Pedro Pascal ruined my life

He's finally done it, trapped you, given you away to a man that will do everything in his power to douse the fire inside you until you're nothing more than a shell. A broken spirit in the form of a docile wife and noble lady like your mother and uncle have always wanted of you.

You have absolutely no say in the matter and even should you flee to escape the life he's attempting to imprison you in, you're positive he'll send the entire Lannister army to drag you back out of sheer spite. If there is one thing Tywin Lannister doesn't stand for it's disobedience and it seems you've pushed back far too many times that he's more than glad to make an example out of his own flesh and blood.

Breathing doesn't come easy when you feel like the dreams of a different life are being snatched away, replaced by the horrors you know you'll face should that repulsive man get his hands on you.There's a special kind of pain in your heart knowing that those who are supposed to love you will do nothing to stop this and for the first time in your life you feel truly alone.

No one will save you. 

Exhaustion is dragging your body further to the floor, your bones heavy with the weight of the seemingly endless battles you've had to face since being told to come here and when your flushed face meets cool stone your eyes finally slip blissfully shut. Rest for now, your mind whispers before you lose consciousness, for tomorrow you must fight again.

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Knocking at your door filters through the deep haze that sleep has surrounded your body with. It brings you somewhere in the middle of dead to the world and half awake, no where near enough to rouse you until it increases speed, growing louder and causing an incoherent mumble to slip from your lips. 

You don't notice when it stops, too happy to fall back into your dreams and ignore reality only for a frantic gasp of your name to jolt you awake as gentle hands lift your head onto someone's lap. Your eyes blink open, staring into the worried faces of Ellaria and Sansa and a pitiful groan escapes you when you try and fail to sit up as your body aches in protest from it's night spent on the hard floor.

"Little bird what has happened? Why are you on the floor?" Ellaria asks you softly, her sharp eyes flitting over your features and you rub your eyes in the hopes she'll think it's to remove the last hints of sleep and not any evidence of tears.  

"I guess all the excitement from the past week has finally caught up to me." You laugh weakly. "I was writing some notes in my journal and must have fell asleep down here." 

"You mean the journal that's on your desk?" Sansa interjects and as she turns to you with a sad, knowing look on her face you remember that this is a girl that sees so much more than she lets on and recognises pain better than most. "Your eyes are red and swollen and there's tear tracks on your cheeks." She continues quietly, softer as if she was coaxing a truth from a wounded animal rather than a person. 

"You do not need to tell us what happened if it upsets you dear one, but we need to know that you're okay." 

Your throat tightens from the kindness radiating from both women as Ellaria gently smooths her hand over your hair whilst Sansa reaches to grasp your hand. You close your eyes and nod, exhaling shakily before you squeeze the hand in yours and let go so you can sit up. Maybe you were wrong last night, lost in a moment of hopelessness you'd allowed yourself to believe you are alone but when confronted with the concerned faces of two women you adore, you know you've at least got them. 

With a deep breath you tell them everything, well amost everything, you omit Tywin's fears over whatever is between you and Oberyn being the final nail in your coffin. Not only do you not wish to offend Ellaria with your uncle's disgusting views but there's a baffling urge within you to protect Oberyn from all of this.

The less he is involved with the matter the better. His hate already simmers too close to the surface and if he heard of Tywin's insults and willingness to marry you to the first man that asked just so Oberyn couldn't 'taint' you, well you dread to think how he'd react and what would happen should he lash out at your uncle. When you've finished talking Sansa looks horrified whilst Ellaria seems more thoughtful, her expression distant and you swear you can almost hear the gears in her head turning.

"He can't do this, not again!" Sansa hisses angrily, her eyes sparking with a deep seated rage that you're still too numb to work up within yourself. "There must be someone who can intervene, what about your Father?" 

"Tywin is the head of House Lannister, not to mention Hand of the King." You sigh and swipe a hand over your face tiredly. "My Father wouldn't stand a chance over ruling him and my mother would probably make his life hell if he tried." 

"Well we won't stop until we think of something." 

A genuine smile manages to break out across your face at the stubborn tone of her voice and you scramble across the floor to wrap her into a tight hug, laughing when you almost knock her over with the force of it. 

"There is something I'm curious about." Ellaria says suddenly whilst you and Sansa are righting yourselves and you turn to her curiously. "If he means to make a show of forcing you in line, why has the engagement not been announced?" 

You grimace as you imagine it being announced and having to put up with Ser Addam's presence whilst he flaunts you around as his betrothed. 

"It won't be announced until after the King's wedding so no attention is taken away from Joffrey." You say, rolling your eyes. 

Another knock at the door interrupts any further discussion on the matter as a handmaiden enters to prepare your morning bath. In the silence you finally take the time to wonder aloud why Ellaria and Sansa are here and they both look at you like you're forgetting something important.

"I have brought your dress for the tournament, I promised to help you get ready." Ellaria reminds you sweetly. "Sansa was kind enough to show me to your rooms and I thought we could all help each other." 

The tournament of course, you remember with a groan. The last thing you want to do is watch men flounce around in a desperate attempt to prove how skilled they are but it is a chance for you to sit in the presence of your uncle with your head held high and that is something you will not shy away from. 

You allow Ellaria and Sansa to pull you to your feet and push you towards the bath tub, only turning to grab Ellaria's wrist to stop her from walking away as Sansa busies herself laying out your gown and shoes.

