.

“Mhm?” You softly hummed, your eyes gliding over to Oberyn, who had been uncharacteristically quiet since entering the room. His fingers, though, slid the sleeves of your dress down your arms, his hands like silk against your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“We’ve been waiting for your summonings all night,” Oberyn spoke, watching the dress pool against the marble floors of the room. There was his voice, pulling you in effortlessly. You craved them both, but you knew that their hands wouldn’t travel any lower until you were seated in the steaming water of your bath.

Retracting from the both of them, your feet carried you over to the bath. The steam had surrounded the room despite the curtains allowing in the cool air of the night. It made it almost hard to breathe, and the sight of the two moments prior already caused most of the air to leave your throat.

Your eyes landed on two hands that extended, taking hold of them and stepping into the searing water. Lightly, your eyes fluttered, a hushed moan of satisfaction leaving your lips. “Dove, we haven’t even begun,” Oberyn teased, his fingers coming down to tilt your head up towards him.

“Don’t tease,” You attempted to speak, but the words came out almost incomprehensible as you descended fully into the water. The aches in your body screamed at you in delight, causing yet another slurred moan to leave your lips unwillingly.

“She’s had a long day, lover, let us only pleasure her,” a more feminine voice called to Oberyn, Ellaria now sitting in front of the tub, her fingers tracing small patterns on your skin. Your head lolled onto Ellaria’s shoulder, basking in her scent of marigolds and lilies. Tantalizing fingers then danced down your body, disappearing under the warm water.

Being unable to see Ellaria’s fingers only enhanced the feeling of them as they glided down your stomach and thighs before they finally made contact with your core, a sharp gasp falling from your lips. You’d been with the two dozens of times, but this time felt different. More intimate, and that feeling was only enhanced as Oberyn’s hand made contact with your throat, his lips meeting your own in a slow kiss.

With Oberyn’s lips on yours, you were unable to verbally react as Ellaria reached your clit, her thumb carefully beginning to work it. She knew how delicate of a process this was. How important it was to build pleasure, and oh was she an expert at it. Her thumb circled your clit, the feeling causing your pace in the kiss you shared with Oberyn to stutter. Still, you managed for the time being, enjoying the gentle pleasure that coursed through your body.

“Look at her, Oberyn,” Ellaria whispered, pulling Oberyn from your lips, his hand still resting against your throat. A silent, but intimate reminder. You felt vulnerable under his gaze, but were unable to think much of it when Ellaria pressed a finger into you, causing your back to arch slightly and a surprised moan to sound through the room, this one being much louder than your previous ones.

You couldn’t pay much mind to what Oberyn responded with, only briefly being able to make out the word ‘heavenly’ as Ellaria’s thumb began to circle your clit faster with some added pressure. You began to think maybe having the bath drawn wasn’t such a brilliant idea, because your thighs had already started to shake. “Ellaria-” your words failed you, the pleasure that coursed through you building slowly, but surely, making a promise of a deliciously warm end.

“Go on, our sweet dove, tell us what you need,” Oberyn’s voice broke through your foggy mind, his own fingers giving a gentle, barely there squeeze to your throat. The euphoric sensation that made its way through your senses caused your eyes to flutter shut. Ellaria thought this the perfect moment to add another finger, both of them curling inside you to press against that spot inside of you. The moment she did, you clenched around her fingers and managed to speak, “That! Ellaria, please…” and what was Ellaria to do other than repeat the same motion with her fingers when you sounded so pretty. Though after her repeated motion, she began to slide her fingers in and out of you, yet another moan being pulled from you.

“So needy and desperate when her fingers are inside of you,” Oberyn teased, your cheeks tinting with a rosy blush. You didn’t try to deny his words though, knowing they were all too true. Ellaria seemed to know exactly what made you tick. What would wind you up so efficiently. It didn’t help that she was dangerously good with her fingers. By now, you’d lost count of the number of times they’d been inside of you, but you did know without fail, they’d bring you to climax. Now was no exception as her thumb pressed just slightly more into your clit, the pressure and build to it perfect. Your mouth hung open, your breathing hitching, and that reaction was all Ellaria needed to know you were close. The way you were clenching her fingers was sign enough, but your expressions were what she desired to see most.

She took those moments to speed the pace of her fingers up, catching you off guard. You tossed your head to the side, eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure that’d been building seemed to sneak up on you. You could’ve sworn her fingers had just begun working you, and now you were on the verge of cumming hard around them.

“Ellaria-”

“We know, sweetling. Cum around my fingers, wanna feel you,” her voice was like silk, guiding you into your orgasm so calmly, and yet, so firmly. With one more curl of her fingers, you came undone around her fingers, a cry of her name being interrupted by the way Oberyn expertly timed yet another squeeze around your throat. The pleasure that seared through your body increased ten fold, stars erupting behind your eyes as your walls clenched Ellaria’s fingers so tightly she could’ve sworn you were trying to suck her in with them.

Your orgasm seemed to go on for hours, but in truth, it’d only been maybe half a minute. Your head slumped against Ellaria’s shoulder, a soft whimper leaving your lips as she gently removed her fingers and let your thighs clench together. Your eyes grew heavy, but a soft kiss to your lips reminded you that Oberyn was still there too.

“Ah, dove, you didn’t think we we’re quite finished with you yet, did you?” t <3

#game of thrones #game of thrones smut #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones x you #game of thrones x reader #got #got fanfiction #got imagine #got x reader #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #oberyn x you x ellaria #oberyn x you #oberyn martell #oberyn x reader #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x you #ellaria sand #ellaria sand x reader #oberyn martell smut #oberyn martell x ellaria sand #smut #imagine #one shot #smut warning #smut oneshot

[lowlights]

Sweet Reds and Starlight Mornings

Sweet Reds and Starlight Mornings

Oberyn x f!reader, Ellaria x f!reader, heavily implied Oberyn x Ellaria x f!reader

Length: 3.3k

Warnings: Smut, a bit of wlw, mentions of group sex, heavy on the food play, everything gets sticky, everyone has bi switch energy, mentions of alcohol, a little bit of anxiety/worry, Feelings, praise kink, PinV sex, creampie, lots of cumplay, cum eating, a moment of breeding kink, f!receiving oral, it's implied that reader had a hard life.

Summary: The newest artist-in-residence at the Dornish palace, you have become a permanent fixture in the bed of Prince Oberyn and his paramour Ellaria. You reach a turning point on a very special night.

Happy belated birthday, @starlightmornings!! I know this is way late, but I hope the story makes up for it. This was a fic of many firsts for me- first time really writing Oberyn! First time writing wlw! First time with food play. ILY!!

**

You shouldn’t feel so nervous. You have been in here more times than you can count on both hands. 

But not alone. Never alone. 

You arranged your barely-there dress just so while you waited on the expansive bed. Ellaria had instructed you to come after dinner to Oberyn’s quarters, which was certainly not an odd ask. But she had asked that you wear a certain garment… and to come alone. These requests were highly unusual, but you would do anything that she and Oberyn asked of you. Without question. 

The palace had only been your home for a few months and had quickly become your safe haven. This had very little to do with the comfortable living conditions and abundant food, and almost everything to do with the Prince and his adoring paramour, Ellaria. You were a new artist-in-residence for the royal family of Dorne and spent your days creating beautiful things. 

You spent many of your nights between the arms of your lovers. 

Your lovers who, at present, were nowhere to be seen. Nor were any of the other usual attendants or other guests who would be spending the evening.

The dress Ellaria had requested you wear was one of her own, something you had only seen her don but once. It was made of a see-through gauze that would scandalize even the most progressive residents of Dorne. It had intricately thin knotting decorating the shoulders and was slit all the way up both thighs. The soft yellow at the top of the garment faded into a deep orange that trailed behind you when you walked the empty hallway to their bedroom. 

It was the most beautiful thing you had ever worn, a far cry from the drab clothing of your previous life. Just as you started to relax into the pillows, the wide door swung open. Oberyn walked into the room first, followed by Ellaria who had her hands over his eyes. Both wearing golden tunics, they lit up the room like twin suns in the sky. 

“Lover, I have a gift for you,” she cooed to him, shaking her head gently as you opened your mouth to speak. 

“Please, do not keep me waiting in such suspense, Ellaria.” 

She removed her hands and wrapped her arms around him. “Behold!” 

He looked at you lasciviously. “You’ve brought me my starlight? What a gift, indeed. But it is not my naming day.”

“No,” she said, “But it is hers.” She pressed a kiss to his shoulder before gliding over towards you. 

Oberyn smiled at you before walking over to the wine on the far side of the room. “Ah, I see. We must celebrate then.” 

Ellaria crawled across the bed to you, never breaking eye contact. You spread your legs to accommodate her, bending your knees up and reaching out for her. She leaned her cheek against your palm and ran her hands up your smooth legs. She nodded in approval, noticing the gift of oils she had left in your bath the night before had been put to use. It made your stomach flutter. 

“What do you have in store for us this evening, my love?” Oberyn sauntered over to the bed holding three goblets of sweet Dornish red wine. He placed them down on the bedside table and stood next to you while Ellaria leaned down to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. You tangled one hand in her dark brown curls and reached out with your other hand to Oberyn. 

“My Prince.” You gasped a little when Ellaria sucked on your earlobe. 

Oberyn pressed his lips to the back of your hand. “Starlight, what have I told you about calling me that?” 

“Not to do it, my Prince,” you said with a mischievous grin. 

Ellaria’s mouth trailed down your chest, kissing over your nipple. You could feel everything through the fabric; it was as though you were wearing nothing but liquid sunlight. Her mouth felt divine as you arched against her. 

“She is hopeless,” Ellaria said with a knowing glance at Oberyn. “But as it is her naming day, I suppose she should do whatever she pleases.” With one last kiss, Ellaria pushed off the bed and stood next to Oberyn. His hands went immediately to her, as they always did. 

They both stared at you with unabashed desire. It felt overwhelming to be at the center of their combined attention, but you had never felt more wanted and more safe than you did with them. You let one leg drop, opening up a veiled view of your cunt to them. You wondered if the material was already stained with the wetness you felt between your thighs. 

“Well then, we should not make her wait,” Oberyn said, pushing down the sleeve of Ellaria’s dress and kissing her exposed shoulder. 

Ellaria pushed her sleeve back up and shook her head. “I have gone to great lengths to ensure that you will be unbothered until the banquet tomorrow night. I have had my time alone with her previously. Now, it is your turn.” 

Anticipation bubbled up in your chest. You have never even been alone in the same room with Oberyn, never mind in his bed. She bid you both farewell with a promise to return in the morning to rejoin you, whispered something into Oberyn’s ear, and took a goblet of wine with her as she exited. 

“My Prince, are you alright without her? I could ask her to return,” you offered. 

He shook his head. “She will return to us when the sun rises. For now, I want to make sure the last hours of your name day are filled with ecstasy and indulgence.” 

This was a proposal with which you could not argue. Oberyn smiled at you before removing his tunic, letting your eyes take in the wide expanse of his strong back as he walked back to the table of food. By the light of the torches, he looked as though he had been molded from the softest sunlight; like the golden glow that filters through the forest trees at dusk. 

Oberyn took his time at the table and you grew hungry for him. “Will you be coming to bed, Highness, or should I rest my eyes for the next few hours?” 

He turned, hands full, with a bemused expression. “Who is this needy creature before me? Certainly, she is not the timid woman who has inhabited my bed these weeks prior.” He placed a bowl of ripe berries, a bowl of deep red plums, and a small lidded jar down on the bedside table. 

“I miss your touch,” you pouted. He sat down on the bed and leaned over you, caressing your cheek. You curled into him like a lazy housecat, resting your head on his clothed thigh. “Did you miss me at all, my Prince?” 

“Call. Me. Oberyn,” he scolded before kissing your nose. 

“Did you miss me, my Oberyn?” 

His hand wandered down your back, cupping your ass through your dress. “I always miss my starlight when she is away from me. Now, tell me. How would you like me tonight? Your wish is my only command.” 

You bit your lip in thought. You’ve experienced the prince in many ways over the past months, each position feeling better than the last as you got familiar with each other’s bodies. The pressure of choosing weighed heavy on you, and it must have read on your face as well. 

“This is meant to bring you pleasure, little one, not to bring you torture,” he said. 

“I am having a hard time choosing, Oberyn. I…I want everything with you,” you confessed, cheeks burning. The affection the two of you shared was hardly new, and Oberyn was never shy with his adoration, but you were dangerously close to confessing what had been on your heart for a long time. 

Oberyn’s face softened. “And I want everything with you, starlight. We have tonight to begin, and a lifetime of nights after this one if we so choose. There are no limits other than those we place on ourselves.” 

You nodded, breathing a sigh of relief. 

“Lie back,” he instructed, leaning over to the bowl of berries. “Open.” 

You obeyed, opening your mouth just enough for him to slip a succulent blackberry between your lips. You sucked gently on his finger, eliciting a smile. You swallowed when he told you to and he grinned as he indulged in a berry himself.

“Again.” 

You took another berry into your mouth, sucking harder this time. 

“Swallow. Good girl.”

His praise was like a bolt of lightning to your core- he had never called you that before. It felt good to know that he was pleased with you, especially when he took control like this. Oberyn leaned down to kiss you, his tongue immediately swiping against your lips. You opened to him immediately, wrapping your arms around his bare shoulders. He moaned when you dragged your fingernails across his back, just hard enough that they might leave a mark for Ellaria to find in the morning. 

“Do you hunger for more?” he whispered against your lips, drawing you up with him as he sat upright. 

“Yes, always more of you,” you replied. 

“First you must eat a bit more, to sustain yourself for the night,” Oberyn explained as he plucked a large plum from the bowl. He stared at you as he bit into the purple-hued fruit before offering you the next taste. He shook his head when you reached for it. 

“Like this,” he instructed, tilting your chin up gently and leaving your neck exposed. You bit into the fruit as it was offered to you and immediately felt the sweet juice cascade down your chin and into the hollow of your throat. No harvest could ever compare to that of the stone fruits grown just for the palace in Dorne; they were more magnificent than any you had ever tasted before.

Alternating between wet kisses and soft licks, Oberyn followed the tracks of juice across your skin. You tangled your hands in his hair and tugged gently. 

“Tell me something,” you began. 

“Yes, my starlight?” 

“What did Ellaria whisper to you as she left?” 

Oberyn helped you settle back into the pillows and stood up, untying the strings at the front of his pants. “She told me to make a mess of you, and that dress.” 

Your core ached at Ellaria’s words and you watched with bated breath as he quickly relieved himself of the rest of his clothes. He took his half-hard cock into his hand and languidly stroked as he tilted his head in thought. 

“That garment leaves little to the imagination,” he said. 

You arched your back slightly, showing off the press of your tits against the fabric. “Do you wish for me to be more covered?” you asked coyly. 

“Hardly. I am fighting the urge to lean down and rip it off of your perfect body myself.” He joined you on the luxuriously soft bed. 

Oberyn might be known as the Red Viper to the rest of the world, but his actions in the bedroom were more akin to that of a lion. He moved with an effortless fluidity that served him well both in the arena and in the bedroom, and while the two had very different outcomes, both involved him stalking his prey with precision. Even when Oberyn occasionally submitted himself to his amorous partners, he still exuded a cunning command of every toned muscle in his body. 

“Oberyn,” you purred into his ear, replacing his hand on his cock with your own, “I want to ride you.” 

“By all means, make me your stallion.” 

Oberyn kept you steady as you straddled him, pushing the flimsy material of your dress out of the way so that you could slowly sink down on his thick cock. It was always an adjustment to take all of him, and he mercifully kept his body still until he felt your walls relax. You let out a deep sigh and closed your eyes, relishing in the fullness that slowly drifted from discomfort to contentment. 

“You are so tight for me, always so tight. Take whatever you need from me, my starlight, when you are ready,” he told you, squeezing your thighs in encouragement. Balancing your hands on his chest, you started rocking your hips back and forth. 

“Gods, Oberyn. You are so…so big,” you moaned. 

“Do you feel me deeply, starlight?” he asked, guiding your hips in their movement. He must be able to feel that your skin is seconds away from combusting into a thousand embers. 

“So…so…gods, Oberyn,” you gasped as he thrust up into you, making your hips stutter. You fell forward, desperate for his mouth on yours as though he were the only source of oxygen in the room. In a way, he was. You are not sure when it happened, either, this gradual pull towards him and Ellaria becoming stronger and stronger. A moth to two flames, they were all you craved. 

They were in every piece of art you created. Every fleck of paint, every splash of ink in every poem, every soft curve of every sculpture. They were music and sunshine and the taste of decadent wine on your tongue. They were safety, exploration, and love. 

You thought that they might love you back. 

The way Oberyn was looking at you at this moment, you believed it as well. 

“You look so beautiful like this.” His hands roamed your thighs and up to your hips. “How beautiful you would look round with my child, should you ever choose.” 

Your hips faltered as desire shot through your veins. He had never spoken of this before.  “R-really?” 

In a flash, Oberyn flipped you onto your back and thrust into you with vigor. “If you wanted, I would give you a dozen of my children to carry. Fill you up every night until the maester declares you with child.”

“Now,” you gasped. “I want it now. Please, please.”  

Pleasure coursed through your body. He knew every angle to hit and took delight in watching you fall apart under him when he adjusted his hips just so. Every drag of his cock brought you closer to the edge, and when he licked his fingers and reached down to rub your clit- you were gone. 

The world exploded behind your eyes as you cried out his name, squeezing down tightly on him. He followed right after, belly tight and eyes closed, as he filled up your warm pussy with his cum. Maybe it would produce a child and maybe it wouldn’t, but you didn’t care. All you knew is that you were his now, forever and completely. 

Oberyn collapsed with his leg slung over yours, lazily kissing you through the afterglow of each other’s orgasms. 

Even in your blissful state, there was still a bit of uncertainty eating you up inside, a relic of a past that had not been kind to you before you arrived in Dorne. “My Prince, I-” 

“You still call me that even after we give each other such pleasure?” 

“Sorry. Oberyn. I’m…my worry sometimes gets the best of me.” 

He gathered you up in his arms so that you could rest your cheek upon his chest. “You can call me anything you want, my starlight, so long as you never do it in fear.” 

You snuggled against him and inhaled the scent of his spicy, sweaty skin. “I meant it when I said I want everything with you, Oberyn.” 

“I want everything with you, too. And everything from you. Every last moment of pleasure I can wring from that gorgeous body. Lie on your back, starlight,” he commanded, grabbing the jar from the table before kneeling between your open legs. “Time to make a mess of this pretty dress as I promised.” 

You gasped when Oberyn grabbed at your neckline and gently pulled apart the dress. It tore like it was made of the oldest, thinnest paper. He let it pool around you and gazed at you as though you were one of his favorite paintings. The night breeze wafted past the curtains and tickled your exposed skin. Oberyn couldn’t resist trailing a finger across the goosebumps that blossomed across your belly and chest, smiling at the noises you made when he pinched your nipple. 

“Have you tasted the honey from the royal apiary? Only a handful of bottles are produced a year, and it is the most exquisite color.” He dipped his index finger into the jar and scooped out the glistening, dark amber honey. 

“It’s gorgeous, Oberyn,” you said, transfixed as he let it slide down his hand and across your stomach. It felt warm against your skin. 

“It tastes even better, you must try it,” he replied, slowly letting it drizzle across your breasts. When only a tiny bit remained on his finger, he brushed the honey across your lips. “Open.” 

You sucked hard on his finger, cheeks hollowing out and never breaking eye contact. “So sweet.” 

He grinned. “I think you would find something even more delicious.” He dragged his wet finger back through the honey that had dripped down your tits and across your stomach, gathering the sweet nectar before gently pushing his finger into your cunt. You wanted him to stay there, to keep that thickness inside of you. But instead, he collected the remnants of your combined spend and brought it back up to your lips. 

Your tongue was tentative at first, darting out to taste the mixture of cum and honey. To your own surprise, it tasted divine. You sucked greedily on his finger and relished in the taste of him and of your own arousal. It was a debaucherous sensation and you loved every bit of it. 

Oberyn had shown some measure of restraint until this moment, but seeing how much you loved the taste made him become dangerously close to feral. He pulled his finger out of your mouth and kissed you deeply, letting his tongue tangle with your own. 

He kissed down your body as though he meant to clean you himself, swirling around your honey-soaked nipples and down across your soft belly. Between the honey and his saliva, it was sticky. But the gods both new and old couldn’t have pulled him off of you even if they tried-not that you would let them. He settled between your legs, pushing your thighs wide. 

“Beautiful,” he murmured before licking your cunt as though he meant to devour it. 

“O-oberyn...my...love…right there,” you called out, holding him against you. It didn’t take long for his tongue to bring you swiftly to your orgasm. He drank up every bit of it. 

Finally, when you couldn’t take another exquisite moment, you pulled him back up to you. His chin was sticky and wet; he had never looked more pleased with himself. You, on the other hand, weren’t sure that you could move your legs if you tried. 

“You made a mess,” you said as you caught your breath. 

“We made a mess,” he countered. 

“Fine, we made a mess. The sheets are all but ruined,” you bemoaned. 

Oberyn chuckled. “Hardly the first time. It will be taken care of while we are in the bath.” 

Your ears perked up. “Bath?” 

Oberyn kissed your forehead. “Of course. We must clean ourselves before we indulge further, and certainly before Ellaria returns.” 

You looked at him with hope shining in your eyes. “Maybe we can have a bit more fun while we are bathing?” Another first that you and Oberyn would have together. You felt a little silly, asking if he would have you as though he didn’t just make you climax with his face buried between your legs. But it wasn’t just about a bath- it was about having more. A future. 

He propped you up on a stack of pillows before reaching for the two remaining goblets of sweet wine. You both clinked them together before taking a welcomed sip. 

“Of course, my starlight. Anything you want, today and every day.” 

#Oberyn Martell #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x ellaria sand #oberyn x ellaria x you #game of thrones fanfiction #oberyn has my whole heart ok #we don't believe in ellaria erasure here #happy birthday kaylie!!!!

[pettyprocrastination]

Reluctant Bride

Pairing: Ellaria Sand x Baratheon!Fem! Reader (background Oberyn Martell x baratheon!fem!reader)

warnings: description of war, derogatory description of women, forced marriage, oberyn talks lowly of the reader’s appearance and status because he’s angry he has to marry in the first place, Oberyn is a dick but he gets better, (this makes it sound worse than it is lol. Just lore building with angst and sapphic yearning lmao. 

Summary: Just months after the rebellion has ended, Ellaria Sand meets her lover’s betrothed.

word count: 1k 

_____

Ellaria was dressed in finer clothes than you on your own wedding day. 

Orange silk embroidered with golden serpents hugged her curves and fine jewels were weaved into her hair that your betrothed seemed content to twirl with his finger as he leaned in to whisper in her ear. 

You didn’t need to be told who she was. The beautiful woman by your husband’s side, you saw it plainly in his eyes. Love and devotion that could never be found in a marriage under the sept’s roof, but rather one made by affection and passion. 

Ellaria Sand was more of Oberyn’s wife than you ever thought you would be. 

But bless the poor woman’s heart, she was frightened. 

She didn’t want to come to his wedding at first. But Oberyn has all but begged her to, laying gentle kisses up her arm until he was mumbling his plea into the crook of her neck. 

“If I will be forced to wed against my will, the least you can allow me is the pleasure of having my true love by side when I am chained to another.” 

He always has a flair for dramatics, her sweet prince. 

But Ellaria felt it, as she entered Storm’s End by his side, the judgemental stares and hushed whispers when his hand did not release hers. She knew exactly what they thought of her without ever heaving to hear their voices grind against her ears. 

