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ladydostoevsky · 1 year

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Merhaba. Umarım seni rahatsız etmiyorumdur. Bazı Got ve HOTD karakterleri hakkında yazmayı düşünüyor musunuz? Aegon 1 Targaryen, Maegor 1 Targeryan ( Zalim), Rhaegar Targaryen, Aerys 2 Targaryen, Cregan Stark, Rickard Stark, Eddard Stark, Robb Stark, Stannis Baratheon, Tywin Lannister, Roose Bolton, Domeric Bolton.Are you thinking of writing how these characters will be yandere wives or girlfriends? Please

𝙔𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝘼𝙚𝙜𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝘾𝙤𝙣𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙧, 𝙈𝙖𝙚𝙜𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝘾𝙧𝙪𝙚𝙡, 𝘼𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙨 𝙄𝙄 𝙏𝙖𝙧𝙜𝙖𝙧𝙮𝙚𝙣 (𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙈𝙖𝙙 𝙆𝙞𝙣𝙜), 𝙀𝙙𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙎𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙠, 𝙍𝙤𝙗𝙗 𝙎𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙠, 𝙏𝙮𝙬𝙞𝙣 𝙇𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧

𝐴/𝑁: 𝐼 𝑐𝒉𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡𝒉𝑒𝑚. 𝐼 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑚𝑢𝑐𝒉 𝑜𝑓 𝑡𝒉𝑒 𝑏𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑐𝒉𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐺𝑜𝑇 𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠 𝑔𝑜𝑡 𝑠𝑜 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒.

𝐀𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐫

Aegon was a very loyal man, you knew that. So it surprised you when he told you that he wants to marry you, despite him having 2 wives already. But you were in no position to decline your conqueror’s wishes or rather, demands.

It wasn’t bad to be married to him. He was loving and sweet. Sometimes he would raise a hand but you looked past that.

His sisters were skeptical at first but later welcomed you with open arms.

Rhaenys wasn’t the friendliest at first. She feared that you would steal him and his love from her. Later when she met you she got why Aegon would want to marry you.

Visenya liked you the moment Aegon talked about you to her. She couldn’t wait to welcome you into the family.

You didn’t mind that he went from one bed to another, it just was how it was. And he didn’t mind when his sisters went into yours.

He kept you away from common people. He and his sisters were possessive and overprotective. One little rumor of you and Balerion was ready to dracarys them all.

He didn’t let you fight or ride a dragon. You had to be in the castle and always wait for him to return to you.

His biggest desire was you to give him strong and healthy children. Secretly he has always planned to put your son on the Iron Throne and make you THE Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. And no one could stop him, not even his own sisters.

𝐌𝐚𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥

Maegor as a husband is eternal torture. He is very cruel king, like his name tells. He killed anyone who displeased him, whether it was his own nephew, the builders of the Red Keep or his wives.

You have seen how he has slaughtered his other wives like flies, only because of his suspicions. Of course how could you not when he specifically orders you to watch. Watch what could happen if you disobey him.

Everybody knew you were his favorite, he knew, you knew, his other wives knew, everyone. Maybe it’s the fact that you are the only one who has given him children, and all sons. Maybe it’s the fact how good you feel in bed, after slaughtering some innocent citizens your body is all he desires.

He is abusive mentally, physically and sexually. You sometimes just pray that he would die because of the throne.

Everyone respects you very highly, no other wife of Maegor wouldn’t dare to cross their rank, one word from you and their heads are on spike for everyone to see.

You are known as THE Queen.

You know he loves you, in his own twisted and cruel way, but he cares for you and for your children. Right?

Even if sometimes late at night laying in bed he whispers softly how he would burn his sons alive in front of you if you ever would disobey him like his other whore he just killed a few hours ago.

Why would he care? He can always make new children with you.

𝐀𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐬 𝐈𝐈 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐝 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠)

In his youth he was everything a woman could want from a husband. He was ambitious, charming, smart, gentle and so much more.