"About the engagement." You stammer, swallowing thickly before continuing. "Please don't… please don't tell Prince Oberyn." 

She looks at you sharply then, dark eyes studying you intently and you're not sure what you expect for her to say back but it certainly isn't what comes out of her mouth.

"Has something happened between you and him?" 

"No! Nothing!" You choke out, accutely aware of the heat prickling the back of your neck as memories flood your mind, strong hands on your hips moving you up and down the length buried deeply inside of you whilst ragged breaths mist over your skin.

You can tell she doesn't believe you, one eyebrow cocking whilst she waits for a more elaborate answer and you quickly grasp the first thing that comes to mind. 

"I just thought he might not like the fact that my fiance is the man he had to threaten to leave me alone at the ball and I don't wish for him to get involved again. It will only cause trouble if he threatens him as boldly as he did before."

"That pig is who your family is willingly giving you to?" She seethes, rapid curses spilling from her lips when you nod warily. 

"You're right not tell Oberyn, he wouldn't bother to threaten him this time, he'll kill him." 

She says it with such utter surety that it makes your mouth drop open in shock, you'd only mean't it as an excuse, surely she's over-exaggerating the effect this will have on him?

But the way Ellaria is looking at you reminds you of back at the brothel, the look that tells you she knows something you don't. She catches on to your nervousness, cupping your cheeks in her soft hands and speaking carefully whilst you worry your lip between your teeth. 

"I will say nothing but we will not be able to hide this from him forever dear one. He will find out eventually and it will not be pretty, I hope you are prepared to handle what will follow." She warns and you frown. 

The feeling that your missing something is like an irritating itch you can't scratch. Oberyn does not care for you, his only quarrell with your intented being born from a sense of morality and nothing else.

So why is Ellaria acting like he'll tear the entire city apart when he finds out you're engaged? 

----------------🐍--------------

The gasp you let out when you see the dress Ellaria has brought you does not quite do justice to how enamoured with it you truly are. You're in awe as your fingers stroke the light, delicate fabric and you look up to beam at your friend. 

"This is so beautiful I can't even believe it." You say and she waves her hand with a tinkling laugh.

"It is a beautiful dress but you will make it exquisite dear one." She replies softly, grinning when Sansa starts pushing you to put it on, the excitement to see you in it growing too strong. 

When the dress slips over your head and falls into place down the rest of your body, you know without glimpsing in the mirror that it fits perfectly, not just physically but deep within your heart. This dress, feels like you, like you were born to wear it. You step out of the bathroom and grin as Sansa gasps and claps her hands in delight whilst Ellaria gazes at you proudly.

"Oh you look absolutely stunning" The young wolf gushes and you offer a silly twirl and a low bow as you laugh before stopping dead when you catch sight of yourself.

The shade of orange compliments your glowing skin, vines of gold snake through the fabric on the single shoulder and embellish your waist making you glitter in the light whilst you move. The material feels like a gentle breeze against your skin, fluttering around your legs as you walk and you bite your lip to hide the smirk when your bare leg peeks through the slit that reaches your lower thigh. Your mother would lose her mind if she saw you in this. 

You sit patiently as Ellaria fiddles with your hair, slipping a ring on your finger and a few golden bracelets whilst she twists and pins a few locks away. She leaves a few strands to frame your face and declares you done with a satisfied nod. You say a quiet thank you and she squeezes your shoulders warmly, watching you with an unreadable gleam in her eyes. 

"You are most certainly going to capture a heart or two today little bird. I wouldn't be surprised if someone kills that bastard for your hand when the time comes." She says slyly. 

You chuckle and mutter "I wish" as you stand and smooth your dress, moving to the door and holding it open for the two women before stepping through yourself. With your head down you miss the cunning smile directed your way as you prepare to face the upcoming events of the day.

-----------------🦁--------------

The weather is almost unbearably hot as the tournament begins, the roar of the crowd never failing to dim even as people swelter under the midday sun. Something else that has never failed to relent are the shards of ice burrowing in your back from your uncle's furious gaze. You'd caught it before you had sat inbetween Ellaria and Sansa in the front row, glaring defiantly up at the tented area where your family sat comfortably shaded and sipping wine. 

You're eyes had slid over them one by one. Jamie's ignorance to what was going on, Tyrion swiping a hand over his face before shaking his head and Cersei's small smirk as she took in your attire. Lastly your gaze fell upon Tywin who looked like he was vibrating with venomous disdain. There was no mistaking where your dress came from and the statement you were making by choosing to sit with Ellaria rather than your own blood. The only way you could possibly spit in his face further is if Oberyn came and joined you. 

Speaking of who, you've seen no sign of the Dornish Prince. You're somewhat relieved given what happened between you and the fact that you can still feel him in the sweet ache between your thighs. After your cold dismissal and his taunting you're not sure you're prepared to fight a battle on two fronts. 

You're startled from your thoughts when the fight infront of you ends with a violent scream and blood spraying in a wide arch across the dirt. The sight makes your stomach twist as the body is dragged away and the victor laps up the applause from the crowd before he leaves to make way for the next round of fighting. It makes you uneasy that so many delight in needless death.

You move to say so to the women at your sides when a rush of warmth decends over you from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes. The tingle in your skin speaks of a familar gaze upon you and as you swiftly lift your head you see him. 

