#eswf

DISCLAIMER!

This is an AU based off of Professional Wrestling! More specifically, the Lucha Wrestling style, as it is the most popular form of pro wrestling where I live and the style I am most knowledgeable about.

As much as I would have loved to put all of the characters in this AU, I have decided to only put the graduates/18+ characters in ESWF due to the ES story’s age fluctuation. Also, you have to be 18+ to be in pro wrestling where I live.

All characters in ESWF have an in-ring persona! Meaning that certain actions, storylines, and feuds have the potential to be out of character! Much like actual wrestlers, their personas are not a reflection of their real personalities.

ABOUT THE MOD

Hi! I’m Mod S (he/him). I have been into wrestling for about 13 years and Ensemble Stars for about a year and a half now! I am an UNDEADP , Crazy:B P, Double FaceP/MaMP, and AdamP. I am an artist too! Drawings for the AU will be posted here for the most part.

TAGGING

All posts regarding the AU will be tagged with #ESWF, miscellaneous posts will be tagged with #The Locker Room, and posts or asks from you guys will be tagged as #ESWF Universe !

When you’d arrived back at your room after leaving them, though, your gift for Oberyn was waiting on your bed, presumably delivered while you were away. Which left you with the dilemma of if you still planned to attend the party.

As you sat watching the guests below, you decided you would attend. You still needed to give Oberyn his present, and besides, you had promised him you would go.

Even if you weren’t sure he still wanted you there.

Hours later, just as the sun was beginning to dip towards the horizon, you dragged yourself away from the balcony to get ready. Something felt like it was missing as you slipped your dress on, the burnt yellow fabric whispering against your skin in the silence.

The last time you wore this dress was when you tried it on with Ellaria. When you’d felt pinned by Oberyn’s gaze and the only thing holding you up was her presence behind you.

Tears burn in the back of your throat as you study yourself in the mirror. It feels wrong, to cover yourself in his color and symbol when you’ve been hiding from them both, but you haven’t had the chance to wear it yet, and a small part of you hopes Oberyn will like you wearing it to his party. It felt wrong to wear his colors, it felt wrong to get ready without Ellaria, it felt wrong to hold yourself away from them like this, it all felt wrong. It felt like there was a gaping hole in your chest where they were supposed to be and you didn’t know how to fix it.

You rubbed at your chest like it could make the ache go away, mentally fighting with yourself over if you should still even go. The present sitting on your bed felt like a looming elephant, though, and you wanted to at least give it to him. 

Your feet feel like lead as you walk down the halls, voices filling the air around you. It feels like everyone in Dorne must be here, and you aren’t at all surprised to see that Oberyn didn’t limit the guest list to only those with money and titles.

The decorations seem to get more and more elaborate and eye-catching as you make your way through the halls, and by the time you get to the main hall your head is swimming at the amount of wealth on display. You’d passed several windows draped with cloths that you weren’t entirely certain weren’t spun of pure gold with the way they shimmered, and the people were just as elaborately decorated. 

The main hall, however, still managed to take your breath away.

You’d only seen the room once since you got here, and even empty it was an impressive space. Decorated for the party, however, it was astonishingly beautiful. The vaulted ceiling had been draped with more of that shimmery fabric combined with more fabric in a rainbow of jewel tones to resemble the top of a circus ten. Jewel encrusted lanterns hung from glittering ropes all across the room, providing enough light to see by while throwing dramatic shadows across the walls and columns. The expansive marble floor had been practically covered in rugs in a dizzying array of colors and patterns, with plush cushions and chairs scattered around between a combination of low tables for the guests to sit at and standing-height tables loaded down with seemingly endless platters of food. The center of the room, normally where you would walk between the now fabric-wrapped pillars to approach the throne at the other end, was clear of rugs. A group of musicians sat to the side of the main dais, playing what you assumed was a variety of songs from across Westeros to accommodate the guests that had traveled from other cultures. The dance floor was crowded, a sea of different cultures of dress, the typical flowy fabrics of Dorne swirling next to the stiff collars of the northern climates. 

Apparently, you had managed to underestimate the lengths they would go to for a prince’s name-day celebration. What on earth would a celebration for the ruling prince’s name-day look like?

Before you could contemplate that simply absurd question, three people at the other end of the room caught your eye. Doran was sitting on the throne, smiling off to his right where Oberyn stood. The moment your eyes landed on him he threw his head back, laughing at whatever his brother had just said. He practically glowed in the light of the lanterns, and the ache in your chest doubled at the sight. Ellaria stood by his side, resplendent in a deep red dress, a wide smile on her face as she gazed up at Oberyn. You were a little surprised to see her up and walking so soon, but with how easy the birth had gone, she must have been cleared to attend. Not that you could really see any doctor or midwife or anyone being able to tell her not to do something she wanted to do.

For once you were grateful for the overwhelming number of people crowded around you, because neither of them seemed to notice your entrance. Rather than tempting fate by standing and staring you turned away, making your way to the already sizeable pile of presents by the open arches that lead out into the main garden. You couldn’t see much through the gauzy fabric and strings of beads draped over the openings, but you knew it was beautiful if the other gardens were anything to go by.

You set your present on the pile and turned, unsure of what to do with yourself now. Before you could make a move towards one of the food-laden tables, a chill ran over your skin, and a second later a hand slid into the bend of your elbow.

“Hello, my dear. Would you do me the honor of a dance?” Rylan pulled you out into the crowd on the dance floor with a vicelike grip before you could react, and you had to fight down a surge of panic. The rational voice in your head was saying you were in the middle of a crowd, he couldn’t hurt you here, but that wasn’t doing anything to stop the instinctual panic that arose at the sight of him.

Rylan’s smile was tight, the friendly edge gone. He swept you up in an unfamiliar dance, practically dragging you around the dance floor. “Have you thought any more about my offer? I do hope you have come to your senses and realized how generous I was being, my dear.”

The confidence in his tone snapped you out of your panic, and instead rage welled up inside you. How dare he? He thought he could accost you at his cousin’s name-day party and continue to badger you about a marriage proposal you had already rejected? You stiffened in his hold, glaring up at him, some small satisfaction blooming in your chest at the way he immediately seemed to brace for your response.

Before you could tell him off, however, a hand on his shoulder stopped your movement across the floor. Oberyn stood behind his cousin, a tight smile of his own betraying the cool confidence with which he spoke. “Pardon the intrusion, cousin, but I would very much enjoy a dance of my own with our resident mystery.” 

You could see the internal fight on Rylan’s face, and a sadistic little part of you hoped he would decide it was worth the confrontation to refuse Oberyn. It would be so satisfying to watch Oberyn put his cousin in his place.

Unfortunately, sense won out, and the lord stepped aside with a stiff gesture. “Of course, cousin. It is your party, after all.”

With an unreadable glance at you Rylan stalked off, and you were left with Oberyn. As you forced yourself to make eye contact with him, it felt like the two of you were standing alone despite the crush of people moving in your periphery. There was a small bubble of space around the two of you, likely the guests not wanting to jostle the prince.