He was protective from the beginning, you were gonna be his queen, he always had to have eyes on you. Especially near his hand, Tywin Lannister, who always gave him some kind of paranoia.

But you were loyal to your king and now husband, just like he wanted.

With years and decades he turned more into madness. You didn’t know how to help. Was it because of his father’s death? Or because of his hand, Lord Lannister? Maybe just his paranoia overal?

He was afraid of traitors and the Targaryen dynasty collapsing. He bedded you more and more to have more children to protect the succession and dynasty.

He started to take your freedom and lock you up with your children. He was gone to full madness.

One bad talk about you in the city and he burned them alive with wildfire. You remember the screams, the smell of smoke and chemicals, the smell of burning corpses. You were afraid of him.

You even thought about going to talk with Tywin Lannister but you didn’t want to get yourself or your children in any more trouble.

You suffered in silence with his madness.

𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤

Eddard Stark was the definition of gentleman. He did everything for you and he was never cruel to you.

He knew you needed freedom and gentle love, so he gave it to you. He was never mad at you, rather he blamed others. Whoever dared to disrespect you or your rank as his wife and Lady of Winterfell got their head chopped off. You never saw them again.

He never doubted your love and loyalty, he knew he had given you anything so there is no need.

He could see you in your children’s eyes, especially in Sansa’s.

But you knew he was ready to sacrifice anything for you. His titles, his house, his children, even himself.

He was protective and kinda like a puppy or even slave for you. So you could never imagine him as a mad man who could do horrible things just to keep you.

But of course you can’t read his thoughts in his head, you can’t see the dark glimmers behind his love stuck eyes.

𝐑𝐨𝐛𝐛 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤

Just like his father, Eddard, he is the definition of gentleman. He did anything to show off and impress you.

You two were like open lovers. Everyone knew you had something going on. The eye contacts, the touches, the sounds late at night in his room gave it all away.

Despite knowing you were loyal and loved him with all your heart he was a little delusional and paranoid. He always feared that one of the other younger lords would steal you away.

Sometimes he even suspected his own ‘half-brother’ Jon Snow. So he tried to hold you away from him as much as possible and always hinted that you were his lover and future wife.

He was never cruel towards you but his ‘enemies’ or competitions got to taste his steel blade.

He always fantasies about you. How you would get married, how you are gonna be as the Lady of Winterfell, you carrying his children and how he's gonna lock you up in the future, only for his eyes to see.

𝐓𝐲𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫

Tywin never thought he would marry again after his first wife died.

But love is love.

Tywin was very intelligent and very ambitious. He knew how to court a woman and so you fell into the lion’s claws.

He was harsh you have to say. But he never raised his hand against you.

You got along with his children well. Well except one. Jamie and Tyrion welcomed you warmly. They were happy their father found finally someone else to spend his old age with. It was good to see him happy again.

But his daughter Cercei was another matter. She didn’t like you at all. She thought you were just some whore who thinks that you can replace her mother. A slut only here for the money and title. Tywin was so angry that he slapped and threatened her for that. After that Cercei didn’t dare to make any talk about you near you or her father.

He was protective. He wouldn’t let anything harm you. He vowed not to lose another wife. So he kept you behind Casterly Rock walls most of the time.

Only his most trusted servants he let near you because he had many rivals.

He had taught many times about baby trapping so you couldn’t flee and then you would have something to do all day. Also he needs a new heir to the Rock. His eldest son is a knight, his daughter is queen and then twarf. He needed a new son anyway but remembering what happened with Joanna he promised he wouldn’t press the matter. Only if you wanted.

And besides why would you even flee when he gives you everything and anything? You couldn’t step out of the castle even if you wished. Everyone has their eyes on you 24/7.