Oberyn strides into the arena amongst the other fighters for this round, who all bow deeply in respect to the king when they reach the centre. The Prince's bow is stiff and shallow in comparrison, edging the fine line between courtesy and disrespect but given the way he's not even looking towards the royal tent you don't think he's actually aware of it. Not when his fiery gaze has been completely and utterly scorching into you from the moment he stepped out into the pit.

Your breath evaporates from your lungs as you watch his eyes rake over you with a wild desperation that you can feel in the fire roaring in your belly. The short distance between you feels simultaneously too far and not far enough and with the way Oberyn's hands are clenching rapidly at his sides you guess he's thinking the same. 

Gods he looks like he wants to haul you into the pit and wreck you infront of everyone. If you stare any longer you'll lose it and let him do whatever he wants, you think, ripping your eyes from him with a shaky gasp and decidedly looking elsewhere in attempt to rein in your out of control body.

You can still feel him watching and it takes everything within you to not look back at him, going as far as chanting "he wants you dead" over and over in your mind and hoping it will quell the fire in your veins. However as your eyes trail further down the line of fighters something esle douses the fire almost immediately.

--------------🐍------------

Seven hells he can't breathe.

Oberyn would class himself as a man who has seen some of the most beautiful sights in the world, from alluring men and women to magnificent works of art and places that would bring some to tears with wonderment. But nothing he has witnessed in his extravagant life could ever prepare him for seeing you as he'd entered the arena. 

Any anger he'd managed to hold onto to convince himself that what happened between you had been nothing more than a weakness he'd needed to get out of his system had vanished immediately. He'd been struck speechless, his silver tongue turned to lead in his mouth and he'd swallowed thickly as the image of you in house Martell colours burned itself into his mind like a brand he would carry for the rest of his days. 

The sun makes your skin glisten temptingly and all he wants to do is feel the heat of it against his own, the dress clinging to your body begs to be stripped away slowly whilst his tongue tastes every inch of you. He pictures the fabric hitched up to your waist and spilling over his lap whilst he lays between your thighs and fucks into you until you're crying his name as sweetly as the night before.

Fuck. What is wrong with him Oberyn blinks wildly, desperate to push away his ravenous thoughts and thankful the armour he wears hides the fact he's hard and throbbing in his pants. He grits his teeth to the point of pain, feeling the muscle in his cheek twitch angrily from the pressure before he smirks when he catches the way you fluster and tear your eyes away from him.

He practically purrs in satisfaction knowing that you're just as affected by him as he is by you. The logical part of him tells him to ignore you, to fight against the attraction that tempts him from his sworn path and leaves him feeling disgusted by himself but a darker, more primal part cannot stop seeing you in his colours and wanting to claim what he knows he can't have.

A quiet growl builds in his chest when you cross your legs and he's met with a flash of bare skin as the slit in your dress slips open further with the movement. If he clenches his teeth any tighter they'll break but suddenly he's no longer concerned with the pain, not when he sees your entire body go rigid. He can physically feel the walls of ice that you use to shield yourself being thrown up and as he follows your line of sight he realises why.

----------------🦁-------------

You had naively hoped that you wouldn't have to see Ser Addam Marbrand until you were hauled kicking and screaming down the aisle. Yet in your distraction you had failed to notice him among the other fighters strutting into the arena and now the bastard stands openly leering at you from the pit. 

You feel ill as his eyes crawl over the exposed flesh of your arms and lower thigh, the presence of his gaze like cold slime over your body and you wish nothing more than to take your daggers and relieve him of his sight so he can never look upon you so repulsively again. 

As the fighters are dismissed for the first match to begin he makes to move towards you, plucking a withered flower from the ground and looking at you like he expects you to to swoon. Sensing your distress Ellaria moves to shield your body partly behind hers whilst Sansa presses against your side and slips her hand into yours with a reassuring squeeze.

Each step that brings him closer raises your agitation, there's an arrogant smirk plastered across his face and you suspect his lazy stride is only intended to enforce that he's in control, in control in the fact you can't get away from him right now or in the future. Suddenly his smug strut falters and his face festers into a horrific snarl as a shadow falls over you and the smell of leather, wine and berries fills your senses.

There's a dark tone behind Oberyn's mischievous expression when you slowly turn to peer up at him. He greets each of you with a ridiculous elegance, flourishing bows and charming kisses on the backs of your hands that leaves Sansa laughing whilst Ellaria swats at him good naturedly. 

When he takes your hand and his lips ghost over your skin, his eyes blaze with the same protective fury you'd witnessed the night of the ball, a look that promises death would be dealt should you wish it and your breath hitches as your heart thumps a chaotic rhythm in your chest.

He hears your breath catch, a small fire sparking in his eyes as he draws back and gives you a devilish grin. There's an audacity to him that should shock you but surprisingly it feels familiar, more like a comfort as you smile and roll your eyes back. It seems however that Oberyn is not finished in his effort to deter Ser Addam and his eyes flit between the man in question and you as a wicked gleam unfurls in them. 

With slow deliberate hands he grasps a golden chain that adorns his neck, lifting it gracefully until it slips over his head and dangles from calloused fingertips. The pendant catches in the sun, reflecting rays of glittering light that have you mesmerized until he steps forward and holds it towards you. You gape at him and even Ellaria makes a small noise of surprise. 

"My lady." He states clearly for the people surrounding you to hear and you realise he's dialling up the performance. "I offer you this token, should you accept it it would be my honour to fight in your name." 

