Oberyn - Tumblr Posts
Oberyn Martel x reader x Ellaria Sand
This is purely self indulgent as I have fallen down the Pedro Pascal rabbit hole (I partially blame DVCREE’s edit on Tik Tok -watch it if you haven’t it’s worth it-)
Word Count: 1.3K or 1,298 Warnings: Illian Payne, abuse (hitting from Illian Payne and Sandor Clegane), Joffrey, beheading, forced marriage (initial) This will be a several part series I just want to see if anyone is intrested before I release the entire fic in one go <3
“Sansa…” You whispered, throat tightening in horror as you stared up at the head of your father sat upon one of the spikes. Tears slowly began to fall from your eyes as you backed away from the ledge, the height of it now being the least of your concerns. “Dog look she’s crying!” You heard Joffrey laugh from somewhere behind you. “M’lady?” You heard the voice of Sandor Clegane speak from beside you before his hand reached for your arm and you flinched away, eyes not leaving the spike. “Y/N, we have to go.” Sansa muttered, grasping your hand in her own before a scream left her lips. “I could just drop you, you know.” Joffrey laughed insanely as Illian Payne grasped your wrists and held you over the ledge at the King’s command. “Sansa!” You screamed, fear clinging to you as you once again began to cry. “Y/N! My Lord, please help her!” Sansa pleaded, tears of her own once again falling down her cheeks. “As my future wife asks.” Joffrey smirked, an evil glint of malice flashing in his eyes.
“I could have you killed right here, just like your father! Would you like your head to be put up beside him or should I ship it to your bastard brother?” Joffrey sneered as you flinched further and further away from the crossbow that was pointed at your head. “My lord please…” You began before you heard the bolt be loaded and you paled. “She is wearing far too many layers is she not dog?” Joffrey laughed, motioning with the weapon towards the hound. “My lord?” He started before Joffrey interrupted him, “Remove them won’t you?” Your body visibly stiffened as your hands began to tremble. The hound remained as he was, refusing to move and with a small tantrum Joffrey soon demanded Illian Payne do the deed. “Get away from me!” You cried as rough hands grasped at the fabric of your dress. “No!” You shrieked as the tearing sound began. Suddenly it all stopped and, for a brief moment, you were safe before the beatings began. Looking over your shoulder you realised it was Sandor. “I apologise m’lady it’ll hurt less than that bastard.” He muttered before the hits continued.
At some point you blacked out as you awoke several hours later back in your chambers with dressings on your wounds. “My lady you must rest.” You heard a familiar voice speak from beside you. Immediately, you crept back and away from the voice, muscles tense, until you saw who the voice belonged to and you calmed as much as life at King’s Landing would allow. “Tyrion…” You whispered before tears began to fall down your cheeks. “I want to go home…” You wept as the lord slowly stepped closer to you. “I know… my lady I know.” He sighed in response, taking your hand in both of his.
A few nights passed and before you knew it Joffrey’s name day arrived. You dressed as you always did, spoke nothing as per usual, left your hair down just like any other day and skipped breakfast to avoid the Lannisters.
Your day only began to differ when the jousting tournament began, and that started as they always did- Illian Payne and the Hound gaining victory after victory. Until a new contestant entered the arena that is. The way his body moved was mesmerising, almost like a dance. The motions reminded you ever so much of flowing water. “The Dornish Prince, Prince Oberyn.” Tyrion explained to you, noticing how entranced you appeared to be with the man. “He moves very beautifully, does he not?” You asked, a soft smile gracing your lips for the first time in what felt like a millenia. “Indeed.” The Lord agreed, both of you failing to notice the raven haired woman in the crowd staring curiously up at you.
That night celebrations of the King’s Name Day could be heard throughout the citadel, most however celebrated the victory of the Dornish Prince against Illian Payne after his victory against Sandor Clegane.
You walked silently past the Red Viper and the woman sat beside him in an attempt to escape the banquet hall when a whining voice reached your ears, causing you to flinch slightly where you stood now still. “Where do you think you’re going Stark? We will miss you ever so much, come give us a show like you did before or should I get Illian Payne to show you how again?” Joffrey snickered as chuckles and laughter followed the King’s remarks. “Apologies, the lady was just on her way to me.” You heard an unfamiliar voice reply on your behalf. Upon looking in the direction of the voice you rapidly found it’s owner as none other than the Prince of Dorne himself as the woman sat beside him raked her eyes up and down your body.
“Thank you, my prince.” You quietly spoke, nodding your head at the two attractive people before you. “It is of no bother to me, what is your name?” Oberyn returned, motioning for you to sit beside him. “Y/N Stark, of Winterfell, my prince.” You answered, the usual homesick feeling creeping into your stomach at the mention of the homeland you so wished to return to. “A gorgeous name, much befitting of its owner.” The Prince complimented before motioning to the woman sitting beside him, “This is Ellaria Sand, mother of all eight of my daughters back in Dorne.” “Eight daughters, that must be difficult, I can only imagine how difficult it was for my parents with my two sisters and I.” You replied, sitting down beside the Prince of Dorne. “They are angels. They do not cause any trouble.” Ellaria answered, standing to walk behind you and seat herself beside you instead of Oberyn.
The conversation, although mildly awkward, was interesting and flirtatious, you on the receiving and viewing end, and was regrettably cut short by a clanging of metal against glass. “People!” Joffrey’s voice cut through the peaceful, mindless discussion you were so much enjoying. “As a celebration of my name day I would like to announce an alliance of two houses. After much consideration I believe it to be the benefit and advantage of everyone involved. After all, the people of Dorne can hardly tell the difference between sheep and women anyway, so how hard is it to confuse a cow with a woman?” The king attempted to joke as a few nervous laughs flew across the room. “The proposal is between our esteemed champion and guest, Oberyn Martell and the cow of the narrative Y/N Stark.” The king finished as actual laughter reached people’s lips.
You remained frozen in place, the only part of you that moved being your shaking hands before you stood up and quickly left the banquet hall.
“You can’t go to Dorne!” Sansa muttered, clasping your hands in her own- preventing you from continuing to pack your meagre belongings into a bag. “I must Sansa.” You replied, tears once again pricking at your eyes. “Do not let them see you cry little sister.” Sansa whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead before pulling you into an embrace. “No matter what, you will always be my sister. You will always be a Stark.” She murmured, tears of her own falling from her eyes and rolling down her cheeks. “I know. I will miss you dear sister.” You admitted, clinging ever closer to your older sister, in a feeble attempt to never let go, to never leave. “First father, then Arya, then Robb and Mother, now you. Stay safe. I do not think I could manage another family member leaving forever.” You whispered, kissing her cheek before you pulled away, dried your eyes and made for the door.
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Thanks for reading
“I was the oldest,” the prince said, “and yet I am the last. After Mors and Olyvar died in their cradles, I gave up hope of brothers. I was nine when Elia came, a squire in service at Salt Shore. When the raven arrived with word that my mother had been brought to bed a month too soon, I was old enough to understand that meant the child would not live. Even when Lord Gargalen told me that I had a sister, I assured him that she must shortly die. Yet she lived, by the Mother’s mercy. And a year later Oberyn arrived, squalling and kicking. I was a man grown when they were playing in these pools. Yet here I sit, and they are gone.”