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theywhowriteandknowthings · 9 months

Text

The Fox and The Viper Chapter 2: The Viper

General Warnings: 18+, as is the whole of my blog, I will mark anything specific but be aware this is predominantly a smutty blog with plot. DNI if you are a minor. By reading further you have taken the responsibility to do so with the warnings I have given. Specific warnings: Nothing much for this chapter, no smut yet, but soon! Summary: Hari and Oberyn navigate a language barrier. Read on AO3

“Yes Mam-gu, he’s still here, he’s passed out in my bed, I found him some of Lawrence’s old clothes, they’re a bit big on him, but he’s showered, much to his bemusement, and I’ve fed him.” Hari rolls her eyes as she sits on the sofa in her living room, watching the rain cascade angrily against the single-paned sash window to her right. The chill rattles her bones as she hunkers down into her hoodie.

“You move fast.” Mam-gu says playfully, trying to rile Hari up but she was too tired to care.

“Mam-gu, seriously, I need some help here.” She sighs, exhausted, as she takes another sip of coffee. She glances at the clock, it’s two in the morning, almost a full twenty-four hours without sleep. Her eyes drift to the leather armour by the door, stacked on a towel to collect the water dripping from the cured leather folds.

Not a costume.

“Alright, I’ll make some calls and text you as soon as I have something, try and get some sleep, or at least something to eat.” Hari rolls her eyes but nods.

“I promise-,” Hari starts but is immediately cut off.

“Coffee doesn’t count.” Mam-gu says with a knowing tone and Hari laughs despite herself.

“I promise, thank you.”

“Speak soon cariad.”

“Speak soon.” Hari hangs up the phone, looking down into the dark dregs of her coffee mug. The sound of an unfamiliar language, from a soft, rumbling baritone startles her and she yelps, jumping to her feet to face the stranger in her home.

---

Oberyn leans against the doorframe as he observes the copper-haired woman talk on the little light box she cradled against her face. It spoke with a voice he couldn’t quite hear, but the tone of the conversation was clear, between relatives, but the voice in the light box had seniority he hazarded to guess. Especially from the way the woman’s shoulders bend and flex, tension and relief coming and going as the conversation flows.

He had seen it before, even been part of that dance with his own daughters many times. The thought of his daughters sends a chill down his spine, worry gnawing at the usually boisterously confident man.

Oberyn shook himself out of the beginnings of a thought spiral, he looked back at the woman and was going to confront her, try and understand what was going on, but then she laughed, a musical sound bookended by a harsh snort through her nose that had his heart racing. It was carefree, throaty, genuine. He took the time to look at the way her hair falls in a tongue of flame from the tie fastened at the crown of her head. He wishes she was in fewer clothes, he’d love to see how her muscles ripple as she flexes and bends over the surface in front of her. Before he can act on his depraved thoughts she puts the light box down before sighing as she leans over the table.

He notes to himself that she is beautiful in ways Oberyn wasn’t accustomed to, Westerosi women were mostly pale, cold, and sullen, Dornish women darker skinned, passionate and quick to anger. This woman was something else, fiery like a Northern Wildling, but refined. Classically beautiful, yet strong like a Meereenese pit fighter. He couldn’t help but smile at how much of an enigma she was to him.

“You know, you shouldn’t sit with your back to a stranger.” Oberyn says with a wry smile, delighted at the yelp and startled look on her face as she swivels to stare daggers at him.

---

Hari seethes at the look on his face, cocky, smarmy, handsome in equal spades. He leans against the doorframe, his dark eyes boring into her and she tries not to blush at the heat it stirs in her belly. The language was completely unintelligible, a hint of old French, old English and something vaguely Germanic.

“I don’t understand what you said.” She barks, crossing her arms over her chest as she takes steadying breaths to ease her hammering heartbeat.

He speaks again, another language rolling off his tongue, it was almost Spanish, maybe Italian, but again she isn’t able to wrap her head around it. She shakes her head once more before pinching the bridge of her nose. He speaks yet another language, vaguely Arabic, maybe Farsi, yet still not one she could nail down. Admittedly, she didn’t know enough Arabic, let alone Farsi to really tell, but she did speak enough Spanish and and German to know the other languages weren’t of this time.