Oberyn smiled, and your chest gave another squeeze. It was a genuine smile, although the tightness at the corners of his eyes betrayed how anxious he must feel as he held his hand out to you. “May I have this dance, sunflower?”

You wanted to say no. Well, no, you wanted to throw yourself into his arms and apologize for leaving and take whatever the two of them were willing to give you for however long you got it. But something small inside you still tugged backwards, still insisted you would just get hurt and it wouldn’t be worth it. 

You swallowed all your conflicting emotions down, attempting a smile and taking his hand. “Of course, who would deny the guest of honor?” 

There was a flicker of something in Oberyn’s eyes as his hand closed around yours, possibly pain at the insinuation you only accepted because it was his party, but he didn’t say anything. Instead he pulled you into the dance as a new song started. It was the exact opposite of how Rylan had “lead” you before, and you actually felt like you could keep up with what was going on as Oberyn swept you around the dance floor.

After a moment of silence he glanced down at your dress, a different sort of smile spreading across his lips as he looked back up at you. “The color still looks stunning on you, sunflower. It suits you.” There’s a truckload of insinuation behind that statement, you can practically hear it in his words, and you mentally preen at the praise from him. 

Outwardly you give a small smile and a little shrug. “I thought it appropriate, given the occasion.”

Oberyn leans in closer, smile morphing slightly with an emotion you can’t quite place, his arms keeping you close to him. “You could not have been more right. I would have you wear no other color for the rest of time if I could.”

The reminder of what he’d asked of you, what you know he still wants from you, squeezes tightly down on your chest. Your smile falls, and something like panic flickers through Oberyn’s eyes. Before you can say anything he brings the two of you to a sudden stop, hands shifting so one holds your elbow and the other gestures towards the open arches out into the darkening garden. “Would you like to see the gardens? I have heard that Solomon outdid himself decorating them this year.”

You hesitate again, worried about being alone with him, but when you turn to glance at where he’s gesturing you find Ellaria standing next to an archway with a somewhat guarded smile on her face. Without even thinking you take a step towards her, and Oberyn takes that as a yes. He guides you over, a brilliant smile lighting up his face.

“Look at what I found, my love. A sunflower to grace us with her beauty.” Ellaria’s smile turns more genuine at the comment, and her eyes slide between the two of you. “It is a wonder Solomon lets her in the gardens, with how she must upstage his hard work.”

Your face heats at their words, and you duck your head to avoid their eyes. You know you shouldn’t let their words get to you, it’ll just make it worse when you leave them again, but you can’t help it. It’s like there’s a string in your chest tugging you towards both of them, and you’re powerless to ignore it.

Oberyn leads you out onto the patio outside the arches, and the garden really does take your breath away. The trees are strung with more of the shimmery fabric, lanterns hanging from the branches casting shafts of light across the fabric and ground. There’s more of the rugs and pillows out here on the cobblestone patio, and you wonder for a moment where they all came from. At this rate, half the budget for the party has to be rugs and pillows.

He leads the two of you out past the edge of the patio into a hedge maze, and you idly wonder what the plant making up the walls of the maze is. It can’t be a normal bush in this climate, and then you start to wonder who keeps up with what might be a very finicky plant.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by a chuckle, and turn to see the two of them watching you with soft smiles. You frown, looking up at Oberyn with a question in your eyes, and he shrugs. “You were lost in thought, sunflower. About the plants, yes? It suits you.”

Before his words can truly sink in and fluster you he takes a step back, letting his hand slip off your arm, and you silently mourn the loss of contact. That’s when you notice he holds your present in his other hand, and he holds it up with a grin. “May I? This is really the only present I was looking forward to tonight, anyway.”

You nod, looking down at the ground to avoid looking at him. “I wasn’t sure you’d want it. Or want me here, really, after what I’ve said to you.”

Ellaria’s hand settles on your arm, and you look up to see her smiling softly at you, and edge of pain coloring the otherwise happy expression. “You could never say anything to make us wish you away, sunflower.”

Oberyn pulling the top off the tube that holds your present saves you from responding, and you watch anxiously as he tips the contents into his hand. His brow furrows when a rolled tube of paper falls out, eyes flickering up to meet yours for a split second before he unrolls the paper.

You see the moment that understanding dawns on his face, and his eyes flicker back to you filled with so much emotion it almost makes you stagger. He looks back at the paper in his hands, just staring at it for a few seconds before he tilts it so Ellaria can see. Her own eyes go wide as she shifts towards him, and fill with tears a moment later as her hand comes up to cover her mouth.

Oberyn looks back at you, and you wonder if stunning the Prince of Dorne speechless is this easy for other people.

“Sunflower…is this what I think it is?”

You shrug, taking a few steps until you stand at his side, looking at the painting for yourself. “I can’t read your mind, blessing or curse that may be, but I’m assuming it is.”

He’s holding a painting, lovingly rendered, and you have to admit it is astonishingly good for the limited time you gave the artist. It isn’t a perfect replica, there was only so much describing that you could do and he had to interpret what you said, but it’s so close you’d be fooled if it wasn’t half the size of the original.

You’d gifted him the painting that brought you here. Of him and Ellaria, with her sitting gazing up at him like he hung the moon and his hand on her shoulder like he couldn’t stand to ever be parted from her.

The thought sends a pang through your chest, and you shift away from him in preparation to step away. His hand snakes out though, fast as his nickname, and grips your wrist to keep you by his side. “We need to talk, sunflower.”

You look up at him, your heart stuck in your throat suffocating the words you want to say. Ellaria reaches out, placing her hand on your shoulder, and her eyes are wide and pleading when you look at her. “We’ve done this all wrong, my sweet. We thought we needed to give you time, we were afraid to scare you, and instead we pushed you away anyway.”

Now you’re confused. What is she talking about? Your confusion must show on your face because Oberyn takes a deep breath, calmly rolling the painting back up and oh-so-carefully placing it back in the tube like he’s afraid it will crumble if he handles it too roughly. Once he has it stowed away he leads you over to a stone bench, one of many scattered throughout the maze, and sits with you between the two of them.

“Ellaria and I have felt a pull towards you since you arrived here. Neither of us recognized it because we thought it impossible, but Amphise confirmed what we should have already known the day we took you to her.” He pauses here, looking at Ellaria for a moment, and her hand comes to rest on your back. Your gaze is stuck on Oberyn, however, and there’s a growing feeling that reminds you of dread but not quite stuck in your chest.

He looks back at you, taking one of your hands in his, and you think it might be more to ground him than to do anything for you. “Apparently, according to the seer, it is possible for soulmates who have already found each other to share a second soulmate.”

You have to think back for a moment, trying to remember if you’d had any of the strong Dornish wine before you came out here, because you must be drunk. Oberyn cannot be implying what you think he is. Maybe you fell? With how hard Rylan was dragging you around the dance floor it wouldn’t be much of a surprise to discover you’d fallen and hit your head and hallucinated Oberyn practically confessing that you were his and Ellaria’s second soulmate because that could not be happening-

You hear your name, and it snaps you out of your spiraling thoughts. Ellaria has come around to stand next to Oberyn instead of sitting behind you, and your gaze snaps up to her. She looks concerned, and it makes your chest squeeze until you realize she’s concerned about you. You’ve just been sitting there, silently staring at Oberyn. You look back at him, frowning. “Oberyn if this is a joke it’s not-”

“I would not joke about this. I am being entirely serious, sunflower.” He’s watching you, studying you, tensed like he thinks you’re going to bolt, and you don’t entirely blame him. 