“He brought his whore?”

“To his own wedding, the gal!” 

“She’s a bastard too, I heard.” 

“That’s the dornish for you, debauched dogs, every single one of them.” 

But she would not flinch at their words, she knew she was a bastard since birth, Dorne may have welcomed it but the rest of Westeros had no issue reminding her and every other sand in the world of their place. She learned it well and wore it with pride. She was the lover of the Red Viper, a child of house Uller, the gossip of tittering lords and ladies did not frighten her. 

However, the Baratheons did. 

She would be a fool not to, truly. They were the ones that started the war, plunging the realm into a year of bloodshed and horror that their eldest son charged headfirst into without a second thought. 

Strong, dutiful, dangerous. 

As she entered Storm’s End, thunder echoing against its stone walls that made their grand home resemble a shadowed cave rather than a castle, she is reminded of their words. 

Ours is the fury. 

It had been the third child, who greeted them. Dressed in all black and face somber, he looked well past his age, like a soldier returning from war rather than the young man just coming to age as he was.

“It’s a great honor to have you, my prince.”

But Stannis Baratheon had suffered a siege while his brother commanded from the battlefield, he had seen the war just the same. 

His eyes, dark and cutting like a hidden blade, fell onto Ellaria, for a moment she felt as if she had come to an execution, rather than a wedding. Stannis looked at her like an intrusion, before bowing his head. 

“My sister is eager to join our houses with this union. As are you, I am sure.” 

Oberyn’s agreeance was slick with mockery, teeth flashed in a grin that made the young man’s face go sour. 

“There is nothing I look forward to more.” 

He had yet to let go of Ellaria’s hand. 

The pair did not separate until they reached the sept, a grand building covered in tapestries of every dead saint and alive with hymns that speak of love and devotion. 

Two things seldom found between husband and wife. 

Oberyn walked to the altar alone, but his eyes caught hers  in the crowd and he smiled. Even from afar, she knew him well enough to catch the twitch of his thumb at his side. That despite his anger and dismissive arrogance he loves to wrap himself in like a silken robe, he was at a disadvantage. This was not his home and nor were these were not his people.  He was in the house of the family responsible for the death of his sister with no plan for vengeance, but a wedding he was forced into, just like his Elia.

Ellaria’s gaze is pulled from her lover as the grand door creaks open over the singing, where their king enters, face still laden with scars of the rebellion, of his conquest, escorting the bride by hand. 

Robert Baratheon was large in every way possible. His presence commanded respect. Even in his formal wear the bulk of his muscle was seen through as he walked. The hymns dulled to a soft hum at his entrance, head turning as his eyes cut into the crowd before they landed on Ellaria and she froze in her spot. 

For a moment, fear clenched her heart. 

Robert had unleashed a war upon the realm when Rhaegar took his betrothed, he plunged his siblings into starvation and rode against countless noble families that now bend the knee to him. He caved in the chest of the silver-haired dragon prince himself, severing the three headed dragon with his war hammer until there was nothing left of it’s legacy than two eggs, lost to the wind. 

And here she stood at his sister’s wedding, the proud lover of her betrothed. 

There’s a brief moment where she wondered if he was going to say something. Shout an order for her to be escorted out for being so bold to be at the union, but then a hand squeezed his and he pulled away from her gaze to yours. 

“Don’t.” Barely a whisper that only he could hear. No question nor plea, but an order. 

One the Usurper obeys without resistance. 

Ellaria had never seen you in person before. But Oberyn had painted a foul picture of you the moment your betrothal was confirmed to still be held after the rebellion. He spoke of your sneer and the way your lips puckered into a sour pout each time somebody spoke to you, your eyes were flat and empty of any emotion. 

“If it weren’t for her skirt I wouldn’t know which one I was marrying.” Oberyn jested as he lifted a goblet of wine to his lips. “Her or Stannis.” 

Ellaria watched you walk down the aisle to her lover, struck by your beauty. 

A hood sat atop your head that fell to embroidered lace covering your shoulders, her eyes found a stray curl that dangled by your face and wondered what it would feel like under her finger tips. Dark eyes flick over to her own if only for a second and she felt herself stopped once more, not with fear. 

But desire. 

You continued forward and she watched you walk down the aisle to the awaiting prince. 

A strong nose frames the soft line of your features, shoulders drawn back and head held high like a queen to be worshiped or a painting to be admired. 

You were regal. Looking more like a crowned ruler than the king by your side.

Your voice did not waver during your vows, she wondered if you were frightened. Any woman would be. To marry a man who loathed her family for a death you had no part in. 

But you didn’t let it show. Instead the promise to be a loyal wife echoed through the sept before you leaned forward and pressed your lips to Oberyn’s, who was just as stiff as you. 

As she watched the first kiss of an unwanted marriage, Ellaria’s chest filled with envy of her beloved prince. 

#ellaria sand x reader #ellaria sand x you #baratheon wife tag #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x you #teehee #id like to say my fantasy/medival fics have gotten some inspiration from my poetry of desire class last semester <3 thanks professor #those annotations were torture but the poetry slapped frfr #i think i still have my book actually #one of my favorites was the vine #i just. *clenches fist* love lore and WOMEN #im proud of this but also embarassed it took me like. four hours to write 1.2k words jfc man #i like putting oberyns wife in pretty hoods and gowns hehe #also i listented to tamino like the entire time i wrote this i hope it shows #anyways its..three am now. woof

[rise-my-angel]

A Poisonous Truth (Part Two)

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Female Reader x Ellaria Sand

Length: 23.5k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, smut, oral (f recieving), p in v, m/f/f, graphic descriptions of violence, mentions of past assault/rape, canon character death, canon divergence, sex work/prostitution

Note: Follows more book canon than it does show canon, if you can spot every reference or easter egg you get a free smooch, final part to A Poisonous Truth (Part One)

Quiet and calm are not the right words to use when describing the capitol. King’s Landing is a city filled with life and noise at every corner. From the slums of flea bottom to the shining Red Keep there was hardly a moment one could have to themselves. Yet somehow, the noise had slowly started to disappear. From horrified whispers of a murdered King, it slowed and simmered down to a quick shush as a trial for the accused approached.

The intrigue of the young Joffery falling where he stood from a poison snuck into his drink sent talk all over the streets, giving the poor and curious something to solve, soon gave way to an almost quiet fascination as the accused was named.

Tyrion Lannister, a man known just as much for his mind and prowess, as he was known for the anger and humiliation thrown onto him from his own family. Locked away in the cells as his own family conjured up ways to outwit him, if not in evidence, than simply in numbers against him. The more who spoke against him, the harder it was for the truth to be heard. The truth though, wasn’t what the presiding judge was looking for. The truth was never the goal Tywin Lannister was working towards.

In that strange silence, you found yourself looking behind you once too often. You couldn’t be sure if it was the feeling of being watched, or if it was just your own growing paranoia of being found out. Eyes could be on you everywhere, and it was only a matter of time until someone made the plunge to act on it. Whatever Lord Baelish had planned for you seemed to not matter anymore, or at least not from what you could tell. He leaves the city right after the murder of the king, and soon after that Sansa Stark also disappears? How these events connected you weren’t sure, but you had a feeling you were being kept here until it was time for you to be put to use, rather than just abandoned in the city to fend for yourself.

You weren’t though, not yet at least. Oberyn Martell and his paramour Ellaria Sand served as the only things keeping you grounded, two people who cared about your own well being for the time they spent there. Somehow they carved a way into your heart, filling you with a comforting warmth you’d hardly ever known, but carving that hole means that when they leave, you will be left open and wounded. You wanted to separate your anxieties from your feelings about them, but it hung in the air whenever you were alone. More than one morning you spent alone in the streets before most other people woke up, hoping you could get it all out before returning to the couple and just enjoying your time with them.

If both of them noticed it, Oberyn seemed to be the one it bothered the most. Already up before you this morning, he watched you from his perch near a small table, guiding you over before getting the chance to get ready for the day. He was tempting, his dark brown eyes shone so bright as took you in, not greedily, but almost akin to admiring. Placing your hands on the back of a chair, you raised your eyebrows at him, “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you up so early, if you don’t mind me saying.”

He smiled as he tugs the chair close to his own, watching you move around to join him. “Maybe I wouldn’t be awake so early, if I weren’t busy watching you sneak out every morning before the suns even up.” Casually tossing a berry into his mouth, not an accusation, but something he wanted an explanation for. “The past few mornings, you sneak out thinking no one’s noticed with that solemn, unnerved look on your face.”

Your face falls, eyes closing shut as you take a deep breathe, some of the tension leaving with your exhale. “It’s hard to shake. This...feeling that people are watching me, not knowing who knows or doesn’t and what they want to do with that information. It’s scary.”

Oberyn leans in just slightly, your bodies close enough that his gentle almost whisper can be felt on your skin. “Which part scares you, being watched or not knowing what they want?” Your head shakes. Really, it’s neither.

What’s scary is the after, after someone finds a use for you. How much worse will it be? “What scares me is not knowing which fate is worse. What will happen to me when Baelish, Tywin, one of the people here decides I’m useful to them, or if nothing could be worse than what I’ve already ran from.”

Oberyn’s large hand cups the side of your face, as your own hand flies up to cover his with no hesitation. You could feel the slight stroke of his thumb against your skin, so you moved to lean into his hand more, your hold going from covering his, to gently gripping his wrist, willing him to not go anywhere. “I don’t- how much do you actually know about me? From...before..”

There was a flash of concern, almost bordering on anger in his eyes, before the itensity was blinked away. “I know they mistreated you. Beat you.” Your own eyes widen in surprise, “at least I know your brother did. It’s rare though, for a boy to be that cruel without learning it from his father. I also know that most people described you as quiet but seemed frightened of something. Fair to assume those things are in the same.”

Your grip slipped down onto the table with a thud, Oberyn though only slinked his hand back to rake it through your hair gently. “How could you have known that? No one knows tha-”

His interruption was the same feeling as being thrown into a vat of ice cold water. A chill ran down your spine and buzzed all the way into your fingertips. “The same way I recognized you just weeks ago. I’ve seen you before. Years ago though, you were visiting Dorne,”

Eyes flickering back and forth as you scoured your mind for his image, but nothing came up. You surely would have remembered meeting the man known as The Red Viper during your teenage years. “But, I never saw- you weren’t,”

A soft, almost sad smile formed on his face, as he moved his hand away from you to gather a small bundle of berries onto a plate and sliding it over to you. “I don’t expect you would have. It was your last day, your people getting ready to make the journey home. I’ve always made a point to visit my brother often. Coming to Sunspear is difficult for him now, so I arrived at the Water Gardens just in time to see you.” His gaze turning downward, brows furrowed as the gentle features of his face tightened and clenched. “You were with your brother. Right in your face he was practically spitting on you. You barley saying a word as he tugged your coat right off your shoulders,”

Finally he found your eyes again, face contorted into barley masked anger but his eyes swam with a sadness. “You were covered in bruises. My nephews even commented how warmly you were dressed the entire time, but that was why. Your chest, up and down your arms were marks and bruises. I would have stepped in, but your Uncle showed up and all but threw him out into the courtyard. Doran told me he suspiciously kept you by his side, but the way you clung to him when he showed up?” Oberyns hand picked up the one still flat on the table, flipping it up so his fingers could trace the lines in your palm. “He purposely kept you around him so the others in your family couldn’t hurt you.”

Tears built up in your eyes, threatening to fall at any moment, so Oberyn joined his other hand to keep yours engulfed in his large warm ones, holding just as tight as his gaze on your eyes was. It had almost been long enough that you forgot. The North was cold, it let you hide every mark on you without any question, but that visit to Dorne was warm. The sun beaming onto you in a way that you never got to experience, it upset you that you had to continue wearing the same heavy long clothing just to cover for the actions of your family. Of your father and brother mostly. For the most part, your mother ignored you. Allowing the men of the house to punish you for crimes unknown. “That’s why you knew who I was?”

Oberyn nodded, his chin raising as squinting eyes watch behind you, no doubt looking at the awakening Ellaria, as the sounds of shuffling sheets filled the silence in between. “You were young then, but not much has changed.”

Patter of feet preceded arms slinking across your chest, long black curls falling into your vision. “Not quite the same I imagine, now you are older, much more beautiful.” Her lips giving a teasing bite to your ear before finding her own seat, Oberyn sneaking a kiss as she passed him by. “He mentioned you,” head nodded to the side, “him and Doran, after word of your passing floated down. You two talked for quite a while afterwards, didn’t you?”

He nodded in agreement. “Doran was suspicious, they said you simply fell ill and passed quickly but,” taking a breathe, and exhaling the remaining hostile memories, “You don’t see a girl with bruises like that and expect us to accept that you died naturally. We both knew you had either somehow run, or we were being lied to about how it happened. Seeing you that day, I was relieved to find out it was the former.”

Steel eyes sat harsh on a spot of nothing in front of you, memories replaying in your mind as you could feel the blood boil in your body. “Not for a lack of trying.”

You knew Oberyn wanted more, but it was too early. You couldn’t handle this right now. Ellaria might try to pry something from you later, but Oberyn needed to focus. A lucrative position on the small council, and a trial approaching rapidly should take up his attention. So you change the subject. Telling Ellaria of a strip of market you could take her to. Allowing yourself to loosen up at the playful grins and warm wandering eyes she generously gives, and trying to will Oberyn not to do this right now.

You knew something was brewing, but you didn’t know what or when it would heat too far so just maybe you wanted to pretend. Act as if there was no issue. Oberyn was the more intense of the pair, he would get out of you what he intended to in time, but for now, you watched him relax like you. Enjoying the peace before a day, that for him, was another cog in his future. Just gathering pieces for a machine that, to you, was yet unknown.

For a while, that peace did come. The sun bearing down over the city, still somewhat clouded by the darker cramped streets, but there did seem to be more life then in the days past. Ellaria standing tall and beautiful by your side, her arm linked with yours as you passed through the streets, her making comments about where certain vendors got their products and how egregious their selling point was. “How are you so comfortable wherever you go? You always seem to just be at ease.”

Her smile lit up her face as she tugged your body in closer to hers. “Most people are the same no matter where you go. Of course the further north you go, the more rigid and strict the Lords and highborns get, but I’ve always found the normal people to be the same. People who have no stake in the bigger picture, so they all just want to enjoy life.”

Her hair tickling the side of your face as she leans to the side more, muttering into your ear much quieter, “Besides, I really couldn’t care less about what people in power think of me. I enjoy my life, how many of them can say the same?”

It was a wish you had yourself, to look at your life and say you are happy with how it’s turned out but that was not what the Gods had in store for you. Born on fire, and now you lay trapped in a city determined to make you burn from it. “I know the feeling.” Ellaria turned to look at you but your eyes trained forward, “The last time I felt anywhere near happy was just after I left. On my own, travelling in cold woods and staying hidden, but it was just me. Anything that happened to me, was now on me. No one else. Regardless of what led me there.”

Jolting back you see Ellaria stopped, her gentle hands cradling the sides of your face, “And how about right this moment?”

Oh she had set a trap and you were willingly about to step right on it. It was hard to deny her, like she radiated temptation, but one that felt like the only temptation she was offering was relief, so you took her bait. “I’m sure I could find a way to make it better.”

Leaning in to meet her lips, you could feel a smile on her fighting against her movement. Tender lips caressing yours, only to lean in for more as you pull away. A playful glare directed towards you as you smirk, tugging her back to link arm in arm and continue your path. A few more stares than beforehand only this time you could count on them meaning nothing to smallfolk. A beautiful foreigner kissing a common whore in the streets, not exactly gossip to chew on.

No, the only watchful eye this time was from an approaching figure. Tall with a shaved head, studious eyes taking in everything as if they all spoke some kind of secret. A whisper more accurately, a man with such mystique only he could hold such a title.

Ellaria smiled brightly at him as he found himself in front of you, both of you giving small versions of a curtsy, more of a slight bend down though, neither of you rather bothered with perfect formality. You weren’t sure if who you played as should know him, but the role meant nothing. If Lord Baelish knew who you were, then Lord Varys certainly isn’t fooled. So you settled, “My Lord.”

The slithery voice was unlike how Baelish’s was. With the later, it was one drenched in slime and mistrust. Lord Varys was more smooth, like every word was spoken carefully with distinct meaning. He nodded to you first, “My Lady,” before turning to Ellaria. “And of course you must be-”

“Ellaria Sand. If I’m not mistaken, you must be Lord Varys.”

Seemingly humble, he brushes it off. “Please, just Varys. I’m not actually Lord of any House.”

Ellaria herself had a gaze that seemed to match his own, watching like a raven as she puts whatever pieces of information she’s gathered together. “I’m also no Lady, and yet we call each other as such anyways.” Vary’s eyes seemed to raise just slightly, impressed or surprised it was difficult to read. He was a hard man to read, no doubt an image carefully carved out intentionally.

Curious eyes on hers as well, “Yes. We do. So wonderful to meet you, Prince Oberyn has spoken very highly of you, and I can see why.” Uniform but polite until suddenly Varys turns to your attention, calling you by the name you hide behind, as if you’ve ever met each other in the city. “If you wouldn’t mind, I was hoping we could have a word in private.”

Heart pounding while your body turned to stone, he has no reason to speak to who you are here. No, you know it’s her he wants to speak to. The one you hide. But you deflect, “Flattered my Lord, but I’m not quite sure my services are up to your kind of requirements.”

Just a smile. No, he wasn’t fooled one bit. “I assure you it will only take a moment, if that is alright with your companion here of course.”

Her grip on your arm tightened, looking at you for doubt, a reason to pull you away from this uncertainty. It was like a cord winding your heart watching Ellaria look to you for any distress, but Lord Varys was smarter then a simple ambush. No, whatever games he played were long and twisted with many others. Blinking slowly at her, your face relaxing just slightly, and she understood. “Of course. Take your time, we are in no rush.”

Despite the raging fire inside you, losing her touch felt cold and empty. Moving to stand beside him you turned to Ellaria once more, “Please, continue on without me. I know where to find you anyways.” Her doubtful face only had to agree. Between your secrets and Oberyns inner turmoil in this city, you wanted her to at least enjoy herself. To keep her Oberyn as far away from your danger as possible, leave them unscathed.

So you parted ways, Ellaria taking her time to look upon the stalls of the street as you know she was watching you walk away. Lord Varys leading you to a nicer part of the streets, in view doors leading to small but much cleaner and well kept buildings than what you’re used too in the city. “I hope you’ll forgive the sudden invitation. The current state of affairs keeps me quite busy I’m afraid. Very little time to attend to other matters.”

Lord Varys gestured for you to climb the steps up a quiet and modest looking building. “I can only imagine.” The inside was a tinge of dark, shutters kept closed only allowing a bit of light to trickle in from the cracks. Fabric, wool, needles lay about on shelves and machines with a small section cleared with two seats. It appeared to be a tailor of sorts, but the people long gone and little sign of life.

You found a spot in the middle of the main room, limbs tingling from the tension coursing through you while Lord Varys gestured for you to have a seat. His back turned as he seemed to grab something you couldn’t see, “Normally meetings aren’t in such dingy quarters, but inviting you all the way to the Red Keep didn’t seem like the place to help make you feel comfortable to talk.”

As he spoke you slowly begun to sit, posture rigid and afraid to make any sudden movements too quick or too loud. Forcing a tight smile on your lips, “Just never had the opportunity is all.”

He continued to stand, his face as impassive as ever. “I didn’t think you would have. A dangerous place for someone hiding away to venture over too. With as many Lords visiting the city as there are, you wouldn’t want to take any chances of being recognized by the wrong person.”

Finally he moved to sit across from you, but you remained like a statue. “I’m not sure why you’d think that my Lord. I’m just a common-”

Interrupting you with words freezing your entire body over. “The face of a dead highborn lady walking about the Red Keep is sure to gather attention by at least some. And the walls have ears, and it travels fast.” Your hands laying in your lap curled into themselves, digging nails into the skin of your palm with a sharp sting. Head shaking in denial, Lord Varys only tilted his head slightly. “There’s no need to play coy, my Lady. You can be assured whatever Lord Baelish knows, always crawls it’s way back to me.”

Air constricted in your lungs, twisting them until there were only scraps remaining. You could keep lying, you could run, anything to escape this but there was nothing you could do. He knew and if you didn’t play along what would he do to you then? So you sat. Inwardly preying to the Old Gods, hoping they could hear you all the way here.

“Presuming you have no idea what he wanted you for, it must be quite nerve wracking to be plopped into one if his brothels and left to fend for yourself. Having to fake your way through the days as you wait to see what it is he intends to use you for.”

Eyes flickering down and skating back and forth between meaningless spots on the wooden surface. Each warm and comforting moment between you and the Dornish couple you’ve grown so attached to slips away from your fingertips. The bubble you’ve created ready to burst and leaving you feeling stupid for ever getting lost in a fantasy too good for you. “If I’m supposed to be dead,” finally looking up to meet him in the eye. “What could he possibly want with me? What do you want with me?”

There was a silence, Lord Varys simply watching you with his ever running mind trying to figure you out. “Lord Baelish and Lord Tywin have similar goals in mind, though for very different reasons. To them, the strongest way to secure an ally, is marriage. Lord Tywin no doubt looking for ways to strength his delicate hold on the North, and Lord Baelish ensuring a partnership by offering a bride as leverage.” You knew where this was headed, and your body shook in retaliation. There was only one option that would be of any significance. “Whoever produces the still living daughter of House Slate gets the upper hand, holds more influence over them. House Bolton may be in charge of the North currently, but the more Houses they unify, the more allies rally behind the crown.”

Nails dug deeper, peeling the skin back as you pressed harder. Your body giving you only enough air to breathe out any words. “But Lord Bolton..I thought he..”

Lord Varys nodded casually, but there was a twinge of sympathy in his eyes. “Lord Roose Bolton did marry yes, one of the trade offs to get the Frey’s willing to help betray Robb Stark. But if the whispers I’ve been told come to pass, his son, Ramsey, will be in need of a highborn wife to produce him an heir should his father choose to legitimize his birth right.”

It was cold, the fire burned inside of you but everything felt cold. You shook and felt it take all life and faith out of you. You never met Ramsey Snow, but you knew of him. The things he’s done, the kind of horror he really is. Death would be better than anything a lifetime of marriage to Ramsey could give you. Minutes passed, maybe hours, the world felt like it was taken right under your feet. This was why you were here. Little Finger gets you in his clutches, then hides you away until Ramsey is declared a Bolton, then sold off to him in the name of strengthening the North. A North only made as such now under the cruelty of a Lannister.

“I on the other hand, see very little benefit in that arrangement. All this time hiding, only to be thrown into a fate worse than the one you ran from. No, what I propose is much different. Something in the opposite direction of your former home.” Leaning back in his seat, the hint of pained sympathy seems to lighten to a much more scheming pleasantry. “I hear Dorne is rather lovely this time of year.”

Rather then give your cards away, you just challenged him. “What use could I possibly be for you in Dorne?”

A smile fell across Vary’s face, a small but knowing one that told you you were only going to get a tiny section of this story. Standing up, he slowly walked to grab something out of an ornate locked box nearby. “Things in the realm are changing, and when the tides turn, I don’t intend to stand by and just wait for the results to fall in my lap. Loyal allies are more important than the one with the biggest army, and you have already found an ally in Dorne haven’t you?”

Facing you but still standing further away, you tilted your head with a confused squint prompting him to elaborate. “Prince Oberyn spoke very fond of you. Not that he gave anything away, but enough that we both knew the other knows the truth. Whatever kind of relationship you’ve developed with him is enough he is willing and determined to protect you.”