It's hard not to break into a fit of laughter at the pageantry of his words, so sarcastic in your ears but the crowd laps it up and there's no way you can refuse his offer without causing a stir. Clever bastard. Oberyn's impish grin pushes you to rise and declare that you accept but not before you find yourself whispering good naturedly.

"You are absolutely mad." 

"Maybe, maybe I just intend to collect on this favour later sweet girl." He murmurs back with a teasing shrug but you know he's bluffing. "Besides would you rather be wearing that cockless bastards claim or this?" 

"Is that what a token actually is, a claim of some kind? Is it that way in Dorne?"

The thought should infuriate you. If Ser Addam had given you that flower intending to lay his claim then you most definitely would have lost it and stabbed him. But the idea of Oberyn claiming you in front of everyone sparks a sinful tingling that brews low in your belly and you have to bite hard on your lip to stop your mind from following that thread further.

Oberyn's eyes are immediately drawn to the sight of your teeth sinking into the soft skin and he has to resist the urge to reach out and release your lip so he can suck it into his mouth and soothe it with his tongue. He clears his throat and looks anywhere else but you, cursing inwardly when his voice comes out in a deep rasp. 

"No, that is not how we see it in Dorne." It's only slightly untrue, his mind reasons, they're not a claim as such, but typically only given to those who the warrior is romantically involved with. "I am sure that is how that filth sees it though."

You nod and bow your head, allowing him to slip the necklace on and a shiver grips your spine when warm fingers brush over the sensitive skin of your neck as he gently lifts your hair out from beneath the chain.

There's a perculiar look in his eyes when you lift your head to find him staring at the pendant settled upon your chest and you gulp when they slowly raise to your yours with all the intensity of an errupting volcano. He's so close and you've forgotten there's an audience to all this when your eyes drop to his mouth and your body sways closer, forgotten how tempting it is to crash into him when insults and threats aren't being hurled.

The air grows charged between you and he licks his lips and parts them as if to say something but seems to think better of it when he shakes his head and draws back, his expression troubled and a sharp nod is all he offers before he quickly turns to leave, no longer willing to meet your eyes. 

"Wait!" You call softly, cringing as it echoes between you and he turns in bewilderment when your hand grasps the leather armour that encases his arm. 

You can feel multiple eyes on you, not just the Prince's wary ones but also Sansa's and Ellaria's and those sat closest to you. Undoubtedly the eyes of your family are watching you too instead of paying attention to their precious entertainment. 

Your body heats up with embarrasment as you flounder for something to say, unable to even know yourself why you have stopped him and you glare at the hand on his arm as if it had a mind of it's own until suddenly you get an idea.

"Is there something else you needed?" Oberyn asks slowly, his tone loaded heavy with suspicion and features sharp as he tries to figure out the thoughts in your head.

You pull your hand away and quickly remove the gold ring that shines on your middle finger, placing your palm out for his hand and wiggling your fingers when he continues to look at you like you've whacked him over the head with the hilt of your dagger. 

A smile pulls gently at your lips when he finally places his hand in yours with a huff, your skin once again tingling under his in a way that's getting harder to ignore. Despite Oberyn's behaviour, his eyes feel like hot coals searing your skin and you know he's utterly transfixed as he watches you slide the ring on his smallest finger.

"For protection and good luck." You say quietly, breaking the spell that lingers when you finally release his hand and like him you decide to play up your speech, flashing him a teasing smirk before speaking louder. "May it not only bring glory in my name but that of my house's also." 

His eyes snap to yours with a withering glare and you just know there's a million things he wishes to tell you he'll bring to your family and glory is not one of them. His fiery tongue however stays firmly clamped behind sealed lips and he simply promises you hell to pay in his gaze when you wink at him before sitting back down.

As he strides away to where the competitors wait there turns, you try and concentrate on the battle before you rather than the broad muscle of his back flexing beneath the leather and also the two pairs of eyes currently burning holes on either side of your head. 

"Out with it the both of you." You sigh when their gazes begin to nag at you, steeling yourself for a barrage of questions and comments.

"That was interesting." Sansa begins and you almost groan at the poorly hidden delight you can hear in her voice. You don't get a chance to brush it away either before Ellaria is chiming in immediately after. 

"Interesting indeed little wolf." She agrees before raising a taunting eyebrow as she looks at you and smiles sweetly. "And you say that absolutely nothing has happened between you?" 

"Absolutely nothing has happened between me and Prince Oberyn." You mumble through gritted teeth, praying for something to distract your friends from their interrogation and thanking anyone who will listen when the current battle ends and a new one is about to begin.

You sit a little straighter when the man in question saunters into the pit, spear twirling in his hand as he circles his opponant with a glorious smile. He looks every bit the heroic warrior from tales passed down for centuries, glowing light surrounding him and shining off his dark curls. You flinch slightly when the man lunges at Oberyn and immediately tries to slash at his neck. 

"Interesting indeed." Ellaria echoes beside you, her ever watchful eyes flickering between you and her dearest friend, but you do not hear. Nor do you see the smiles exhanged between the women either side of you as you lean closer and clutch the pendant around your neck with a shaking hand.

---------------🐍-------------

The sound of metal ringing in the air is music to Oberyn's ears as he leads his opponents in a violent dance around the ring. He thrives in the chaos of it, in the sweet, addictive rush of addrenaline that thrums in his veins and makes his heart sing. Every time he wields his spear the golden band of your ring glitters on his hand and it should be distracting but it isn't. It pushes him harder, fills his body with a vengeful hunger that brings out the Viper with an almost unforgiving fury. 

