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whydontyousaeso · 3 months

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“Sweetest revenge ever”

Randy orton x fem reader

Type- SMUT!!! MINORS DNI!!!

Warnings- oral (male receiving), character being a douche, swearing, photographed sex.

Summery- after your (now ex) boyfriend almost sacrificed you just to avoid an rko, you had to find some way to get back at him.

A/n- thank you guys so much for being patient, I promise I’ll start writing more consistently, but for now here’s my first Randy fic :3 I plan to either release a Roman fic or Drew next, but remember that my request are always open! Love you guys!

Tag list: @alyyaanna @new-zealand-chic @queencherryberry @lizzyd1ish

You stood in the ring with your boyfriend, LA Knight.

Across from you was Randy orton and Aj styles, all staring at eachother.

It was clear that a fight was gonna break out soon, which means you would have to be quick to get out of the ring.

You looked over at your boyfriend, he wouldn’t look at you though.

You two had got into an argument prior to coming out, so he wasn’t really talking to you.

You turned back to the other two just in time to see Aj flipping a table over, causing you to jump out of the way.

As you stood in the corner you watched your boyfriend stumble back up.

You made eye contact with him, and you saw him grab you and pull you close to him.

“I don’t need help getting out-“

Of course he wasn’t there to help you get out.

He pushed you the other way, which was right into Randy orton, who was about to give an RKO.

“Hey what the fuck?”

He stopped mid move and let you go, turning around to find you standing there clearly frightened.

“What the fuck is your boyfriend doing halfway up the ramp?”

You turned around and saw Knight doing exactly that. You turned towards Randy again.

“Beat his ass next time you’re in the ring with him.”

You slid out of the ring and stomped up to your soon to be ex, you had enough of his bullshit.

“Knight what the fuck??”

“Get over yourself, you’re fine! He didn’t even do anything to you!”

“You were willing to throw me into that shit though?”

“Just be glad your being used for once in your-“

You didn’t let him finish, and slapped him in the face.

“Why don’t you find some other girl to go and use huh?”

You strutted your way to backstage, taking off the stupid sunglasses and throwing them behind you.

“Hey y/n, you good?”

You looked up from your phone to see Randy standing in front of you.

“Yeah, it’s whatever.”

“You know, I didn’t-“

“Mean to? Yeah I know. My ex is an ass.”

He chuckled

“Good thing we can both agree on that”

You looked over and saw knight standing in the corner, staring daggers at you.

“Hey Randy, you want to head back to my locker room? “

He sent you a questioning gaze before looking over to your ex, smirking at his reaction.

“Of course, I would love to.”

“Make yourself at home, as long as he knows you’re here I don’t care.”

“I didn’t think you were the type to be this petty”

“Please, he was so talking to other girls while we were together.”

Almost on time, you heard three knocks on the door.

“Open it up y/n!!!”

“Suck a dick knight!”

“Like your sucking Randy’s?”

You scoffed and crossed your arms, feeling your face heat up slightly.

“You’re a slut y/n!”

You heard him stomp away, shaking your head and walking over to your mirror.

You were redder than you thought.

“That was an interesting accusation.”

You turned towards Randy, who was smirking.

“He’s always accusing me of shit.”

“Any of them ever come true?”

“No.”

“Want to make that one come true?”

Your mouth opened slightly, shocked from his straight forward nature.

“I mean-“

You stopped yourself, not even sure what to say.

You would be lying if you said that Randy wasn’t attractive. He actually had been on your mind for a bit.

“Come here baby girl.”

He motioned you over, and for whatever reason, your body complied.

You walked over to him, letting him guide your hips when you got close enough.

He let you sit on his lap, looking over your body in the ring gear you had on.

“You sure you okay with this?”

You nodded, looking at his own muscular frame.

Even with a shirt and jeans on he still looked hot as fuck.

You placed your hand on his chest, leaning on to kiss him.

His hands instantly went to your hips, gripping them slightly.

He knew what he was doing.

You hand moved lower as the kiss progressed, eventually making its way down to kiss waistband.

It’d been a while since you sucked someone off, but it was always nice to refresh.

He pulled away from the kiss, shooing your hand away from his waistband.

“Get on your knees doll”

You nodded and did exactly as he wanted, placing yourself between his legs and rubbing on of his thighs.

You watched him take out his dick and almost gasped.

He was huge.

Way bigger than knight.

Insanely bigger than knight.

You reached out and grabbed his shaft, slowly stroking up and down.

“Go on, I know you know what to do.”

You made eye contact with him and moved up slowly, licking from the bottom up.

You watched him roll his head back as you took in the tip of his dick.

You felt him grab the back of your head and push it down slightly, making you take in more of his length.

You started bobbing your head slightly, taking in a little more each time you went down.

“Damn you’re good at this”

He hissed, pulling your hair.

Eventually you got to the edge of your hand, not able to take in anymore due to your gag reflex.

You started bobbing more consistently, licking up his dick occasionally.

You heard him moan as you went up and down, feeling his grip on your hair tighten.

You pulled up for a second, taking a moment to breathe and gain your composure.

As you looked up at him you saw how dark his eyes were

Almost like a predator waiting to attack on his prey

It made the spot between your legs wetter than before.

Instead of waiting on you though, he forced your head back up and forced his dick down your throat again, going further than before.

You almost choked, but held everything back with teary eyes.

You braced yourself on his thighs, allowing him to have full control over your head.

He sped up extremely, making you grab his thighs hard.

“When I cum you better not swallow it, you understand?”

You hummed in approval, moaning as he handled you his way.

You heard him mumble curses at you, praising and degrading at the same time.

“You ready for this you slut? I don’t think you are.”

You moaned again, doing your best to not pass out.

He stopped abruptly, leaving the top of his dick in your mouth to spurt out his cum.

His salty taste made you moan again, focusing on sucking out every little bit.

You were so focused that you didn’t notice him grab his phone.

“Let me see baby.”

You pulled away and stuck out your tongue, allowing him to take pictures of your cum filled mouth.

“Good girl, you think he will like that?”

You closed your mouth and swallowed, smirking as he saved the picture.

“He’ll love it.”

#wwe #wwe raw #wwe smackdown #fanfic #wwe randy orton #randy orton #the viper #rko

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ambreignsfan4life · 24 days

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Happy Birthday to the Legend Killer, The Viper, The Apex Predator and The Daddy himself Randy Orton

Credit to gif owners

#wwe #randy orton #the apex predator #legend killer #the viper #birthday appreciation #rko

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marvelwitchergilmore · 11 months

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Dove

Summary: Oberyn Martell x Fe!Reader - You’re no more than the sister of a wealthy merchant and the daughter of an Innkeeper. You’re also unlike the other dainty ladies in your town. So, when you’re told you’re to be married off to seal the trade agreement your brother came to, you’re not exactly the happiest person in the world when you find out who it is.

Disclaimer: I haven’t finished S4 of GOT but I wanted to write this. Fluff, AU divergent, still within GOT world. swearing, sword fights, patriarchy pigs, (I can only apologise now if this is crap) not proof read, use of pet-names, marriage of convenience, friends to lovers, strangers to friends to lovers, mentions of wedding nights etc. nothing explicit. make out towards the end...

The Agreement was made to prove that your brother, Matthew, was true to his word and honour and would not steal from his main supplier. Although, you wouldn’t be surprised if they thought him a little stupid since you would soon come to learn even he did not know who you would be married to.

Stupid Idiot.