You look back and forth between the two of them for a few seconds, still processing, before you manage to force out “A-are you…am I…?”

Ellaria nods, breaking out in a tentative smile now that you seem to actually be processing what Oberyn said. “Amphise confirmed it. She was the one to confirm that Oberyn and I are soulmates. She believes that your tie to us is what finally pulled you into our world where you belong.”

Oberyn chimes in, “We believed, coming from your world, that you would feel pressured if we told you immediately. The plan was to convince you to be with us without the pressure of a soul bond, that way it was your choice.” He glances up at Ellaria with a rueful twist to his lips. “That did not go to plan. Entirely my fault, in this case, I will take the blame. I have never known how to be subtle or wait for what I want.”

What he wants. You are what he wants, what they both want. The thought is suddenly so crystal clear in your head that you feel tears welling in your eyes. Oberyn looks panicked at the sight, and it only makes you laugh, tears streaming down your cheeks. It feels like a weight has been lifted off your chest, knowing now that they had been pursuing you out of genuine want and not just to fill a space in their bed.

Ellaria is laughing, too, and Oberyn’s panicked gaze fixes on her next. “What? What is wrong, did I say something wrong again?”

You grin, a wide, cheek splitting grin, and shake your head. “No, you haven’t said anything wrong, Oberyn. You’ve finally said everything right.”

The panic bleeds off his face at your words, a smile of his own replacing it, and pure happiness shines through on his face. You giggle again, drunk off happiness and a feeling of finally belonging, and Ellaria’s hand cups your cheek to tilt your face up towards her. “Your laughter is the most beautiful sound I have ever heard, my soul.”

The three of you end up separated at the end of the night. Ellaria heads to bed first, still tired from the birth despite how well she is handling it. Oberyn convinces you to stay, and you spend hours at his side dancing and feasting and positively glowing with all the attention from him. He makes it clear you belong to him and Ellaria now, one arm wrapped possessively around your waist for most of the night, and he only allows you to leave his side once the hours creep towards the morning and you beg off for sleep. You aren’t comfortable sharing a bed with them, yet, so you head off to your own while Oberyn stays behind to play the dutiful host.

You stumble into bed, not even bothering to pull off your dress, drunk on happiness from the evening you had.

You aren’t sure how long you’re asleep, but it can’t be that long, because when your eyes blink open your room is still dark. Your necklace feels like ice strung around your neck despite the warmth of your room, and you can’t place what woke you up for a few seconds, exhaustion and Dornish wine clouding your thoughts. Before you can figure it out you hear a voice that crawls across your skin like a spider from behind you. 

“I told you to be careful how you speak to powerful men, my dear.”

Your world goes black.

I would like for all of you to remember that if you kill me, I cannot finish the fic <3

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The old woman shakes her head, never looking up from where she is pulling weeds out of one of her numerous flower beds. “No, not all. I would say about half end up manifesting additional powers, but there are so few of us to begin with it is hard to tell.”

You let the silence sit for a few seconds, and then ask the question that has been itching at you. “Do you?”

Amphise smiles in a way that you’ve come to realize means she’s been expecting whatever you said, and nods. “I do. I have an affinity with plants.”

That actually makes a lot of sense. You glance around the back garden, looking at all of the plants in a new light now. “What kind of affinity?”

“You are getting better at asking the correct questions, child.” Amphise straightens, stretching and popping her back before slowly pulling herself to her feet. You resist the urge to offer a hand up after the first time she’d slapped your hand away when you tried. “I will admit, it is hard to explain. I can sense what I suppose you would call their feelings. Not in the way you and I have feelings, but I can understand if they need water or nutrients or more or less sunlight, and give encouragement to plants that are struggling.” She looks around her garden with a satisfied smile, bracing her hands on her hips. “It may not sound particularly useful, but it suits me. Most additional gifts enhance the normal abilities a seer already has.”

The woman turns, settling her knowing gaze on you. You try not to shrink under that look, reminded of when you’d get caught doing something you knew you shouldn’t as a kid.

“Now. Why are you avoiding the palace, child?” You let out a sigh, turning to look out over the cliff.

“I wondered when you would ask me.” Your eyes drift away from the crystal blue ocean and down to your lap where your fingers are twisting together the fabric of your skirt. It’s pink, so pale it almost looks white in some lights, and fades down to a rosy color at the bottom. It reminds you of a sunset.

“Oberyn… I don’t even really know how to explain what happened. I suppose I turned Oberyn down, and I’m afraid to face them both now.” You look up, not sure what you’re expecting to see on the woman’s face, but amusement was certainly near the bottom of the list. You frown, feeling a little like a petulant child at the expression on her face. “What?”

Amphise shakes her head, letting out a fond sigh and reaching out to pat your shoulder. “I am old, child, and I have seen many things in my lifetime. I have known that boy since he was a babe, and I knew he could not be patient. Some things you do not need a seer’s abilities to know.” 

Your frown deepens at her words, and you look away as she turns towards a potted tree. “You will take the path that you will, but you are exactly where you need to be. Avoiding them will not get you where you need to go, child.” 

Ellaria finds you, anyway.

You couldn’t resist stepping out into one of the larger gardens when you got back that evening, just wanting to see the decorations. With the party only a day away, most of the decoration is done, and it is a wonder to see. The garden is draped in gold, fine carpets littered with overstuffed pillows tucked between the bright blooms, tables dotted around just waiting to be filled with food and drink. You can just imagine the way it will look lit up and filled with people, and your chest tightens at the thought.

You see Ellaria coming from across the garden, and your chest tightens further at the way she picks her way carefully between the pillows and tables, one hand on her belly. She’s more waddling than walking now, and fondness wars with apprehension in your chest as she approaches.

She looks just as worried as you feel, but before she can say anything she’s wincing and curling in on her belly. You reach forward, putting a hand on her shoulder in concern, and she silently waves a hand to ward off your questions. “I am fine, sunflower, only false contractions. It happens towards the end of a pregnancy, nothing to worry about.” She takes a few deep breaths, and a few seconds later straightens up to look at you, concern back in her eyes.

“Oberyn told me what happened.” You immediately have to fight the urge to pull back, both emotionally and physically. It isn’t Ellaria’s fault, it isn’t Oberyn’s either, really, and you hate the idea of hurting either of them.

You must not avoid flinching, however, from the look on her face.

With a puff of air you look away, dropping your hand from her shoulder. “I don’t…judge either of you, for your lifestyle. At all. I just…I can’t put myself in that position knowing the two of you will always be more important to each other than I ever will to you. And that’s not fair, I know it isn’t, but I can’t help it.” You look back at her, eyes wide, begging her to understand this isn’t a rejection, just you trying to protect yourself.