“I still don’t understand you, can you understand me?” She tries but he gives her a quizzical look that she expects matches her own. She shakes her head before gesturing to her chest, just above the low neck of her tank-top.

“Hari,” She says slowly before pointing at the stranger, “You?” He points back at her.

“Hari.” He says, the rich rumble of his accented voice makes her heart flutter as he points to himself with a slender finger, “Oberyn.”

“Oberyn.” She tries the name on her tongue and the flush that spreads across his cheeks and smile that flashes across his lips are gone as quickly as they appeared but Hari saw it and made sure to store the information away. Images of A Midsummer’s Night’s Dream come to mind as she notes the similar, yet different name.

Good to know I’m not the only one feeling flustered.

She thinks to herself before scooping up her phone and coffee mug, dumping the last of the lukewarm liquid into the sink before reaching up into the cabinet above the sink to grab two glasses. She fills them both with water before turning back towards Oberyn.

“Shit!” She exclaims as Oberyn is suddenly right in front of her, his full lips turned up in amusement as he catches the glass that falls from her left hand with ease, not a drop spilled. He chuckles and mutters something under his breath before stepping back out of her space, as if realising he had overstepped. Hari sidles around him before setting her glass on the coffee table next to her iPad. He follows her like a cat, silent, shadowing her every move.

She heads towards the front door, turning to the airing cupboard on the left to get out spare blankets and pillows for herself. Oberyn watches with a discerning eye, as if mapping out the very small flat with every step, every touch of a doorknob. He glances over to the bathroom, the light and whir of the extractor fan still baffling him as he realises he needs to relieve himself. He says something to Hari as she shoves the push-close door with her hip, blankets laden up to her chin. She cocks her head in question and he points to the bathroom.

“Go for it.” She says, nodding, almost forgetting the language a barrier between them, but Oberyn seems to take her meaning and disappears into the tiny shoe-box of a bathroom. She cringes internally as the recollection of trying to show Oberyn how to operate the various bathroom facilities by way of interpretive mime. She is sure he was laughing at her under his breath at times but every time she caught his eye he simply nodded, humourless, respectful.

Hari smiles to herself as she arranges the pillows and cushions just how she likes, the bad habit of too many naps on the small sofa making her an expert at arranging it just so. She flops down and snuggles under a navy fleece, dinosaurs in Santa hats, and sprigs of holly printed all over it, a gift from her best friend last Christmas. Molly was great at giving joke gifts that ended up in Hari’s heavy rotation. Thinking of her friend, she opens up her messages.

Messy Hari: Hey, had a really weird day, fancy catching up tomorrow? Can FaceTime or just Call? X

Hari smiles at the nickname in the chat but can’t deny that she is, as of this last year, a mess. Three dots appear quickly and fade as fast, before rapidly appearing again.

Moll-The-Doll: Fuck you doing up so late? Go to bed.

More dots.

Moll-The-Doll: But yes, I’m going to be hungover as shit, 6pm ok for you?

Messy Hari: You got it, I think I’m going to sleep most of the day anyway, lol. Speak tomorrow.

Hari hits the “Do not Disturb” mode on her phone, setting her first alarm for midday before placing it face-down on the coffee table before gulping down the glass of water. Oberyn is still in the bathroom so she waits for him to come out, not sure why she already feels so at ease with him around. But Hari knew better than to not stow her not-so-legal taser under the sofa, just within reach if needed.

She tries to stay awake for a little longer but she’s asleep long before Oberyn exits the bathroom. He chuckles at the sight of her passed out and turns off the lights, reversing the rituals Hari had gone through when entering the home. He tested the front door, checking the deadbolt and handle before feeling satisfied enough with the safety of the tiny space to head into her room.

---

The Viper strips naked before climbing into bed, turning off the small, fascinating lamp on the nightstand. It reacts to his touch, the thrum of electricity startling under his skin, but he taps it on-off, on-off a few times with an enlightened smirk before shutting it off for the last time. He sinks down into the sheets and is caught by the smell of her.