Evening your breathing out, that much more comforting feeling once again pumped through your veins. “You want him to take me to Dorne? Why?” As your lungs puffed back out, the air circulated easier, letting your voice come out steady, firm but calm.

Stepping up to the table, Varys held something close, tucked under the drape of his robes. “When the time comes, Prince Doran will need to choose where his allegiances lie, and what lives beyond the Narrow Seas offers his Kingdom much more than the Houses of Westeros can provide.”

The Master of Games rather than Whispers, he was allocating his pieces right where he needs them and he knows how to win. But you only had one play, one card to throw onto the table that may get you some kind of an answer. “Does that thing involve three living dragons?” Varys appeared taken back just an inch. Eyes raising in curiosity. “Because history has proven that dragons mean very little to the Dornish people.”

His steps brought him slowly around the table closer to you. “As does the promise of Targaryean rule. The people of Dorne have a complicated history with most of the major rulers in Westeros, but there are different kinds of dragons, ones not currently tormenting the skies of Essos that could be of great help to them.”

Abruptly you stood, walking needlessly into the empty space trying to understand. Spinning to look at him you gave him an honest look. “You don’t need me for this. You’re talking about- this is bigger than me, I’m not any of these people what good would some rumoured dead Northern girl be? My family isn’t strong, I’m not a fighter, I’m not influential, I’m not some Targaryean dragon rider, you don’t need me for this.”

Vary’s eyes squinted slightly. Just slightly. Coming to stand in front of you, he holds a hand out asking for your own. He held yours in both of his, and just as he spoke, you felt something weighted and metal drop into your palm. “Prince Oberyn will have certain arrangements made by the time the trial is over. I have no doubt he will adamantly involve you in those plans, and I have no conflict of interest in letting that plan go smoothly.”

Pulling his hands away he looked you directly in the eyes, speaking a silent command. One you understood. Putting both your hands clasped together, the unknown object sat unseen in your palms in front of you. “What is it about me that does anything that you couldn’t do yourself? You want me in Dorne, why me? Why do you want me specifically? Why the interest in me at all?”

Now in your personal space, he lowers his voice, leaning down to keep the words to yourself. “We have more in common then you know, Lady Slate.” His voice almost in a pointed exaggerated tone at your real title, “Think on it. Think very carefully about what I’ve told you today. I’d hate to see your use go to waste at the hands of a cruel Bolton boy instead of a Prince.”

Then, he was gone. Leaving you alone in this empty space, head spinning and twirling until it forced your eyes shut just to steady. Inhaling and exhaling deeply for a matter of minutes. Finally you opened your cupped palms, tilted just enough hoping any watching eyes wouldn’t see what it was given to you.

A metal sigil. The very top of the circular metal with some kind of hook as if this were apart of something else at one point. The colours seemed somewhat faded but the image itself stood on it’s own regardless. A dragon, a black dragon with 3 heads against a paint that was just clean enough to recognize as blood red. This wasn’t- this wasn’t what it was supposed to be. Like someone took the Targaryean sigil but messed it up. Why did Lord Varys have something like this? More frustratingly, why did he give this to you? What did this have to do with any of this?

You snapped your head up, looking around to find no onlookers or watchful eyes. Quickly, you tugged the small metal into the fabric of your dress, hidden away from anyone but you. As you stepped out the door, the streets looked just as they always did. Not even a glance towards you as you stepped out onto the pathway.

Walking back to the brothel, you felt conflicted. Trying desperately to uncover the mysteries just presented to you, and the other, the quiet but angry little voice calling you stupid for even dreaming that you meant anything to Oberyn and Ellaria to bring you with them. Neither ever indicated any real desire to have you in their life beyond these few weeks, no one ever wanted that.

Still though, maybe you at least had a chance of leaving this city. That, you could live with. You’re unsure if you should mention this conversation to either of them. Ellaria wouldn’t push, but Oberyn would. If Varys was telling the truth, then Oberyn has more going on than telling you, but you couldn’t think about that. Let him do this trial, let him sit on the small council. Oberyn had bigger plans than bringing you to his home, and you weren’t going to be a distraction to that.

You didn’t leave the room the day of the trial. You couldn’t go anywhere near the Red Keep anyways, so it hardly mattered. You had been tense every since your conversation with Varys. Dragons in the east, allying with Dorne, and somehow you were supposed to be right in the middle of that. You weren’t sure what you were going to do if Oberyn left you behind. Previously you tried not to think about it but now you had a tangible nightmare awaiting you if you just waited your turn.

The fear and intimidating man that is Roose Bolton was the one you knew. Friends with your father but just as cruel as each other. Gods, if you could choose your horrible fate you’d probably just marry him, be demanded to provide him with an heir and be ignored. Marrying Ramsey was another fate entirely. No one who heard of him had to meet him to know if his reputation was true. Everyone said the same things, abuse, torture, a giddiness towards killing, and a forceful attitude towards whatever girl he could claim.

You would rather die on your own terms then that. Let Oberyn and Ellaria be your last memories. Shutting your eyes, you could almost feel their touch again. Hear the teasing laughter in their voice from last night, constantly poking and prodding at you every time you fell back into a performance.

Ellaria lay spread out on the sheets, her body out on display as she was pulled partially back into an equally undressed Oberyn. Her head thrown back in a moan only to stutter and shift into laughter when Oberyn would point out you were losing focus. Her cunt yours for the taking. Some moments you were drowning in her, addicted to her taste, needing to hear her sounds and hips squirm with each lick of her folds or caress to her clit.

Other times you fell back into being in bed with a man demanding you and another girl fuck for his pleasure. How all was expected was to show off dramatically, let them get off to the sight of over exaggerated movements and unnecessarily loud whines. Oberyn’s deep voice would ring in your ears, “Focus, little one. If you’re not enjoying yourself, neither is she. You’re not here to impress me, taste her and just do what feels right.”

Your mouth just an inch away from her, the brush of your hair tickled her inner thighs as you nodded, one of your hands splayed up to cover part of her stomach and hip, holding her down. Just as you leaned back into her, Ellaria’s breathy voice speaks up. “If he wanted a show, he could just step outside and toss a coin at the first pair of brainless girls that walk by.”

You had to rest your forehead on her mound, shaking her hips slightly as you silently laughed. Oberyn shifting down to pull her into his chest more, groping her chest with greed as Ellaria laughed herself. Fingertips from your other hand tap alongside her leg, “You did pay for a whore afterall, performing is supposed to be my skill.”

Whatever rebuttal she had at the tip of her tongue was lost when yours licked back into her. Her orgasm hit her quickly as you drank everything it offered. Just as quick she was pulled up her back now against Oberyn’s chest, his cock sliding into her with a steady pace, a dance they’ve done a thousand.

Her head was thrown back into his shoulder, as Oberyn finds your own eyes, kneeling up with your palms resting down in front of you, almost unsure if to interrupt them with your own presence. His pace slows down as he stares into your own eyes, “Think I forgot about you?”

Ellaria barley lifts her head, titled into his neck with an arm wrapped behind her grasping at his hair, her eyes just peek enough to spot yours. Her other hand beckons you up to her and raises her head up as she clasps your hand in her.

Oberyn slows more and grasps Ellaria’s hips firmly as she tugs you into her. Pulling you into her chest she slides up and grasps at your hair, hovering her lips over yours. “If you really want to show off,” her other hand moves back to her front and slinks down your own body, her grip on your hair yanks slightly to turn both of your heads just a tad to look back at Oberyn. “How about I show him just what he’s missing out on, here?” Raking her gaze up and down yourself.

Oberyn all but growls out Ellaria’s name in warning, but you both smirk at the other. Her capturing your lips as both of your hands roam each other. Oberyn’s cock soaked deep in Ellaria’s cunt being the only attention given to him.

She teases him endlessly with you. She knows he’s holding off on fucking you properly. Neither of you are quite sure why, but all he does is push you right to the edge, tip you just over it, and let Ellaria be the one to pull you down with her instead.

Oberyn’s hands hug her hips and ass back into his own as he fucks her, and your own fingers reaching down to rub her clit in tandem. Your pace matching his before Ellaria’s body falls back briefly into his. His cock slowly sliding in and out, a kiss on the side of her head, as you pull her back up to gently press your own lips against hers.

Glossy eyes returning to normal, her and Oberyn once more lean the sides of their heads into each other, both looking at you in question. His mouth in biting range to her ear, but the husk of his voice whispers loud, “Show her how grateful we are, wouldn’t you my love?”

Turning in for a proper kiss she smirks into his as they part, “My pleasure.”

Your body hovering over hers, Ellaria’s fingers dip into your own cunt, soaked just from pleasuring her. Rare to find a woman working in places like this so naturally aroused by giving, though perhaps it was just something her and Oberyn got to experience alone. If she had final say, Ellaria would make it so it stays that way.

For now though, her fingers pump in and out of you as Oberyn fucks his final pounds into her. Your head was down taking in the coiling orgasm building up, but Oberyns hand nudged under your chin up to look at him.

Brown eyes with a penetrating gaze, your eyes on his face, the grit of his teeth, jaw clenched tight, and nostrils flared as he fucks his cum up into his paramour. His hand under your chin the entire time, until you slip out from it as Ellaria brings you to your own end.

One hand steady on Ellaria’s waist, while the other reaching out blindly, tightly holding onto Oberyn’s arm as your orgasm sparks and sets ablaze. A sharp loud gasp with your head tilted back hardly noticing her fingers leaving you empty. Taking both hands you smooth the wild hair flung about your head before placing both palms down, once again knees on the bed as you come down.

Briefly you notice Ellaria’s hands cup your cheeks just long enough to sneak a kiss, “You were right, you perform quite well no matter what, lover.” You both chuckle somewhat breathlessly as you swat at her hands, turning just long enough to see her slip a beautiful deep yellow robe as she heads towards the jug of water.

Strong arms slide across your shoulder and one around your stomach, tugging you into Oberyn’s side. Your back against his chest, his chin resting atop your head, but unlike the sensual loving embrace he just had Ellaria in, this one felt almost calming. Purposely calming, keeping you tight against him as your heart pounding quiets. Quietly muttering your name, he moves the arm on your shoulder to reach up and stroke the side of your cheek with his thumb. “You don’t have to tell me what Lord Varys spoke to you about even though I can see it’s bothering you.”

Soon Ellaria moves back to sit on the edge of the bed, her feet dangling downward to the floor as opposed to the tangled mess yours and Oberyns splayed out to the side were. “We just need to know one thing, sweet girl.” Ellaria’s deep eyes shining with vaguely concealed worry as she debated how to say what they both were thinking. “Are you in danger? Being here?”

No doubt Oberyn could feel your body tense, his head tucking itself into the crux of your neck leaving scattered kisses in his wake. The deep rumblings of his voice vibrating through your spine. “If you don’t feel safe you need to tell us. You’ve been trapped here under the eyes of very powerful and dangerous men, I know better than anyone how few options you have to leave. So I need a yes or no.”

No, you shook no. Unsure if there was even a way to explain things without just spilling the words you are sure Lord Varys told to you in confidence. A risky meeting in the middle of the city just to keep the walls from listening. But they wanted to know. They needed to know. If Little Finger didn’t come back for his plan North, then it would only be a matter of time before Lord Tywin figured out where you were hiding.

Constricting tighter around your body, Oberyn’s nose brushed against your cheek before the hand on your jaw turned you up into an aggressive kiss. Harsh and needy, but short. Not much was said about it the rest of the night, unsure if it was no one knowing how to say what they were thinking, or if for now, no one just wanted too.

It was new being with them in such a way. They were intense, and demanding, but so deeply loving. Treating you with as much respect and admiration as they have for the other.

Keeping you trapped between their bodies as you all slept, only to be woken by gentle rubs to your clit from Oberyn behind you, slowly, quiet so keep the beauty in front of you both undisturbed. Your naked body pressed back against him entirely, as he kisses you, his tongue against yours as he makes you cum, keeping you quiet. They were a dream you were too scared to wake up from.

Which is why you stood. Hands tightly holding the metal sigil as you stared out the window. The view barely different from the one in your tiny, now unwelcoming room. Like they were never here, but the sting of their memories holding onto you like a leech.

You had to close you eyes tight, so tight colours danced in your vision as you desperately tried to will the tears away instead of falling. Knuckles white from how rough your grip on the sigil was. You would never find people like Oberyn and Ellaria again, and your only prospects were to hope Varys had any reason to be telling you the truth, or to brace yourself for a life of unspeakable torment at the hands of a monster.

It hurt to know Oberyn was right. You had little escape from here alone. How many spies scattered across the city, how many people did they report to, how guarded were any of the places one could sneak out from?

Embarrassed, that's how it felt. Janus, your dear uncle who taught you how to run, how to live, how to survive, wasted it all. You lasted maybe one year before being discovered and dragged to King’s Landing like a prisoner. Stashed away under lock and key until you were ready to once again be forced elsewhere to a place you knew would not help you.

Options had run out. You needed Varys to be right. Being left alone in this city, a tiger trapped in a cage only to be poked and laughed at by your hunters, was a death sentence. One that you would enact yourself if need be.

Oberyn and Ellaria may care now, but if they leave, it would only be a matter of time before they forgot you anyways. A pathetic runaway working as a whore unable to protect herself.

You could still see his face, your Uncle, he panic and distress as he told you to go. The faint sounds of your father yelling inside your home just off in the distance, the closer sound of your older brother barking orders at the boy in the courtyard to start helping. The feeling of your uncles rough, calloused hands cupping your cheeks as he pressed a final kiss to your forehead before watching you go. The urgency in his movements as he pulled you from your bed in the dead of night didn’t make sense until you watched what he was protecting you from.

The shame you would bring upon him if the next time he saw you, was as a prisoner sold off to the family that betrayed the ones you were supposed to have fought for. You had no shame hiding out in a brothel when you reached the Riverlands. You were exhausted, no money, and in territory a war was still raging on. At least in there you had shelter, food, and living in a place your family had no reason to travel to.

Had you been more vigilant, you might have noticed whispers turning into constant talk and chatter throughout the building surrounding the days events, but you were tuned out. Finding privacy to drown everything out in a tub. The water boiled far too hot didn’t phase you, just like increasing volume of gossip in the other rooms didn’t phase you.

Just like that the boiling silence was interrupted by one of the younger girls wandering in. Jumping back slightly with a hand to her chest in a gasp, she muttered out apologies. “I didn’t realize anyone was in here, just needed a minute to myself you know?” Giving a breathy little giggle, new enough to not quite recognize that your face currently screamed anything but please sit down and talk to me. Even though that’s exactly what she did. Perched on the edge of the stone rambling about how crazy this trial thing is, how she snuck out early in the morning just so she could try and get in to watch.

You distracted yourself from the mindless chatter by running the smooth cloth over your skin once more as if you were still busy washing. “I can’t believe she would do such a thing, I always thought she was so pretty too!”

You jerked your head up, brows furrowing as your ears tuned back in. “Wait, who did what?”

The girl rolled her eyes in jest, “Lady Sansa, weren’t you listening?” Flickering her hand over the water to splash at you, she pulled away with a hiss, shaking the stark heat off her fingers. You only felt more confused. “Have you not heard what everyone is saying? Asking the imp to kill the King because he didn’t want to marry her anymore! I mean why else would she run, right?”

Oh you’re sure you could think of an endless list of reasons that would drive a teenage girl kept prisoner in the city, to want to escape the first chance she got. If you didn’t believe Tyrion Lannister poisoned Joffery you were even more certain that Sansa Stark had even less to do with it. Besides, she didn’t run away, she was flown off by a certain conniving mockingbird. “Is it,” You paused to take a breathe, reforming your words, be as moderate as possible. “What did the judges decide?”

Her eyes went wide hands dramatically splaying on her chest over her heart, “It was insane, the judges didn’t even reach a verdict. The imp went on this tirade saying he wished he did it, that he was glad to watch and that he should have let that Baratheon take the city. He demanded a trial by combat now.”

It was rare now. The two parties fight to the death and whoever lives, the Gods have declared innocent. You had never seen it used, or even heard it really. Most men were either condemned to death it they wanted a trial, but most just confessed and were banished to The Wall. Though this time, the defendant was Tyrion Lannister. Clearly a brave man if what you’ve been just told is true, but not a skilled fighter by any means. “Do we know who’s fighting in their places? I’m sure Lady Cersei has a list of knights willing to fight for her,”

“Oh yeah, her champion is The Mountain.”

The blood drained from your face, racing down to you’re heart and forcing it’s painful thud against your chest. The girls words fading away as the dread raised. You knew why she chose him, a man known for nothing but sheer size, strength and unusually cruel brutality. A vile thing whose only purpose was to cause others pain.

It got caught in your mouth, your words sitting in the back of your throat, festering until it almost felt like you would be sick. Not many men would take on The Mountain in a fight to the death, even less men who cared even a bit about Tyrion Lannisters innocence. No this was worse. Was cruelty of the Seven mocking you, or the Old Gods just leaving your faith behind entirely. But you knew there was only one answer to your question, even if she didn’t know that.

“And Lord Tyrion?” She flipped her long hair back raising her eyebrows in question. “Wh-Who is to be Lord Tyrions champion?”

She said she didn’t really know, that it must have been decided outside the trial. But you didn’t need to figure it out. The Mountain was about to return to King’s Landing to engage in a trial by combat, a legal Crown mandated fight to the death where only the gods could determine a mans guilt. And there was only one man who was determined to make Gregor Clegane face the guilt for his crimes.

The girl left sometime in your lost silence. You didn’t hear or notice. Suddenly, you were overwhelmed with a sickening, paralyzing dread.

By the time you emerged clothed and dry, you knew for sure people were watching you this time. Quiet whispers between men and curious stares from the girls. Passing through the main chamber, a conversation between Olyvar and another suddenly stopped. A stare you couldn’t identify from the blond. Was it sympathy or was it distrust? Was this about Oberyn, or was this about Varys. Olyvar reported directly to Lord Baelish, so how much did he know about what was to be your fate?

Was he ever your friend, or was he just trying to find a way to keep you here willingly, by offering kindness. Either way he sat behind the desk staring as you stood paused in the middle of the room, watching back. If you were going to leave here, on your own terms, he was your first obstacle. Losing you would be to lose Lord Baelish’s trust, and to spies like him that was not an option, not when you knew too much.

Your chest rising with a deep breathe, and a slow blink as your head and feet returned to their destination.

You opened the door quietly, hearing more hushed tones than what would normally be heard in this room you found so much joy. If it was true, no doubt they had talked about it together, they mean so much to each other, and now, death or justice is his only choice. Only one, was easily given.

Your steps felt small and meek, but with one ping against the floor, the two dark haired heads flipped your way. Ellaria’s hands resting comfortably against his chest, while Oberyns rested against her arm and waist. Their eyes both shined with concern, but their tones drastically differed.

Oberyn’s were dark and pensive while Ellaria’s were solemn and understanding. Neither one enticing enough to beckon you over. Whispering something unheard to his lover, Oberyn nudged her to you as he stepped away with his back facing you.

Your eyes were trapped on his back to you as she approached you. Not until the palm of her hand gently pulling your gaze to her own. With a stuttering breath, so quiet you almost couldn’t hear it yourself you asked, “Is it...he’s really going to do this?” The solemn eyes turned almost a shade warmer as she nodded. She understood him more, but she also understood you. Your own eyes shut, head dropping. Jaw clenched, you didn’t trust your own words.

Feeling this way seemed wrong, he was a fighter. A fighter with such skill, whispers of his feats reached from the warm sun of Dorne to the grey dreary North. If this were anything but what it was, you wouldn’t feel such a gloom over you.

“Sweet girl,” her other soft palm found your cheek as well, as your own hands reached to hold onto her wrist, looking up at her. “I know. Trust me, I know. But this isn’t some young impulsive kid jumping into the light just because he’s cocky. This means so much more-”

Just like that you dropped her wrists and stepped back. You stepped back and she tried to step forward, and once again you stepped back. Blinking away how obvious you were, your head shook and a tight lipped smile forced it’s way onto your face. “No, no, it’s alright Ellaria. I understand entirely.” You refused to look over to the other side of the room, to see if brown eyes were waiting to catch yours. “How long?”

Ellaria blinked too, you weren’t alone in keeping yourself together, she was simply practised. “A day maybe. However long it takes the Mountain to return to the city.”

Don’t do this, keep yourself painted like metal. Steady voice steady face. “I will do what I can to help prepare.” Walking past her, you could feel the soft material of her dress brush your arms. Eyes shut, shaking your head just enough to force the tears back in.

The night was quiet. Your persona was up as high and pretending as it ever had been. There was no trace of your genuine self that evening. Ellaria was a bit easier, no matter the outcome she would still be here. She would leave but you could remember her and pray for her safety and journey, knowing just maybe, you were still close enough to the Old Gods that they could hear you over the Seven and appease just one ask from you.

You hardly looked at Oberyn like you were real. Cordial, getting him what he wanted and answering any question he posed out of simple want or jest. Any point being made to reach out to this mask was met with short answers, a stock answer you gave to any men coming through that would just throw coin your way regardless of your feeling. You think he looked at you a lot that evening, never being able to shake the unwavering intensity seemingly on your person.

The day you accepted this offer, saying yes to this beautiful interesting couple who had you talking and laughing without any facade, letting your company be theirs. Worrying at the time if this would be a mistake and it was. Oberyn had found an opportunity to do what is right, and that’s all that mattered. You didn’t matter, and you didn’t want to matter anymore. Not again.

They spent much time in quiet hushes together as the sun finally feel dark, many times finding you in their words. And for the first time in the weeks you’ve spent together, you watched them find each others arms in bed, and sleep take them away from the insanity this day had brought, but didn’t join them.

The moon was high and bright that night, a blue glow sprinkled over every surface, but did nothing to lull you to sleep. Your side rested against a wall as you looked out into the streets. Dead or not, the outcome wouldn’t affect these people, they would go about their lives and nothing would change. Many for sure, would come to watch, root and cheer for the charming Dornish Prince with a skilled fighting reputation unlike any other, and most of them would feel very little after his death.

You couldn’t do this again, you couldn’t handle it. You could see his face looking through the glass of the stained window. His voice ringing in your ears, begging you to never return, telling you that you meant the world to him, that he loved you and this needed to happen to keep you safe. Your body tensing, limbs curling in on themselves and your body failing you wanting to collapse as you saw the blood.

The only one who ever cared about you, and all you could see was the blood spurting from his mouth, and the blades ripping through the warm chest your smaller self often found the only comfort to exist to you. He was the only one, and now that you’ve found another, you could see it happening again.

Gregor Clegane was formidable and mercilessly sadistic. One mistake, one simple slip that he could take advantage of, and it was over. Countless men over the years found that out, and now, his opponent was a man who seeks justice from someone unwilling to believe in such a thing.

You got no sleep that night, nor would you the next. When the sun comes up the day after tomorrow, there is no certainty that you will be able to look behind your position, and see the chest so warm it matches the Dorne sun. His handsome face, soft all over all framed by an angular nose that you will never forget the feeling of as it runs down your own before his lips follow.

Maybe you will find it, but there was the blood. And his face covered in it before you turned and ran. And it became harder to stay positive. You’d leave before sunrise.

Ellaria wasn’t the bargaining chip presented to you, Oberyn was. If Oberyn dies, than there is no escape coming to help. You have to find a way to try.

Your night was spent awake, eyes on the glow of the moonlit streets, sat on the still just at the windows base. Fabric and metal. You knew what you wanted, and you needed to be awake to get them without the watchful eyes of the cities birds. And you needed to get them in and yourself back out out of the view of a close fair haired little bird, whom chirps it’s findings to a conniving mockingbird, and before a powerful lion finds you first.