Ellaria looks so sad it nearly breaks you. “Sunflower…Oberyn would never hurt you, neither of us would.”

You feel tears begin to gather in your eyes as you look down at the ground, unable to handle the pain in her eyes. “You wouldn’t hurt me on purpose, Ellaria. You can’t promise it wouldn’t happen by accident, but I can keep myself out of situations where it’s almost guaranteed. Joining you and Oberyn…I can’t compete with soulmates.”

Ellaria lets out a gasp, and you don’t want to look up again. It’s killing you, saying this to her, but it has to be said. You just hope you don’t lose them in the process of trying to protect yourself.

Caught up in your thoughts, you don’t notice Ellaria is silent until she lets out a pained sound. You finally look up, brows furrowed in confusion, to see her bent over slightly clutching her belly. For a moment you think it must be another false contraction, but when she doesn’t straighten after a few seconds longer, your worry morphs into something resembling genuine fear.

You reach out, placing a hand on her upper arm. “Ellaria?”

She lets out a long groan, reaching up to grip your forearm painfully tight. She quickly sucks in air through her teeth, her free hand sliding over her belly slowly.

“Ellaria, are you okay? Is the baby okay? What’s wrong?” Your voice is shaking, and you really do make an effort to steady it so you don’t freak her out, but this is new territory for you. You know very well how many women died during pregnancy and childbirth before modern medicine, and you have access to none of that here.

“I am…fine.” The words are strained as she somehow manages to grip your arm tighter.

A beat later, and then you voice what both of you must be thinking.

“This one’s not false, is it.”

Ellaria is silent for a moment, and then shakes her head. “No, I do not think it is.”

You turn towards one of the open archways, shouting for anyone that’s close enough to hear. Seconds later a woman dressed in plain clothes you often see the servants in comes running, her eyes widening almost comically when she sees Ellaria clinging to you to stay upright. Ellaria lifts her head, attempting a smile at the poor girl, voice shaky and strained. “I think it would be best to fetch the maester, quickly, this little sand snake is eager to meet her father.”

What somehow feels like both an eternity and mere seconds later, you’re sitting beside Ellaria’s bed as the room bustles with activity. She’s gripping your hand tightly, and you clench your teeth to keep from uttering even a peep at the crushing pain in your hand. It isn’t even a fraction of what she must be feeling right now, and you refuse to complain about pain within earshot of a woman in labor. 

Right as the thought passes through your head she lets out a long moan of pain, her head thrown back against the pillow. Your heart clenches as you watch her ride out the pain, icy fear spreading through your veins despite knowing this isn’t the first time she’s gone through this.

As the contraction wanes you lift a glass of water to her mouth, and she drinks it down greedily before glancing up at you with a tired grin. “I can sense your worry, sunflower, but I will be fine. This is not my first birth, nor will it likely be my last.”

Before you can answer the door flies open, and relief washes over you at the sight of Oberyn. It feels weird to be relieved to see him after the last time you spoke, but you had begun to worry that he wouldn’t make it to the birth with how fast Ellaria was progressing.

He rushes forward, the calm expression on his face echoing the words Ellaria had just used to reassure you. “I came as fast as I could, my soul. How are you?”

Ellaria opens her mouth to respond, only for another contraction to interrupt, and instead another wail of pain fills the room.

The next few moments happen rather quickly. 

You and Oberyn are pushed around and out of the way, and it’s almost comical watching the midwife boss the prince around. There’s a lot of commotion, and you don’t process most of it, focusing on comforting the woman pushing a child out of her body.

Less than half an hour after Ellaria went into labor in the garden, Oberyn is pulled to the foot of the bed to help catch his newborn daughter. You finally draw a full breath when you hear the tiny, angry cry pierce the room, letting go of the worry you had been carrying for the past half hour despite reassurances.

Oberyn slides onto the bed beside Ellaria, beaming down at the squalling baby in his arms. “She is beautiful. You did so well, as always, my soul.” Ellaria reaches out her free hand, the other still locked in yours, and brushes a finger across the newborn’s messy cheek before sliding her hand into Oberyn’s, a look of adoration on her face. “She is.”

You reach up, gripping your necklace out of habit for comfort as you watch the happy family, barely registering the stone already being warm to the touch over the pang ripping through your chest at the sight. You’d been so worried for Ellaria that you’d forgotten the conversation you had with Oberyn, and watching them together is just driving everything you said home. They belong together, and despite Ellaria stubbornly still gripping your hand tightly, you feel the space between you and them more keenly than ever before. You’re an outsider, an intruder, and you don’t belong here.

Ellaria finally drops your hand to take her daughter against her chest, and as she guides the fussy baby to nurse you scoot as quietly as you can away from the bed. You don’t see Oberyn look up, catching the door as it slips closed behind you, and you don’t see the look of pain the two share over their daughter's head.

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First, you went to Doran. You needed money, and there was no way you were going to ask Oberyn for money to buy his own gift. The elder prince looked a little shocked when you entered his office, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk.

“I’m really sorry to bother you about this, I would just ask Oberyn really, but it felt wrong. Would I be able to borrow some money, maybe, to get a present made for his name day?” You twisted your hands together in your lap as you spoke, somewhat nervous.

Doran seemed to relax slightly as you spoke, and chuckled when you finished. “Of course, my dear. I can see why you would not want to ask my brother to pay for his own gift.” He leaned over, rummaging around for a moment in one of his desk drawers before re-emerging with a jingling bag that he deposited on the desk in front of you. “If I may, what have you decided to get him? I doubt you would be one to pile on another jewel-encrusted dagger or solid gold peacock statue.”

You grinned, shaking your head. “No, it’s not something fancy like that. I actually think he’ll like it, at least I hope he will anyway.” You briefly outlined the plan for Oberyn’s gift, your confidence growing as a grin spread across Doran’s face at your description.

Finally he nodded approvingly. “I think he will adore that gift.”

“How are your lessons with Amphise going?” Oberyn set his wine glass down as he spoke, a slight smile playing on his face at your pained expression. “That well?”

You shrugged, setting down your silverware with a sigh. “I’m not sure if it’s because I’m learning so late, or if I’m really just a bad student. I can’t seem to focus, and I think she’s getting frustrated with me.”

Ellaria shook her head. “I doubt you are a bad student, my dear. I suspect it has more to do with your unique circumstances than anything. You cannot expect to catch up with years of training in just a few weeks.” She reached across the table, settling her hand over yours with a small smile. “You are too much like Oberyn, criticizing yourself when you are not immediately perfect at something.”

“Well, it becomes hard to accept anything less than perfection when I am so often perfect.” Oberyn grinned at you as Ellaria rolled her eyes fondly.

Your eyes darted between them as they spoke, a warm feeling settling over you. Their conversations had begun to feel less and less like you were an outsider looking in and more like you belonged. Like this was where you were meant to be.

Oberyn turned towards you again. “What do you have planned for tomorrow? You do not have lessons, correct?”

You sat up straighter, forcibly pulling yourself out of your thoughts. “Oh, um, I think Maricel was going to come have me try on some more dresses. Ellaria seems to think I need enough dresses to outfit a whole army.” Oberyn chuckled, shooting a grin at his lover.