For all the venom between you both he will not allow you to fall victim to a man like Marbrand, he has intervened on your behalf twice now, the fear still evident from your last meeting written all over your face when you'd seen the man earlier and Oberyn had loathed it. 

If he faces the bastard in the fighting pit he can make sure he never goes near you again whilst also humiliating the Commander of the city watch. A man appointed by Tywin himself and that is an opportunity to tempting to pass up. 

Oberyn's grin is as feral as it his blinding, his skin glistening with sweat and hair curling at the nape of his neck whilst he disarms each person that stands against him in quick succession. It's almost too easy but he enjoys the practice and the anticipation of the battle to come.

The crowd has begun to chant in his favour with the way he entertains, each fight is graceful and entrancing. He's careful not to finish them too quickly and when he ends them he doesn't kill, allowing his opponent to yield and keep their life. He will never kill for the pleasure, especially not for the pleasure of Lannisters.

He chooses to observe carefully in the times he's not fighting, his eyes switching from where Marbrand is duelling to where you sit watching with nervous eyes. Your fingers never leave his necklace, either holding the pendant to your lips or gently brushing over the chain.

It makes him feel strange, the sight of a House Martell necklace hanging from your neck and pressed flush against your mouth. He wonders if you've even noticed his family's sigil on the pendant and that paired with the dress clinging to your body you look like you belong in his house, belong in Dorne.

You look like you are his. 

He knows he should be concerned by the effect that thought has on his body, given that when his stomach twists violently it's not with disgust as it should be, but with a fierce, insatiable desire. 

But there's no time for an internal conflict as Marbrand slices the throat of his opponent to the thunderous applause of the crowd before turning to the Dornishman with an arrogant smirk. It would appear the time has come, there's no one else left to fight but the two of them. The crowd falls silent when the Prince walks across the bloodied ground and every single person feels the tension spike to an almost unbearable degree. 

As they circle one another, Oberyn lists his observations in his head. The commander is slow, his armour weighs him down and he relies on brute force rather than skill. He also tends to favour one leg for balance and Oberyn knows if he hits it the man will crumble like the piece of shit he is. It's too easy, but he has no intention holding back. No, this one he is going to make hurt.

Marbrand loses patience, throwing himself at him and a taunting chuckle escapes the Prince's lips as he easily blocks the swipe of the sword. He shoves the man away, eyes alight with a devilish gleam whilst he spins the spear between his hands. When he charges again Oberyn wastes no time in parrying each attack before he forces him back with a vicous flurry of his own.

He knocks off the commander's helmet with a particularly ferocious swipe, revealing Ser Addam red faced and panting, sweat dripping down his face and plastering the hair to his head and Oberyn bares his teeth as hatred for the man grips his chest. Before he can think twice, his spear is slicing through the air and the Commander leaps back with a yell as the tip rips open the skin of his cheek.

That's for ever thinking you could put your hands on her, his mind snarls whilst he relishes the kernel of fear that briefly unfurls in Marbrand's eyes. 

He feels a pull to look back at you, his gaze easily finding yours like they're immediately drawn together and his heart thumps unsteady behind his ribs when he catches the edge of a grin hidden behind the pendant held to your lips. Unfortunately Marbrand doesn't miss the stolen glance, his eyes narrowing and thin lips curling into a monsterous sneer when Oberyn turns his head back to face him. 

"So that's what this is about hmm?" He laughs mockingly. "Hoping that if you win she'll let you taste that sweet cunt?" 

He lunges for Oberyn again, his movements becoming overconfident as the Dornishman leaps back and tries to temper the rage that flares in his soul as the Commander spits insults about you. 

"Did the ungrateful bitch not let you fuck her after you so nobly defended her honour? Maybe that will teach you to mind your own business and stick to your whores Dornishman."

There's a red mist descending over the Prince's vision, his blood sizzling with a dark lust to tear this man apart. His refusal to kill for Lannister entertainment is slipping further away the longer Marbrand speaks and Oberyn thirsts to drive his spear right through his neck and feel the warmth of the man's blood splashing over his hands. His eyes are rabid, his teeth snapping together in a furious snarl as his voice, almost unrecognizable, shreds through his throat.

"Unless you wish for me to slice off your tongue and feed it to the vermin in this shithole city, I suggest you never speak of her again." He seethes.

Yet rather than cower in fear, the Commander flashes a sinister grin whilst he circles Oberyn like a vulture readying to swoop in on it's prey. 

"Oh I'll do much more than speak of her, filth, when I get my hands on her, and I will, I'm going to fuck that tight cunt you're so desperate for until she can't move, I'm going to break that wild spirit of hers until she's nothing more than a good little slave to my cock." 

His words are mean't to cause a distraction and briefly it works, quicker than Oberyn can regain his control, the man barrells towards him. The weight of the sword comes crashing down on his spear and both men are suddenly locked together face to face, the foul stench of Marbrand's breath wafting over his face as his vile tirade continues to unwittinfly provoke the Viper into rearing his head.

"I'm going to shove my cock into her until her voice is raw from screaming and spill my seed into her belly so no one will ever question who she belongs to. It will never be you. I'd see her dead before I saw her in the hands of a disgusting barbarian."

The fraying cord of Oberyn's control snaps violently, the darkness within him bursting forth like a hurricane and with an animalistic roar he lunges forward with terrifying speed.