Leaving out in the morning was easy, no one was awake and whomever might be was used to the sound of people sneaking out in the early hours. Eager to return home before other knights and noblemen see where they’ve spent the night.

The tailor shop was still empty, part of you could only wonder where the owners went too, and if leaving their shop and home abandoned was a coincidence, or a way to ensure an empty space with no chance to wandering in dwellers for secret talks.

You had riffled through the trunks, shapeless and muted rags clearly meant to be cut up and remade into something else were yours for the taking. As well as the dye. A dark coloured dye, almost black meant to stain the material before final alterations would be set. It was close to the kind of look you once had, but hid after finding refuse in an inn.

At least if this worked, you could let your hair grow from it’s roots without staining so heavily to drain the dark colour out of it in the dead of night.

Metal was more difficult. Blacksmiths would have what you wanted, but you had not the coin or the thieving abilities to secure one for yourself. Scraps though, were perhaps something more your level anyways. Most shops had one alleyway to dump wasted product, sometimes it was cleaned up by another, and sometimes they just waited for the poorest of the slums to come and scour for anything of need.

You could see from your vantage point, there likely was metal there so you started to walk. You were good at watching your back, empty streets or uncaring eyes left you invisible to go about your way. Nothing you could detect noticed you.

Nothing that is, until your vision spun and your back slammed into the wall of the very alley you ventured into. A hard sting vibrated through your spine, but the back of your head only felt a cushion that cradled its frame. An accented voice greeted your startled figure. “I’m not sure if I should be offended that you think I’m that easy to sneak away from.”

Oberyn stood close in front of you, the hand he used to cushion your head slides to find a home matching his other, palms against the brick on either side of you caging you in as his tall broad frame covers your vision. There was a fond smirk on his face as his eyes twinkled with amusement, but it was hard to focus on how he looked at you.

Your own face fell from startled, to relieved, all the way down to upset. That beautiful smile on such a beautiful man, you felt guilt for how detached you were trying to become. “I didn’t think, I’m sorry-”

Shushing you quietly, Oberyn moved in closer to you, a hand on your hip and the other raking through your hair until it found a home on your jaw and neck. “Perhaps we should talk somewhere less, suggestive.”

His smirk grew wide and mischievous as you followed to see an older man watching with a curious but lewd demeanour. Two people pressed up against the other, one pushed against a wall with the other having his hands over you. Before you could agree, the second your head looked away, Oberyns lips captured yours. Almost pulling you up to your toes as he leans to tower over you before his tongue making a salacious performance to explore your mouth before pulling away with a nibble.

For the first time in over a day, you finally gave him not just a smile but a laugh as well. “A girl might think you’re trying to give the man a show.” Shameless as he is, Oberyn’s hands pulled both sides of your hips into his own before snaking one back to hold your lower back up. His tongue being replaced with a bite filled aggression before barley separating your lips as he turns you both to walk away.

Oberyn giving the man a wink as they passed, and you couldn’t tell what made you giggle more, that or the jaw dropped face of the man you couldn’t tell was aroused or offended by the gesture. His hand never left the small of your back as he led you to a path you knew would find it’s way to the water. “I don’t want you to feel the need to run and hide from me. What this is that you’re feeling is understandable, but I want you to just be open with me what you’re feeling this way.”

There was hardly much in the way of sun as you both reached the small opening of water, a tiny channel that opened wide into the sea, but what little sunlight reached you both reflected radiantly on his skin. The yellow fabric draped over his body did nothing to hide as you were dressed to, but did everything to overwhelm you with his beauty. A robe with rich yellows and hints of a deeper orange made it hard to ever look away from him. It made you miss him too.

For a while, you both stood there, splashes against the rocks and his hand on your back still. But it was too much. “Tomorrow you fight. As Tyrions champion.” The tears almost started to collect in the backs of your eyes as you whispered to him.

His hand pulled you in closer to his side. “I am. Somebody should. He’s innocent, and that deserves to be defended.” Oberyn knew he didn’t need to elaborate. You were smart, you saw less than he heard yet you still came to the better conclusion than the court.

“And because the Mountain is Cersei’s champion.”

His eyes narrowed as he looked up into the brightening sky, chin held high and not a shred of doubt in his body. “What I want for my sister, for her children, is justice. That’s not easy in a place like this, and I’m not fooled into thinking I can just force it to happen because I want it too. These proud golden lions only stand tall for as long as there are many of them. Their time will come, it’s not just me who has made sure of that.”

Oberyns free hand grasped the closest of yours, thumb swiping on and over the skin as his eyes traced the lines before once again finding home in the waters. “Gregor Clegane needs no justice. He doesn’t deserve it and he will never give it. There’s very little chance for him to ever atone for his crimes, and if no one will do it than I will.”

Body turning to you, you stepped around to look at him the same, his hand now back on your hip and holding yours out between both your bodies. “I’m defending an innocent man because it’s right. But this is also a chance we may never get again. To face the man with their blood on his hands and hear from his mouth that he did it. That he murdered her children. Elia’s children, and raped her with their own blood on his body before murdering her as well. I want to hear him tell me he did it, so he dies knowing he never actually got away with it.”

You nodded to him, “And you? What do we get if you die? Ellaria, your daughters, your family. Leaving them behind will be just as painful as the kind you feel now.”

His fingers bring your chin up closer to his. “It’s not my honour I’m fighting for. It’s for my sisters memory and that, sweet girl, is something they understand. I love them dearly, but they also know the pain Elia left behind, they feel it too, and it’s not something they want to let go either. I have to do this, and it’s something they understand.”

While you gave a single nod, your eyes mapped out his, the ferce love within them. “But this isn’t just about me is it? This fear, it’s more than just what happens tomorrow. Right?”

This time, the tears found their way to the surface. Not falling but enough that they were impossible to miss. Oberyn’s hands bringing you into a chaste kiss, keeping you against him but leaving you to speak.

“My Uncle was the only person who ever cared. About me or for me. The rest of my family happy to leave me locked away until they needed someone to take their frustrations out on.” Oberyn’s eyes flashed a danger you had yet to see shone your way, and the tears wanted more.

Turning your body you leaned back into his chest that moved with you. His arms wrapping around your frame as you both watched the water. Your falling tears matching the clarity of the colour. “You were right. There’s no point hiding it. You saw the bruises I tried to hide, and those were only the ones my brother could make alone. My father was more inclined to hurt me where others could see it. I never knew why. I still don’t. My mother could barley look at me, like something about my existence shamed her, but whatever that was made my father despise me. Janus, my uncle, was the only one who tried to protect me.”

A faint smile crossed your face, tears still falling but with a lighter reprieve. “He taught me anything he could afford to. How to defend myself enough to find a way to run, how to hide, brought me whenever he was travelling elsewhere to make sure I learned as much about the world as I needed to. I just never realized it wasn’t just out of kindness. It was out of necessity.”

Your hands gripped Oberyns arms around your front. “It was pitch black out the night he dragged me out of bed. He pulled me into his own room, and told me to put everything on that he had laid out, and that when I was done, I needed to climb out. There was a branching tree that you could reach, and start to climb down on, so I did as I was told as he left the room entirely. I didn’t understand why until I was already making my way down. I could see in my window, the door flying open, and shadows of men, men I knew, men my father trusted. And I could see them stabbing into the bed thinking I was still there.”

Oberyn tugged your body against him tighter, a terse anger stewing through his person, but he let you speak. “Everyone was looking for me, Janus put me on a horse, and told me once I got closer to the borders I needed to abandon it, sell it, but get it away from me. He told me I could never come back. That he couldn’t tell me why, but he told me never to let my father find me, and not to trust any of the Northern houses. That whatever side I thought they were on was wrong, and I couldn’t trust them.”

“Two boys found him first, older boys, sons of my fathers guards who would do anything to impress the Lord of the House. They tried to grab and drag me off the horse, but he knocked them away so I could take off. And they re payed that kindness by shoving a knife through his throat. The last memory I have of the only person who ever cared about my life is watching him spew blood from his mouth before collapsing to the ground.”

You spun in his arms, both your eyes painfully watching the others closely. “I understand why you have to do this. I do, and I want you to do what you need to for her. But I also need you to just know why that’s...difficult to accept. I’m not trying to stop you. I don’t want to stop you. But watching the same thing happen to you..I can’t-”

Your body trembling in his arms, eyes red as he tucks you into his chest completely. “What did Lord Varys tell you? You’ve been terrified ever since then.”

Your voice was muffled, but he heard you perfectly. “Lord Baelish stashed me here, so he can marry me off once Roose Bolton’s bastard is given full title. If Lord Tywin doesn’t find me first, than my new home lies in the hands of Ramsey Snow and you can’t begin to imagine the vile cruelty he commits.”

You could feel Oberyns hand moving, as if shifting your dress around to find something, but he didn’t grab you. He shuffled a bit out of sight before tipping his head back to kiss you, only separating to press his forehead against yours. “You have a home. Not may, or will. You have one. No matter what happens to me you have one. You have Ellaria. You’re not just precious to her, you’re precious to me and my death won’t change that.”

There was more to his words that you understood, but later. The walls only have ears in Kings Landing if birds are around, and what he means won’t be heard in the close confines of a bed between two lovers.

This was enough for now for you. You had your own plans, Oberyn has his, you just weren’t sure if any of them matched yours. But he was precious to you as well. They both were, you just had to trust that.

“Come, Ellaria and I want your company for breakfast. We’ve had fifteen years to spend with each other, we prefer your fresh face to look at.” His hands tapped at your hips before turning to move away. Your hands finally reach into the hidden pocket of your dress, and you saw metal. Metal tucked in a plain sheath up to a handle accented in tones of yellow, the very hilt, a sigil of a sun striked by an arrow.

While your heart pounded at what you were likely to do with it, you also felt a burst in your heart, he cared about you yes, but he also understood you. This wasn’t a blade you’ve seen him use, this is one he carried out this morning specifically, because he understands what kind of watchful eyes you will have to get past.

Staring at the hilt must have been longer then you noticed, Oberyn called your name, a whisper of your real name , seemingly almost unwilling to play this charade anymore. You reached out to accept the large hand waiting for you, he reached up and just slightly pressed his lips against the back of your hand, before keeping his arm and hands on you for most of the walk.

Any early risers only seeing what they thought a lewd, promiscuous foreigner indulging in some common whore. No suspicious gossip was passed around this time.

As the sky grew darker, the more tense you had begun to feel. Preparations for the fight tomorrow held much of the evening. You and Ellaria watching Oberyn sharpening the tipped blade of a long spear, making a point not to touch whatever he was handling. Ellaria certainly knew better, and her distance helped you know better as well. She was draped across your back and shoulders as you both sat together on the bed, her head leaned into your ear. “It’s more than just the blade he’s preparing, sweet girl.” Her hand moving to pull some of your hair back behind you, lips finding a place where the strands just lay. Your shoulders didn’t relax anymore, your pulse ringed in your ears instead.

Watching the blade, looking to where you had stashed not just the dagger but everything to hide yourself come morning. Oberyn had made it clear what was needed to be done. “There won’t be many guards watching the docks, but you have to be able to board our ship without being seen by them. And I don’t think you will be able to just sneak on without them clearly spotting you.” His eyes had trained themselves onto the dagger as you tucked it under clothes, your hands hovering in the air before clenching into a fists and finally dropping back down. The message was clear. Get rid of them.

Oberyns eyes had continuously flickered back to you. It was a lot to ask of you what he was, but it was clear you weren’t going to be allowed to just walk out of the city unscathed and unseen and the impending combat did little to ease your nerves. You couldn’t go, you couldn’t accompany the pair because the sheer amount of eyes that could and would recognize you, the long hair and soft dress, it would bring up too many questions as to why you of all whores were allowed to join them.

Oberyn had stood at this point, making his way over to you as you clearly lost yourself in thought. Crouching down to meet your eye level, his hand grasped your jaw as he said your name. “You can do this, you just have to believe in yourself, okay?”

Your eyes slipped shut as your head dropped even in his hold, “It’s not me I’m worried about.” Grasping the wrist near your head tightly. “If something happens, I won’t even know until-”

Oberyns eyes were almost harsh, a tightness to his face that carried throughout his body. “You doubt my ability, little one? You don’t think I’m capable?” His voice however held a tint of lightness to it, almost a tease. He watched you shake your head, finally looking up to his eyes, trouble brewing behind them, like too many things overpowering your anxiety. “I trust you, all you need to do in return is trust me. We both can do this.” His other hand joined to cup the other side of your face.

Ellaria’s hands slid the straps of your dress slowly downwards. “What do you need, sweet girl?” You didn’t respond. You almost couldn’t think of how to say it. What you needed, was to know that this was all real between you. The intensity, the feelings, the intimacy, you wanted it to all be genuine and you needed to feel it.

Oberyn however, read you perfectly fine. His hands slid from your face as he stood before the foot of the bed, undoing hips robes before you. “Take it off.”

Your own eyes transfixed at seeing more and more of his skin reveal itself to you, Ellaria took it upon herself to bunch up your skirt and pull it all up and over your head. Oberyns eyes tearing over your bare form as he shucked off his pants. His cock on display, deep in colour as the blood flowing through it begged for you to give it attention. But he didn’t touch it, or even approach you. His hand pulled you up to face him, as you could feel his cock brush your stomach.

Once again his hands trailed over the sides of your face, this time caressing softly, both your eyes shut as his nose trailed along yours before finding your lips with his. A gentle kiss making you tremble, before he pulled away and turned you to face Ellaria. Already having ridden herself of her own clothing, she didn’t stand to join you. She watched and waited for you to listen to orders. Oberyns large hands perched on your hips as his entire body pressed against your back. “Those beautiful lips of hers just beg to be kissed don’t they?” When you nod he slightly pushes you up onto the bed once more.

Crawling on top of her, you pressed you lips against hers. Quickly though, the soft caress turned demanding. Ellaria moving you how she wanted, the taste of her tongue only found as she slips it into your mouth. One of her hands had grabbed you by the waist as now the other slip up your stomach, between the valley of your breasts and held your neck, finally tilting your head back dramatically.

Retching a gasp from you as Oberyn now kneeled on the bed behind you, taking over her work. His lips biting and nipping at yours, his tongue demanding you grant him whatever he desires. Your breasts felt Ellaria’s hands over them, before she started rubbing her thumbs over your nipples. Giving tiny tugs and pulls in tandem with Oberyn biting your lips.

A line of spit following just slightly as his lips pulled away from your gasping mouth and trailed down you neck. His bites no less sharp, your gasps turning more into moans the deeper he marked it up and down. The burn from his facial hair reddening whatever his mouth left untouched, as Ellaria gave your breasts the same treatment.

Bruises would form against both places, slight marks of teeth against each as they overwhelmed you. Oberyns deep voice pulling your senses back, “Tell us who you belong to.” Hearing his words but not really understanding them, Oberyn repeated himself but only a moan was given in return. One of his hands around your body held your neck tight, just enough breathe allowed to pass through. “Who do you belong to?”

A breathy rasp passed your lips, “You. I belong to yo-” But that was apparently, not the right answer. At once the pairs mouths left your skin, but their hands held you firmly in place.

Oberyns forehead rested against yours. “No one.” You could feel his thumb trailing back and forth against the skin of your hip. “From this moment on, you belong to no one.” Giving you reprieve, Ellaria switched to rake through the strands of hair that framed your chest as Oberyn yanked you further into his chest as Ellaria followed. Your head now back against his shoulder. “No matter what happens tomorrow, you leave this building and never return. You get on that ship. No one in Dorne will hurt you. I will make sure of that regardless what may happen to me.”

As you reached up behind you to grasp onto Oberyns neck the other gripped the hand on your hip. Lifting your head enough so your cheek found his, your eyes craning up to see into his beautiful brown ones. “I may belong to no one, but I am yours.” Your eyes looking to Ellaria’s sultry ones, “Both of yours.”

The two of them seemed to speak in more silent tongues. Eyes watching the other as she nodded. Moving to match Oberyns kneeled stance, he pushed you against the front of her own chest, his back still against yours as he does so.

Ellaria kissed you as Oberyns fingers danced on your skin lower and lower. You gasped into her mouth as one of his hands slapped against the one of the cheeks of your ass his nails carving crescent moons into it, as his other cupped your mound. His hands holding your pelvis in place as two of his fingers trailed the slick gathering between your legs.

Stroking back and forth as your gasps and whines of need made Ellaria smirk into your mouth. You almost vibrated with burning need, but the heat only consumed you more as his two thick fingers plunged into your entrance.

The hand digging into your ass moved to rub your clit with every thrust of his fingers. Fucking into your warmth slowly, but deep to the knuckle every time as he finds that perfect angle that turns your gasps into moans once more. Ellaria cupped the back of your hair, a comforting hold as Oberyn buries his face into the other side of your neck, kissing the skin below your ear as he picks up the pace which his fingers fuck you.

His breathing heavy on your skin as you feel his thick cock resting against the middle of your ass. Your hips pushing back just slightly, Oberyn hisses into your ear as he greets your hips by pushing forward more. The fingers on your clit fall to his palm now rubbing against you harshly.

The burning coiling pleasure between your legs built and built. Had it been minutes, seconds, hours? You couldn’t feel anything but his thick fingers pushing a third into you, your desperate gasps mixed with Oberyn demanding in your ear. “Give it to me. Cum for me, and you can have me. All of me.”

The wetness from between your legs was loud with every push of his fingers, it should embarrass you. The lewd sound should bring a flustered shame to you but it doesn’t, it just makes you want to take what he’s offering. Ellaria kisses your cheek when your hands grab her waist needing something to hold. “Will you let him fuck you, my love? Fuck you like all men and women wish he fucked them like?” Rasping out yes’s, one after another. “Then cum.”

The coiling wrapped too tightly, and it snapped at it’s peak. Your orgasm flooded your body, squished between two bodies as the pleasure coursed through your veins.

Whoever was kissing your neck you couldn’t tell, your eyes shut and breathing too hard to pay attention. Oberyn yanking your hips up into the air between them higher, he gripped the base of his cock and gently slides it between your legs. Your pussy wet and soaking his cock as it dragged through the folds.

Oberyns arms wrapped around your stomach as he teased, an embrace much like ones you had seen him and Ellaria wrap each other up in countless times. He called your name, “We are yours as well. Both of us. We get through tomorrow, and even if I don’t we still are each others, all of us.” Oberyn own head rested against Ellaria’s, her hand on his face as well. The two kissed before he once again grips his cock.

Braced on her shoulders, Ellaria’s finger trailed down to your clit, resting just atop it with the weight of a feather. Their foreheads resting together as they both watched him tease his tip into you. Prodding in and out, soaking itself with your wetness before his embrace was holding you by the waist. “Please,”

That was all he needed. Oberyn thrusted his cock deep into your cunt, soaked and squelching from the sheer amount of slick, but your moans danced with each other enough to hide it.

Ellaria teased at your clit, pressing hard, rubbing circles with each fuck up into you, or simply stroking like a touch against your cheek. Oberyns cock fucked you with little mercy, he thrust deep and rough, knocking your breathe out of you too quick to regain it whenever he slid almost right back out.

“So fucking tight,” his lips almost bit against your ear as he spoke through gritted teeth. “So many men throwing gold for a chance with you, and not one of them fucked you right.” You couldn’t choose between having your hands on him or Ellaria, so she moved up so close you could feel her breathe on your own cheek. Oberyns voice was rough like he fucked, words penetrating and forced out between groans. “Beautiful girl, cunt made just for me.”

Sweat covered your bodies. Oberyns cock now pounding you with shallow thrusts, but fast. Your breasts trying to bounce with his fast fucking, but pressed too much against Ellaria’s own body. Her lips pressing anywhere they can get as she touches herself just as she touches your clit.

You mindlessly begged, for what you did not know, but you begged regardless. Moans and gasps pitched higher and higher as once again the coil wrapped around. Oberyn slowed just enough, now dragging his thick cock along your walls as he pulled out more and more and slowly back up as you clenched around him. “That’s it. Good girl.”

The burning core threatening to once again push you over the edge, but you wanted to take not just you. Reaching down blindly to join Ellaria’s own hand against her clit, she moved hers to let you take over. Oberyns cock taking over your mind, Ellaria’s lips taking over your own, her tongue finding yours as you both moan into each other.

You both cum at the same time, your fingers harmonizing with the others touch., As your head leaned back against Oberyns shoulder, one of his own reached up and grasped Ellaria’s hair, yanking her head up to watch her own orgasm take over. While your touch against her clit slid down, overwhelmed by the persistent dragging of cock inside you, Ellaria relaxed more into the bed. Holding Oberyns hand and pressing her lips to it before returning it to your own body.

Oberyn wasn’t done with you though. Pulling you from Ellaria entirely, he forced your back entirely against his chest. Each fuck into you now so close he could feel your ass move with every thrust. The shallow pace returned, fucking you fast as your orgasm was given no chance to fall back down.

Only enough strength to reach an arm behind his bed, Oberyn tucked his face into the side of your head. “Again, cum for me again, sweet girl.” His teeth gritted and hissed into your cheek, nose pressed against your skin. “You want me to fill you up?”

“Yes, yes, Oberyn. Gods please,” Oberyns own fingers found your clit and almost tugged and pulled. A contrast of Ellaria’s smooth touch. His cock filling your cunt as the warmth spread through your body.

“Be a good girl, cum for me one more time.” His own moans interrupting his own words as he spoke, “Let me feel you clench around my cock, then I’ll fill you.” He groaned your name as his lips kissed the skin he could reach and his fingers against your clit rough. “I want to fuck you full of me, see it dripping out of this warm, “a rough thrust, “tight” rougher more, “cunt.”

The slap of skin echoed throughout, loud and penetrating like the cock hurling you back to your peak. Both arms now reached back behind his head, as one of his own held onto your breast. Tight and large, as his other remained on your clit as he fucked. “Fuck, fuck, close, sweet girl- thats it,”

Your orgasm had barley even left before it flooded back to you. The pleasure like a storm overtaking your body, your eyes shut so tight you could see colours through the black. Oberyns cock didn’t let up as he continued to slide in and out of you. Thighs below shaking, and not that you felt it at the time, but tears falling down your face as you begged his name.

Oberyn’s hands now gripped tight as he came. His cock thrusting slow and deep inside of you, as you felt his warm cum full you like he promised. Name muffled against your skin as he tucked into your shoulder and neck, filling your cunt with his seed.

Ellaria was near you, her body close and gentle touches soothing you and her lover.

You took longer to come down then Oberyn. His cock still rooted deep inside you as the world around you returned. Ellaria’s lips brushed yours, and her nose nudged against your own before Oberyns fingers tipped your chin to look at him. His brown eyes wide, deep and almost soothing, an intimate desire unlike ever before. For a while he just kissed you, letting his cock soften before slipping out.

His heart beat against your back, and yours beat into Ellaria’s own. There was little sleep to be found that night. It overcame the pair, a more calm confidence towards his fight the next day, but you couldn’t.

Your body drying with sweat and cum staining you, as you slipped from their slumbering holds. You didn’t dress. Not in those. Not in the things given to you for this life you were about to run from.

No once it was early enough you moved. Your hair had grown long, preferred by both Northern and Crownsland men, and it was dyed lighter. Shades lighter then your natural to throw people off, but now you needed to throw off those whom needed to be fooled already. Much of it was cut off. The obscene length now reasonable and short enough to make those double guess you. Then you grabbed the fabric dye. You drenched your hair in dye, a dark colour stained into your hair turning it into a deep blue.

The sun was rising now. The memory of the night before hopefully enough to feed the fire inside of you. Their touch, their lips, the still soreness and ghost of his thick cock remained inside you.

Hopefully, it was enough.