By the time you landed, the sun was coming closer to the centre of the sky and you were ready to strangle your brothers. Honestly, you didn’t know who was more stupid. Your brother or whoever had signed the contract with him. Did they know you were a bastard of a highborn lady? That you had no knowledge of courts or needle-pointing. Sure, you could cook, but there had been plenty of times where your brothers had to take over to stop you from lighting the whole house on fire.

Nevermind.

You’d be gone by the morning after your wedding. You’d sail on the first boat out of the land and go anywhere else. You’d go anywhere else other than spend another second in the presence of some random man who had agreed to marry you without ever having met your brother.

Stepping off the boat, you already knew you stuck out.

You were dressed in simple clothing. A blue peasant dress with the cleanest white shirt you owned lay underneath. Meanwhile, others who stood by the docks and elsewhere from where you could see wore long flowing gowns, some leaving little to no imagination.

“Is this her?” you heard a voice ask before your brother reply.

“Yes, this is my sister.”

One of the other guards or servants - you didn’t really know who they were - stood in front of you. By this point, you had lowered the hood of your cloak showing the waves in your hair cascade down the back of you. Whoever he was, he began to lift a hand as if to touch you but you stopped him.

“Touch me and I will cut off your hand.”

“She’s feisty.”

Your brother scolded your name although you ignored him.

“Well, we can try and train that out of her.”

“You will do nothing of the sort.” you spoke firmly as you looked at the man in front of your brother.

The way they spoke to one another made you think that this was the man who had agreed to find you a husband.

Meanwhile, the man in front of you moved and stepped around you to walk to the ship. He came back moments later carrying your bags.

“If you would like to follow me,” the man in front of your brother said.

You didn’t feel like learning names. After all, you’d be gone by the day after your wedding. Perhaps you’d fake your death? That way your brother couldn’t get into trouble over “breaking his side of the agreement”.

You and your brother followed the man, who you’d come to learn was a Lord.

“My Lord, isn’t this the way to the palace?”

“Palace? Why are we going to the palace?”

“You are first to meet the Prince.”

“What on earth for?” you asked.

Your brother scolded your name again, but the Lord simply laughed. “Your brother has made a trade agreement with the Prince. Also, your brother is one of our biggest outside suppliers. You are both to pay your respects to him as he will to you.”

“Oh.”

By the time the doors to the main hall opened, all eyes suddenly turned to you and your brother and a walk through a room has never felt so long and so quiet.

“Just keep your hands by your sides and your mouth closed.”

“What for? I’m the one being married off.”

Your brother quietly pleaded your name. “I understand your frustrations.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Sister, please. The Lord said he would find you a suitable match.”

“You don’t even know who I’m marrying?!”

He spoke your name again. “I trust him. He has made many marriages.”

“Oh, good lord.” you rolled your eyes before you felt your brother's hand come across you and stop you in your tracks.

The Lord had stopped walking.

“Your highness.”

There were formalities exchanged between the two men before he turned around to introduce you both. Your brother bowed and, after knocking your arm, you curtsied.

“It seems her brothers have taught her more of their world than of her mothers, your grace.”

The Prince smiled. “That is alright. I’m sure her ladies will help her.”

“Ladies? What ladies?” you whispered to your brother.

“Fuck,” you whispered under your breath before looking at your brother. “Am I marrying royalty?”

“I-I do not know.” he said before speaking a little louder. “I’m sorry, your grace. But, why would my sister need ladies?”

“Did the Lord not tell you?” The Prince stood. “Nevermind. Your sister will wed my brother.”

“What?” your brother could already hear the anger slicing through your voice which did not help the situation.

“Oh, for the love of-”

“There are worse fates, sister.”

“For you and I both.”

“I can assure you he will make your sister very happy. She will be well looked after and will live in comfort for the rest of her life.” The Prince explained. “You are one of our most trusted Merchants. Your fortune is built not from birth or blood but by courage and intelligence and I can only assume your sister is of the same breeding.”

“Breeding?”

“I am sure she will do good by my brother as he will with her. Perhaps they can teach each other a couple of things during their time together.”

“Like what?”

Your brother shushed you.

The Prince soon gave instructions on what was to happen and suddenly a woman dressed in a golden gown, her hair blonde and thrown back, pulled at your arm and led you out of the hall whilst your head tried to remain on your brother.

“It’s okay. You’ll be okay.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t bring my sword with me.”

That was the last thing you said to him and only him before you were pulled away and out of the doors.

From there, the day was spent having women rush in and out of a grand room which you had been told was all yours. They measured you for dresses, held fabric against your complexion, sighing every time it washed you out or was not bold enough.

You simply had to look at the fabric and know that you’d feel nothing but seen in them.

Sure, they were beautiful and rich. But you preferred something you knew would not tear when swinging around a sword. Though, you doubted you’d be able to do much of that.

It was only at sundown when everyone was rushing to set tables and help others that you managed to escape for a while. Your room was too big and despite its size, you felt like you were being swallowed whole.

You missed your home. You missed your room. You missed your father and baking in the kitchens as your brothers fought outside. You missed being able to walk outside and show them what they were doing wrong, only to send them all to the ground with your fighting style.

“Are we to expect your sister soon, Master Matthew?”

Matthew looked around nervously. “I have been told she is still taking everything in.”

“I suppose it is overwhelming, coming from such a small home.”

“Yes, your highness.”

Suddenly, from the other end of the table, Oberyn stood from his spot, wiping his mouth.

“Brother?”

“Please, eat without us.”

“Oberyn, leave her be.”

“I am simply going for a walk.”

Meanwhile, you were in the very back corner of the kitchen, flour dusted up your arms whilst the rolling pin pressed against the dough of the bread.

You didn’t look up but you heard someone enter before giving a command and the background noise of the kitchens seems to disappear within seconds.

“We have servants for that.”

You looked up and saw a man dressed in a golden robe walking towards you. You had seen his picture earlier that day, in the picture halls. You had asked worrying questions to one of the maids who had been helping you. She took you by the hand and showed you around some of the halls. She had also turned you to face his picture when you asked what he looked like.

“I like to do it myself.”

With the back of your hand, you pushed a stray hair from your face and continued to roll out the dough.

“You seem very independent.” Oberyn pointed out. “I saw you, earlier, in the hall. You seemed to be swearing at your brother. I take it you are not happy with this marriage alliance. Or perhaps it is me you are unhappy with?”

You hadn’t meant to, but you slammed the rolling pin down.

“Tell me, Prince Oberyn. How would you feel if you were pulled from the only home you had ever known. If you woke up one morning and found your entire family downstairs being secretive and quiet instead of their usual rowdy selves? Only to have them tell you that you are engaged and when you ask who, they cannot tell you for they do not know? Then, to have all your things packed and taken to a dock at first light where you sail for lord knows how many days before arriving and being told that you must behave in such a way that only makes you want to rebel and run away even more.”

“That last point I know somewhat of its feelings.” Oberyn said. “But the rest, you are right. I do not know what that is like.”

You broke your gaze from his, looking back to the dough in front of you. Your hands moved on their own, splitting the dough, rolling one half into a neat shape before scoring it with a knife.

“I feel the need to tell you that you are safe here,” Oberyn spoke your name and you looked at him. “You are free to walk where you want. You can write a thousand letters a day to your home and no-one will judge you for doing so. Your brother tells me you are the least lady-like woman he has ever known. I do not mean to offend, but I suppose you already think it true.”