“While I do not doubt that, I think outfitting the Dornish army in silk dresses may not be the best idea.”

You shrugged, matching his grin with one of your own. “Well, might not be the most practical, but you can’t deny it would confused any enemy they face. Might be an advantage.”

Oberyn erupted with laughter, tipping his head back towards the sky as your own grin grew. The sound filled the private garden, and you couldn’t help but feel a little pride blooming in your chest at getting that reaction out of the prince. Even Ellaria chuckled, shaking her head at the two of you.

“Gods help me, I cannot handle the both of you.”

The next day, after what felt like an eternity of Maricel poking and prodding and holding various fabrics next to your face, you ventured out into the city. Equipped with a small purse of coins and a recommendation for who to visit, both courtesy of Doran, you headed out with the intention of ordering Oberyn’s name day gift.

Finding the small house proved easy enough, with a little direction from kind strangers. You described what you wanted to the short, older man than answered the door when you knocked, and when you mentioned it was a gift for the prince, he assured you it would be done with plenty of time to spare before the name day celebration and waved you off when you apologized for the short notice.

Finding your way back to the palace proved slightly more difficult.

You’d always felt you had a pretty good sense of direction, but you weren’t sure if it was the unfamiliar city or entirely different world you’d found yourself in, but after a while of wandering you realized you were hopelessly lost. You’d hoped you would be able to find your way back without asking for help again, but it was rapidly becoming clear that was not going to be easy.

Just as you were about to give up and ask someone, a tall shadow fell over you. “Ah, if it isn’t our own local mystery. Oberyn should keep better track of his treasures, you seem lost my dear.”

Fighting the wave of unease that spread over you at the familiar voice, you plastered a pleasant smile on your face and turned to face the prince’s cousin. “Lord Rylan. What a pleasant surprise.”

Rylan shot you a charming smile, inclining his head towards you. “I could say the same. Where are you headed? A beautiful woman such as yourself should not be wandering alone.”

Biting your tongue you lifted a hand helplessly. “Well, I was heading back from ordering a present for Oberyn’s name day, but I seem to have gotten lost trying to find my way back.”

For a split second it seemed like a shadow passed over Rylan’s face at the mention of a present for his cousin, but just as quickly it was gone, and the ever present charming smile was back in place. “You are in luck, my dear. I was just headed back to the palace myself, I could escort you. Sunspear can be quite confusing to those who are not used to finding their way.”

The lord held out his arm, and while you wanted nothing more than to assure him you could find your way back on your own, you reminded yourself it wouldn’t be a good idea to be rude to the prince’s cousin. No matter how much Oberyn seemed to dislike his own cousin.

And besides, you probably couldn’t find your way back on your own.

So you slipped your arm into his, mentally coaching yourself. You’d dealt with worse men before, and Rylan had yet to give you any reason to dislike him other than his vibes just feeling off. A short walk back to the palace wouldn’t be the end of the world.

Rylan beams down at you as you slip your arm into his, starting off down the street. “You really are not that far off from the palace, it will take us maybe a quarter of an hour to get there. It is unfortunate for you that the streets of Sunspear are so confusing. Those of us that have lived here most of our lives have no trouble navigating it, but it is often disorienting to outsiders.”

You give a polite little laugh, your eyes wandering to the colorful buildings as you walk past. “I was about to ask for directions when I found you, actually. I had to ask on my way there, and I was hoping I’d be able to remember the way back. Apparently not.”

“Ah, well, pride can get the best of us sometimes.” Rylan gives you another charming smile and guides you around a corner. There are a few market booths on this road, although it seems most of them are currently closed to avoid the mid-day heat beating down on the city streets. You glance at the open booths as you walk, glad Rylan doesn’t seem too interested in conversation at the moment.

One of the booths is painted a cheery orange color, although the vibrant paint is chipping off in spots. The roof is made of different fabrics stitched and tied together, with small gaps letting in thin shafts of light that dance over the counter. The young woman behind the counter is working a long, thin band of metal in her hands, wrapping it around a fiery red gem. Her dark hair is pulled back in a messy braid, curls escaping around the colorful scarf covering the top of her head. Her eyes flit up every few seconds to scan the scattered people out braving the heat. Scattered across the counter in front of her are a handful of pieces of jewelry, mostly necklaces, sparkling in the sun.

Rylan notices your preoccupation with the booth and slows his steps, glancing down at you. “Would you like to stop?” You hesitate, torn between your curiosity and your desire to get away from him as soon as possible. Your curiosity wins out though and you nod, turning towards the booth.

The woman’s eyes light up when she sees you moving towards her booth, and she immediately sits up straight and sets aside the necklace she is working on. She spreads her hands in a welcoming gesture, grinning widely at the two of you. “Welcome! I am surprised to see anyone out at this time of day.”

Rylan said something to the woman that you didn’t pay too close of attention too, instead scanning the colorful jewelry in front of you. Your eyes snag on a necklace with a small blue and white swirled gem wrapped in an almost black metal. It almost seems like an optical illusion as you stare at it, the colors catching in the sun and seeming to shift in the dancing light filtering through the cloth roof of the booth.

“I see something has caught your eye.” You glance up to see the woman watching you a bit closer than before, a slight smile curving her lips. Something about the way she watches you itches in the back of your brain, like you’ve felt it before, but you can’t quite place it.

“It’s beautiful, did you make all of these yourself?” The woman nods, pride seeping into her face.

“I made all of these. My mother taught me to make jewelry when I was little, just as her mother taught her, and her mother before that.” She holds up the piece she had been working on when you walked up. “The materials may change, but the women in my family have been making jewelry for generations.”

You can practically feel the boredom radiating off of Rylan, but when you glance up at him his face is arranged in a mask of polite intrigue. Your eyes slide back down to the blue necklace longingly, idly wondering if you have enough left over from what Doran had given you to buy it.

The woman’s hand comes into your view as she lifted the necklace, and when you look up she’s smiling at you. “Do you like it? I have had it for a while I am afraid, no one seems to gravitate towards this one. I think it may be the size of the stone, most opt for larger and flashier gems.”

She smiles slightly down at the necklace, and you’re struck by the way it reminds you of a mother looking proudly at her child. After a moment she looks back up, that shrewd expression back as she holds out the necklace. “I think it suits you. Perhaps it was meant to find you, and that is why no one else bought it.”

Instinctively you reach towards the small pouch tied at your waist, opening your mouth to ask how much she wanted. Before you can speak, however, the woman shakes her head.

“Take it. Sometimes things are meant to find people. Besides, you would be doing me a favor anyway, it has been taking up space in my booth for months now.” She motions you forward before you can protest, fastening the soft leather cord around your neck.

You stare down at the gem now resting against your chest, once again struck by the way the light plays in the colors. When you look back up the woman has a satisfied look on her face, and her eyes shift from the necklace up to meet yours.

“Are you sure? I don’t think I have enough to pay what it’s worth, but I feel bad just taking it.” She shakes her head, taking a step back.