The force of his rage sends the Commander sprawling and before he can even think of recovering the Viper has already struck twice more, skewering a leg to watch Marbrand crumble and slicing his hand so he drops his sword with a pained cry. Oberyn kicks away the blade in disgust, dark eyes never leaving the vile piece of shit that now squirms and whimpers on the dusty ground clutching his bleeding hand. 

There's no sound to be heard in the arena, a tense silence has fallen over the crowd as if they've maybe only just realised this isn't for entertainment any more. They are witnessing the Red Viper in all his vicious glory and true to the whispers about him, no one has any idea what he's going to do.

Oberyn effortlessly spins his weapon in his hands, grinning with malicious delight as he swings it down in an ark and the Commander chokes in fear before the tip of the spear stops just shy of slicing open his neck. Sinking slowly into a crouch, the harsh press of the metal pushes deeper into the skin until a bead of blood wells beneath it's point as he leans in close. He curls his lips back, revealing bared teeth dripping venom.

“You will not die today but you will die by my hand. Each word you have uttered here has placed a seal upon the crypt on your life. One morning you will wake without the feeling of your limbs, your tongue, your fingers or toes. And there I will be standing before you." He whispers darkly, satisfaction humming in his chest when Marbrand goes sickly pale.

"I’ll start with the tongue, let you scream until your voice is no more like you fantasised would happen to her only no one will hear you and come to your rescue. Then I’ll take your cock, roast it and feed it to your men so they know what kind of man they have willingly followed. I will break you in every way you fear and when I’m done, I’ll flay you alive, peeling your skin off and leaving nothing but a shell on the bloody mattress.”

He rises to his feet and smiles charmingly, a nightmarish contrast to the cold murder lurking in his eyes. 

"Yield."

Oberyn stands quickly and turns away the second the Commander concedes, the temptation to kill him now too strong if he has to look at him a moment longer. His eyes find yours immediately, stomach churning uncomfortably at your worried expression. Your eyes are narrowed and he knows that you haven't missed a thing, that despite not hearing the exchange you know something is wrong. 

Such darkness has not taken hold of him in a very long time and for him to give himself over to it for a woman he absolutely does not care about, cannot care about, it leaves him feeling shaken and exposed as he stands before you. So with a stiff bow to you and to the royal tent and a look towards Ellaria that he hopes she will understand, he does something he has never done before, he flees.

-----------------🦁--------------

You turn to Ellaria when Oberyn strides quickly out of the arena and out of sight, worry filling your chest like an oceans worth of water and the levels only rise as her expression mirrors yours. There had been a haunted look on his face when he'd turned and captured your gaze, not the victorious grin you'd expected but something that had chilled you to your core.

You'd been concerned when you'd seen him falter during the dual but then suddenly a savageness you've never seen the likes of had possessed him. Whatever could make Oberyn turn like that frightens you, and you need to know exactly what happened before your mind can jump to it's own conclusions but as you rise to attempt to follow Ellaria grips your wrist and shakes her head.

"Do not follow him little bird, I know that look." She warns and you frown in concern. "He can be feral and vicious when the fight takes over him, it's best just to leave him be until the bloodlust cools." 

You dont believe it for a second but decide to remain seated until the tournament comes to a close. You leave Ellaria and Sansa discussing the events of the day and claim that tiredness has truly caught up with you before slipping away to take some time to think.

It seems though that you've barely taken more than few steps before you freeze in an empty hallway as your name is called out sharply like a cracking whip. You turn with your entire body rigid and bristling as your Uncle's cold glare stabs into you.

"I thought I told you to stay away from that Dornishman, not flaunt your disgusting antics in your intended's face like a cheap harlot." 

It's almost impressive you think, how he still manages to keep his tone cordial and his body language completely stoic even when lashing insults and accusations. You almost commend him for it but settle instead for matching his frigid scowl with a lashing of your own.

"Hello to you too Uncle. How would you propose I avoid a man that walks right up to me and offers his token infront of the whole crowd? Please do tell because as I see it to refuse him would of been a major insult. Maybe you'd realise that I avoided such a potential grevious mistake for our family if you removed your head from your ass and ceased these foul accusations." You snap. 

A twisted sense of accomplishment blooms in your chest when his calm demeanor cracks and a deadly rage flickers across his face before he can smother it. Good, you think, let him choke on it.

"You are bound to be married to Ser Addam whether you like it or not. And should you belittle that agreement again, even if no one else is aware of the arrangement, I will hand you to him and let him choose the punishment he sees fit, do you understand me." 

You almost laugh in his face before an idea pops into your head. Tywin will never trust you, never take your word as truth until he thinks he has quelled your fight, hence the worsening threats to try and pray on your fears. But what if you let him think he has finally forced you to back down and begrudgingly accept your fate? Fighting outright with anger clearly gets you nowhere, so maybe it's time to be smarter, more cunning. Convince him he has won your submission and let his arrogance blind him. If he wants you to act more like a Lannister, so fucking be it.

"I understand perfectly Uncle and I do regret if Ser Addam feels slighted by this misunderstanding but I would like for you to understand this." You answer smoothly. "There is no affair, no secret escapades between the Prince and I nor has there ever been and I'm offended you think otherwise. But maybe this will help you believe I am telling you the truth. If you will cease the paranoia and your hovering over my every movement I will make more of an effort within the family and put up no more fight towards the engagement you have planned. Do we have a deal?" 