The buzz in the city was almost unbearable. One of the most infamous trials in decades resulting in a true trial by combat, both Champions incredibly skilled and renowned fighters. It would have been refreshing to see much of the excitement was over getting to watch The Red Viper in action for their own eyes, but it was also strange. Tyrion was the one seen as guilty, and much of those who are rooting for Prince Oberyn, were the same people shocked and horrified by Tyrions outburst against them at his trial.

He truly was something else, but he was there for a reason. He was a showman for the people to hide his intentions for another. Whispers of strange questions during the trial that made the audience laugh at it’s embarrassment, but you also knew who he was asking them too. That making people giggle at such lewd questions would make it harder for those with scrutinizing eyes to see him seeking the truth for himself in someone else’s silence.

You had little doubt what today would hold, at least to begin with. Gregor Clegane was large with immense brute strength, but he was also a monstrous and unpopular man. Oberyn Martell was quick, smooth in his movements, unexpected in his strategies, and he was also charming with an overwhelmingly handsome appearance that would tempt a crowd. Most of them didn’t know. They didn’t know the harshness behind his eyes, nor the pain he was determined to force upon the larger man.

Showing off his ego was simply a distraction. Watch him, not what he’s doing.

Walking out the door was easier then never coming back in. You hid yourself away, oversized dark clothes with a hooded robe to hide. Strips of your dress torn and wrapped tight to cover feminine features too obvious and bulk what seemed to dainty. The dye was burning and harsh. Liquids used to colour a fabric being drenched into your hair, the dark colour striking against your skin and would be distraction enough. Cutting it was the easy part. Hair grown down from months into more than a year living in brothels, long hair that looked luxurious like the long hair of a high born girl sliced through. Now sitting just above your now tightly hidden tits, less easy to spot or grab.

Both Ellaria and Oberyn knew you wouldn’t be there to see them off. Oberyn making clear to her where she should be able to find you, were he not there. You would be there, if you could summon the courage to do what was going to be necessary, you would make it. But they also didn’t know how you looked as you snuck quietly into the streets.

Plotting your path, you felt angry with every step. Rage consuming you for how such drastic events needed to take place just to give your life any agency, rage for the pain and horror leading to Oberyn doing what he was about to do. And what that action very well may cost him.

You remember thinking this city was disgusting when you arrived, but now you knew it was disgusting for something so much deeper. This was a city filled with those only interested in what they could gain for themselves. What was right, what as honest wasn’t anything these people cared for, people like you, the lives that could be lost for the sake of a families hatred for one of their own. None of that mattered.

And now as you stood, the water shining bright in the distance, and the quiet splash against the rocks and wood the only sound nearby. One ship was all you cared for now. Not a crew in sight, the threat of a kingsguard the only protection needed for just a transportation ship. You could see two, one older man with hard lines framing a dour face, the other younger and more fresh. Looking at his duty in front of him as if he was the last stand between him and, what? The fish below? You couldn’t tell how young he was, but it was more then yourself. Likely a squire for knights growing up and finally getting his chance to do what he saw them as. That was the easy one.

You knelt on the ground watching, breathing heavily with bare hands curled into the dirt. Most of the men you’ve known in your life would see no struggle with what you were going to do, but you grew up in a cage. Locked away for so long, now only needing the bravery to bite back keeping you from flying through that opening.

There was mostly silence between the two men until the younger one let out a dramatic sigh. “Of all the days to guard a Royal ship, I get the one where I’ll miss the Prince’s fight.”

The older mans eyes rolled to the side. “You complaining?”

Fresh face snapping his neck to the side, “No! No it is an honour, it’s my responsibility and I am forever grateful for it, I just-”

Snappy and annoyed he man croaks out “It’s a duty that’s it. We stand here, we watch empty fucking ships just because they belong to some back water Dornes.”

Fresh face fidgeted back and forth, “I- aren’t they called Dornish...sir?” The older man gave a slow moving glare his way, this was a talkative boy and he wanted no part in it. He just stared and glared making the boy fidget more. “Do you think, would it be permitted...Just some privacy so I can,” Gesturing uncomfortably towards his crotch, “I know we are not supposed to leave our posts, but I can’t with someone-”

“Seven hells, just go and piss already.”

Fresh face had only recently taken up his vows, hoping to make his father proud, normally paired with more experienced Kingsguard. It was supposed to be a learning experience, but for the most part he had hardly seen any action or people around here. If these were the traders docks it might have more to see, but this was a stepping stone perhaps? Test his patience for little action and then he will be trusted with more!

The gravel crunching under his heavy boots he felt much lighter. “Sir, I was wondering if-” His companion wasn’t there. Where a tall heavier set man with deep frown lines stood was empty space. Whipping his head back and forth to spot if he had walked anywhere, he could see the gravel just beyond a wall discoloured strangely.

He gulped and shaking hands tried to find a firm grip on his sword but the just hovered over it trembling all the while. The discolour became drenched in a flowing red, stemming up from strayed about feet. Feet and up with a body laying along with it all, his partner laying down into the path of the curving shore. Blood red seeping from just beyond the surface and an image of is partners head laying just too far below the shore. His own hands matching that of Fresh face’s trembling ones only his were reaching out to him.

One step, two steps closer he begin to hold his hand out when a heavy pressure fell onto his back, enough to lurch him forward but still on two feet, but followed was sharp. A sharp sting against his neck, his eyes straining down to see the blade of a dagger digging into his skin, and a shrouded figure against his back as if jumped onto him. “W- What do you wan-”

The blade pressed more with a shush, the voice higher then he expected. Raspy in whispers against his ear. “You see your friend there?” He nodded just once. “The cut on his neck is too deep for him to move anymore. He’s drowning in there. I didn’t need to go that far.” The head turned closer into his as the raspy voice felt more angry. “But I did to show you how far I’m willing to go if you don’t cooperate. Are you going to cooperate?” Scared and shaking he still nodded his head yes, voice too caught in his throat to speak. “I need a way onto that ship without your guards stopping me. How do I do that?”

Fresh face stammered in place, breaths wheezing and nervous sweat pouring from the teens head. He couldn’t feel the heart pounding against his back, too busy frozen in fear until they pressed the blade deep enough to cut just the slightest bit of skin. “Think fast.”

“N- no no, it’s, its just us-Me! Me it’s just me now for most th-the afternoon. There’s a fight-a tria-” A hand not holding a blade leaned in to grip his jaw in warning. “There’s a change in the evening, only crew shows up during the day. If it’s only guards your worried about it has to be done before evening.”

The shrouded figure pushed their head over to the man, his hands now flat on the ground, still.

“Move him.”

He stammered, trying to look back but the blade kept him forward. “He’s out in the open. Move him.” Fresh face nodded and waited to be let go, but wasn’t. The figure just gestured to the body, so slowly he moved. He was strong but it took effort to pull a stiff now dead man off into an unseen corner alley. Finally dumped off the voice rasped again. “I come back later are you going to be the only one here?”

Just as he nodded, the body seemed to move off his back in time for arms to wrap around his head and neck. Maybe if he weren’t so new he would have figured a way to defend himself, but again he only did this to impress his father, not because he was tough. His vision darkened until he slumped against the ground.

Your hand gripped the dagger now with drying blood so tight your knuckles stung. This was it. You couldn’t go back now, the path was laid out for you and now you took it.

A few moments were spent looking at your actions, until you tore your gaze from the open skin covered in blood on the older man, to the younger one now unconscious. Tearing your eyes around you quickly came to your senses and moved. Tearing fabric from the golden cloak on his back, you grimaced as you pulled his mouth open, putting one bunch in before wrapping another strip tight around his mouth entirely, and bound his hands together.

Empty crates, thrown in a dark alley instead of cleaning them up got pulled over and down from their tossed spots, and laid haphazardly over the men.

From the outside it was dark and off in an inconvenient corner. If you walked in, you could see it, but from here it just looked a tad more of a mess then before. It would have to do. Now there was one location you needed to go to. On foot, this far on the seas edge, it would take a while. Longer to make sure no one either saw you, or noticed you.

You said you wouldn’t go. You promised. But you couldn’t end it like this. If you were really to leave this place with such a shattered heart, you wanted to see him one more time. Regardless of what that would mean. So you walked.

The combat arena was a ways off, and you knew it was only a short while before it started. If you were going to see him one last time now would be it. Maybe you should have more faith in his ability, but you also had faith in your Uncle, in Janus. And all his abilities left him with was a mouthful of blood.

You could hear the crowd first. Cheering, yelling and gasps all around. Approaching all you could see was the back of the area holding the crowd. Trying to make yourself as plain looking as possible, the hood of the robe now up, covering your hair and keeping a shadow on part of your face. For once, your heart pounded, not out of fear from being caught, but for what you were walking in on.

There were sectioned areas beyond the arena for each side of the fight, you could see Ellaria standing tall. Her face was too far to see but you could read her regardless. Still like she was stuck in place, and her body taught with unease.

Tyrion Lannister stood not to far from her. Far shorter then anyone else, but still a man. Just a man. Looking somewhat like you actually, trapped somewhere you had no control over. No matter the outcome, he would have to find a way out too. You hope it won’t involve bloodshed like you, but in this place, that seemed to be the only real solution.

Finally, your side steps came across the outskirt just enough to see movement. Movement, and yelling. You knew his voice, and you finally found footing. Maybe too out in the open, too close to where Lord Tywin could see you, but it didn’t matter.

The large hulk of a man already struggling on the ground trying to push up only to be pierced back down by Oberyns spear. Blood spurting from the wound. The crowd yells in awe as if this was a game still. As if with a spear to the chest Oberyn Martell hadn’t yelled about this man murdering his sisters children.

The Mountain struggled to move, seemed to sputter flecks of blood, with slight gasps. A slice also on his leg bled. Such a beast unable to get up and power through despite widespread talk of being an unstoppable force. What hulking men like The Mountain don’t realize though, is that venom from a Viper is sneaky and cruel. When a Viper bites you, it doesn’t gash and bleed over the floor, it seeps into your blood and strangles you from within. Crawls throughout your body and leaves it’s essence wherever your blood takes it.

Oberyn had told you, posion is more useful when you can’t see it. That doesn’t have to be a weapon just on it’s own, and he also told you some men deserve a slow creeping agony.

The Mountain kept struggling to keep grounded, but Oberyn paced. His spear keeping a home in his chest dripping the wound with a searing fire. It wasn’t enough though. A burning horrid rage had built, and grasped the metal of the rail in front of you, grip tight as red filled more then just The Mountains insides. It filled Oberyn Martell’s eyes with a different kind of agony. One far more angry.

“You can’t die yet, you haven’t confessed.” He yanked the spear from his chest, blood dripping from the end of it.

Don’t do this. Don’t put everything you’ve worked towards fall apart now, you thought. But he kept going. Demanding the mumbling dying monster on the ground say it. “Say her name. Elia Martell. You raped her, you killed her children.”

Your lungs constricted and your hands shook regardless of how tight you held on. Oberyn turned to the man who created this rage. Tywin Lannister sat in the judging seats watching with a his own masked rage. “Who gave you the order?”

Oberyn pointing directly to Tywin. He had no desire to hide the crimes of the elder Lannister. “Who gave you the order?”

He yelled he demanded. “You raped her!”

There was a stark silence in the audience, this was no longer a trial, this was revenge.

“You murdered her!”

Blood rushed so loudly in your veins it felt like you could pass out.

“You killed her children!”

The Viper, hissing and snapping as it overtook the man. Oberyn letting his rage fill him, but there was movement amongst the Mountains. Twitches and flickers of movement as the man found a sense of reality once more. “Say it!”

The Mountain had a mouth once more. “Elia Martell.”

Your entire body jerked, mouth dropping open with a silenced gasp of horror. Oberyn was too close, too close and too blinded by the red of the Viper to see it before the Mountain knocked him to the ground. His disgusting bloody figure covered over as Oberyn grasped at him.

“I killed her children, then I raped her.”

You couldn’t see, you couldn’t see beyond the coldness in your body shaking you from your core, as the Mountain tried to find a grasp on Oberyns skull. Brute strength, Mountains are strong creatures of nature.

Oberyn was too shadowed by a monster to see, all to make out was part of his torso and head, enough to see the arm of that side grasping. “Then I smashed her head in like this!”

It was too late. Blood now was your own vision. The only man who cared in your entire life had died with blood spurting from his mouth as all you could do was turn to watch from atop your escaping horse. That blood has haunted you ever since. You saw the blood every night. You didn’t sleep beacuse of that blood.

Oberyn was there. He decided for himself that you meant something. Not just for some grand scheme for power that had so far tossed you around, no. You meant something to him, something that felt stronger and unique from the love you held for your Uncle. Your love towards Oberyn was a love that felt like future. Was that how he saw you? Felt for you? You didn’t know. All you could see was the blood.

Gasps of horror filled the arena, but not screams. Just blood. But not from the Prince of Dorne.

The Mountain remained hovered in his position but empty was the space below him. Blood dripping from his neck, just like what you forced on the man you killed. Sputtering and unable to control his body.

Above him, stood not a Viper blinded by rage, but a man. One you knew. Oberyn stood over him chest heaving his entire body with each movement, his teeth clenched and eyes still. But he was there. You could only see an arm and flashes of his body on the ground, but he stood, his face without massacre, his skull sat atop his head.

And a blade in is hand. A dagger, metal seared with fresh blood, his hand gripping the hilt yellows draping around it, and if you were to guess, a sun pierced by an arrow at the hilt. Only his, was soaked in a vipers cruel venom.

The Mountain hovered as he strained to gasp before falling in a collapse that echoed throughout. Oberyn approached and kicked with force to flop the man onto his back. The man not moving.

Oberyn had no eyes for glory. He looked at one man and one man only. Tywin Lannister sat in his seat, a face desperate to erupt, but could do nothing now. Slow steps forward Oberyn walked close to where the crowd around him sat.

“The Gods made their judgment.” Oberyn’s voice a grasping husky tone, unblinking at the man before him now. “They’ve seen the truth in your son.” His head turned to look at the bleeding lump on the ground. “Gregor Clegane however,” He turned back to Tywin, Oberyns chin high and spitting words back at him. “Your men, you, on the other hand. Your crimes have been judged guilty. And the Mountain has paid for his sins with his life.”

The two stared at one another. Tywin, finally, knew what it felt like to be trapped with no choice. So he spoke. Tywin stood up, and directed his eyes towards his son. The man he so desperately tried against. They looked one another in the eyes, and finally, presiding judge, Lord Tywin Lannister made the final verdict.

“The Gods have made their will known. Tyrion Lannister, in the name of King Tommen of the House Baratheon, First of His Name, you are hereby, declared innocent.”

The crowd was silent at first, and just as quickly, it erupted. The entire crowd on it’s feet, an overwhelming volume of cheering. A city once so ready to side against a man now cheered. Was it for him, or was it for the show? You didn’t know.

Your body loosened, the trembling and cold slowed down and turned to a warmer relief. Tears built up in your eyes and for now you let them. You had to go. The city was here, and your path still lay empty. You were told to get on the ship, and it was ready, you just had to get there.

It was faint, still a distance between you, but it felt like that first day in the brothel, peeking at the doors threshold watching Oberyn Martell risen up against the blood of a Lannister. The Mountain was just the same. A man so willing to commit monstrous crimes for the Lions that he was simply as one of them.

Oberyn and you looked at each other before he made his way to Ellaria. Body more relaxed, and a softer gaze towards you. He gave a single nod, and so did you. You yearned to stay, to revel in the moment and be with them, but you couldn’t.

Your window of opportunity was closing. Tearing your eyes away from him you turned away. Blood pumping in your ears you saw them everywhere, cloaks of gold everywhere. You don’t know how he knew today was the day you didn’t know, but the Kingsguard now knew your face, some of them too well.

And no amount of fake flattery and fake pleasure would make any of these men disobey an order from the Hand of the King. Your hood stayed up, and your head down enough to maybe get by. Crowds of people swarming the streets of Kings Landing and gold was everywhere. You needed the backstreets. Pacing down the stone path there was dim alley across from you that led away from most general population, it was risky but you knew exactly how to sneak your way down to the docks from there.

Dim and damp, water dripping from overhangs forming puddles below your feet. Each step was far, your toes hitting down first followed by the slow descent of the rest of your foot, not wanting to draw noise to yourself. The Street of Silk has it’s typical bustle of people, so you hung by the entrance of the alley, stretching your neck out so only a peek of your face could be really seen.

The faint carving of a mocking bird sat on the stone wall just within your view and so did the gold. Two Kingsguard stood atop the main step one with arms crossed and the other leaning back letting the other speak as his hand remained on his sword hilt. Olyvar stood at the open entrance seemingly reasoning with their demands, demands you suspect were to come in and search for me.

His head shook and a hand gestured to the other end of he street in frustration. The two glanced over before conferring quietly with each other. As Olyvar shook his head in dismay, his sight strayed far enough to catch yours.

Legs suddenly itching to move, one hand perched onto the walls edge as if to push off. His chin lifting higher as his eyes squinted, debating his allegiance when it was too late. The Kingsguard looking to see what caught his eye more then their interrogation, and there you were.

So you ran, and they followed. You had one advantage of being smaller, your lack of armour making it easy to slide between people but the crowd begun to part as yelling orders to stop were thrown down the way. The clang of metal closing in and thuds of running overpowering the sound of your panting.

People were being shoved just to get out of your way, chattering and protesting drawing more attention to you. Turning quick and trying to make it to a side street, you could see a stand of pomegranates just before the opening. Knocking it over a sea of bright fruit rolled down just distractedly enough that you slid into the alley. Throwing your body you crouched behind a series of crates.

You could hear the metal boots clanging as they passed by one end, but the voices of more on the other side came into earshot. Just beyond the other side of the street, there was enough leverage that if you got a running start you may be able to hop over a small wall.

There wasn’t much more time you could spend in the streets until kingsguard finally made their way to the docks before you did, and there was too long of a stretch between the entrance and inside the ship to go unseen if they were already there. Slowly pulling the robe off, it left you hopefully able to run a bit faster, but you risked being seen by the men now standing in the area asking if someone matching your general description has been around. You needed them to think you were still hiding in the area not making a break for the sea.

But, as it turns out, just maybe Varys hadn’t lied about helping you escape. A small child, dirty and unkempt had been sitting near where you were crouched, searching for valuables in the crates. As you glanced at him, he looked up at you. Your head tilted to the side, eyes widened in warning as you slowly brought a finger up to your lips.

The child though, narrowed his eyes at you in thought, before getting up. The child was so small that even fully on his two feet he barley reached the top of your head lower to the ground. Pulling something out of the pocket of his pants, he handed you a small roll of parchment.

He watched you look at it long enough to see the wax holding it sealed. Red wax, with a three headed dragon in the middle of it. Red wax as its background not black. The metal. It was the same as the metal Varys had slipped you.

You shot your head up to look shocked at the child, who just nodded yes. Copying you he put a finger up to his lips before nodding over to the opening of the alley. As you both approached, the kid made a dash. Knocking himself into the Kingsguard, and grabbing a pouch no doubt filled with gold. The running off in the opposite direction towards the city centre. Both men shouted at him and took off to catch what they assumed was just a terrible desperate little thief.

That sneaky bald headed spider. Truly was always watching.

So you took off running once more. It was easy from there. The poorer the area you passed the less you were to run into someone for you. You skid to a stop, pressing your hands against a wall corner and looked towards the docks.

The ship in question did indeed have crew milling about the area. You glanced to the barley visible entrance where your crimes lay, and to their previous station. You kept your body low, casual as you didn’t look at those you passed. Hoping someone on board did know what you were doing there.

Close in your view now as a man perched right on the edge of the ship over the dock, familiar black curls on his head raised enough to see brown eyes looking at you quickly up and down your person as understanding floated into them.

Moving just enough to meet where you were, you took a step forward as well before distinct questioning voices approached. Both you and the man seeing the golden cloaks you had come to so terribly despise. There was little time for you to think, the man had reached out his arm and pulled you up to the open sides.

It was just enough to give you the space to fling your legs over the side. With little grace you simple let yourself drop, your hands taking the weight of the fall onto your side. The slam still knocked your head against the wooden deck. Sliding one stinging hand to grasp part of your head as your ears rung.

Voices sounding like they were underwater , or you were. There were three and they were all close enough to shake yourself out of how dizzy you felt. Back leaning against the side, kneels pulled up to your chest as you forced slow breaths instead of the frenzied one your pounding heart demanded. One hand had the handle of the dagger with an unnecessarily tight grip.

An accent voice said something that you could really only make words out from the fog inside your head. “Thief” and “flea” something something “took off”.

You’re body finally sunk from its tension as you heard one patronizing voice interrupt the other. “We ask that you report any more incidents from this...thief... at once if any should occur. This is a private matter of the Crown.”

The ringing dimmed to a stop finally. “Whatever his Lordship commands.” Now that was much more patronizing, but it made you smirk. Picturing the guards no doubt leaving with insulted faces.

With a thud, your head tapped against its resting place behind you, eyes shutting as you let all the air out. Hand having yet to let go of the dagger as your curled fingers creaked from the tightness of your grip. It almost felt like a trick, a trap set now ready to sail you off and lock you away for use elsewhere. Nothing about what you had done and seen today felt real.

Opening your eyes as you exhaled audibly once more, you looked up to find the same man, features you now see more clearly as quite Rhoynish. Your steel gaze followed his body squatting down to your level. A soft smile on his face. “Lady Slate. My name is Yandry, Acting Captain of this vessel. I’ve looked forward to your arrival.”

You almost felt frozen, unsure of what you were supposed to do. Your hope went as far as getting to the ship, but your mind was mostly plagued with what if you got caught instead. Preparing as if you wouldn’t possibly get this far.

Yandry seemed to catch on to your hesitation. “You have been through a lot, my lady. But I promise you, you’re safe aboard here.” His gaze looked down to your hand and you lurched your body away from him. Putting his palm out slowly, “No harm will come to you here, I won’t ask for you to give that up. But I will ask that you come with me, get you somewhere less out in the open. At least while we remain in the capitol.”

Finally you nodded. Hand letting go of the dagger, you tell him your name. “No need for formalities. Dead women can’t hold titles afterall.” And finally put your hand in his.

Yandry smiles, “Let’s get you off the floor shall we?” Pulling you up you put a hand bracing on the banister to steady your other half. Walking down the length of the open deck, he introduced names as he passed by, each man polite and welcoming. “We have an unused cabin you can rest in.”

You raised your eyebrows in question. “Ellaria was adamant you be allowed to have your own space if you so choose. Doesn’t want you to feel trapped in with her and Prince Oberyn should you need some privacy.”

You nodded as he slowed his pace slightly, just before steps downwards into the expansive ship. “The Prince, would you-” He looked away and his hand meaningless gestured into the air trying to come up with the right words. “The fight, do you know if he,” trailing himself off as if not wanting to curse the outcome by simply speaking its possibility.

You nodded this time more firmly. Not so much a smile, but a bit more brightness on your face. “He did.” Yandrys shoulders relaxed as you restarted your path, “I’m not sure who’s more angry. Lady Cersei for picking the losing Champion, or Lord Tywin for being outsmarted by him.”

Nudging you in through the hall doors before him, he chuckled. “Pissing off Lannisters isn’t exactly something he is unfamiliar with.”

Leading you into a small cabin, he stood by the door to give you space to investigate. “It’s smaller than Prince Oberyn and Ellaria’s quarters, but it’s comfortable enough.” He watched as your back stayed facing towards him.

Looking around the room, once again. Like it was fake. Or a trick. Like this would wash away and you would be somewhere trapped once more, maybe worse. But you weren’t, at least not now. You spun quickly to face him, “I-” there was too much to ask, and not enough words in your mouth to say them. “Thank you.”