“It is a gift. I hope it brings you happiness.”

“Well, it is rude to refuse a gift.” You almost jump as Rylan speaks, having totally forgotten he was even standing next to you. The woman doesn’t seem any more pleased either, her piercing eyes shifting to look at the lord. It’s subtle, the way a slight tinge of displeasure seeps into her eyes as she looks at him, and when she looks back at you it’s gone.

“He has a point, my dear.”

Thankfully, the walk back to the palace doesn’t take much longer. You spend most of it tuning out Rylan as he describes the play you’d turned down attending with him the day before, instead studying the necklace now looped around your neck. No matter the lighting the colors seem to shift and change, although every time your eyes move they stop, and you’re left wondering if you were just imagining it.

Rylan comes to a stop at the front gates, turning to you with a charming smile. “This is where I must leave you I am afraid, I have matters to attend to at my own house.” He holds out his hand, and you reluctantly place yours in his, suppressing a shiver of displeasure as he bows slightly and presses a kiss to the back of your hand.

“Until next time, my dear.” With another grin he turns and walks off, and you’re left wondering just how long would be long enough before you can stand to be alone with him again.

You come to the conclusion after a moment that there isn’t a period of time long enough.

Walking back inside you breathe a sigh of relief at the cool air that hits you as soon as you’re out of the sun. Sunspear truly was a beautiful place, and you got the feeling the rest of Dorne would be just as beautiful if you ever saw it, but the oppressive heat was genuinely draining sometimes. You could only count your blessings that it wasn’t overly humid.

You headed down the hall, navigating with a little more confidence gained over the last couple weeks. There were still times where you took a wrong turn and had to ask someone for directions, but overall you usually found where you were going.

The guards stationed outside Doran’s office nodded to you as you stopped outside the large doors, opening them without question for you. Most of the palace staff recognized you on sight by this point, and Oberyn had made it clear you were to be treated with respect as his guest.

It wasn’t really like you could do much to harm either of the princes, anyway. You’d likely just hurt yourself in the process.

Doran was seated behind his desk, head bent over a piece of parchment as he wrote. He looked up at the sound of the doors opening, smiling warmly at you. “Ah, back already I see. Did you find what you needed?”

You nodded, walking forward with a smile. “I did, thank you. And it didn’t cost as much as you thought, I wanted to return the leftover money.” You held the much lighter than this morning pouch out as you came to a stop in front of the desk.

The elder prince only smiled and shook his head, holding up his hand as he settled back into the chair. “No, my dear, you may keep it. You may not have any expenses with my brother providing for you, but I imagine it would be nice to have money of your own if you should need or want it.”

You let your hand drop to your side with a sigh and a slight smile. “What is it today with people giving me things?” You hook the pouch back to the belt around your waist. “Thank you again by the way, he said it should be ready by Oberyn’s name day.”

Doran’s smile widened at that. “I hope my brother appreciates it, it is a thoughtful gift.”

You returned his smile, ignoring the butterflies that took up residence in your stomach as you thought about giving Oberyn his gift. “I hope so too.”

Taglist: I know tags are being kinda iffy, but I’m still going to put them in because I don’t have that many so it doesn’t take much time

@sarahjkl82-blog​ @ecuadorlady​ @fan-of-encouragement​ @knivesareout​ @writeforfandoms​ @gorgeousgrogu​ @leto-duke​ @xoxabs88xox​ @kirsteng42​ @hauntedmama​ @urofficial-cyberslut​ @marvelousmermaid​ @tanzthompson​ @lowlights​ @dobbyjen​​ @tanzthompson​​

The dresses are here.

Ellaria has been talking about them for days, going on and on about fabrics and patterns and how each color complimented your skin or your eyes or your hair. He didn’t pay much attention, admittedly, just enough that he could prove he had been somewhat listening when she finally realized his attention wasn’t solely on her.

But the dresses were here, and despite his disinterest he had to admit he was curious to finally see you in dresses made to fit you, not Ellaria.

And he has news, in the form of a paper he is scanning over when he knocks on your door. He hears Ellaria call to enter, and when the door swings open, his eyes are still fixed on the paper in his hand.

“I heard the new dresses have arrived, I trust Marciel has crafted-” He looks up, and the sight that greets him stops him in his tracks.

You are gorgeous.

It’s the only thought he can process for a few seconds, just how gorgeous you look draped in burnt yellow silk, making your skin glow and - 

Gods above, you’re wearing his house.

He knew Ellaria had asked for at least one thing to have the Martell sun on it - she’d thought it would be nice for the three of you to match on occasion. He hadn’t minded when she mentioned it, but now-

Oberyn Martell was not normally a possessive man, but seeing you standing there, in his house colors with his sun stitched on your sleeves, pressed close to his paramour while she laced you into the dress that in essence marked every inch of you as his-

“Love, you’re staring.” Ellaria’s voice snaps him back to the present from the out of control thoughts spinning through his head, and he smirks in an attempt to brush the situation off. She fixes him with a knowing grin as you look away.

“How could I not stare at such a beautiful sight? Maricel has truly outdone herself again, our dove looks even more radiant than before.” He strides forward, trying to summon up the swaggering confidence he had just been moving with moments before until the sight of you in that dress tore it away. 

You look up then and meet his eyes again and gods above how does anyone not grow weak under your gaze? Before he can let you pull him back in his gaze drops to your sleeve, brushing a thumb over the suns - his suns - embroidered there. 

He’d bet good money Ellaria had ordered the damned dress just to get this exact reaction out of him.

Oberyn glances up at you, still stroking the embroidery, giving you what he hopes is a genuine smile. “It is a good color for you.”

When he can finally bear to lean away from you, soft cloth slipping from between his fingers as he realizes with some amount of guilt that he’s likely crowding your space, he could swear you lean towards him. Like you want him near. He can feel Ellaria’s eyes on him though, silently reminding him that he can’t pursue you like he would any other in this position.

So he does lean back, although it kills him to put those few inches between you and him, as though he now couldn’t bear to be away from you. The thought of you having that power over him - such a pull that he can’t resist - has Oberyn holding up the paper he had almost forgotten was in his hand with a smirk.

“I will be gone for a few days, boring matters of state to attend to. I trust you will be absolutely crushed by my absence, but alas, duty calls.”

Oberyn isn’t sure what reaction he expected from you, but the way you lean back into Ellaria has his fingers positively itching to touch you. He wants you in his bed, their bed, between him and Ellaria. He wants you to himself, he wants to show you just how good they can make you feel, why they have so many lovers, wants you to always be clothed in his house colors, his sun, he wants-

“I suppose we will just have to find a way to entertain ourselves without you.” Ramping up the dramatics you tilt your head back onto Ellaria’s shoulder, eyes closed as you drape a hand over your forehead. “It will be such agony being deprived of your presence, my prince.”

Your dramatics pull him from the thoughts once again swirling in his head, and he feels a grin spreading across his face. You look lovely, draped against Ellaria in that beautiful dress, a smile lighting up your face like the ocean at sunrise. 

Oberyn holds up his hands, shaking his head with a grin. “Alright, I get the picture.”