“Hari.” He breathes as he inhales, almost lewdly as he feels his cock stir against the soft sheets. Lavender, pine needles, womanly, yet strong. Yet, it was missing the hint of sweat that had lingered on her skin as he stood behind her at the sink. The sheets must be fresh, but Oberyn can’t get the idea of what it would be like to feel her under the sheets with him, his head pressed into the crook of her neck. Guilt squirms it’s way into Oberyn’s mind as he thinks of Ellaria, he misses the way she held him close at every opportunity, the way she felt splayed across his chest.

Be safe my love, for I do not know whence I will return.

Oberyn shuts his eyes, remorse and longing a poison on his mind as his dreams morph into nightmares filled with blood and the screams of Ellaria and their daughters.

---

Hari’s alarm blares violently, waking her from a deep, untroubled sleep. The first night in a while that she hasn’t woken before her alarm. Fumbling with the angry little device she silences the alarm and snuggles back down into the blankets, not ready to get up just yet. She peeks over the back of the sofa, the light in her bedroom was still off and she the outline of Oberyn still wrapped up in her sheets gave her an odd sense of comfort. As if knowing he was still here meant she wasn’t going insane just yet.

Returning to her phone, Hari scrolls through her various social media feeds, photos of Molly’s night out make her smile. A text comes through and Hari eagerly taps the notification banner to read it.

Mam-gu: The Bear Shop one hour, bring your friend. Iason says he can help.

Short and sweet, like any technological interaction with her grandmother, Carys Owens hates the lack of connection texting and other instant messaging platforms provide. Hari throws the phone down on the sofa and begrudgingly removes herself from the sofa.

“Oberyn?” She calls through to the bedroom, the outline of her guest shifts under the covers before he calls back out to her.

“Hari?” He responds and she feels the flush of heat bloom across her cheeks once more at the way he says her name. The rolling lilt of his accent and the deep timbre of his voice was delightful.

“In here.” She calls and waits for him to join her in the small room. Muffled grunts and whispers of a language Hari can’t understand echo from her bedroom as she waits patiently for her guest to join her.

Oberyn pads out into the living room, his muscular torso bare as he yawns, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he asks a question. Hari tries not to ogle the handsome man as he stretches and bends in her home. His scarred body ripples with taut muscles, slight and lean but clearly strong.

Like a dancer.

She thinks to herself as she stands, walking around to the stranger with cautious movements. He looks at her, repeating his question before blinking twice, three times and smiling ruefully. He laughs softly, ruefully as he remembers the language barrier between them.

“Oberyn, I need you to trust me.” She says, already knowing how futile it was going to be but she needed to try to get across that he needed to follow her.

Oberyn raises a dark brow at her and shakes his head slowly, hands raised, shoulders shrugging in what Hari can only guess is him telling her he doesn’t understand. She sighs and taps her bare foot on the carpet trying to decide how to convey this.

“Hari,” She points at herself before gesturing back to him, “Trust Oberyn.” He nods slowly, and repeats back to her.

“Oberyn trust Hari.” He says with a solemn nod.

“Come on.” Hari gestures for him to follow her back into her bedroom. Oberyn follows obediently, his gaze never leaving Hari as she pulled out fresh clothes for him a Metallica t-shirt, jeans and a pair of sneakers, then gathered up some for herself before she went to change in the bathroom.

She looks at herself in the mirror, rubbing her tired eyes as she tries to shake the weariness from her foggy mind. She dresses in a thick hand knitted navy jumper, skinny jeans and her favourite red and black paisley Doc Martens before plaiting her hair in a long braid down her back.

She re-enters the living room to find that Oberyn had chosen a different shirt from the drawer, he had found a fuchsia pink button down shirt instead of the t-shirt. It needed an iron but somehow the way he had rolled the long sleeves to just above his elbow suited him just right. She gave him an old leather jacket of Lawrence’s and dons her own camel coloured trench coat. She can’t help but notice, yet again, how handsome he is.