You could only shrug. It was true. You didn’t know how to behave in a palace. You knew to use manners at a table, though you suspected they were vastly different compared to being sat at a beaten old wooden table at the Inn.

“I can have one of the maids teach you what you need to know. And I can promise you this, you will not always feel like a stranger on this land. One day, it might even feel like home. But, despite everything, I just hope that within this, we can be friends. Will you grant me that pleasure?” Oberyn said your name again and you couldn’t deny; there was something about the way he said your name. “Can we be friends?”

You thought about it for a moment, your brother's words echoing in your head.

There are worse fates, Sister.

Maybe it wasn’t a bad thing being friends with your future husband.

A week passed and within that, a lot had happened.

A maid, by the name of Summer, taught you the ways of the court and how the wedding would take place as well as helping you read over the past histories of the world. Most of it, you already knew.

“I may just be an Innkeeper’s daughter, but he made sure I could read and write just as well as I could cook and fight. Sometimes the pen can be mightier than the sword, he would argue.”

You had also found time to explore the grounds where you happened upon Oberyn training at a spot by the cliffs.

You had watched him from above for a while, Summer finding you and wishing to hurry you along.

“My lady, you should not have to watch this.”

“If you’re worried about me seeing violence, Summer, you must be forgetting I grew up with four brothers. I have seen my fair share of blood. Some of it my own.” you smiled before looking down as you heard your name being called.

You walked down the stairs with a nervous Summer before you found Oberyn stood at the bottom.

“You seem disgusted by my fighting?” he asked.

“Fighting? No. But how you fight? Yes.”

Oberyn smiled and squinted to shield his eyes from the glaring sun behind you. “Your brother told me you taught him a few things?”

“How long was this conversation with my brother?” you asked but Oberyn only chuckled.

“I had questions about my mystery bride. Forgive me for being curious.” From leaning against a rock, Oberyn presented you with a sword.

“Perhaps you could teach me a few things,”

“My lady-” Summer tried to protest but you simply smiled, taking the sword from him.

“It’s okay, Summer. If you feel the need to throw up, just simply look away. It’s what the stable boys used to do.”

From around your shoulders, you handed her your cloak and were only thankful that you had worn one of your own dresses that morning, rather than the Dornish choice.

Within a few swings of the sword against his own, Oberyn realised the seriousness of your fighting. This wasn’t a girl dreaming of being a warrior. This was a woman who knew what she was doing.

“I do not see many ladies fighting with a sword in their hand.”

“Good job I’m not a lady, then.”

“Where did you learn to fight like this? Your brothers?”

“My father actually.”

“Please, do explain. It’s not often a father teaches his daughter to fight like his boys.”

“Well, I suppose I should start at the beginning.”

And so you did.

“My, uh, my mother was high born. She had an affair with my father, only, she was married. So, when she gave birth to me, her husband brought me to my father. He took me in. He loved my mother despite everything. He was also the one who taught me how to cook. Always said a lady should know how to make a decent meal for herself.”

“But you’re no lady?” Oberyn echoed.

Your swords clashed together, and you cracked a smile.

“But I’m no lady.”

Your swords pushed upwards before you circled one another again.

“Anyway, when I was old enough, he taught me how to protect myself. Came in handy, too, for those men who could never seem to understand the word “no”, or “go away,” or “leave.”.”

“Everyone has a reason they begin to learn how to fight. Surely this cannot be the only one?

What was your reason?”

“What gives you that impression?”

“The look in your eyes,” Oberyn said. “The eyes are the window to the soul. And your soul tells me more.”

You contemplated it for a moment before smiling a little and continuing to fight against him. “There was a boy, outside of the governesses gates. He was being bullied so I stood up for him.”

“And your father?”

“When he found out, he was furious. Though, the child did continue to thank me.”

“Is he well?”

“No,” you said. “He died a few years later from an illness that no nurse across the whole of Westeros could cure. But he still thanked me for saving his life until his dying day.”

“And your father?”

“He asked me what I did and I told him. Then he showed me technique. A better one than I had used and by the time I was strong enough, I began fighting against my brothers. My father was widowed, six months before he and my mother began their relationship.”

“Did they go easier on you?” Oberyn asked you as he put some more power behind his swing.

“They tried.” you smiled. “But I gave them a hell of a beating for doing so.”

“I could only guess as much.”

The following movements, you could feel the scales tipping to his advantage only, with your experience, as he believed himself to be winning, you used his power against him until finally his sword was knocked out of his hand and he was leaning against a rock with the edge of your sword to his throat.

“Do you yield?”

“Yes,” he smiled with a breathy laugh. “I yield.”

You nodded, withdrawing your sword and lowering it.

“You are quite the swordsman. Or should I say swordswoman?”

“Thank you.”

“And an excellent fighter. It is a shame there is no opening for the KingsGuard.”

“Please,” you smiled. “This is my enjoyment. Only when you make something a job does it become work.”

“Well said, my lady.”

That was when a squire came running to alert you both that you were hotly called for in the main hall.

Whilst Oberyn kissed your hand, saying goodbye for now, Summer pulled you off towards your chambers where you washed down and changed your clothing before being walking, this time alone, into the main hall.

You had at least two dozen or more pairs of eyes on you as you stood clear in the centre when another Lord walked closer to you whilst, from the corner of your eye, you saw Oberyn sat at the altar with the other members of the council and his family.

A man, who you assumed was maester from his dressing, circled you as if examining every inch of you. He seemingly poked and prodded you a couple of times and moved your hair from your shoulder to move it behind you before rounding you and coming to your other side and just as he was about to touch you again, you spoke.

“If you touch me again, I will cut off your hand.”

Your eyes did not break from his, even when his eye line was distracted by Oberyn when he spoke.

“I would listen to her.” He said. “I’ve seen her with a sword.”

The man looked back to you until he saw not only the truth in Oberyn’s words but the truth in your eyes. From there, he slowly retracted his hand from your personal space and turned towards the Prince.

“She seems fit, your highness.”

“She has a name! She’d also prefer you to use it than talk as if she is not even in the room!”

The maester looked to you, for a moment, in shock. Then, he turned to his Prince who took a moment, looking to his own wife before looking back.

“She has a good point, Maester. She is right here, in front of your eyes. I’m sure you’re aware of that.”

So, repeating his words, the Maester, this time, used your name.

A few days later, the wedding took place.

It was a rather grand affair. Your father had sailed in for the occasion, walking you down the aisle. Vows were shared and by the time the reception came around, you couldn’t have felt more overwhelmed.

Sure, you had gotten used to the place since you arrived. But it didn’t feel like home. And now, it was your home. You were married to one of the Princes. You have become a Princess. No longer the Innkeeper’s daughter but Oberyn Martell’s wife.

Thankfully, however, when people were entertained with wine and spirits and entertainment, Oberyn pulled you from your seat and took you away from all the noise and bustle of the wedding.

Instead, the pair of you walked past servants who were ordered to remain quiet over your whereabouts whilst he led you into a section of the garden that was hidden away from almost everyone.

“Thank you.”

“I may like the wine, but it is not often I like the company of so many people.”

Every nobel of the land, you swore, was there. Them and every mistress and child they ever had.

Most of this time, alone, was spent in quiet solitude until.

“Dance with me.”

You looked up to your husband.

Husband. That would take some getting used to.

“What?”

“I can hear the music from here. Please, dance with me?”

Sighing a little, you rested your hand in his as he helped you up and together you both danced to the distant music.