You keep the expression on your face flawlessly neutral, the one Lannister trait you actually find useful especially when Tywin's narrowed eyes are scrutinising every inch of you searching for a falsehood. 

"We have a deal." He replies slowly after what feels like an eternity of him weighing your words. "But if I hear the hint of a whisper about you and the Prince-." 

You cut him off with a harsh laugh, twisiting your face into a sneer and ignoring the bile rising in your throat with the vicious lie.

"Honestly Uncle, this engagement is the last thing I wanted but if you think I'd jeopardise everything I have for the sake of a trist with someone who's only the second Prince and also from Dorne you are quite hilariously mistaken."

---------------🐍---------------

The sun has just begun setting, washing the sky in hues of pink and purple as you scurry along the dusty streets of King's Landing. Your heavy cloak is a suffocating weight in this heat but an all too necessary pain to suffer if you hope for no one to recognise you where you are going. 

You need answers as to what happened in the arena. You've tried to believe that it was just the heat of battle like Ellaria said but deep in your bones you just know that's not true. You only hope Oberyn has not found out about the engagement. 

The smell of incense and wine burns in your nose when you enter the brothel and you're trying your best to not to pay attention to the naked bodies strewn everywhere, limbs entangled every which way and the multiple sighs and grunts of pleasure echoing in the large room.

You breathe a sigh of relief when the owner rushes over to you and asks how they can help. They don't even seem surprised when you tell them you need to see the Dornish Prince and you don't know whether to laugh or cringe at the thought business is probably booming in this place because people are hoping the Oberyn will spot them and want to fuck them into oblivion.

Not that you can blame them, your mind whispers sinfully, not with the memory still fresh of him hard and throbbing inside you and his teeth sinking into your skin. He might be insufferable but you can't deny the truth behind that reputation of his.

You nearly walk straight into the owner's back as they stop infront of a large oak door and you slip a few coins into their hand with quiet thanks, waiting until their footsteps are barely noticeable before knocking loudly. There's no call to enter, the silence deafening in your ears and you wait patiently for a few more moments before raising you hand to knock again. Before your knuckles can meet the wood however, the door swings open and your mouth runs dry.

Oberyn has always had the infuriating ability to render you speechless with his beauty but in nothing more than pair of loose fitting pants with wild hair like his hands have been yanking it in frustration, he's something else entirely. It's like you're only now realising how broad he truly is, staring transfixed at the muscular shoulders and arms that still bear marks from where you'd clung to him the night before. The smooth planes of his chest is just begging to be explored and the hand still hovering from your intentions of knocking a second time clenches in mid air at the thought before you snatch it back to your side.

You cough, hoping by some miracle he's not noticed your shameless staring and immediately flushing with embarrassment when you find him watching you with an overly pleased smirk that proudly tells you you've been caught red handed. 

"You should really be more careful." You blurt out, cursing the breathy quality of your voice. "They led me straight to your room without asking who I was, someone could try and attack you." 

"Is that why you have come little one, worrying about my safety?" He teases with a playful raise of his eyebrow, beckoning you into the room and you scoff defensively as you slip past his heated body.

"Why would I do a ridiculous thing like that?" You deadpan, perching yourself upon a side table and shrugging nonchalantly. "You helped me today so maybe I'm just returning the favour with some advice. 

Oberyn hums in amusement, words only half serious when he studies you closely as he pours himself a cup of wine. 

"Considering the only people arrogant enough to attack me in this city are your own blood, is there something you wish to tell me?" 

"If there was a plot on your life I can assure you they would not trust me with it." You laugh humourlessly. "Though after today I'm not sure your correct that they're the only ones who would attack you." 

If your eyes were not trained upon him, you would miss how the cup freezes briefly against his lips, the guarded look that sweeps over his eyes before he dismisses it and gives you a look like he's daring you to continue. 

"What happened in that duel Oberyn?" 

There's a brief silence as his fingers clench around the cup before he lowers it to the table, an obvious tension tightening his muscles and he licks his lips before brushing away the question.

"Nothing that you need concern yourself with." He tells you, voice brittle and full of warning not to push the matter further, but when have you ever heeded warnings, especially when they concern him.

"Anything that sends you of all people into that kind of a frenzy deserves my concern." You point out, staring at him incredulously when he rolls his eyes and sneers at you. 

"Do not pretend to know me so well that you have any idea what you're talking about. It was the heat of battle nothing more." 

You push away from the table, striding towards him until you can feel the heat radiating his skin. His body language is practically screaming at you to stay away, gone is the man you sometimes think you can have a tentative peace with but you're used to Oberyn's more venomous nature and unfortunately for him, he doesn't scare you.

"I know you well enough. At least to know you're lying to me now. Tell me what happened" You demand with a jab of your finger against his firm chest. 

His hand snatches your wrist blindingly fast, yanking you into the solid wall of his body whilst he glares at you with pupils blown wide and a snarl curling his lips. 

"I am not lying to you. He has been dealt with and you need to drop it little one." 

It's not his fault that he's unaware of your arrangement but him telling you it's dealt with when you know that's probably not the case is making you lose patience. You attempt to yank your hand back from his iron grip, baring your teeth when he growls at you to stop and holds on tighter. Why is everything a battle with him, what was said that was so bad he can't just fucking tell you!

"There must be a reason you refuse to tell me! If something was said about me I have a right to know." You argue. "Stop leaving out the truth! It's no better than lying and you know it, you silver tongued son of a bitch!" 