“Ready?” She asks and somehow he seems to understand, and follows without a word, Hari locks the door behind her, slinging her rucksack over one shoulder, motioning for Oberyn to follow once more as she opens the door to the stairwell.

The silence isn’t uncomfortable, if anything it’s fairly easy, but there’s something in the back of Hari’s mind that makes her want to fill it, no matter how futile it is.

“So, we’re off to see a friend of mine, and my Mam-gu’s, he’s an artificer and says he can help.” She explains as they descend the stairs, Oberyn nods slowly as she speaks, which she feels is just him being polite but takes it as an excuse to keep going. They reach the open street and Oberyn’s eyes go wide. The rain has finally subsided, puddles forming in the uneven dips of the pavement, the city is bustling with activity.

“This is Cardiff, it’s much nicer when the sun is out.” She says, looping her arm through his, steering him towards St Mary’s Street passing through the Saturday afternoon buzz. Oberyn instinctively tightens his grip on Hari’s arm as a delivery driver on a bike rockets past.

“It’s ok,” She says softly, squeezing his forearm with her other hand before coaxing him on. The cocky demeanour from her flat gone, the light of day finally giving way to how different this world was for him. Hari can’t stop glancing over her shoulder, checking on the shell of a man she was ogling only minutes before, “We’re almost there.”

Ducking into Wyndham Arcade seems to calm Oberyn as the preserved Victorian era covered alley detracts from the brash assault of the twenty-first century somewhat. Even if there was an e-vape shop and cheap smartphone repair place in immediate eyesight. But the vaulted glass roof with cast iron supports allowed a soft, almost ethereal light into the covered alley.

“Wyndham Arcade was built almost one hundred and fifty years ago,” Hari prattles on, in an attempt to soothe Oberyn’s nerves, “There are basements and secret back rooms in most of them, which makes it the perfect place for Witches to provide their real businesses with fronts.” Oberyn nods, loosening his grip on her hand but not fully letting it go, which Hari is secretly pleased with, his touch tender yet firm, calming yet fiery on her skin.

They pass families, and couples, sitting at the café tables that line the Arcade, some nod knowingly at Hari, friends of Mam-gu no doubt. She nods back politely before continuing on, Hari feels the familiar hum of Power as they reach the frosted glass front of The Bear Shop.

“They have to frost the front windows because they sell tobacco and cigars.” She explains as Oberyn eyes the place with suspicion, his moustache twitching as he tilts his head in observation. But he allows Hari to lead him in without hesitation. The signature haggard taxidermy bear greets them, acting as a divider between the two main rooms of the shop. The scruffy, not so expertly stuffed bear grimaces more than roars at them. Oberyn laughs at this, muttering something under his breath, his full lips turned up in a smile that has Hari’s heart in her throat.

The humidity of the store hits them first, the climate control paramount to keeping the tobacco and cigars fresh, sweat beads on Hari’s brow almost immediately as she regrets wearing the wool jumper. The smell comes next, the aroma of sweet pipe tobacco, rich Cuban cigars and the faint smell of oil fill the air as they cross the threshold.

The right half of the room is lined with floor-to-ceiling humidors, cigars of all types and brands from the miniature Monte Cristo cigarillos to full sized Romeo and Juliette cigars, the selection is always a sight to behold. The left side of the shop is where the counter is, the old floorboards and dark green walls giving it an old-timely feel.

“Hari!” Iason calls from behind the counter, dressed in a maroon waistcoat and crisp white shirt, his bright hazel eyes peek out from the dark glasses perched on the end of his nose as his curly black hair bounces around his face. His youthful face lighting up at the sight of her, but more importantly Oberyn. Hari doesn’t miss the way Iason looks her companion with not-so-subtle appreciation.

“Iason, good to see you, this is my friend, Oberyn, I think Mam-gu mentioned him to you?” She says with a smile as he ducks under the counter to pull her in for a hug. Oberyn reluctantly lets go, watching the pair as they embrace.

“He’s a looker, you know if he likes guys?” Iason says without shame and Hari slaps him playfully on the arm.