Oddly enough, it was rather nice. To dance in the arms of someone who knew what they were doing. Though, you supposed fighting was a little like dancing. The movement rehearsed but just always in a different order.

“Tonight, you understand what is to happen?”

You looked up to him.

“You know what happens between a man and wife on their wedding night-”

“I grew up with four brothers, Oberyn. If you’re trying to be gentle on the subject, you should know there isn’t much I haven’t already heard.”

Oberyn cracked a smile before continuing. “The reason I bring it up is not to scare you but tell you, I will not touch you in that way, until the day that you ask me to.”

“And what if I never do?”

“Then…we will convince the Maester that you cannot bear my children and we shall have to adopt. There are many high borns who have not been blessed with children whether intentionally or not.”

You smiled.

There are worse fates, Sister

“Thank you, Oberyn.”

“I enjoy having you as my friend, as well as my wife. I’d rather have a lifetime of shared happiness than a night of misery.”

You smiled at him. “You’re a good man, Oberyn. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.”

“Though, there isn’t much I can do about the bed situation tonight, so we may share if you like. Though, I hope you don’t snore.”

“Not as bad as my brothers,”

Oberyn smiled, “I suppose that will have to do.”

Despite the initial awkwardness of sharing a bed, it wasn’t long until you fell asleep to the sound of the waves coming from the open windows and by the time you woke in the morning, you found Oberyn asleep beside you.

You watched him for a few moments before turning your head to the open windows where the light fabric of the curtains blew inside from the open balcony. He must have woken in the night and drew back the heavier curtains that had lay there last night.

10 days ago, you had been adamant on leaving. On escaping the morning after your wedding. Instead, you still remained in bed. And once Oberyn woke, you remained in bed talking to him as he explained the next few days to you and what would happen.

“And how long is it going to last? The honeymoon?”

“Until the next full moon.”

“A month?”

“Was there a full one last night?”

You thought back for a moment before nodding.

“Then, yes.”

However, what Oberyn didn’t tell you was that when he could not sleep last night and he stepped outside, his eyes remained on the sky and the full moon before he followed its light which he found gently landed on you and your sleeping beauty.

“Oh, and.”

You felt yourself laugh as Oberyn stood from the bed and quickly crossed the room and came back with some kind of red fruit which he called Pomegranate. Except, rather than eating its seeds, he removed some and crushed them until its juices dripped onto the bed sheets.

“To avoid suspicion.”

You hummed in slight delight as he covered both of your tracks surrounding the wedding night.

Over the next month, your friendship with Oberyn continued to grow and blossom. At night, you’d both sneak to the kitchens where you’d teach him what your father taught you.

Each morning, the staff would find either bread or small cakes baked especially for them and although there was no signature on the note, they had come to know your baking.

During the days, he’d take you to different places in Dorne, explaining its history and talking about his sister and other members of his family. Sometimes you’d watch him train and fight and most times, it would end with you stepping in and fighting against him.

And, finally, on the quiet days, he’d come and dance with you in the gardens until the day he asked you to teach him how to dance. You didn’t know much in terms of dancing but what you did have knowledge in was simple enough to teach.

Pressing palms together, you both stepped inside and back out, all the while slowly turning in a circle. You held the bottom of your dress out of the way of your feet as you did so.

As you both walked through the steps, you felt something change inside of you. Simply being under his gaze, you felt…nervous. Vulnerable. Like he could read the parts of your soul you didn’t even know you had yet.

And when he found a name for you…one that only he called you by…your feelings felt as if they were drowning and soaring all at once.

“I would like for you to formally meet my wife, my dove,” Oberyn introduced you to the second happy couple at a wedding you were both attending across the island.

The bride smiled at you and gave her greetings before the formalities of wedding and relationship talk began.

From there, he began to use it more often.

At first, you found it very apt. After all, you were the olive branch between The Agreement for Trade. But you came to learn it was more than that.

“In this messy world, you are my peace, my dove.”

Oberyn had told you that as speeches were made and you both sat together away from the head table. There were talks of how messy the world had gotten, it was nice to have a shining bright and hopeful future to come with the match of the bride and groom.

From there, you leaned into his body as his arm lay against the back of your chair. You took his hand that lay in his lap and held it before kissing his cheek.

It was after that you tried to keep yourself breathing. Any time you were close to him, your breath would catch in your throat and your mind would run wild - and at the most inopportune times. And when you would lie beside him at night, you could only think how easier it could have been if you had stayed awake past him and escaped.

Maybe then you wouldn’t have had to deal with your feelings for him.

For a week, months after the wedding you had attended together, Oberyn found himself waking each morning without you beside him. So, rather than wait for you, assuming you had gone to clear your head or gone to a lesson with Summer, he went in search of you.

He’d seen a change in you, the last couple of months. At first, he gathered it was a coincidence. Perhaps even an act. After all, you were both yet to consummate the marriage

but still had to convince people of your marital status.

But then he saw the look in your eyes when he had called you by the name he referred to you as to other people, in front of you.

Despite what your expression could hide with masterly skill - something you had explained your brothers had taught you as “a warrior should always be able to hide their emotions when in a battle.”. You had echoed this when sparring with him one afternoon in the setting sun.

Your hair was loose from the braids Summer had placed in your hair that morning and you still had soil and gravel under some of your nails from being in the garden earlier that day.

And, perhaps, to others, you would look a mess.

But he never found you more beautiful than how you looked when you were fighting against him or when you cooked with him. Your hair, usually neat, messy and your fingers and arms either dusted in dirt or flour.

So, when he found you by the waters edge one morning, away from the servants and the palace and simply in your own little world, he stayed back for a while and admired your form. How you danced across the floor, your sword swinging and slicing the air in front of you.

“I missed you this morning, my dove.”

You stopped your movements and slowed down. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Your mind would not rest?”

You tried your best to keep your gaze from him and he could tell. “No.”

“If you have a problem, is it not my job to fix that?”

“And what if you are my problem?”

You had clearly, to him, been arguing with yourself in your head as you fought the air with your sword. He was just happy he might finally understand the truth of why and might know if he was right in his thinking of why.

“Please, explain this concept to me.”

“God, you’re insufferable.”

“How so?”

“This! By doing…whatever it is that you are doing.”

“I am just standing here.”

“And that is half of my problem.”

“I am doing nothing.”

“You’re doing something.”

“Then, please, my dove, tell me what it is that I am doing.”

“I don’t know what it is! But it is something. You do something to be, Oberyn. You…confuse me.”

“Confuse you?”

“Yes, you confuse me. One moment, I am your friend. Next, I am your dove. At times, I do not care where you are but then I do. I care to know where you are and what you are doing. I go from liking you to hating your guts.”

“Why, my dove?”

“Because you are making this place feel like home to me.” you said. “When I first arrived, before I knew about you and about…everything, I was planning to run away. That the morning after my wedding, I would sneak on the next boat out of here and…fake my death. My brother would not have broken his contract and I could be free and not be somebody’s wife. But, instead of that, I spend every morning waking to your face and wishing that when you’d open your eyes you’d kiss me. You’d kiss me as if I was more than just your friend. That I was your wife.”

“You are my wife. You are my dove.”

“And that is another thing. I am your dove. I nearly slit a boy’s throat once because he called me sweetheart. But not with you. For some reason, with you, I wish to keep hearing it. I wish to keep hearing your voice talking to me, telling me stories, asking me questions, commanding your opponents.”

“So…you’re confused that you don’t wish to slit my throat? I think you’ll find I have that effect on people.”