Yandry took the difficulty making eye contact and the whispered thanks as his cue to go. If the Prince had indeed won the trial by combat, then he would be undoubtedly demanding they leave sooner rather then later. “Until we set sail, I suggest trying to stay out of sight on the main deck. Those Kingsguard do like to hover. But anything you need, just find any of us and ask.”

Watching you nod once more, he quietly shut the door behind him. Leaving you in the silence, only the faint sounds of splashing rocks on the shore and loud jabber from the crew muffling into the walls.

Slowly you raised the dagger out of it’s hold, tenderly grasping it in your fingers as you looked at the blade. Blood now dried and stained over the metal, now shot up and splashed in your face once more. This time the blood wasn’t the distant image of a man bleeding out as you ran off on horse. No this time was different.

The blood infecting the water just above a drowning man, the splatter as it fell all over the ground with a single slash. Blood splattering up and spraying through the air as the spear was both plunged and pulled from the Mountains chest. And the blood pouring onto the ground as the Mountain lost consciousness.

But you weren’t a Viper. You weren’t anything anymore. Just a girl who sliced a mans neck open.

Burning your hand you tossed the dagger onto the table in front of you. The clank as it landed and laying unceremoniously amongst the other amenities. It was nothing to the state of this room, but the blood still haunted you.

Your heart pounded harder and harder, strength losing you as you stumbled back into the edge of the bed behind. You didn’t even make it, you just stopped fighting it, and slid onto the ground in front of it. If this were a trap, then you would simply wake back up in it’s nightmare. Maybe you should. Maybe this fantasy was all in your head.

It was hard to tell, you felt a dense fog forming in your head, and before you knew it, the need to sleep begun to pull you under it’s spell you before you could spiral any further. You were exhausted, eyes dipping shut. The faint yelling of Oberyn demanding him to “say her name” “Elia Martell” echoing through your mind. Maybe you imagined that too.

If you did, it didn’t matter. Sleep overtook you before it could linger any longer.

Your dreams were scattered, images of blood taken by your hands morphed into a monstrous void, memory of Oberyn kicking over the Mountain shifted into a nightmare of watching his skull crushed beneath his opponents hands, an echo of Ellaria’s screams before fading once more. The sea of faces and touches of men in brothels seared your skin as the dreams passed you by, watchful eyes and whispers surrounding you. The scene playing in front of you, your father, the bruises, the degradation, the horror, the swords plunging into an empty bed and the spear through your Uncle’s body. You slipped between it all as the voices faded in and out. Some sounded familiar, some sounded even closer then others, but it all swirled around you until you felt like you had fallen backward. Careening into the void once more before the lurch of your heart brought you back.

The cabin. Now splayed out differently then you remembered, you slowly lifted your head to see instead of the floor you fell against, you were laid out gently on the bed, a thin sheet over top you. Sitting up, the sheet pooled in your lap, letting you see your clothes had been changed and the blood and grime on your body cleaned.

The ship seemed to sway with a natural flow as the sound of water muffled through the walls. Slowly you slipped out of the bed and stood up. The room looked about the same, only with some food and water left for you on the table. Throat dry you easily swallowed down the water, but you eyes were not on the food, but of the dagger laid neatly on the table as well. The blood on the dagger now dried, staining the metal with your crime. Alongside it were the only 2 belongings you had now. The small note with the strange wax seal, untouched for you to read still, and the metal sigil. The same crest painted across it, and still leaving you wondering just how little of this world’s plans you may never know.

The note and metal sigil found a place in the neatly cropped pants placed on you in your sleep, but your hands hovered over the dagger. Trembling as you picked it up, the decorative handle shining brightly against the blade covered in filth. The blood in your eyes no longer a reminder of your own loss, but now of your actions.

It was a good few minutes you stood, hands gently holding each end of the blade before you looked up again. There was a slight view of the bright sun against blue water from the small windows looking out, beckoning you to come see it.

Tucking the dagger away on you, you slowly made your way to push open the door. Crew was scattered about doing their duties, some greeting you with a polite hello, others simply nodding before turning their attention back to their duties.

The steps up to the deck felt almost too bright. The sun once so hard to see from the inner depths of the brothels and dim streets now fell unhindered on the deck above. The blue in the sky unobstructed by any cloud, it was by all accounts beautiful. Each step you took up the sunshine seemed to get too bright, like it penetrated right through your eyes and tried to blind you.

The air once you reached the deck was crisp, fresh and clean as the ship sailed on the open water. The sound of the waves filled your ears with a clarity you’ve never before experienced. Trapped within walls and surrounded by woods and forests or dirty streets, the water now sounded so loud. The clean air smelling so different, as if it let you breathe easier.

Crew were more about on the deck, talking and shouting, some of which you recognized but none of these Dornish crew were the ones you wanted to see. Near the back of the ship, you found yourself stepping towards the barrister. Land nowhere near in sight, not a hint of Kings Landing, so why did you not feel better?

Why did you still see the blood? You hadn’t even realized it before it was in your hands once more, but you began to pull the dagger out. Eyes on the vast open water shooting down to the metal. Fingertips just barley holding onto each far end, but the blood staining the blade held firm. It stained the blade dirty, as if mocking you. It screamed at you. You cannot just cleanse your own sins by cleaning it, maybe you shouldn’t. Maybe you deserve the reminder.

You couldn’t be sure how long it was you stood there, blade in your hands and eyes trained on the blood just as much as your mind saw the blood in your memory. The sip of water from earlier had long since left you parched but you felt unable to move. Let your throat ache and burn raw.

Small parts of your brain begged to know where Oberyn and Ellaria were. Maybe they weren’t on this ship, maybe they wanted to travel home away from you, or hadn’t even left Kings Landing, celebrating Oberyns victory over the cruel man with blood on his hands. It was hard to focus on them though, not while you stared at the blade.

Your breathing quickened as you stood for longer, heart pumping blood furiously as your dreams flashed in front of you as real as they felt then. Your eyes stung with unshed tears as your fingers gripped tighter. Were you trembling or was your vision just shaky from tension?

You wanted to drop it, throw it into the sea, break it apart or let it finish your sins by washing you away too, but none of that happened. In fact, the trembling stopped.

A large, warm hand gripped the top of yours on the dagger handle, and a body hovered over you from behind. The hand prying your fingers out of the daggers grasp and it slipped it away from you, tucking it somewhere you couldn’t see.

The hands spun you around to face their owner. Oberyn’s eyes reflected so beautifully in the sunlight, the brown now stark and full of colour like the rest of him. His face watching the tears in your eyes desperate to let go, the shake in your hands tremble in your entire body. One hand tilted your chin up to look him in the eye as your hands tried to find a home on his chest, but the tremble turned to a shake.

The images were too real, and the blood you shed felt too present. All at once you felt yourself falling, onto to be caught in Oberyns arms. Your face now tucked into his chest, protected from the world as his lips found the top of your head, whispers of calm nothings falling onto deaf ears as the tears fell.

It was almost too much. What was done was too much right then, and it all spilt over as you cried into his arms. Mutterings of your name came through the noise, but he demanded nothing.

You don’t know the last time true tears came out like this, and you don’t know how long they fell, but Oberyn stayed firmly with you in his grasp until they had finally stopped. Your watery red eyes looking up into his handsome face as one of your own hands cupped his cheek. And in a chaste kiss, a kiss much more for long lovers then for whores, his lips found yours.

This time as you stood at the ships end, looking out in the water, Oberyns arms were around your front, at least one on you at all times. He had made a quiet request to a passing crewman as his thumbs were stroking away the scattered tears still on your face before you had found yourselves standing as such.

Now one such hand was toying with the shorter strands of hair now sitting loose and free. Chuckling at the odd colour now firmly dyed in it, “Not exactly what I remember your hair looking like all those years ago, but I like this far better then the absurdly long light hair you tried to hide under.”

Your own fingers came to toy with the end of the strands his own held, “I thought I should just wash it out, but I don’t know. The blue could be interesting.”

“Not a very Westerosi colour, that’s for certain.” Both you and Oberyn smiled at the approaching voice. Ellaria was almost more beautiful now then in the drab capitol. Her and Oberyn matched in pastels that let their skin breathe in the open air, and her face lit up just as much as the sun.

Oberyns hands slipped from your body as you and Ellaria fell into each others embrace. Her lips wasting no time finding yours, and you returned just as much. Both of you pulling apart only when your smiles made the kiss impossible to continue.

Her arms around you as you walked back over to Oberyn, him pulling you back into his chest once more as Ellaria hugged into his side, with her touch still on you. “We could pass you off as Tyroshi, a beautiful girl from Tyrosh travelled all the way to Dorne to explore the world and fell in love with more than just the city.”

You could feel Oberyns chest vibrate in chuckles, his own deeper voice much closer to your ear, “Doran and I have discussed a few options, for now though that may not be such a bad idea.” His head tilted so he could lean into Ellaria’s, pressing his lips against her hair. “Keeping your identity to just a few of us, until we figure out the safest way to protect you without having to hide you.”

You sagged slightly in his hold, the very concept loomed over your existence. Ellaria was quick to elaborate though, “Not like that, sweet girl. With us, in Dorne you are free to be yourself, he and Doran just need to make sure you are also safe to those outside of our own borders.”

Doran was the one you had met when you were younger. You remember him being kind and welcoming, but also distant and stoic. In many ways he was a lot like the reputation most Northerners get, quiet and guarded many but he was also warm to those he loves. If he and Oberyn had discussed what to do about telling people your real identity, then he must be willing to welcome you into his home. At least into Dorne.

Your home though, you hadn’t really had one before. Not one that felt like what home is supposed too. “And when I’m in Dorne, where...where am I to stay? Where would I go?”

There was a pause, long enough to get you to turn and look at the pair. Ellaria had a hand on her mouth covering her laughter as she looked at Oberyns offended but confused face. He leaned into you, his eyes narrowing almost playfully. “I’m not sure I made it quite clear little girl, but you,” he yanked you in close by your hips, his nose bumping yours as you fell into his personal space. “Are staying with us, with me and Ellaria. In our home. Your home.” His nose rubbed against yours as his hands now caressed the skin under your shirt just slightly. “I told you, the only thing I wanted from you was you heart. And there's nowhere I’d rather keep that, then with me where it belongs.”

Reaching out blindly you felt Ellaria’s smooth hand find your fingers, and pulled her closer, her hands wrapping around your stomach behind you, and you moved to cup the sides of Oberyns face. “I don’t know what the future holds for me, or what it wants from me, but just promise me I have a place with you at the end of it all.”

Oberyn cupped your face to match, pulling you up to look at his eyes, your name rolling gently off of his tongue. “Your home is with us, no matter what. I promise.”

As his lips found yours, tongue teasing and tracing yours, Ellaria’s hands traced along your torso, her own lips gently pressing against the side of your neck. Your head growing light with the need to breathe, you only could just pull from Oberyns mouth trying to mould yours to stay with his. He leaned in and bit at your bottom lip, tugging at it and watching it bounce back into place as you giggled at his greed.

Dorne would fade into view eventually, as would plans begin to form once more. The world around you three raged regardless of these moments together and it will demand your attention one way or another. The note, the sigil both sat on your person to one day be called upon, but that’s not what mattered now. Not this moment you spent in the arms of two people finally giving you love. For now, your morning was spent looking out into a bright blue water with the sun lighting the sky brighter then you’ve ever known.

Your fate was unknown, but in the arms of Oberyn Martell, you knew he wouldn’t let go of those he loves without a fight.

#oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell imagine #oberyn martell x female reader #Oberyn Martell x reader x Ellaria Sand #Oberyn Martell x female reader x Ellaria Sand #Oberyn Martell x you x Ellaria Sand #game of thrones fanfiction #a song of ice and fire fanfiction #oberyn martell fanfiction

[thosewickedlovelies]

Messenger Bird  |  Oberyn Martell x afab!Reader x Ellaria Sand

Rating: E for Explicit

Summary: Your flight path finally brings you to the bedchamber of the Prince of Dorne

Tags: SMUT: oral (f recieving), unprotected PiV sex, mention of bondage; Ellaria is in bed with yous but I wouldn’t necessarily call this a threesome; reader vaguely describes themself as being less experienced than Oberyn but I don’t think that should exclude many people lol

Word count: 5,991

Note: This fic is inspired solely by a scene in @radiowallet‘s fabulous Oberyn fic, to which I responded "10/10 would be the person who ends up in bed with Oberyn because he answers the door with his dick out 🤷🏻‍♀️”

This is like, a roughly canon au where Oberyn and Ellaria are married and the regents of Dorne. It's also mostly PWP, so. enjoy lmao <3

Masterlist

“There are few good reasons to be disturbing a prince this early-”

The door opens-

“-but there is one reason I am generally inclined to forgive.”

-and the first thing you see is Prince Oberyn’s hand, wrapped around his cock.

You gape, stupefied. Though cast in bronze, not iron, the wholly naked body of the Prince of Dorne seizes your attention like a magnet. All of your good sense screams at you to avert your gaze, but how can you? 

His hand, and the length it grips, are both shiny, smudged with damp. Is it the same fluid beading at the tip of his cock? 

Or has it a different source? In the background you hear sheets rustling, and a familiar feminine voice drawling.

“Oberyn darling, you know what your advisors say about answering the door in your skin.”

The prince’s eyes had widened infinitesimally upon seeing you, surprise and delight flaring for a split second. That hand moved- up and down, ever so slightly. The faintest motion, just enough to convey that he knew exactly what he was doing.

Something secretive sparkled in Oberyn’s eyes, just barely curled the corners of his full mouth. “What my advisors say, and what our little raven’s face says are two very different things, my love.”

“Oh?”

You wrench your gaze back up to Oberyn’s face, eyes wide. Heat prickles and swarms over your skin. Your tongue has dried up in your mouth, leaving you quite unable to address Princess Ellaria even had you retained the wits to.

“What are you doing up so early, my little messenger bird? Surely there cannot be any urgent demands of me with the day barely dawned?” 

Emboldened, Oberyn leans more comfortably against the door frame, titling his head as he awaits your response. He continues to tug on his cock, an almost idle motion- except his pace is decidedly deliberate. His dark eyes gleam.

Oh, gods, what could you say? That you’d been driven mad by your own need? That there was an itch under your skin which nothing could satisfy, one that had only grown stronger since the bloom of summer and the carelessly revealing fashions Dorne and its prince preferred?

The truth was that you’d barely finished your tea this morn, anticipating that indeed, there should be no important messages for the prince this early, when the Maester’s bark had startled you to wakefulness. Now the small scroll he’d given you was all but crushed in your fist, and doubtless sweat-stained besides.

Mutely, you lift your hand. Small mercies- the tiny seal closing the parchment hadn’t cracked in your grip.

Oberyn measures you for another long moment, eyes narrowing slightly. Scoffing, he takes the scroll from you, releasing his cock with clear displeasure.

A faint breeze blows past you through the open door. It carries the distant murmur of waves crashing, and the ever-present scents of salt and oleander. Silk hangings above the bed sway, glimmering in the rich, fiery colors of the Martell family, tassels fluttering.

Oberyn’s fingers are still wet. They leave fingerprint smudges where he adjusts his grip on the paper. His cock bobs with the faint shifting of his body, his eyes narrowing as he reads. Taking advantage of his distraction, you risk a longer look at the utterly bare body of Oberyn Martell.

Stripped of his usual flowing robes, the prince somehow appears taller. Every part of him is long and lean, rangy muscles stretched along his shapely frame. Despite his frequent act as the long-suffering hedonist forced to rule, there is a sharp intelligence about him- a calculating mind turning beneath hair often mussed by sleep, sex, or spearwork.

His cock is as long and sturdy as he is. As bronze, too. A trim thatch of hair curls neatly around the base, climbing up and stopping teasingly short of his navel. You wonder if the prince sunbathes nude, to achieve such uniformly sun-dipped skin. The moisture coating the hair and skin of his groin shimmers and winks, scattering your thoughts, and you swallow thickly.

You look up again, but you’d lingered too long- Oberyn is watching you already, his mouth curved up the slightest bit. 

He drops the parchment carelessly to the floor. “Tell me true, now, messenger bird. It is only unfortunate happenstance that has kept us from meeting in my bedchamber before now, yes?”

If before there was mischief in his eyes, now it is tempered by a clear, hard demand for truth. Of all the whispers throughout the palace of the prince’s exploits, one unquestionable feature was always present: Oberyn didn’t take unwilling lovers. One entered his bed out of desire, not obligation.

You allow your professional façade to thaw, shaking yourself free of the shock and focusing on the other feelings that the prince always inspired. Delight. Desire. Hunger.

“Yes, my prince.” You dip your head coyly, lashes fluttering.

Oberyn’s smile is that of one who has just learned his long-laid plans have come to fruition- and he intends to savor the results.

“Would you like to come in now? I hope you will not mind my wife’s presence- it is the princess’s bed too, you understand.”

Oberyn steps back in invitation, opening the door wider for you. That hardness has not completely left his eyes- there is flint to it, an almost-challenge sparking.

But your attention is no longer on the prince.

His movement has revealed the princess, still abed behind him. Ellaria has turned on her side toward the door, supported by a cushion pulled to her chest. The fact that it covers the delicate parts of her otherwise bare torso is plainly more by accident than design- the outer curve of her right breast is clearly visible, tan skin an obvious contrast against the orchid-purple silk of the pillow. Her slim frame is barely a ripple in the sheets of the enormous bed, yet her presence commands- no eye could resist her allure. Your lips part.

Ellaria smiles lazily, hooded eyes shimmering with laughter at the knowledge between you.

“I can think of little I would mind less, my lord.” Ellaria’s reaction warms you, inspires a bit more confidence, and you manage to stand a little straighter as you enter the room.

Oberyn glances between you and his wife. “Have I missed something?” he inquires. 

The door closes, and then you’re aware of Oberyn behind you, so close you can feel the heat radiating from all of his bare flesh.

Your mouth goes dry again. If Ellaria was the encouraging warmth of an arm around the shoulders, Oberyn was heat- mercurial as a desert wind. A temperature vacillating on the cusp of dangerous.

Thankfully, Ellaria seems immune to Oberyn’s effect. “I’m afraid our sweet messenger bird made a rather…special delivery to me last week, while you were otherwise occupied, my prince.”

“My heart! You did not tell me?” You can feel Oberyn puffing up behind you, his tone full of indignance.

The princess presses her lips together, clearly stifling amusement. “It was entirely too brief an affair, in honesty. Everything was busy during that period- it must have simply slipped my mind. Truly, I’m sorry, my love.” Her dark eyes shine, but the apology is sincere. Sweet and simple as sugared almonds.

“Hmmm.” Oberyn’s considering hum rumbles through you, like the purr of a great cat. “This morn is my turn, then. After that we will be even.”

You jump at the brush of his hands on your waist. The prince was out of sight behind your back, and his touch was a surprise that sent gooseflesh rippling over you.

“How does that sound, sweet bird? Will you let me ravish you like such a one as lovely as you deserves to be ravished? Will you share a morning of pleasure with your prince?” Oberyn lowers his voice to a deep rasp in your ear; he toys with the raven-black sash of your messenger’s uniform, but does not loosen it. 

Your body tightens and warms from top to toe. Ellaria has not taken her eyes off you; her gaze scorches like a fresh coal in a warming pan.

“I would be honored, my prince.” 

It would be a lie to say you weren’t nervous. There were rumors, of course, of the prince’s inclinations in the bedchamber. If nothing else, his experience far surpassed your own; he liked things to go his way, but this, at least, would suit you fine.

Finally, Oberyn pulls free the tie of your sash. He draws it off your shoulders, but then, still holding it, comes to stand in front of you. The gather of fabric is just enough to block your view of his sex.

“You must promise me one thing, Bird. You will tell me, if we veer too close to anything you do not want. Any activity, any place on that lovely body. I do not force things on my companions.

“I am a man of many desires, but among them will never be thus. I am your prince, not your master.” Oberyn holds your gaze.

A fragment of uncertainty still holding tight in your chest dissipates. “I understand. I promise, my prince.”

Those obsidian eyes soften slightly. “You may use my name.”

You hesitate. Even your fantasies had not dared to dream of such familiarities. “I promise…Prince Oberyn.”

Oberyn smiles then, a wide, pleased expression. He tosses your sash to the side, revealing his cock still proud and alert. He moves closer, and you’re reminded of the great cats that stalk the mountains in the north of Dorne- all sleek, bunching muscles and a singular focus on the object of their hunt. In this moment, you suppose that would make you the prey. It’s a dizzying, thrilling  thought: that the prince of Dorne, the Viper himself, seeks you.

As his hands seek your jaw now, sliding along your skin with the slowness of one who knows well the effect his touch has. Oberyn cradles your face in his hands, lifting your chin, your mouth- a cup from which he intends to drink deep. His breath brushes your lips, syrupy with the taste of wine. 

Oberyn’s dark eyes bore into your face. “Sweet bird,” he murmurs. His rasp is the last thing you hear before his mouth touches yours, and then your head fills with wind. Blood rushing and roaring in your ears, blotting out all other sensation but Oberyn’s mouth, full and soft and confident, urging you to follow his motions, guiding you into his world of sensual wonder.

And you follow willingly. You part your lips to the prince’s tongue, and relish the confidence with which he slips inside, weaving layers of sensation into the kiss.

Oberyn still holds your face to his. His hands span the entire length of your jaw, and they are not idle: his fingertips stroke and massage in small motions, sending tingles down your neck, pleasure rippling through you like wind through tall grass. You become aware, suddenly, of Oberyn’s body- it’s easing gradually closer to your own, the entire burning mass of it sending heat through your clothes, like leaning against the chimney of a great hearthfire. You inhale sharply. 

The prince withdraws from your kiss. He studies your wide, dreamstruck eyes, your lips, now appropriately kiss-swollen. Smirking, he looks to Ellaria for approval. His wife’s gaze travels down your body.

“I didn’t get to see her last time.” The princess pouts. “Undress her for me, darling?”

“Anything for you, my love.”

Oberyn returns his attention to you. “Yes?” His hands skate meaningfully down your back, to the laces of your dress.

“Yes,” you answer, and his hands are already working. “-to both.”

Oberyn laughs once, loud and bright with surprise. “Careful, sweet bird, or I will think you are here only to steal my wife from me.”

Ellaria’s eyes sparkle. “Sweet words from a sweet bird, indeed.” She shifts to lie more comfortably, relocating her long fall of curls with the sweep of a practiced hand. The cushion is carelessly adjusted, and then her right breast is fully visible, as pert and lovely as you only briefly glimpsed during your meeting. 

Ellaria faintly smirks at your expression, but a moment later you are both distracted. Your gown sags in the familiar shapelessness of undone laces, and Oberyn is quick to take advantage. He traces the exposed skin up your spine, and you arch at his touch, your lungs filling. You move to help him remove the gown, but he stops you.

“Slowly, now,” Oberyn whispers in your ear. “Give the princess something to long for.”

He draws your dress slowly down your shoulders, and you mark the speed. As slow and languorous as a drizzle of honey pools on a cake. Your heart beats fast. You have never made a performance of undressing for a lover- surely the lovemaking itself ought to be the show?

But as you grip the bodice of your dress, lowering it with exaggerated slowness, pulling the fabric tight to emphasize your breasts about to spill free- you think you understand. Ellaria’s gaze rivets to your chest, growing hungrier the longer you and Oberyn take to bare you. What is a main act, after all, without the opening scenes?