“Iason the man dropped into our world less than seventy-two hours ago, keep your hands to yourself!” She laughs as the hidden door to the back-cellar opens behind the bear and Mam-gu totters out, her tiny frame silhouetted by the hulking taxidermy behind her. Wrapped in a deep red floral print dress and a grey plaid shawl she eyes Oberyn with sharp, crystal blue eyes.

“He’s a looker, no wonder you already had him in your bed cariad.” Mam-gu says with a smirk stretching wide on her withered old face.

“I let him have my bed, I was sleeping on the couch.” Hari hisses, her cheeks flushed red at the insinuation. But Mam-gu knows that, of course she does. Iason gives Hari a knowing look, having been at the end of Mam-gu’s Knowledge teasing more than enough times.

“Iason time to take a lunch break, shut the door.” Mam-gu turns her attention to Iason before turning back the way she came. The authority in her voice had even Oberyn willing to follow into the depths of The Bear Shop. The narrow staircase permits only single file traffic and Oberyn halts at the darkness, memories of the moment that sealed his fate, pledging himself to Tyrion Lannister as his champion, consumes him.

“Oberyn,” Hari says softly and his wide, caramel-brown eyes pleading with her not to force him to descend back into the inky abyss, “Trust me? Trust Hari?” She says softly as she threads her fingers through his, intertwining their hands as she steps forward in front of the darkness. There’s a tenderness to the action, one Hari didn’t think she was capable of, having built walls around herself for so long, but this was important, to her, and to Oberyn.

“Trust.” He says with a nod, a heavy swallow riddled with anxiety loud in the air between them.

Hari turns and tugs gently at his hand as she slowly descends the stairs, the temperature dropping rapidly with each step into the cellar. Oberyn follows, the grip on Hari’s hand is almost painful as his knuckles go white, unseen in the darkness, but she feels it, the tension and desperation in the grip that anchors him to her.

If it weren’t for the fact she had traversed these steps countless times, Hari would be just as apprehensive, but each step was ingrained into her brain. She takes slow, meaningful steps, letting Oberyn feel with his feet and adjust as he follows her like a shadow, tethered to her.

As they reach the door at the bottom of the stairs it swings inward to greet them, amber light spilling out like spilled whiskey as both Hari and Oberyn blink to let their eyes adjust. The large room smelled of wood varnish and, old books. The only light came from candles in hurricane jars and dancing flames of oil lamps.

Mam-gu sits at a round mahogany table in the middle of the room, four other seats are arranged equidistant around the table. Hari could feel the Power humming throughout the room, telling her this was one of many shapes this space could take, dependant on the intent of the occupants. In the middle sits a bleached horse skull. A crown of five white lilies spaced with various wildflowers rests atop it’s brow.

“Please sit.” Mam-gu orders and Iason takes his place to her right, Hari guides Oberyn to the two seats to Iason’s right and they settle into the high-backed dining chairs silently.

“Sorry I’m late!” The familiar voice is jarring in Hari’s ears as Arielle totters around the table to take the final seat next to Mam-gu.

“Arielle?” Hari splutters and a wicked grin pulls at the older woman’s features as she looks between her and Oberyn.

“I couldn’t miss this, and you need five to complete the circle, I see your Viper is as handsome as I expected.” She says matter-of-factly as she settles into the high backed chair. Iason clears his throat, giving Mam-gu and Arielle stern looks. They both roll their eyes but sit up, waiting for him to speak.

“We are ready to begin, please, place your hands flat on the table, you must not remove them until I say.” Iason’s usually bubbly voice is sombre, filled with latent Power as he channels it through his hands. Hari guides Oberyn’s hands to place on the table, then places her own down close to his, he looks at her with a pained expression but nods curtly. The table is smooth under her palms, a little cool to the touch.