“I’m being serious, Oberyn.”

“So am I, my dove.”

You found him walking closer to you but you could only keep your focus on the handle of your sword.

“First and foremost, I am your friend but there are times when…when I wish for more.”

“Why not tell me, dove?”

“Because I cannot get involved with-”

“We are married, are we not?” Oberyn asked.

“By alliance. Not…not by love.”

“My dove, look at me.” Oberyn commanded before placing a finger beneath his chin. And once your eyes met his, he saw clear into you. “What if I told you that had changed?”

“Please…don’t, Oberyn.”

“Why not let yourself fall? I know your feelings, my dove. I share them, too. Let yourself fall. I promise I will catch you.”

“Oberyn…”

“Let me kiss you. If you find your feelings stronger than another, then I will let you walk away. But if you don’t…stay with me.”

The last time you and Oberyn had kissed had been at your own wedding. But even then, it was quick. Simple.

This was anything but.

Despite his feelings rushing out of him faster than he could handle, the kiss was not violent. It was desperate. He was desperate. Desperate to prove to you that the feelings you felt were not only valid, but shared. That, for as long as you had been trying to put off and ignore the fact you were falling in love with him, he had fallen long ago.

In fact, the days before your wedding, he had fallen in love.

He already knew from the stories your brother had told him when asked that you were unlike any girl he would ever meet. And when he saw you in the hall, and saw you with the fury of murder in your eyes against your brother, he smiled. You were not soft or weak. Instead, you were only soft around those who you granted trust to. He was a first hand witness to that, in the late hours when you’d both lay on the bed together and he’d ask you questions of your childhood. You became relaxed and you laughed with him over tales of your brothers and everything they had done and the moments you had saved them. But, with that, you also told him of the darker moments, where you had to save yourself and your brothers or father would take care of the rest.

It was in those moments he wished he had met you sooner. He would kill anyone who tried to harm you.

He knew he found you attractive the first time you sparred together. The look in your eyes, the concentration, the fight you had. Not only were you a good competitor but an excellent partner.

Soon after that, he was long gone.

The way you handled the Maester. How you handled one of the guards when they made Summer uncomfortable under their gaze. He pretended not to see, but he did. He saw it all. And he couldn’t have been more in love.

By the time he pulled away, your hands were still locked onto his clothing holding him close.

“Do you feel your mind has changed, my dove?”

When he saw your reaction the first time he called you dove, he knew you were beginning to feel the same.

“Promise you’ll catch me?”

Oberyn smiled. “I promise, my dove.”

Pulling him back in, you kissed him once more only to feel his hands wrap around your back and pull you flush against him and yet you still felt far from him. He turned you slightly so your backside pressed against the lower wall where he lifted you to sit before leaning into you a little more as your legs wrapped around the back of his.

You were both thankful, though you doubted Oberyn cared much, that where you were, no-one usually came. For, despite your marital status, someone would still call your situation scandalous.

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theywhowriteandknowthings · 9 months

Text

The Fox and The Viper: The Moon

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: sexual assault/rape threat(no follow through), gore, blood, death, eventual smut, slooooow burn, drinking, alcohol excess. (Let me know if I missed any!) (Mam-gu = grandmother/grandma in Welsh, anywlyd is a term of endearment, Bore da is good morning)

(Yeah, I caved, I needed to get this out, next chapter will be released on the original release date (12th august) I hope you like it!) Line dividers: Designed by macrovector / Freepik edited by me

Chapter 1 – The Moon

Hari Owens bolts awake, sweat heavy on her brow as her chest heaves from the adrenaline coursing through her veins. Lightning arcs across the sky outside her window, the storm had been picking up momentum all day and had clearly reached its apex. But the storm wasn’t what woke her. She groans and looks to her nightstand to see her phone on it’s charging stand. The screen lights up as she moves.

04:17am

“Shit, might as well get up.” She breathes to herself, running her fingers through her long hair, brushing it out of her eyes as she resigns to another night of lost sleep. Hari rolls out of her single bed and crosses the small distance from her tiny bedroom, through the minuscule open plan kitchen-living room into to the even smaller bathroom.

The smell of mould and bleach makes her nose crinkle as she turns on the shower. The flat seemed to always have a bad smell about it, no matter how hard she cleaned. As she steps into the shower the vision of her nightmare flashes to the front of her mind.

The red snake coils around her neck, forked tongue skittering against her jaw as the smell of orange blossom and some heady incense threatens to suffocate her. It’s the same dream every time, she can’t recall when it first started but it couldn’t have been more than two months ago, but every Thursday night the nightmare retuned. It had started as just a pair of green reptilian eyes, staring at her through the gloom. Then the body of the snake had begun to wrap around her leg in one dream, then her torso in another, finally it reached her neck.

But this time it was different, there was a black and silver lion, a giant straw-yellow wolf and a single black deer snapping at her feet. Each is desperate to reach the snake, raking at her body with white hot claws, teeth like knives, and brutal crushing antlers.

As soon as blood had been drawn from her skin the snake struck at the wolf, sending it careening into the darkness. Next the deer was crushed by the tight coiling body of the snake. Finally, the lion was blinded by venom before the snake devoured it whole. As she forced herself to wake from the nightmare, she saw the snake shift and warp into the outline of a man, clothed in leather armour holding a spear.

Hari swears to herself as the water runs cold, the boiler had been acting up all week, and the frigid sheets of water were the last thing she needed this morning. She turns the shower off, shuddering as she wraps a towel around her before calling her grandmother, setting the call to speaker so she could get ready at the same time.

“Bore da Hari, what are you doing up this early?” Her grandmother’s coarse voice crackles through the phone. Hari’s lips curve up into a smile as she brushes her long copper hair into a high ponytail.

“Bore da Mam-gu,” She responds, loving being able to reply with the limited Welsh she knew, “Nightmares again, getting really vivid too.” Hari responds, wiping her face with a flannel washcloth before tucking the phone under her ear as she returns to her bedroom.

“The snake one again? Foresight doesn’t run in the family anywlyd, are you sure you’re not just smoking too much Ganja?” Hari can’t help but smile at the outdated term and the brass balls on her grandmother.

“No Mam-gu, and no-one says Ganja anymore,” Hari rolls her eyes at her delightfully out of date grandmother, “But no, I’m not smoking too much pot. This is the same as when Mum passed, I get the same sweats, the same rush of Power in my veins.” Hari explains, knowing her witch of a grandmother would understand. Carys Owens, or Mam-gu as she often demanded to be called, was a witch gifted with The Knowledge, a way of knowing things about the world, about people that was honed over eight decades of experience and training.

“This is troubling, and with Samhain tonight this is a bad omen cariad, you’re not going out tonight are you?” Mam-gu warns and Hari worries at her bottom lip with her teeth as she shimmies into tight black and silver yoga pants and a matching sports bra before zipping her work hoodie over the top.

“I’ve got a work thing, I’ll make sure I don’t say out past midnight.” Hari says, already cringing from the inevitable scolding from her grandmother.

“I will be calling you at midnight cariad, you best be tucked up in bed with the doors locked and windows shut.” Mam-gu warns and Hari falters for a second, pausing in her search for her trainers.

“I expected to be forbidden from leaving the house, by threat of wooden spoon, you getting soft Mam-gu?” She teases, hoping to get a rise out of the old woman.

“You’re almost thirty Angharad Sian Owens, you have to make your own decisions, but please, be careful.” Mam-gu’s voice is full of concern and Hari takes a deep breath as she spots her trainers under the bed.