Your own hunger rises as you witness Ellaria’s. You finally lower the gown to bare your breasts entirely, but Oberyn’s hands immediately cover them. You gasp. His movement was unexpected…and very distracting. A small sound of pleasure breaks from you as the prince’s callused hands massage the tender flesh in a way that feels entirely deliberate. Knowledgeable. Like he knows exactly what this will do- this squeeze, this twist of your nipple, this-

“Keep going,” Oberyn purrs.

-this command, given in his sensual rasp.

Between the prince at your back and the princess to your front, you have nowhere to hide. No way to. Everywhere you are confronted with something that stokes the flame of desire steadily growing within you.

Oberyn had told you to keep going. One by one, you free your arms from their sleeves, letting the morning sun play on your skin, the sea breeze raise the fine hairs. The prince’s hands continue to massage your breasts, exploring every dip and curve of your torso as your gown drops further. Finally it’s at your hips, and without any extra encouragement you push it down to pool around your feet.

Wearing nothing but the morning light, you stand before the regents of Dorne. 

Or you try to- Oberyn has molded himself to your back, mouthing at your neck, and suddenly your knees struggle to hold you upright.

Any self-consciousness you thought you’d feel fades away as you turn in Oberyn’s arms to kiss him, and are welcomed eagerly. The prince rewards your initiative with an approving groan, hauling you to him, encouraging you to get as close as you wish. Every inch of him is firm with muscle, standing sturdy against your desperate grasping. You can’t decide what to reach for first- you want to touch all of him.

Especially the burning length trapped between your hips. You reach for it, and Oberyn lets out another low sound of pleasure, breaking your kiss as you tip your head down to watch yourself touch him.

Oberyn wraps his hand around yours, stilling your motions. “Patience, Bird.” His eyes dance, warm and amused. “We have plenty of time. I think the princess is getting lonely, yes?”

He herds you gently toward the bed, where Ellaria is indeed waiting, with something like envy on her face.

What could she possibly have to be envious of? The princess had no reason to suffer such an emotion. She could end this, remove you from her husband’s arms, with but a word.

What you don’t see, as Oberyn's handful of your rear interferes with your tentative climb into the bed, is that Ellaria’s gaze is not on the prince, but on you.

Your elbows buckle and you squeak. 

“Hurry up, or I will assume you wish to be kept in this position,” Oberyn growls from behind you- from over you. He has clambered over your back, draping himself over you and planting his hands on your wrists.

His tone is light with jest, but you have no doubt he means it. This is a common theme in many of the oft-whispered stories- if the prince and princess like someone enough, they might keep them a whole day, or night, or any length of time, really. For their use and pleasure alone. Even restrained, if the guest wishes- and from what you’ve heard, enough have wished it to make you wonder.

The thought makes you shiver. As does Oberyn’s grip, dragging your hands gently upward, forcing your face and chest flat against the silk sheets. Your breathing quickens. Oberyn’s hips press into your rear, his cock rubbing between your cheeks, and with your knees spread the way they are, you can feel the wetness of your own arousal smeared cool against your inner thighs. 

Heat flares in your cheeks. Is Oberyn going to fuck you already?

“Mmm,” he rumbles into your neck. “That is very tempting, but I shall take my own advice, I think. Patience.”

And Oberyn demonstrates a great store of patience, indeed. You lie, belly down in slippery silk, for an immeasurable length of time as the prince drags his mouth along every inch of your skin. You squirm and pant and moan under the delicious assault, fresh slick welling when he lingers where your thighs meet. His weight lifts off you as Oberyn finally descends, imprinting new damp patches down your left leg.

You take the opportunity to shift, half turning on your side toward Ellaria. She’s watching you, eyes slumberous and knowing. Her fingers trace light paths across your arms and chest- the first time she’s touched so much of your bare skin.

“Will you bring us songs as well as messages in the future, sweet bird? You sound so lovely when you sing.”

“If the prince and princess wish it,” you answer honestly.

You yelp as Oberyn switches legs, nipping your right ankle. Your flinch draws Ellaria’s attention to your chest. Her hand moves lower, boldly caressing the supple, sensitive flesh, all the while watching your face. She thumbs your nipple experimentally, and you bite your lip. She pinches it, and you gasp, the touch zinging straight to your core. 

This time your motion twitches your thigh away from Oberyn’s mouth. With a growl, he crawls back up the bed, shoving himself unceremoniously between you and Ellaria. 

“You have already had your fun, my love.” The prince falls atop his wife, his teeth at her neck. “Do not make me restrain you this morn.” 

He swallows the princess’s giggles with a shamelessly wanton, thorough kiss. 

“That would be a terrible torture, indeed.” Ellaria is finally able to agree, teasingly, breathlessly. “Very well, my love. I shall not interrupt your designs.”

Oberyn kisses her again, quick and soft. Resting his forehead against hers, he turns his head to you. “Perhaps after I am through with her, you can give me a reenactment of your meeting.”

His eyes gleam wickedly as he looks at you while addressing his wife.

They are both impossibly beautiful. Inky hair and rich coloring- the very sun yearns to embrace them, its golden arms reaching across the bed. They appear all the more unearthly when gilded with its light; untouchable as muses, models which sculptors might strive their whole lives to do justice.

But they are as physical as you. The illusion is broken when Oberyn again slides his body across yours, pleasure striking like sparks over your skin.

“Come, sweet one. I wish for my messenger bird to perch upon my face.”

Oberyn wants you to…sit on his face? Why? 

The prince stretches out on your other side. You sit up, wanting to oblige him but unsure of his intent. You don’t understand until Oberyn reaches for your sex, stroking lightly in a beckoning gesture. He growls in satisfaction at the slickness that readily coats his fingers.

Oberyn reads the hesitation in your face. “You have not done this before.”

“No, my prince. I’m sorry.”

“Do not apologize. It is an honor to teach new pleasures to the subjects in my care.”

The sheets rustle as Ellaria strokes your thigh comfortingly. “Oberyn had much to teach me, as well, when I first came to his bed. You will like this,” she assures you.

Oberyn makes no objection to his wife’s touch this time. “What is going to happen is you, lovely bird, are going to sit that shapely bottom here-” he pats his chest “-which will allow me to taste your sweetness directly from the source.” He dips the tips of those beckoning fingers into your cunt, leaving no doubt as to his meaning.

You are stunned all over again. Although this time some of your bemusement is surely due to the way the prince’s thumb joins his fingers, pressing at the bud of your sex even while his fingers continue to rub at something divine inside you.

You arch and whimper. “Prince Oberyn-!”

He chuckles, a pleased, approving sound. “That’s right, sweet bird. Come, take your perch and sing.”

The prince tugs and maneuvers you just so, arranging you above his mouth. His fingers are wet on your thigh.

His mouth is wetter. You moan, high and long and helpless, when Oberyn’s mouth engulfs your sex. Past lovers have done this for you (albeit in more traditional positions), but Oberyn has clearly received a prince’s education even in the carnal arts. Slippery heat and suction, concentrated pressure and indiscriminate lapping- somehow he knows precisely what to do and where, and when, and for how long-

“Ah~!” you cry out again as pleasure rushes up all too suddenly, pressure about to burst like a geyser. You squirm and try to lift away from Oberyn, but his arms are wrapped around your thighs, keeping you firmly in place. Surely it would be rude to climax before the prince?

Ellaria’s grip above your knee has tightened. In your parted lips, your heaving chest, she reads the signs.

“Take your pleasure, sweet bird.” Her eyes are now wide, rather than sleepy. “You needn’t wait to reach your peak.”

Her intent gaze is all the permission you need- as is Oberyn’s tongue, twisting relentlessly at your clit. Your uncertainty snaps at his wordless demand. Pleasure floods your system, climax shuddering through every muscle, everything pulling abruptly tight before releasing

The onslaught of bliss gradually recedes. Accompanying the very last of it is a long, deep sigh- a confirmation of relief if there ever was one. Your thighs tremble suddenly, after holding tense for so long. Your hands fall to Oberyn’s head to support yourself, fingers instinctively stroking through the short, bristly strands of his hair.

The prince tips his head back into your caress, revealing his mouth and chin shiny with your release. His eyes glint with satisfaction. 

“Was that as sweet for you as it was for me, Songbird?” 

“I daresay it was, my prince.” You are breathless and overcome with the sudden urge to giggle.

You begin to ease off of Oberyn, your limbs clumsy as if affected by the same buzzing that fills your head. It’s a giddy, bubbling sensation; it reminds you of a party the palace hosted, not long ago. You don’t remember the reason, now. Only that the prince had used it as an excuse to share a marvelous new kind of wine he’d discovered on his travels- a sweet, white vintage which fizzed, in which bubbles rose endlessly, seemingly without source or cause. It sparkled in mouths and in spirits all night long. He’d invited all the palace staff to the celebration, to try this magical wine, and had caught your eye that night. Your spirit lifted by the bubbles, you’d smiled at Oberyn.

Nothing came of it that night, of course. But now, with your body loose as if that wine were still fizzing in your veins…you cannot find it in you to feel disappointed. 

Oberyn takes a second to ensure that you are again lying snugly between him and Ellaria. Then he leans over you entirely, his mouth still shiny, and Ellaria sits up slightly to meet him. She moans at the taste of you in his kiss.

Oberyn’s manhood presses into your thigh. It is insistently hard, a ruddy flush to it now, and leaking freely. The fluid smears onto your skin. Eyes wide, you are entranced by the prince and princess all over again.

The ends of Ellaria’s raven curls brush your arm, soft and sweet-smelling. Following them upward, your eye catches on a necklace encircling her throat. A slender gold chain rests atop her collarbone. From it dangles small stones, their polished surfaces catching the light in shades suggesting a sunrise: pink, lavender, topaz. It seems to glimmer with a light all its own, the chain links shifting and tinkling as Ellaria moves.

“Perhaps you will have to try our topsy-turvy position with her as well, my love.” Oberyn murmurs against Ellaria’s lips, and you’d swear her cheeks colored the slightest tinge.

Turning his head, the prince notices what has caught your attention.

“Do you like her necklace, sweet bird?”

Oberyn shifts his body over yours as he speaks. Distracted by his words, you almost don’t notice the prince’s body sinking between your legs- until you feel a cool brush of air where there hadn’t been, and something rigid, long, and hot settle at the seam of your cunt. You draw a startled breath.

“I like how it sparkles and chimes when I fuck her, “ Oberyn croons in your ear. His tongue flickers at your neck, every inch the viper; the sensation crackles down your spine like a whip-strike of fresh pleasure. “Shall we find one for you?”

Your mouth hangs open, but no air or sound passes in either direction. Perhaps there are too many sounds you could make, and not enough air in the room; all you can do is stare.

Taking your shock as assent, Oberyn directs Ellaria to pick something for you. “We keep a jewelry box by the bed for this very purpose.” The prince smirks.

Ellaria stretches toward the nightstand at Oberyn’s bid, the sheets slithering down her back. She could be a sea-nymph, reaching out from a pool of gold, the silk glimmering like water around her. It is a mesmerizing sight: Ellaria’s long back, a slim braid of muscles flickering as she rummages in a drawer. Her arm arcs upward suddenly, triumphant, and when she turns back the silk slips lower still, and you glimpse what you had only felt between her legs that day…

Ellaria dangles her prize before your face. A short chain of gold like hers, but from which hang smaller stones like clusters of grapes, winking in the light. You can’t imagine wearing something so fine- but then, you couldn’t imagine being welcomed into the prince and princess’s bed before this morning, either. Being adored and adorned by two such breathtaking individuals at once.

“Perfect.” Oberyn’s declaration is hushed and reverent. “This will shine like stars against your skin.” 

“Put it on,” he orders. Then he nearly whispers, “Let us get you ready for me, songbird.”

In his tone is a wicked desire that you realize had been banked, before now. But now- as he pins your legs open with his own body, with his own hand- you sense there is no stopping it.

Oberyn slips two fingers into you, the first rush of the flood he had thus far contained. You gasp, thighs spasming. But Oberyn had drawn from you a flood of your own earlier, and there was no pain, only sudden recognition of an ache- a hunger for more than just the prince’s fingers.

Ellaria drags the end of the necklace over your chest. The metal scrapes gently over your nipples, a startling but not unpleasant sensation, and you squirm at the onslaught of stimulation- Oberyn’s fingers filling you, Ellaria’s fingers brushing your throat- and finally, the close-fitting chain clasping snugly around your neck.

You swallow, and feel the resistance of the unyielding metal against the bob of your throat. Oberyn watches you intently, hungrily. His fingers still move inside you, experimenting with one motion, then another, tracking your reaction to each one. You hitch your thighs open wider as sensations compete for your attention. You tip your head back, exposing your now-bejeweled throat to Oberyn.

“Do I sparkle enough for you, my prince?”

One corner of his mouth curls up, but it’s an almost mocking effect combined with the glitter in his eyes. “Let us find out, little raven.”

Without further warning, Oberyn’s fingers withdraw from your cunt. Every muscle in you tightens, your awareness narrowing in anticipation. Oberyn strokes his cock through your sex, readying you. Your hips lift toward the sensation. Your eyes lock.

The prince of Dorne plunges his cock into you in a single, breathtaking stroke. Your head drops back; your eyes roll heavenward. Oberyn’s loud, satisfied moan fills the room. He relishes this moment as fully as he enjoys everything else he does, his hips grinding forward into yours like he cannot get enough of himself inside you.

Your eyes are squeezed shut, your breathing short. Oberyn’s cock fills you like nothing you’ve ever felt, until there is no room for you to focus on anything but the thick, burning length of him.

“Look at me, Bird. Open your eyes.”

How can you do anything but obey? 

Oberyn’s gaze is fiercely alive, shining with joy and triumph at the pleasure connecting you.

You can hardly speak, but he sees it in your eyes; you have never been so thrilled to feel like a mouse in the cat’s claws. 

After that there is nothing more to be said. Oberyn ravishes you as he promised, raining praises like word of law, scandalous declarations that make you blush despite your position beneath him. Every stroke of his cock is a work of art. The prince draws out your pleasure from a seemingly endless spool, until you are unraveled, trembling, teetering on the knife’s edge of bliss.

The necklace around your throat did indeed glitter like a chain of stars. Oberyn thrusts into you hard, taking it as a challenge to make the stones chime louder than you sobbed each time. He thoroughly enjoys the way each thrust makes your curves ripple. He enjoys, too, the sight of his wife plastering herself to your shoulder, cooing encouragement even as she contributes to Oberyn’s treatment.

“You’re doing so well, sweet bird. My husband does have stamina, doesn’t he? And this after he had me earlier this morn…” Ellaria’s voice is lush and silky as flower petals- and as erotic dragging over your skin. “I had no idea you could sing so sweetly.”

Oberyn slows his pace. “I should not be the only one to have you today, my heart. I wish to hear what songs you make together.”

Oberyn grips your chin in his large hand and turns your face toward the princess. “What do you say, Songbird? Will you eat my wife’s cunt when I’m through with yours?”

You would have agreed to anything as long he brought you back to that dazzling edge, but this was a bargain you’d be happy to fulfill.

“Yes,” you gasp. “Gladly.”

A small smile tilts up Ellaria’s mouth. “I would be most intrigued to experience the talents of this lovely mouth,” she muses. “But perhaps I would rather eat yours, instead. You know how I like to taste you, my prince.”

She direct the last words to her husband, sultry mischief in her dark eyes. Her fingertips dance between your bodies, down, down, to where you are split around him. You jolt at the targeted pressure she places on your clit. 

Oberyn groans, his forehead lowering to your shoulder. “I fear you shall not have long to wait, my love. This cunt is truly divine- it may deserve further worship after all…”

His words trail away, praises only half-formed grunted into your neck. His thrusts speed up again. The two of them on either side of you, commanding your pleasure so sweetly, overwhelms your senses- as do Ellaria’s fingers, pressing precisely where you need.

Your mouth opens in a soundless cry as you tip over the precipice. Oberyn jerks his head up to see, and the gorgeous pleasure-pain contorting your features, your cunt fluttering in time with your body’s convulsions, yanks the prince after you. 

Ellaria watches raptly. Her husband’s long body, muscles rippling as he pistons into another, was a sight she never tired of. Neither was his near-snarl as he climaxed, his body seizing and shuddering in ecstasy.

The prince continues moving until your cries turn to whimpers, and your thighs clamp around his hips. A sinister thought briefly quirks his mouth- if he had not been additionally sated by Ellaria earlier, it would have taken much more effort indeed to slow him. Oberyn is rarely satisfied unless his lovers are all but unable to rise from his bed. 

A good thing then, that a familiar gleam has appeared in his wife’s eye.

As Oberyn lowers himself back down to your side, Ellaria takes his place, her body undulating atop yours like a serpent. The prince watches with lazy satisfaction. Despite both his recent releases, his blood maintains a low simmer at the sight of the two of you, the feminine swells of you squishing and spilling against one another. Like the overflow of cream from a bun, he thinks dreamily. Exactly how he likes his cream- overflowing. Perhaps he will be able to sleep now, and he can request some custard puffs from the kitchens later for a second reenactment…

You have barely caught your breath from Oberyn’s attention when Ellaria steals it again, her tongue slipping against yours in a familiar dance. Unencumbered by gowns this time, you are able to touch all of her, caressing down her spine and lower, marveling at the smoothness of her skin. She sits up slightly, and slickness that's not your own lets her rock easily against your sex.

“You sing too sweetly to release so soon, lovely bird. Have you any urgent appointments today?”

Your gaze falls to the black sash which Oberyn had so carelessly tossed aside. Before you can respond, another knock sounds at the door.

Oberyn lets out a half-hearted snarl. “By all the gods-”

Again fully nude, but appearing even more debauched than when you’d arrived, the prince stalks to the door and flings it open.

“Yes?”

It’s another messenger, although her reaction is very different from yours: she stares rigidly ahead, her voice quavering at the sight of Oberyn’s naked, recently exerted body. 

“My prince, the Maester sent me to look for…” she trails off when she spots you, her eyes flitting to you for a split second when Oberyn shifts impatiently. “I’m sorry for disturbing you, my lord.” She bows her head, her voice going squeaky.

“Tell him I have need of this raven for a special task today. I will answer his missive later.”

Oberyn is closing the door before he’s done speaking. When he turns back to the bed, he finds you with your head thrown back, writhing as Ellaria toys deliberately with your nipples. 

He chuckles. “And you tell me I am the incorrigible one, my love.”

Oberyn burrows languidly into the sheets again, stretching out comfortably by your side. You’re whimpering by now, a furrow in your brow rapidly taking the shape of disbelief. It’s a feeling he knows well. 

“Oh, sweet bird, my wife is a rare talent with her fingers, is she not? We have hardly begun all the things we would do to you…”

Thanks for reading 😘💗

Want more? Check out my Masterlist

#oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x you #got fic #oberyn martell fic #ellaria sand x reader #oberyn x reader x ellaria #oberyn x you x ellaria #ellaria sand x you #ellaria sand fic

[redahlia-writes]

not to make any promises but i might be finally writing the sequel to little prince

#it's low-key just filth ngl #but also i clearly have writer's block #so who knows #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x ellaria sand #oberyn martell x you x ellaria sand

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Wrap Around Pt.2

Pairing(s): Oberyn Martell x Martell!Reader, Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand

Warnings: siblingxsibling implied, longing, inappropriate behavior but nothing too nsfw, no p in v, no touching

Words: 1607

Summary: You and Oberyn stargaze as his lovers sleep in his bed next door.

Part 1  Part 3  Part 4

PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO ANY OF THE WARNINGS/TAGS

Nights in Dorne varied from freezing to uncomfortably warm. All these years growing up in the desert land, you still found yourself victim to the night heat that had you tossing and turning. Perspiration accumulated on every inch of your body. Your bed, once a spot of relaxation and comfort, has become a humid swamp. Even laying naked offered no relief. Skin simply too warm and having had enough, you sit up and swing your feet to the cool tile of your chambers. Enough to make you sigh in gratitude. Toes spread to fully embrace the fresh sensation. All too soon the red tiles beneath you become lukewarm, there was no way you were getting any more sleep. You wondered if your brother was suffering as well.

“We shall suffer together.”You muse to yourself as you go to search for a lightweight robe to drape over yourself.

The halls of Sunspear were void of noise, quiet as a Westerosi sept. It didn’t feel right to you. There was always life during down, people going about their business and talking amongst one another. Fluttering in and out.

In fondness, you run your hand along the crafted walls that were cut off by towering pillars. Lightly scraping your nails, you could practically hear young Oberyn’s boisterous laugh.

Guards that had the misfortune of patrolling so lage are used to your nightly wanders. The older ones could easily recount you doing it since the sweet age of six. They always knew where you were going. The destination had never changed.

“I was wondering when you would show up.” A crooked grin on his face should always be mistrusted. Moving aside, Oberyn welcomes you into his room. He too was down to the bare minimum of clothing articles. Scars that each told of a story were printed on his chest. You admired for a moment the strong bridge of his naked collarbone.

Despite there being little light, you peer off to where his bed was positioned. There nestled in a thin sheet were two figures. “Did I interrupt something?”

“Never.” Reassuring you, Oberyn leads you out to his balcony that faces the dead black sea. Oberyn motions for you to take a seat in the wicker chair across from him. It had always been your seat. Like many items in the palace, the chairs had been crafted by Dorne’s finest. The cushions were made from fabric imported from Essos. No matter how long you sit on it, they never lose their softness.

While Oberyn pours the both of you a glass of wine, he tells you “When you were gone, I would come out here every night and just stare at the distant water.”

You knew your departure had been tough on your brother. It had been equally difficult for you as well. Casually taking a sip, your taste buds burst.

He shakes his head free of the past and pushes his chair next to you. It didn’t matter. The two of you were together once more.

Not even the heat could bother you now.

With Oberyn you stargaze and reminisce under the protective blanket of night. The stars in the sky could easily outnumber the population of Dorne; perhaps even Westeros.

Elia had loved nothing more than to gaze up at the bright, celestial beings. When she wasn't scolding you and calling you her “little savage”, she would hold you in her arms as she pointed out the different grouping of stars. Each had their own legends and Elia told you almost all of them. A wonderful story-teller, sometimes that wasn’t enough to stop you from acting like a hellion. The only one who could really go toe-to-toe with you was Oberyn. He had been just as wild. When he wasn't keeping you in line, Oberyn was right next to you causing endless mayhem that had your elder sibling rubbing their temples.

When you brought up your childhood antics, Oberyn laughs and reaches for your hand that was holding your wine. “Do you remember when you got this scar?” Gently Oberyn uncurls your pinky from the glass stem. Running like a river across your pink was a deep scar that was almost a decade old.

You grin. It was from when you had begged Doran to get someone to teach you how to use a sword. He refused. You had been fully prepared for this rejection. Having never been a child to easily concede defeat, you had a plan up your sleeve.

As part of your demonstration as to why you needed a teacher, you “borrowed” Oberyn’s sword and accidentally nearly sliced your entire pinky off. The pain lasted only seconds for you. Doran relented and agreed to get you a teacher. He also sent you to bed that night without any dinner and forbade anyone from giving you anything that would dull the pain in your pinky. Oberyn, loving you more than he feared his brother’s wrath, would not have you go hungry. Once Doran took his medication to put him into a deep sleep, Oberyn stole into your room and fed you.

“You always contradicted whatever command Doran gave.” Draining another glass, you’re content enough with the buzzing in your head. Your back slumped against the chair.

“Only when it came to you.”

Warm fingers brush against your naked shoulder as your robe had slid down an inch.

From the day you were born, Oberyn had spoiled you with his affection; giving you whatever your heart desired. Even now you knew if you were to ask Oberyn to bring you an enemy’s head, he would gladly hand it over on a gold platter for you.

Sadly you think for a moment how no man could every compare to your brother. It wasn’t fair.