With one last lingering look at the suns embroidered on your sleeve he lifts your hand, pressing a lingering kiss to the back, contact that he has a very hard time convincing himself to break. 

“Until I return, beautiful mystery.”

When he’s out in the hall again, freed from the weight of your gaze, he gives his head a shake, as if he can rid himself of your influence that easily.

Maybe some time away will do him some good.

Taglist:

Every time you wake from another dream, you push the anxiety that rises in you down. You don’t know what the dreams mean, and for all you know this could be your mind making things up, trying to make sense of the strange world you’ve found yourself in. You manage to convince yourself they mean nothing. Nothing is better than something, you don’t need more something on top of the already large something of being stuck in a world that isn’t yours.

You’ve taken to spending time in the gardens, fascinated by the plants you find there. There are some familiar plants, fruit trees and bright flowers that you can name from back in your world, but there are also plants you don’t recognize. 

One of the gardeners, a kind older man named Solomon, notices your interest. He doesn’t complain when you begin following him through the many palace gardens, patiently answering all of your questions about the plants you don’t recognize, and a few about the plants you do recognize. He seems to like it, actually.

“Solomon?” You’re perched on the edge of a fountain, enjoying the bright sunshine as your new friend tends to a patch of vibrant flowers. He’d told you earlier they were called Crimson Woodbine, and you had listened with fascination as he listed off the uses for the different parts of the plant. Many of the plants in the gardens had medicinal or culinary uses aside from being ornamental, and you wondered if that had anything to do with the whispers you’d hear about Oberyn’s side projects.

The man grunts in response, concentrating on clearing the few weeds from around the base of the beautiful plant.

“Are you sure I’m not bothering you? I know everyone seems to think they have to keep me happy because I’m the prince’s guest, but if I’m a bother-” Solomon cuts you off with a wave of one dirt covered hand, stretching up from his hunched kneeling position.

“You are the furthest thing from a bother, my dear. To be honest, I enjoy your company. It gets lonely with only the plants to talk to, and I enjoy the enthusiasm you show in learning about them. I find it refreshing for someone so young to be so interested in something many see as boring.” 

You’re about to respond when you feel a hand on your shoulder, and look up to see Ellaria standing next to you with a smile on her face. “I hope I am not interrupting, but it seems your new outfits from Maricel have arrived. I thought you might like to get out of borrowed clothing.” You’re on your feet before she can finish the sentence, and she covers a laugh with a hand over her mouth.

Before you leave Ellaria turns to Solomon, inclining her head apologetically. “I apologize for stealing your company.” The older man waves her off with a smile, turning back to his plants.

She leads you down the halls that you’re steadily growing more accustomed to. When you first arrived it had felt like a maze of opulence, but little things have started to stand out and aide you in moving through the palace. The decorations tend towards ornate vases and statues the closer you get to the official side of the palace, where Doran hosts visitors and conducts his business. As you get closer to the residential side there is a slow transition towards tapestries and paintings, especially of human subjects near Oberyn’s rooms.

There’s a gold vase with sapphire gems cut like blooms at the corner you turn to take to Ellaria’s rooms, set close to Oberyn’s. The painting of what you would assume to be an English countryside if you didn’t know any better signals the turn towards the kitchen, and a small statue of what you think is a horse sits close to your own rooms. You aren’t sure you will ever be able to move about the halls as confidently as Ellaria, but - as you remind yourself - you aren’t even sure you’ll be here long enough to get that chance.

The thought sobers you as you arrive outside Ellaria’s rooms, but the sight that greets you as she flings the door open is enough to sweep your melancholy mood away. It seems like every surface is covered in a riot of colors and patterns, the combination threatening to overwhelm you.

Ellaria chuckles from off to the side, picking up a pale pink dress that looks similar in style to the one she is wearing. “Is it a bit much, dove? I did say Oberyn wanted you to have a full wardrobe.”

You let out a nervous laugh, turning to her with wide eyes and a disbelieving smile. “I think Oberyn and I might have different opinions on what a ‘full wardrobe’ means.” You drift over, picking up a dress draped over the back of a gilded couch that seems to be made of liquid gold as it slips through your fingers. “There’s enough cloth here to make a circus tent. How much did this cost him?” Your voice takes on a slightly panicked note at the end, suddenly wondering if you’ll be expected to pay all this extravagance back.

Ellaria just shrugs, fingering the delicate lace edge of the dress she holds. “To be honest, I am not sure a number could be put to it. Maricel works for the family, as well as a number of other well-off families in Dorne. I doubt Oberyn even asked her for a price, and even she might not know.” She sinks onto the one spot on the couch not covered by silky fabrics. “Maricel makes, and Oberyn pays. Well,” She smirks, leaning back. “Doran pays, really.”

You stare at her, letting the golden fabric slip through your fingers. “Ellaria, I-” Glancing around the room you find yourself at a loss for words, unable to process.

Ellaria reaches out a hand, catching your fingers between hers with a soft smile. “Do not worry, my dear. You will not be expected to repay Oberyn or Doran for these clothes. They are a gift for a guest of the Prince of Dorne.”

It takes some prodding but Ellaria finally convinces you to try the dresses on. Despite their beauty, they end up being surprisingly simple to get on and off. The fabrics are all soft and light, perfect for the Dornish heat. They fit you better than anything you owned back home, and as you smooth your hand over the pale blue silk of one dress as it drapes over your hips, you find this another mark in favor of not leaving.

Not that you’re sure the choice will even be yours. If you don’t know how you got here, who’s to say you won’t leave just as suddenly as you arrived?

There’s a knock on the door just as Ellaria is doing up the back of a burnt yellow dress, the edges of the flowing sleeves trimmed in tiny suns. As she works at the laces, she calls for the person to enter.

You hear the door open, too preoccupied with examining the beautiful embroidery on the hem of the sleeve to look up right away, but you recognize Oberyn’s voice. “I heard the new dresses have arrived, I trust Marciel has crafted-” 

After a moment of silence, and Ellaria stilling behind you, you look up to the mirror she has you positioned in front of. She’s looking over your shoulder off to the side towards the door, a smirk you’ve come to associate with her winning an argument on her face. Slowly you turn towards the door, unsure if you want to see why she’s aiming that smirk at Oberyn. 

You’ve yet to quite place why the prince seems to have a never ending parade of people in and out of his bed. He’s attractive, you can’t deny that, and while it doesn’t lure you, the promise of claiming a night in the bed of a prince is an undeniable draw for some.

But still. So many people?

As you finally feel the weight of his gaze settle on you, however, you also feel yourself beginning to understand.

There’s a paper clutched in one of his hands, although he seems to have forgotten all about it. He almost looks surprised, like you’ve caught him off guard, although you know he had to assume you would be trying the dresses on if he came to see them. As your eyes meet his the weight of his gaze shifts. You watch as he scans down your body, snagging for a moment you think on the suns embroidered on your sleeves.

When his gaze finally meets yours again, you feel pinned in place, reminded vaguely of the frog you dissected in 8th grade science - exposed and incredibly seen by a man standing completely across the room from you.