“I promise, I’ll check in with you when I get home tonight. Rwy’n dy garu di.” She adds.

“I love you too cariad, now get going, those weights won’t lift themselves!” Mam-gu says and Hari can hear the smile in her croaky tone. Mam-gu is exerting The Knowledge casually over her, and even through the phone she can home in on a person to excruciating detail.

“It’s so weird when you do that Mam-gu, speak later.” Hari chuckles as she hangs up the call, slipping in her air pods and shouldering her rucksack. Whilst she had chatted with her Mam-gu she had stuffed clothes for work and outfit for the Halloween party around her work laptop.

She locks her door, psyching herself up with a few stretches before the ghostly image of the man in leather armour flashes through her mind. She shakes the image from her thoughts, already selecting a pop-punk workout mix as she begins the descent down the fourteen flights down to the street below.

Hari grunts as she finishes her last rep of deadlifts, her muscles shaking with exertion as she releases the Olympic bar. She always finishes on deadlifts, something about the workout gave her a buzz, a sense of achievement. She swipes her towel from the floor and pats herself down before grabbing the cleaning solution and paper towels from the station to her right.

That’s when she sees them, her heart sinks as she continues wiping down the bar and weights before returning them to the racks. Marcus, John, and the third guy who’s name she could never remember always came in like a pack of stray dogs.

“Hey look it’s your girlfriend Dan!” Marcus, the bullish one of the group, all muscle, no neck, and hair like mouldy straw. He was the largest of them all, and Hari always guessed was the most likely to be juicing on steroids. Dan strides over to her, crowding her space as she backs up towards the racks of weights behind her. John mopes behind the pair, dark hair pulled into a short pony tail, eyes averted as the other two flank her on both sides.

“Hey there Hari, you finishing up? Don’t want to put on a show for us today?” Dan drawls, looking her up and down with a predatory gaze. The proximity unsettles Hari, Dan’s reddish-brown hair was slicked back, the smell of too much gel burning Angharad’s nostrils as she backs up slowly from him.

“I need to get to work, please, get out of the way.” Hari says, eyes defiant as she stares Dan down, but her heart is hammering in her chest, if she wasn’t already sweating from the workout she would be now. Dan had pushed her boundaries often, but this was more sinister, calculated.

“Work, work, work,” Dan mocks her with a sing-song tone, “All you do is work, no wonder you’re so uptight.” He steps further into her personal space, the odour of cheap body spray and smell of cigarettes nauseating as Hari’s hand falls to the weight rack behind her. Her fingertips brush against the cast iron plates, feeling for one of the lighter ones, just in case.

“I’m going out tonight actually,” She retorts, trying to diffuse the situation as she grips what she thinks is a 5kg plate, “So I’ll be sure to unwind then.” The rush of her own blood in her ears is deafening as she watches Dan’s lips curve up into a sinister smile.

“Maybe we’ll see you out there, help you get rid of some of that tension?” Dan purrs, placing a hand on her arm.

“Hey!” A masculine voice shouts from across the gym and Hari lets go of the breath she had been holding in, “Hari you alright over there? These guys bothering you?”

“Actually John,” She says, a glint in her eye as she looks up into Dan’s cold dark eyes, “They’ve been harassing me for weeks, I’d like to make a complaint.”

“Fucking bitch, don’t you dare.” Dan growls, his grip tightens on her arm as she stares defiantly up at him.

“Alright guys, back off,” John’s voice booms across the lofty room as he strides over to the group, “I’m letting you off with a warning this time, but you bother her again I’m suspending your membership, permanently.” John squares up to Dan, who still had a firm grip on Angharad’s arm. His broad, well built body towers over Dan as Angharad smiles to herself.

“Alright old man, we’ll leave her alone, probably a frigid bitch anyway.” Dan scoffs, throwing Hari’s arm from his grip before sauntering off with his lackeys in tow.

“You should have said something Hari, I don’t want anyone feeling threatened in my gym.” John scolds her gently but she simply shakes her head.

“It’s alright, I mostly just avoid them, but I would like to lodge that complaint.” Hari says with a smile and he nods in agreement.

“Alright come on, got a few forms for you to sign.” John says as he places a kind hand on her shoulder, steering her towards his office.

The Mountain strikes from high, with crushing blows that would cleave a man in two, but Oberyn knows this game too well, he voids his body to and fro, slipping past the lumbering giant of a man. His spear strikes the sword away, time and time again, until the haft shatters. He spins away from his opponent, theatrics and prideful boasting at it’s finest as he crosses the piste to collect another spear from his squire.

Sweat beads on Oberyn’s brow as the exertion from the fight begins to show. Again and again, he taunts the Mountain, commanding him to confess, to admit to the monstrous acts he committed upon Oberyn’s kin. But every time, The Mountain only responds with further acts of brutal violence. Again and again, he baits, feints, and slashes at The Mountain’s enormous form. Blood spurts across the stone floor as The Viper’s spear tears through the gaps in The Mountain’s armour. The back of the knee, the waist, the neck. All targeted and executed with surgeon-like precision. Finally, growing tired of the silence from his opponent, Oberyn feints high before embodying his moniker, he coils back before launching a beautiful, deadly strike to The Mountain’s chest.

The giant falls with a booming crunch, blood already pooling from the deep wound as Oberyn stalks around his prey. He laughs, without humour, at the dying man and in a moment of sheer, pitiful hubris, pushes his foe too far.

“You’re dying? No, no, you can’t die yet, you haven’t confessed! Admit it, say her name!” He roars as the spear tears from The Mountain’s chest as he dances away. The triumph swelling in his breast as he lords his victory over the man who raped and murdered his sister and killed his nieces and nephews. The Mountain’s hand moves at inhuman speed, gripping The Viper with ease before yanking him down on top of him.

Time seems to slow as Oberyn’s sees the blow coming. The large, armoured fist of the monster who caused his dear family so much pain, so much anguish, would hit with such force he knew he could not bear. He braces for it, stealing one final glance at Ellaria as he realises his fatal mistake. His face is set into a sad smile as he remembers her final words to him.

“Do not leave me alone in this world.”

I am sorry my love.

The Viper closes his eyes.

“Pop, I really don’t like this kind of stuff, it feels disrespectful.” Hari grumbles but nothing stops Poppy Jones when she wants something.

“I’ll just get a reading then, you can just sit with me, please?” Poppy stops in her tracks, her blonde curls bouncing as she comes to a halt by the entrance to the stall. She’s dressed like Alice in Wonderland, well, a liberal interpretation of it with way too much cleavage to really be appropriate for a work function, but Poppy never seemed to mind the ogling looks or inappropriate stares.

Hari on the other hand had settled on going as Merida from Brave. Sporting a custom-made navy and gold gown with a high neckline made to resemble an older Merida which flows perfectly over her muscular body. Her hair falls in long copper waves, a bronze circlet with a fake emerald set in the middle rests just above her thick brows. A thick leather belt pulls the gown together, completing the look.

“Fine.” Hari says with a dramatic roll of her eyes and Poppy squeals in delight as she drags her work bestie over to the two chairs sat opposite the Tarot Reader.

“Good evening ladies, are you here to have your Tarot read?” Hari blinks slowly, the familiar feeling of Power buzzes in the air as she regards the woman across the table.

“Me, please!” Poppy says eagerly, sipping on her fourth vodka martini of the night as she scoots forward on the chair. Hari nurses her beer, a local ale, malty and bitter on her tongue as she tries to figure out what the Tarot reader’s game is.