The table hums with energy and Oberyn shifts in his seat but he doesn’t move his hands, somehow understanding that keeping them on the table is imperative. Hari instinctively spreads the fingers of her left hand, pinkie finger brushing against the heel of his palm. He glances at her, he wraps his pinkie over hers and the heat that blossoms in her chest is like sunshine kissing her skin.

“We call upon Arawn of Annwn, god of the hunt and Lord of the Otherworlds.” Iason declares to the room before continuing.

“Bless us with your presence so that a lost soul can be aided in his journey through our realm.” Iason’s voice lowers in pitch as another entity shadows his voice. Something darker, more sinister. The air is charged with an energy Hari can’t place, it’s like the thrum of Power but more potent, like static electricity snapping between each of the five human conduits in the room.

The horse head in the middle of the table slowly levitates, elevating to head height as the popping and crackling in the air makes Hari wince. Oberyn looks at her in concern, brow creased, and mouth open as if to comfort her as she slowly realises that she and Oberyn are the only ones feeling the intense waves of Power in the air.

“Do not react to my voice, simply listen.”

The voice comes from the horse head, Hari is sure of it. Her ears are filled with the hiss of oil lamps, the continued monologue of intent that Iason was reciting. But this voice was speaking to her without spoken word, it was broadcasting through her mind, like Arielle had done the night before.

Runes materialise on the horse head, as if painted by delicate calligraphy brushes. Prismatic light shines from the runes like an aurora, refracting iridescent colour all around. Luminous blue orbs of swirling flame appear in the eye sockets of the skull and something in Hari shudders, something deep, hidden down in the depths of her being.

“You did not intend for this Rift to occur, I know this, but you have altered the path of worlds more than just that of your own.”

Hari stares at the ghostly horse head, slowly coming to realise that this was no artificer summoning, nor a Witches spell. She is communing with Arawn himself, speaking to a God. No one else seems to see the vision before her. But Oberyn seems to be actively averting his gaze from the apparition, as if he knows.

“I will grant this man the blessing you seek, to have his tongue match your own, but let it be understood this is no favour. Debts owed must become debts paid.”

The ethereal voice sounds pleased with itself, boastful even. Hari squirms in her seat, grip tightening on Oberyn’s hand.

“I will be seeing you.”

Hari watches as the horse skull turns noiselessly to Oberyn and the pressure on her hand becomes blinding but she doesn’t pull away. Her bones creak under the Viper’s grip as she watches him converse wordlessly with the animated skull. Emotion darts over Oberyn’s strong features flowing through shock, defiance, anger, pain, and finally, submission.

Oberyn’s grip loosens slightly but he twists his fingers to interlace with Hari’s before giving her a pained look of sympathy.

“I will let the Artificer complete his ceremony, but do not think this is a mercy. The elder will ask what transpired here, you must not breathe a word to her.”

The voice from the skull seems to reach them both, Oberyn stealing a chastened glance at Hari as the atmosphere in the room returns to a quiet hum of Power. The skull returns to the place in the centre of the table, as if it had never moved.

“We seek understanding, and a bridge between two worlds of language, please heed our request.” Iason finishes and a gust of wind, hot and swift blows around the room. A moment of silence fills the basement and Hari looks to Oberyn, eyes wide and filled with concern for him.

“So, this is what Witchcraft is in your world?” The thick, affected accent rolls off Oberyn’s tongue as he turns to look at Hari, eyes knowing and filled with unspoken emotion as he continues to hold onto her. Iason and Arielle’s eyes go wide but Mam-gu gives Hari a withering look, one that makes Hari avert her eyes.

“Not normally,” She responds in a hushed whisper, heart hammering in her chest, terror and self-doubt swirling in her mind as she tries to reconcile communing with a literal god, “But it’s nice to hear you, properly.”

“And I you, I have many questions and I could think of no better person to ask.” Oberyn says with a twitch of his full lips.

What did you think? :D I loved writing this one!

@yvonneeeee @notsosecretspy @jadealicious06 @famouslyanonymous @harriedandharassed @casa-boiardi @pimosworld @brittmb115 @beefrobeefcal @king-simp

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