You want to say something, to make a joke about his seeming inability to speak, but you find yourself just as unable to form words. The only thing you can seem to focus on is the solid warmth of Ellaria behind you, and Oberyn’s almost possessive gaze pinning you in place.

“Love, you’re staring.” Ellaria’s voice seems to break both of you out of the spell holding you in place. You just barely catch a somewhat flustered smirk coming across Oberyn’s face before you’re looking away, ignoring the heat creeping up your neck.

“How could I not stare at such a beautiful sight? Maricel has truly outdone herself again, our dove looks even more radiant than before.” Long strides eat up the space between the two of you, and you find yourself looking up to meet his gaze once more. There isn’t the same weight as before, you don’t feel pinned and helpless to look away, but there is still a pull that wasn’t there before. 

Before you can be sucked back in, Oberyn lifts the hem of your sleeve, gaze dropping to the embroidery. He rubs a thumb almost thoughtfully over the gold thread, glancing up at you from beneath unfairly long lashes with a small smile. “It is a good color for you.”

There, sandwiched between the two of them so close you feel surrounded by them, you feel that belonging from the dinner days ago begin to seep in again. It feels right, having them both near you, their attention on you, and you find yourself wanting it to never end.

Oberyn straightens, soft cloth slipping from between his fingers, and although he really only moves a few inches away you feel yourself lean forward to close the distance again. Ellaria’s fingers still twisted in the laces at your back keep you in place, ensuring you don’t embarrass yourself by chasing after the prince.

He holds up the paper in his hand, the smirk on his face making you almost certain he knows how being in your space is affecting you. “I will be gone for a few days, boring matters of state to attend to. I trust you will be absolutely crushed by my absence, but alas, duty calls.”

Despite the fact that you know he’s right, you will miss him while he’s away, something about the smug tone his voice takes on has you leaning back into Ellaria and away from him, letting a smug smile bleed onto your own face. “I suppose we will just have to find a way to entertain ourselves without you.” Ramping up the dramatics you tilt your head back onto Ellaria’s shoulder, eyes closed as you drape a hand over your forehead. “It will be such agony being deprived of your presence, my prince.”

You feel Ellaria shaking against your back, and crack one eye open to see her covering her mouth with a hand, attempting to stifle her laughter at your dramatics. One look at Oberyn shows similar amusement playing out across his face, and the combination cracks your resolve to hold up the act. You collapse into a fit of giggles against the other woman, the room quickly filling with laughter from both of you.

Oberyn holds up his hands, shaking his head with a grin. “Alright, I get the picture.”

With one last lingering look at the suns embroidered on your sleeve he lifts your hand, pressing a lingering kiss to the back that has your breath catching in your lungs, your laughter dying on your lips. His eyes never leave yours, an emotion you can’t quite place shining in them.

“Until I return, beautiful mystery.”

This time when you shoot up in bed, sweaty and panting with a feeling of doom draped about your shoulders like an insistent cat, you can’t shake the feeling off by the time the sun rises. These dreams are something, you can’t pretend otherwise anymore.

You seek Ellaria out, finding her on the balcony of her rooms. You had originally found it odd that Ellaria and Oberyn didn’t share rooms, what with their obvious closeness despite not being married. She had explained that while usually they did share a bed and their conquests, there were times where one or the other or whoever they brought to bed didn’t feel like sharing or being shared, which made separate rooms convenient.

She also smiled and told you that there were times, much as she loved him, that she just needed space from Oberyn.

Despite the separate spaces, you find both of them on the balcony of Ellaria’s rooms, Oberyn freshly back from his trip the night before, a spread of breakfast food on a tray resting on the built-in bench between them. Ellaria sees you first, and a warm tingle spreads through you at the smile that lights up her face as soon as she spots you. 

“Darling! If I had known you were going to join us this morning I would have had more food brought up.” You quickly shake your head, cutting her off before she can call for someone to bring more food.

Instead you settle on the other side of the bench that stretches around the edge of the small balcony, nervously tucking your legs beneath you. “Thank you, but I um…I actually wanted to ask you about something.”

Even staring nervously at the floor, you don’t miss the way they both straighten, twisting to look more fully at you. Oberyn sets the glass of wine in his hand down, and you have to resist the urge to squirm under the full weight of both their attentions.

“It’s…god I’m going to sound insane, but magic is a thing here, right?” You look up and the two of them glance at each other.

“Somewhat, yes. Why do you ask?” Oberyn is the one that answers you, a wrinkle forming between his brows.

You twist your fingers together in your lap, partially out of nerves and at least somewhat to resist the urge to reach out and smooth the wrinkle down. “Well, I uh…I’ve been having these dreams? And at first I didn’t think anything about them, I just thought they were nightmares, but then I remembered I had them as a kid too, and they always ended up coming true. Which didn’t really mean anything, I thought maybe I was just making connections where there weren’t any, but I had a dream the other night and the only thing I could remember from it was one of the cooks burning himself on a pan, and when I went down to get a snack the next day he burned himself while I was down there in the same spot, which I know sounds insane but I swear it’s true and-” 

You don’t realize you’re rambling until Ellaria leans forward, covering your increasingly twisted fingers with her own. The feeling stops you short and you draw in a deep breath, suddenly aware of how low on oxygen you had been running. You lower your eyes from the pretty blue sky where they’d drifted, unable to look at either of them as you rambled. 

They’re both frowning, and panic fills you. They don’t believed you, they think you’re insane, what kind of crazy person thinks they have dreams that come true how stupid is that-

“That sounds similar to Amphise.” Ellaria’s voice breaks your spiraling train of thoughts and brings you back to the present to see her looking at Oberyn. You realize now they both look thoughtful, not judgmental, and you sag with relief.

Then Ellaria’s words register, and it’s your turn to frown.

“Amphise? Who’s Amphise?”

Oberyn leans back, resting against the railing of the balcony with arms crossed. “Amphise is what I suppose your world would call a witch. They are called seers here in Dorne, but have different names in different parts of the world. Seers have prophetic dreams similar to yours, among other abilities.”

“She is the one that confirmed Oberyn and I were soulmates. It is one of their abilities.” Ellaria turns to you, and you shove down the sting at the reminder of their bond. “Normally signs manifest in early childhood that someone is a seer, and they would be trained on how to harness their powers. But since you were not born in our world…” 

“It was never seen, so I was never trained.” You finish her thought for her, and she gives you a small smile of confirmation. “So I’m not going crazy? I’m actually having dreams of the future?”

Oberyn laughs, shaking his head. “No, dove, you are not going crazy.” He leans forward, snagging a grape. “We should take you to see Amphise. She lives here in Sunspear, Doran likes to keep her close since her abilities are so useful.”

You sit up, nodding excitedly. “Can we?” You can finally get answers about these dreams, and the thought occurs to you - what if Amphise might know how you came to be in Dorne? 

It’s Ellaria’s turn to smile. “We can leave now, if you’d like.”

Another thought occurs to you as you look at both of them, one that when you first arrived would have filled you with more excitement but now fills you with a confusing mix of emotions you can’t quite parse out.

What if she knows how to send you back?

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