“I’m just here for emotional support.” Hari says dismissively but she can’t shake the look the old woman gives her. Those dark blue eyes seem to look straight into Hari’ soul, something Mam-gu always managed with her use of The Knowledge.

I know you’re a witch, Angharad Owens, be patient and see me after this reading.

The woman’s voice echoes around Hari’s head like an old-school radio transmission, distorted and crackling, but nonetheless clear. She chokes on her beer, spluttering as she pulls her free hand up to her mouth, eyes narrowed at the old witch before her.

She watches the older woman like a hawk the whole time, studying the cards intently as the reading went on. To her surprise, the reading is as authentic as possible, a few gasps and muttered nonsense-phrases to sell the act, but the witch was the real deal, the hum of Power that filled the air as she read is all the proof Hari needs. Hari rubs the back of her neck nervously, something felt off, she couldn’t tell what, but her heart pounds in her chest like an angry wasp trapped beneath an upended glass.

“Why don’t you get yours read Hari? Come on, I got a great result!” Poppy pleads, usually Hari wouldn’t give into her peer pressure but the amulet around the witch’s neck gives her pause. A red serpent with emerald eyes.

The Viper.

“Alright, please, read my Tarot, Mistress-?” Hari fishes, looking to be respectful but also wanting to have a name to relay back to Mam-gu when she got home.

“Arielle.” The witch smiles, her teeth pearly white and pristine. The sight sends shivers down Hari’ spine.

“Mistress Arielle, please read my cards.” Hari sets down her beer, placing her hands flat on the table, eyes fixed on the cards as Arielle shuffles them. The cards are a glossy, iridescent purple with hints of black, indigo, and teal green as the light catches them. A pair of snakes, locked devouring one another in a perfect circle are set in shaped in gold-leaf against the swirling darkness.

“What do you want to know?” Arielle asks, and Hari takes a deep breath, stilling her mind as she had been taught. Mam-gu was blessed with The Knowledge so Tarot was something Hari was well versed in, even if she was terrible at reading other people’s cards.

Start with something easy, mundane.

“Where is my career going?” She asks calmly as the witch’s lips twitch involuntarily, as if she expected something more.

Slowly, Arielle flips the first card over, The Chariot, Reversed.

“There’s turbulence in your future, you lack direction and must seek out a new path, but that does not always spell disaster, it could be just the shift you’ve needed.” Arielle says calmly, Hari fights the urge to roll her eyes, a very generic answer to a very generic question. But she didn’t expect much more so she let Arielle continue.

The second card is drawn, The Magician.

“Your move is to one of creativity, a book? A manuscript you wish to write? That is the way things are moving towards.” Arielle says with a knowing look in her eye but Hari still doesn’t buy it.

Who isn’t writing a book or a screenplay these days?

She thinks to herself as the final card is drawn.

The Devil, Reversed.

“This path will set you free, to explore the truth you have been neglecting.” Arielle finishes and smiles sweetly at the pair. Poppy is bored, the attention is no longer on her and her drink is balefully empty.

“Come on Hari, that was fun, let’s get another drink!” Poppy says as she stands, tugging on Angharad’s sleeve but Angharad doesn’t move. Every flip of the cards was filled with Power that emanated from the small woman opposite her, this was no parlour trick or con-man’s deception. Arielle was gifted in the same way Mam-gu is, and that both intrigues and terrifies Hari.

“Go on without me, I’ll meet you at the bar.” Hari says without taking her eyes off the witch before her.

“I thought you said this was disrespectful or something?” Poppy pouts but has already let go of Hari’ arm.

“I’ve changed my mind, go on I won’t be long.” She says and it’s all Poppy needs before heading off to the bar, swaying only a little as she does so.

“So, you still think I’m a hack?” Arielle asks, her sweet old lady voice gone, replaced by a no-nonsense, scolding tone that had Hari thinking of Mam-gu.

“You’re a witch, you have the Power, let’s just say I’m not as sceptical as before.” Hari says slowly, her beer warming on the table next to her but she didn’t want to drink it, not right now.

“And you’re a witch too, but you don’t believe it do you?” Arielle responds, already re-shuffling the deck, as if already following Hari’s thought process.

“I’ve never manifested the Power, not really.” Hari admits, a blush spreading across her cheeks as she admits her deep shame to a complete stranger. She was the first in her family not to manifest one way or another, but she did have the Sight, the ability to see the supernatural and the Sense, the ability to feel Power being worked in the world around her.

“Except when you dream.” Arielle pries knowingly and Hari’ eyes go wide in shock.

“What do you know of my dreams?” Hari’ voice is a harsh whisper as she leans forward towards the witch, a spark of anger awakening in the back of her mind.

“Why don’t we find out?” Arielle chuckles softly as she shuffles the deck once more.

The first card is drawn and Hari’ mouth goes dry. The Moon.

“Illusions and intuition, foresight if I’ve ever seen it, that’s what your dreams are are they not? Warnings of what is to come, the Power leaving you breathless and slick with sweat as you wake?”

Hari can’t form words so simply nods, the air is close and the sound of the storm outside rocks the ballroom from without. Arielle draws the second card.

The Chariot, Reversed.

“Aggression, lack of control. Your dreams have you unable to fight back a dangerous foe, or foes.” Arielle nods, no longer looking for confirmation from Hari as she reads, the hum of the Power is like a high-pitched whine in Hari’s ears as she clenches her jaw in pain. Arielle continues unprompted.

The Tower.

“This is troubling, disaster comes with your dreams, sudden upheaval and pain.” Arielle’s smile has faded, as if this wasn’t already known to her. She looks up into Hari’ eyes with sorrow, “I’m sorry Angharad, I don’t know how to help you, but we could do another reading, seek some clarity?”

“Please.” Is all Hari can muster as the dream manifests in her mind again, but this time she’s waking, it’s as if the scene plays out behind Arielle in the darkness of the back room behind her. The red viper is now a man, clad in leather, fighting off three faceless men with animal heads. The wolf, the lion, the stag. The scene continues to play on a loop as Arielle draws the next set of cards.

The Hanged Man, Reversed.

“Needless Sacrifice, but not your own, someone else’s but the act is interlocked with your fate.” Arielle’s voice is barely more than a whisper as she moves through the next card.

The Lovers.

“This confirms my previous statement, who ever is sacrificing needlessly is united with you. You and they are bound to the same fate.” She draws the final card.

The Fool.

“But not all is lost, this person will change your fate, and you theirs. They are a free spirit to your rigidity, a beacon of new hope, if you can withstand the events to come you will be reborn anew, whole once more.” Arielle finishes and sags back on her chair, her pupils dilated so much her irises have all but disappeared.

“Arielle, are you ok?” Hari asks, leaping up to steady the old woman as she threatens to fall from her seat.

“You are a special child, a child of woe and sadness, but it is not all you are, nor all you will be. Thank you for letting me read your Tarot, it was one of the most fulfilling of my entire life.” Arielle breathes in short rasps and her lips begin to turn blue.

“Someone call an ambulance!” Hari roars as the witch passes out in her arms.

Hari’s nerves are shot, her knee bobbing up and down violently as she downs her third double shot of whisky in an hour. She considered calling Mam-gu but it was almost eleven already, she’d do it when she got home.

“Hari, you gotta slow down, the paramedics said Arielle was going to be fine, she was just dehydrated and overworked, this can’t be your fault for getting your Tarot read.” Lawrence rests his warm hand on her shoulder, squeezing it softly.