An easy silence rolls over like a sigh. Noticing how your spirits were depleting, Oberyn silently refills your cup. After having traveled throughout Essos, the nights in Dorne still could not be beat. Especially with your brother beside you. The heat no longer bothered you, a different kind of warmth was engulfing you quickly.

When you shifted your arm up to push away a wild strand of your hair, you felt your robes loosen around your chest and the slow descent of your left sleeve off your shoulder. Wantonly your cleavage reveals itself. Long lashes cast shadows over. Oberyn’s beautifully molded lips are parted and it takes the self control of a septa to prevent yourself from kissing him.

It wasn’t right.

Not with Oberyn.

But your body craved him like he was your only salvation. What had you done in your previous life to deserve such cruel inflictions?

You had made the resolve a few years ago that you would never cross the line with Oberyn.

That didn’t mean you couldn’t toe the line and test the waters.

He understood this too and would always respect the boundaries you had set.

Bravely tucking at the edge of your robe, you show a little more of the expanse of your chest. The dip of your collar bone, running down to your breasts. His hand twitches in response with the desire to cup your tit.

You dared to look at him and the vibrant shade of want overcame his cheeks. “If you could touch me, what would you do?”

Oh. What wouldn’t he do?

Oberyn grins, aware of the games you enjoyed playing. He runs his fingers along your jawline before leaning close to your ear.

You close your eyes as he describes how he would toy with your nipples first. Squeezing them softly between his index finger and thumb before taking it into his mouth to suck gently.

You squeezed your thighs tightly together.

“And I can assure you my touches will be slow and torturous.” He nuzzles the side of your face. So close to your lips. If only you had more courage. “For if I were ever allowed to touch you, I will take my time to savor every inch.”

Thankfully he also knew when you were at your limit. Oberyn leans back into his chair, trying to dismiss his own afflictions. After a sip of wine, he is ready once more; back to his sultry, teasing ways. “And if you could touch me, what would you do?”

Cheekily smiling at him, you lower your eyes in a coy deploy and open your mouth to reply. The groggy body of one of his lovers sitting up in bed behind him made you shut up.

Having watched the abrupt drop of your face, Oberyn turns around. Only taking you seconds to cover your chest and readjust your clothes, you squint into the darkness.

“(y/n)?” Ellaria calls out in a sleep muffled voice. “Is that you?”

You breathed more easily and stood up alongside Oberyn. “Sorry for waking you. I was just about to go back to bed.” Setting down your wine glass you realised the insides of your thighs were wet.

Hastily passing by the bed and a quick kiss to Ellaria’s cheek, you bid them both a good night.

Had things gone too far? It worried you during your scurry back to the safe haven of your room. Tucked behind your door, you let yourself fall onto your bed. The racing of your heart drummed in your ears.

So close.

He had been so close to you. You could easily see the fine points of his eyelashes. Ingraining his full, heart-shaped lips into your memory.

Achingly slow, you run your hand down your neck and past your robes; descending further down until. . .

You close your eyes and moan, replaying Oberyn’s words.

-----------

Taglist:

@hoziersfairy​

@rosaliedepp​

@iiconicxpersona​​

#oberyn mar #Oberyn Martell #Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand #oberyn martell fanfiction #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x you #reader #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones fanfic #Game of Thrones fandom #ASoIaF #asoiaf fandom #asoiaf fanfiction #asoiaf fanfic #asoiaf fic #A Song of Ice and Fire #a song of ice and fire fanfiction #a song of ice and fire fanfic #A Song of Ice and Fire fandom #got #got x reader #got fanfiction #got fanfic #got fandom

[wardenparker]

The Viper’s Bride - ch 7

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

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

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 20.3k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: terrible parents, age gap 10+ years, arranged marriage, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol, internalized homophobia. Reader is described as having hair long enough to braid* Flirty Oberyn deserves his own neon sign of a warning. References to pregnancy and childbirth. Oberyn has a short fuse. Dirty talk, oral sex (f receiving), hair pulling, spanking, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, cum play Summary: Your trip out to the marketplace ends up being a more fruitful and more meaningful endeavor than you ever could have guessed. And with the burden of secrets lifted, things between your foursome are beginning to progress. Notes: Honestly this chapter brings me so much joy. Things are growing and coming together, and these four have So Much Emotion. I just adore the way they fit together.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It is hard not to feel like one when you shower me with such praise." You reach for him, already wanting him as close as can be.

Kneeling on the bed, he smirks and starts crawling towards you. "You want to consummate our vows, princess?" He asks with a growl.

"Gods...yes." He prowls closer and you seem to melt immediately in response. Breathless and covered in gooseflesh from wave after wave of arousal, if you were not already laying down you might have dropped to your knees at that question.

"I am glad you are not a shy, virginal miss." He admits, kneeling between your thighs and sliding his hands up your thighs. "So you are not shocked when I do this." He drops his head down and dives into your cunt with his tongue.

The ferocity of his resolve has your head dropping back to the pillow and a whimper crossing your lips immediately. Every encounter you have ever had has been clandestine and your own sounds of passion have always been muffled because of it. The idea that you do not have to hold back tonight is making your mind spin as much as anything else. Your knees draw up to your chest and your back arches, your body undulating with pleasure beneath him and your hands twist in the sheets on either side of you. A virginal miss you are not, but he is still only the third lover ever to touch or taste you in this way.

As much as Oberyn likes to receive pleasure, he also likes to give pleasure. Some might think it's his ego or reputation that makes him focus on his lover, but it's the sounds they make. Pulled from them by the flick of his tongue, the curl of his fingers or the thrust of his cock. "Hmmmm." He groans as he looks up at you and smirks at the rapturous look on your face as he devours your cunt.

There is no tentative exploration, no time spent delicately mapping the dips and dimples of your skin. There is only the fervent and greedy sounds of Oberyn's tongue spearing into your pussy as your soft sounds of pleasure grow slowly but steadily louder. His hands squeeze and grope your hips and thighs, coaxing you to start rolling your hips against his face. He pulls his lips away to smack them. "Enjoying yourself, princess?"

"My–" A gasp passes your lips when he licks a stripe up the length of your slit. "My husband is very p–pleased with himself." Even teasing him comes out stammered as your whole body shakes with every stroke of his talented tongue.

"Very pleased, wife." He chuckles before he reapplies himself to making your cunt cream and quiver with pleasure while you shout his name. In part to show you what he is capable of when you visit his bed, but mostly because he wanted to taste you. So he is.

The first time your hand strikes out to steady yourself against him it is a very odd sort of revelation. Raeden has never had hair on his head for as long as you have known him, and you were careful not to dislodge a single strand on Brynna's head for fear of discovery. But now? This is your husband. And a man who has made his fame as a lover, no less. So when your fingers find his hair by accident you let them explore, wondering if the prince will enjoy such a sensation.

Oberyn groans while your nails scratch against his scalp, eyes fluttering as his tongue swirls even faster. You have discovered his love of having his hair played with and his fingers dig into your hips.

"Gods." The more you explore the more he dedicates himself to his task, and your voice cracks as it raises. That familiar feeling of a knot twining around itself in your belly is building like a wildfire and you cry out wordlessly.

When you start to cry out, Oberyn is instantly addicted to the sound. Sucking your clit into his mouth, his chin gets soaked in a flood of your cum as your cunt spasms around nothing. This bliss is not unfamiliar, but it comes with an intensity this time that has you shaking and arching off of the mattress. With the freedom to be vocal you very well might cry yourself hoarse but for pleasure like this it will be exquisitely worthwhile.

He loves how your cries ring in his ears, very different from the quiet moans that he had barely heard the first night that you had stayed here. Your wedding night. Now it's loud and telling everyone who passes by that you are being pleasured in here.

When the dam breaks you feel every inch of your body tense up, spasming tightly so that even your fingers twine into his hair with fervor. The crashing waves of pleasure turn the world blank around you until you soften, going limp against the bed and sighing with the first breath you've taken since you started cumming.

Oberyn pulls his lips off your clit with a smug, satisfied smile as he watches you try to catch your breath with a soft puff of air. "Did your husband disappoint?"

"Of course not." If you could move you would be crawling down to him to return the affection but you will need at least a moment or three before you are anything but limp. "I knew you would not."

"Good." He purrs, smirking and he drops a kiss on your hip before he climbs up your body. Dropping another kiss on your lips before he caresses your cheek and shifts to lay down beside you.

The taste of your own arousal from his lips has you humming again, drawn to him and rolling over to your side to stay close to him. Your hand wanders tentatively, tracing the muscles of his chest and arms dreamily. "Are all women so similar that you know our bodies by instinct?"

"Years of practice." Oberyn chuckles, as he runs a finger down your arm and then around your nipple, looking down and watching it stiffen even more from the gentle pressure.

Your breathing turns shallow all over again, your back finding that familiar arch to chase the soft sensation of his touch. As if following it could make it more firm. "You have learned your skills well."

"Yes?" He smirks as the nipple tights even more, gooseflesh breaking out over your flesh. "You enjoy my touch, wife?" He asks softly. "You are not just enduring my touch?"

"I would never have endured any unwanted touch." That was a promise that you had made to yourself, but now you shake your head and inch closer to him on the bed. "I...cannot explain why I have felt as drawn to you as I am. But perhaps it is lucky."

"Many have been lucky." He admits, deciding that he is done teasing your nipple and he pinches it, rolling it in his fingers just harshly enough to make your breath hitch.

The feeling is sharp, shooting directly between your legs and making you shiver. "I have no trouble believing that you have entranced anyone you have ever crossed paths with."

"I wanted you from the first time we met." He confesses easily, watching you with dark eyes as he continues to pinch and pluck at your breast. "Your spine. Your defiance."

"I am far less defiant after cumming," you laugh softly. Spine, though, you have. In this moment it comes in the form of cupping your hand over his, showing him the much rougher pressure you prefer to be touched with. Featherlight touches are pleasurable to begin with, but the mornings you are sore after taking Raeden are always your favorite.

Humming delightly, he is thrilled that his lady wife is not the prim and proper miss he had feared. You like a rougher touch. "You like a little bit of pain with your pleasure, star?" He growls. "How do you like to be fucked, princess? Should I have Raeden come in here and show me?"

That suggestion conjures an image that makes you whine instinctively. Allowing yourself to accept these desires you once considered sinful encompasses more than you might have been willing to admit to yourself. "Raeden is sometimes afraid to hurt me," you admit. Though other times his passion knows no bounds. "I..." A gasp passes your lips again when his fingers twist your pebbled bud sharply. "I think...to be wanted as a woman is more pleasurable than to be worshiped on a pedestal."

"You like it rough?" His eyes flash and he leaps up to his knees to reach down and grab you by the elaborate braid that your hair is tied up in. He pulls you up, not harshly enough to hurt you but enough that you hiss.

The initial sharp sound from the back of your throat is nothing compared to the next – a vocal moan that would embarrass you if you were not so intrigued by the prince's seeming glee at this revelation. "I want to know what it is like," you tell him, chest heaving even at the thought.

"I had thought to take you slow, sweet." He admits, holding your hair and wrapping his hand around it. "But now I think the princess would like to be treated like a whore." He taunts with a grin. "So I will fuck you on your knees until your arms give out."

"You are pleased with this?" The depth of the rumble in his voice says he is, and the way he bends your back with your hair tight in his grasp. If this is how it felt to him to have your fingers in his hair a few moments ago, you fully understand how much he enjoyed it.

His cock presses against your ass as he positions you how he wants you, spreading your knees farther apart than normal, pushing you low to the bed. The smear of precum dribbles across your ass and he twitches when you moan again. "I do." He grunts. "You will look good, exhausted and dripping my cum."

The cool air washes across your skin and raises gooseflesh all over again. The way he has you positioned means your cheek is pressed into the mattress and your cunt is on full display while he takes in the view of you. "I think it will be harder to exhaust me than you expect."

"You do, hmmm?" He smirks wickedly and raises the hand that is not wrapped up in your hair. Bringing it down sharply on your ass.

"Ah!" The sound could be mistaken for pain if he was not looking at you, but the way you squirm and roll your hips back to him to ask for more is very obvious. That cry was pleasure and pain combined, the very way you hoped it would feel.

"You would not doubt me if you had been paying attention to the cries of pleasure last night." He hums, slapping your ass once, twice, three more times one right after the other.

It was not the time to listen last night, it would have angered or frustrated you rather than proving any other kind of point. But instead of saying so, you whimper eagerly and try to look over your shoulder at him. His hold on you is too tight to allow it and somehow that is even more arousing. "Prove it to me."

He puffs up his chest, his grip of your hair even tighter with the way you twist your head. With his cock, firmly in his hand, he pulls back the foreskin that covers the sensitive tip and he pushes his hips closer to line up and sink into your cunt without warning or any pause until he is buried completely in your warmth.

"GODS." He feels thicker than Raeden once he is inside you, making it not matter in the least that the prince's cock is not quite as long. Your whole body seems to shift to accommodate him and when you moan again it is pleading. More. More of this. It is exactly what you want.

He gives you long enough to cry out to the seven before he is pulling his hips back. Barely giving you time to miss the feeling of him inside you before he is snapping his hips forward and filling you again.

It is a feeling so sharp and dizzying that you are glad to be pressed into the bed with your ass in the air or else your mind might spin. The brutal pace he sets has you sobbing in pleasure and moaning at the sharp pull on your scalp. The bed creaks beneath you, and though there is no headboard to bang against the wall the frame certainly knocks against stone with every thrust.

The hand in your hair serves to keep you near, using it as if he were holding the reins and riding a horse. The swings of his hips slap against your ass and he watches your body bounce and jolt from the force of his thrusts. "You feel me now, princess." He hisses, gritting his teeth and increasing his pace.

You can feel nothing but him, and the overwhelming sensations are flooding your body to make you crave that same rough touch everywhere. While one arm braces you on the mattress, your other hand kneads your breasts and pinches harshly at your nipples, giving yourself the extra sensations your body is seeking.

Oberyn growls watching you and approving of you taking your pleasure for yourself. Once you are used to being in his bed, he will have someone bite and suck your nipples while he fucks you.

The great cacophony of sounds overtakes everything else. Every sense is his, every sound and sinful scent. The grip of his hand on your hip is bruising and you relish it, hoping to ache there tomorrow as surely as you will ache between your thighs. The prince’s talent has not been exaggerated, not at all, and you are climbing that peak to pleasure again more quickly than you ever thought possible.

Oberyn rides you hard, the slap of skin filling the room, sweat glistening on his skin. He changes the pace, instead of hard and fast, it's hard and deep. He makes sure that you feel every fat inch of his cock as he pummels it into you, your back arching at every thrust when he bottoms out.

When your second peak washes over you it is more like the crashing of a great wave on the ocean. It comes with a cry of his name – perhaps now the fourth time you have ever said it and this time you feel as though it is the only word you have in you. Your body locks down on him, drawing his cock as deep inside you as you possibly can while you spasm beneath him, all the while praying for more.

As soon as your grasping cunt relaxes around him, he pulls free, letting go of your hair as he rolls you onto your back and shuffles his way between your thighs again. His cock bounces, dripping with your release and still rock hard since he has not found his own pleasure yet.

Instinct and want give way to all else tonight, and when you push up on shaky arms to kiss him it is a devouring thing that demands to be known. Your own attraction has cracked and become hunger and you will not apologize to anyone for it anymore. Not even yourself.

If he’s surprised by the ferocity of your kiss, he does not allow it to be seen. Matching it, battling with your mouth even as he is pushing his cock back through your folds and impaling you once again. Swallowing your gasp of air as he fills you again.

Being under him in any way is wonderful, you have decided, as his renewed thrusts crush you to the mattress again with a force that speaks of desire that easily equals your own. This time your arms and legs twine around him to keep his deep thrusts close and encourage him to grind his hips as far into your body as he can.

Braced above you, Oberyn's necklace swings between you as he rocks his hips forward. Crashing them into yours over and over as he grunts and groans when your cunt flutters and squeezes him.

Like the torrents of a storm-blown sea, every rock of his hips sends you reeling. There is no mercy from his force and at the same time you would not want there to be. Wordless cries from both of you flood the air as your slick bodies move together and you start to feel his thrusts grow steadily less measured.

Oberyn watches you, memorizing your face as you start to come apart underneath him again. Feeling his own end getting closer with every thrust. He shifts, grabbing your hair and pulling you up to crush his lips to yours while he pushes you over the edge again.

It is fortunate that when your body stiffens and pulses for the third time, that your mouth falls open wide instead of clamping shut, or else the slide of his tongue against yours would be cut short quite unfortunately. But instead you cling to him, kept close by his grip and your intertwined bodies, desperate for him to find his own end and feel even a morsel of the pleasure he has given you tonight.

He is desperately close, body tense and every spearing of his cock and his tongue into you is accompanied by the groan that is breathed into your mouth. Only to rip his lips away from yours to groan your name as he thrusts deep one last time and rocks his hips to grind deeper, shooting his spend deep into the hot cavern of your womb.

A deep, comforting silence falls between you as you both work to find your breath again. The only sounds for a long moment are panting and the soft sounds of endless kisses as you both float back down from your peaks together.

"No one can say you aren't properly wed." Oberyn hums cheekily, smirking as he twitches inside you and your walls grip him in reflex. "How do you feel, princess?"

“As though I will still be feeling you tomorrow.” You giggle slightly, feeling the sound come from deep in your chest. “If that is how you fuck your whores, they are all of them very lucky.”

"It is how I fuck anyone that likes it rougher." He hums. "Although I did not go quite as hard as I could have." He admits. He didn't want you to be horrified by it if you were not used to such things.

Your eyes widen slightly but the idea of more, but at the same time it sounds good enough to have you sighing. “I hope you are not too surprised at me. For that to be how we are together the first time.”

Oberyn chuckles and he leans down with a softer kiss before he pulls out of you. His body shifts and he leans on his elbow to gaze down at you with a smile. "There is nothing surprising about our needs, star." He assures you, unable to resist sliding his hand down your body to push your closing thighs back apart so his fingers can be soaked in a combination of your fluids. "It was perfect because it was honest, genuine."

Curled into his side, the fact of his fingers between your legs is an odd comfort. The fact that he is not simply turning over to sleep is not what, apparently, most women receive from their husbands. “Do you enjoy this?” You ask him, looking down at his hand with curiosity. “To feel what has come of pleasure? Wonder if another child has been made?”

"I always enjoy pleasure." He trails his wet fingers over your mound and circles your belly softly, where your womb would possibly one day house his heir. "If your tea has not been drunk, then perhaps a child has been created." His dark eyes find yours, soulful and full of interest. "If a child has been made, would you be proud?"

“I think…I think I would be, yes. Although I would probably cling to Ellaria with nerves.” He knows your apprehensions about childbirth now, and surely understands why you will be glad to have an experienced mother nearby for your confinement. “Although,” you tilt your head at him. “I am curious to know how you know about my tea.”

"There are few methods that are used to prevent children." He smirks and slides his hand back down to dip it back into your cunt to gather more of his seed. "I have brewed tea for my lover, and if you wished, I would brew it for you now." He offers softly, circling your womb again as he looks at you expectantly.

Leaving it up to you is a surprise, but you give the idea real thought now that he has given you the opportunity. The silence lingers, but finally you look up to meet his eyes and shake your head. “Let a babe take root whenever the gods will it. I will grow your heir proudly.” It is a duty, as well as this boundlessly growing affection for him, and you lift your head to kiss him softly. “Thank you for giving me a choice.”

“The choice is always yours, Princess.” He promises you softly, pleased that you are willing to see what the Gods will. It speaks to your growing bond, only three days old and he knows that he is irresistibly drawn to you. Feeling as if you were fated by the seven or the old gods themselves.

Your fingers gently stroke the long line of his cheek and that pull you feel around your heart is beginning to feel undeniable. But you smile, that soft affection lining your face, and lean up to kiss him. “We will let the gods decide, then, when your first heir is born. I will stop drinking my tea for now.”

“If you stop drinking your tea, your Raeden cannot finish inside you.” He reminds you softly. “My named heir will be of my seed.”

“I remember our agreement.” The choice is not one to be taken lightly, but it is of great importance. “It is enough that I might be able to one day bear the children of both the men I treasure. That yours must be first is a matter of more importance than just desire.”

Oberyn nods, his face filled with respect and pride at your decision. “I will not mind you carrying your soulmate’s child.” He promises. “As many as you would wish to have them bred on you.”

“We will see.” It makes him more extraordinary than you can say, that he is so willing to accept Raeden as a part of your life, and instead of trying to form that particular thought you end up kissing him again. “Thank you for what you did for him. To not have a place in his father’s House or a name he can take pride in has caused him great pain through his life. I know it means more than all seven heavens to him.”

“He is a good man.” Oberyn knows that just from his few interactions with the man. “He is honorable and honorable men deserve to feel as if they have a place in this world.”

"You are both good men." you tell him without the intention of brokering a single doubt. "And Ellaria and I are very lucky to have such soulmates."

He smiles, accepting the compliment and nods. “Handsome men.” He adds with a roguish wink.

It does not matter that he is correct – that both he and Raeden are incredibly handsome on their own and that together they present a nearly irresistible pair – you must tease him for it at least a little. "And terribly humble," you add, rolling your eyes for effect.

“Terribly.” He agrees with a grin as he leans down and kisses your jaw right before he nips it with his teeth. “Shall I tell you about all the men and women who want me? Crave my cock and my attention?” He teases. “But I wish to be right here.”

"I have watched every person you pass by fall instantly in love with you in at least some small way, and I have only known you for three days." That he wants to spend time with you is precious enough, you will not waste it with hearing of any others. When he wants to be with them, he will go to them. And if they become important enough in his life, you will surely hear their names and learn their faces. "But I am glad to know that you enjoy the time we spend together."

“I am sure there is more time to come.” Of that he is certain, feeling that it will be important as time goes on.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord

TVB: @janelongxox @ischysiaclark @amneris21 @septimaseverinaficrec @ficsbynight @inkededucatednnerdy @spookyxsam @fishingforpike @spishsstuff @theolddemon @heareball @thatrageingbisexual @dinoflower @i-am-amora-the-enchantress @smallestsnarkestgirl @kiki13522 @wheresonichedgehogwnt @br33zy-blizzardz @justpeachyandyou @rhymingtree @sophiedore1700 @benwitcher @secretmoonsalad  @emily-12342 @victorian-cherub @princessloveweird @savannaisthebombdiggityyo @darkness-falls-xo @dont-tell-anybody8973 @fishingforpike @julesonrecord @gooddaykate @pedropascalfan221 @trekinthruthestarswars @thgswsnitg @gianlucasnutella @lilwrldbigwlrd @eddie-munsons-mommy @margaridass @monicapennington @im-sylien @we-could-have-been @stinkyfishy @boo8008 @whatthehellisgoingonsblog @rollerblader527 @ace-spades-1 @whydoilovehim @theolddemon   @heareball @coldlonelydays @movievillainess721 @catsandgeekyandnerd @imtheonewhothrewthepaper @bucketbunny  @soivebuiltupaworldofmagic @justgonewild @quinnnfabrgay @s-stark @emilianamason @missmarmaladeth @trimbooksflatlink  @thatrageingbisexual   @prostitute-robot-from-the-future    @mrsparknuts @sillylittlepenguin181818 @stoneredsworld @fatima-marisa @ischysiaclark

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Oberyn Martell #Oberyn Martell x reader #Oberyn Martell x you #Oberyn Martell x female reader #Oberyn Martell x f!reader #Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand #female reader x m!OC #Ellaria Sand x m!OC #female reader #male OC #Ellaria Sand x female reader #Game of Thrones #soulmate au #arranged marriage #polyamory