#halfmadviper

     Her paramour had vengeance inside his veins– poison in the place of blood that only grew more potent with each passing day. The infamous Red Viper was only lying in wait to partake in revenge, he wasn’t soft like his brother. Ellaria Sand had no desire for soft–  she wanted to feel ALIVE. And the prince breathed life into her with every touch‚ every whisper that entailed a promise of so much love she might just drown. And therein lie the reason she did not consider herself a jealous woman. She knew her place, knew he slept best with his head pressed against her bare breasts, like a sentimental fool listening to her heartbeat. 

     She could not shake the gnawing feeling inside her gut ever since Oberyn had told her they were to depart for King’s Landing. The King is to marry a Tyrell– a woman once wedded before. No doubt bad blood was in the air  ( were the rumours that reached her ears true ) and that was before the prince of Dorne arrived with a Sand. A weighed exhale as she reaches out her hand to her lover.

     He brings with him an insult from the pit of Dorne, perhaps in the hopes of drawing out the queen’s temper. His mother must not have told him not to toy with fire– but then again what could be expected of the southern savages. She hears they’ve frequented establishments outside the Red Keep, the little birds had told the queen his thirst could not be satisfied. She only hopes the viper catches disease and she can be rid of him– the sooner the better. 

     Cersei Lannister did not like the way the snakes slithered down her halls like an infestation. She had all too many of those recently, first the thorns prickling at her and now her honorary guests from Dorne. She did not like the chokehold they had on her and she would not rest until she held her daughter again. So when she asks the Martell to join her for supper she has an intent of the selfish kind. Wine to loosen his forked tongue and chicken yet on the bone for him to CHOKE on.

How she’s longed for his embrace. Her noose nuzzles harsh against his skin as she buries herself in his scent. Ellaria’s nimble fingers tangle themselves in his hair as if he’d been gone for longer than predetermined. He smells of others and Ellaria lets the thought trickle down her spine like scalding wax until it ignites her. It’s more a hum than clear words, but she knows he needs not hear her to understand.

“My love--” Lips press to the bare spot below his ear. Her words are serpentine as they crawl up her windpipe. “How is possible you get more mesmerising ass days pass?”

     The Citadel is enormous, a metal beast curling around all intergalactic travellers. They are no exception to the rule, as long as their pockets were filled with credits at least. She can feel the hungry eyes of their species ravaging her paramour like he was the last of mankind. It is not out of jealousy as much as her pride, that she runs her fingers along his spine. She can almost count the vertebrae, that is truly how well she knows him. The pond, though a feat of architecture, could not compare to their ocean– vast and wide like the ever expanding universe. They will share stories of them, the pulse of Chora’s Den echoing off their bones. They will indulge in what the Citadel has to offer, they deny themselves very little yet greed was not their cardinal sin. Her body leans into his as they stroll along the main avenue. He is her safe harbour, his arms the port welcoming her home.

     ❛Do you think this place has a soul?❜

     ❛Perhaps we should have someone fetch you a cup of water❜  

          A sip to make affection more tolerable.

     Across the street lives a woman who must think the new residents of their precious Wisteria Lane live in sin. Ellaria is sure she’s seen her cross her heart as she goes out for the mail. She finds it a little amusing, for she found GOD whenever he laid his hands upon her. 

     Ellaria had always been a passionate woman and perhaps her greatest virtue and equally her greatest flaw was to feel so strongly. That, she thinks, is what originally drew her to Oberyn who was a force of nature in his own right. He doesn’t hinder her, instead fuels the fire that is her soul. So, in honour of the woman across the street, when she hears footsteps against their driveway, she goes to open the door wearing nothing but a silken robe. Her figure leans against the doorframe– what a reception.

          ❝   Can’t you grow a 𝙵𝚄𝙻𝙻 𝙱𝙴𝙰𝚁𝙳 or do you just 𝙲𝙷𝙾𝙾𝚂𝙴 not to?   ❞