“I know, I just feel so pent up, maybe it’s the storm.” She responds, the image of Arielle being hoisted into the ambulance burning a hole in her brain. She fingers the red serpent pendant around her neck, the witch had slipped it to her as she was loaded into the ambulance.

“Don’t fear the Viper, you will save him as much as he will save you.”

Hari had been mulling over her words for hours, fingers always touching the pendant, running over the intricate grooves and lines of the incredibly well-crafted piece. The leather thong attached to it looped over her head perfectly, as if it was made for her.

“Maybe, you want me to walk you both home?” Lawrence asks as he glances at Poppy, who lays sprawled out in the booth opposite them, passed out and snoring.

“Nah get her home, I’ll manage.” Hari says placing her hand over his and squeezing back. His soft blue eyes and shaggy blonde hair in the dark light highlighted just how attractive he is. But they’d been there, done that, almost murdered one another over one thing, or another. Cliché as it was, they were better off friends.

“Alright, but text me when you get home ok?” Lawrence says with a sympathetic smile as he downs the last of his beer, hoisting Poppy up gently before draping her arm over his shoulder and walking her out.

“Night Lordie, will do.” Hari responds before considering one more drink before heading home. Then she sees him through the window of the pub. Dark wavy hair, patchy beard and moustache, strong aquiline nose, wild brown eyes, dressed in leather armour. Then he’s gone. Replaced by the flash of lightning against the torrential rain that assaulted the dark streets beyond.

She doesn’t know what possesses her to chase after him, but after the Tarot reading and with the building anxiety in her stomach, she couldn’t stop herself. She runs out into the street, the chill biting at her skin as she scans the cobbled street for the man. It didn’t help that everyone was dressed in costume. The rain soaked Hari though to the skin, making her shiver violently in the late night air.

A flash of movement down a side alley catches her eye and she sees him again, disappearing into the gloom. Every survival instinct, every lesson on how to stay alive as a woman at night went out the window as she chased after him. The smell of urine and refuse fills her nostrils as she darts down the alleyway.

She turns down another side street before calling out to the stranger.

“Hey!” She shouts but the ghostly apparition of the man pauses before disappearing into thin air. Suddenly very aware how alone and vulnerable she is Hari backs out of the alley and heads back to the main street.

“Hey there Princess Merida, fancy seeing you here.” Dan’s cold voice calls from the alley entrance, Marcus and John are on either side of him. Hari says nothing, sweat beading on her brow as she tries to quell the panic in her chest.

“You got us a one month suspension from the gym, you know that?” Marcus pipes up this time, striding forward, blocking the alley further as the trio hemmed her in. Her hand flies to the pendant around her neck, the turbulent aura of Power surrounding her as she backs away from Dan slowly.

“Look I’m sorry I was in a really bad mood this morning, I’ll talk with Steve tomorrow and sort it out.” She barters, raising her hands in submission as she steps back into the alley, trying to put some distance between them.

“Too late,” Dan grumbles, “Watch the alley entrance.” He orders the other two and the sick feeling of dread fills Hari’s stomach as she realised his intentions. The clink of a belt buckle and the metallic slide of a zipper all but confirming it.

Angharad screams.

Staring up at a stormy sky, Oberyn realises quickly he is no longer in Westeros. The smell of wet grass, an acrid smog akin to tar, and the damp odour of rain fills his nostrils as he rocks up onto his feet, his body aches and he looks around the dimly lit courtyard to see he is in the confines of a castle’s bare gardens. The cobbled stones that line the floor, with large patches of grass lined with low walls surrounded by a large castle wall evidenced it well enough. But the looming castle tower at the top of a man-made hill confirmed it.

The noises he could hear were foreign to him, loud rumblings of great clanking beasts, blaring calls of loud, metallic horns and the roar of what sounded like dragons passing overhead were almost enough to overwhelm him. But there were familiar noises too, the simple fall of heavy rain. The peeling sounds of music, albeit more complex than he was used to, and the merrymaking of men and women in the streets were all sounds he could recognise.

Then he heard the screams. Hari’s screams. He couldn’t just hear them, he could feel them in his bones like a siren song drawing him to her. Who she was, Oberyn could not tell, but he knew she was important, knew that only he could save her.

Rushing through the large gatehouse and into the street beyond was like a portal into a different world. Cars, buses, bicycles all whipped along the road in front of Oberyn as he bursts out on to the street. He had no word for them but watched as a large crowd, dressed in costumes and masks for some kind of festival, crossed the road to the flash of a green witchlight on a pole, and high-pitched beeping.

Without a second thought he crossed with them, reaching the other side before the traffic consumed the road once more. He almost stopped in his tracks, fascinated by the vehicles of varying size and shapes, then the scream came once more and Oberyn felt the mindless pull towards a dark alley ahead of him.

Two men stand guard at the entrance, one blonde and ugly, the other ugly and dark haired, or so Oberyn thought to himself. The taller blonde one barks something in a tongue Oberyn cannot understand, but the meaning is clear without words as he shoves Oberyn back forcefully. The Viper laughs, a short, barking sound that seemed to only infuriate the pair blocking his path. In his own tongue he taunted them.

“Let’s dance.”

“Fucking hell guys, get rid of him!” Dan barks over his shoulder as he tries to free his dick from his pants with one hand. Hari fights back with renewed fervour, the hope of the mystery man intervening enough to spur her on.

“Shit!” John yelps as a soft, yet heavy thud rings through the alley. Marcus is down, and in the light from the street beyond reflects in a blackening pool of what must be blood flowing onto the wet cobbles. John flees into the Highstreet before Dan can even turn to face the leather clad man.

“Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something?” Dan scoffs, then he looks down to see the unmoving form of Marcus, with John no-where to be seen. He freezes in panic before pushing Hari away and addressing the strange man in very real looking leather armour.

The other man laughs once more, a spirited, audacious sound, before speaking once again in his native tongue. Time seems to slow as Hari watches the saviour from her nightmares lunge at Dan, gripping him by the back of the head before wrenching him away from her. Dan stumbles against the slick wall to Hari’s right and he grunts in pain and frustration.

The mystery man winks at Hari, bright teeth flashing pearlescent in the moonlight, his dark hair plastered against his head from the rain as he locks his dark eyes with her own. The smell of good quality leather, orange blossom and incense fills Hari’s nostrils as he twirls around just in time to parry aside the poorly thrown punch from behind.

She watches in awe as the man from her dreams dances around Dan, ducking and spinning away from every sloppy punch and flailing kick. It was like watching a child play fight with an older sibling. But siblings don’t break each other’s jaws.

The snap of Dan’s head is sickening as he howls into the night air, he falls to the floor, kneeling at the other man’s feet as he weeps and sobs. The rain thunders around Hari as she realises she needs to act. Without hesitation she throws herself between the two men, shielding Dan from any further abuse.

“Enough.” She says fiercely, very aware that this man could very well be as dangerous to her as Dan just was, but something about the way he stares back with unwavering, calm intensity gives her confidence to push him back. She shoves with both hands against his leather-clad chest. He laughs before saying something in his own tongue but she shakes her head.

“I don’t understand you.” She says as the sound of sirens filter through the night air, she acts without thinking and grabs the man by the wrist and runs, he doesn’t resist and they flee together into the stormy streets of Cardiff on Halloween.

I hope you look forward to the next chapter! This is a real passion project for me!

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

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