He chuckles darkly at your frustrated outburst, leaning down to smirk at you with a feral wickedness. 

"Leaving out the truth? A little bit hypocritical aren't we sweet girl." You frown in confusion and he grins. "Why don't you tell me the reason you're really here hmm?" 

"I came for answers. Marbrand has expressed an interest in me and if he can send you into a murderous rage worse than I've seen from you before, then I need to know what kind of monster I'm defending myself against." 

"Liar." He whispers savagely. "You've not stopped thinking about it have you?" 

You lick your lips nervously, pulse jumping as his fingers stroke over the tender skin of your wrist. Your voice is strained even in your own ears and you curse knowing he's attempting to distract you from the argument and you're falling for it. 

"Thinking about what?" You ask and gulp as his eyes gleam with unrestrained hunger.

"The way my cock felt buried in that perfect little cunt." He murmurs. "The sound of my voice in your ear whilst I fucked into you and the delicious pleaure you felt when you squeezed me so desperately as your release gushed from you."

His words knock the breath right of your lungs, your head completely empty of coherent thought and all you can concentrate on is the feelings he's  describing. 

"I've not thought about it even once." You lie weakly to his chest and he tuts. The fingers not holding your wrist come to grip your chin and he forces you to meet his deeply darkened eyes.

"Look me in the eye if you want me to believe you little lion. Say it without looking away and I'll let it go, you can leave here with my sincere apology and a promise we'll never speak of this again." 

Damn him, you cannot lie convincingly to his face when your own body has so obviously betrayed you but like hell can you admit out loud the desires that you haven't even accepted yet yourself. So you decide to do neither.

Lunging up you crash your mouth to his, letting your actions say what you can't with words and kissing him harshly in your anger that he's making you admit things you'd rather ignore. Despite his surprise he kisses you back just hungrily, slanting his mouth over yours and hauling you closer with a deep noise of satisfaction. 

His hand slides from your chin to the back of your head, gripping a handful of your hair and tugging your head back so he can deepen the kiss. You moan against his lips and he wastes no time plunging his tongue into your mouth, a low groan rumbling in his chest when your nails bite into his shoulders as your tongue slips along his.

“Oberyn.” you cry softly when he pulls back to nip and suck at your jaw, grazing his teeth down and over the curve of your neck whilst his nimble fingers undo the ties that hold your cloak closed and push it from your shoulders. 

"You look absolutley divine in this dress sweet girl." He groans low against your throat, fisting his hands into the soft fabric in his desperation to feel you pressed against him. "Thought of nothing else but ravishing you and hearing you scream for me from the second I saw you in the arena."

Your head falls back with a gasp as his words go straight to your core, fingers sinking into his hair to hold him close whilst his kisses mark your skin. There's slick dripping down your thighs, need for him burning hot and bright in your belly whilst he ruts against you and your mouth waters with the thought of having him again. You can't take it a moment longer, yanking his head back to kiss him ravenously.

"Fuck me please." You whine. 

He'll be on his deathbead ready to meet the gods before he ever denies you when you beg for him like that. He gathers you into his arms and lowers you onto the plush rug infront of the fire, unwilling to waste even a few seconds to get to the bed when he can already be inside you. You look more beautiful than he could ever imagine lay spread out for him, flames from the fire dancing in your eyes and he pointedly ignores the unfamiliar twist in his chest in favour of slowly pushing your dress up your legs and to your waist.

Oberyn’s gaze darkens further than you believed possible when his fingers ghost over the apex of your thighs, teasing you with a wild grin before he swipes his fingers through your folds and chokes.

“You are drenched little one” he rasps, reaching forward with his other hand and wrapping the chain of his necklace you still wear around it. He uses the chain to pull you to his lips, kissing you slowly as he sinks two fingers into your swollen heat.

"Oh gods!" You cry, body jerking off the floor. He's sucking your lower lip into his mouth, biting at the plump flesh whilst his thumb rubs tight circles on your clit. Suddenly you push his hand away and shove him on his back, straddling the solid muscle of his thighs before he can pounce back at you and grinning at the startled look on his face.

"Your fingers feel good but I want your cock." Grinding your hips down harshly against his, you shiver in delight when his fingers bury into the meat of your hips, thrusting his rock hard length against your your clit whilst his head falls back with a ragged moan. 

"Ride me then." He grunts, half lidded eyes molten with desire whilst he helps you bunch up the skirt of your dress. He hisses in relief when you reach a hand between you to release his throbbing cock from his pants, pumping him slowly as you lead him to your core and rub him through your slick, coating him.

"I thought you wanted my cock inside you or do you just plan on being a fucking tease." He snarls, bristling with the effort of holding himself back. The feeling of you dripping down him is maddening and not being able to just plunge into you with wild abandon is setting his teeth on edge.

Oh you're going to make him regret that attitude. You arch an unimpressed eyebrow, rocking against the thick head of him until the muscle in his cheek begins to twitch and an angry vein throbs in his neck. Only when he begins to tremble with desperation, eyes screwed tightly shut and a broken plea on his lips, do you finally sink down on his cock with a satisfied smirk. 

His eyes fly wide open with a strangled moan and you don't even give him any time to adjust to the wet heat of your walls squeezing him. If he needs you to fuck him so badly then you're going to ride him within an inch of his life until that sharp tongue tastes no other word than your name. You rise and slam yourself down at a rapid pace, deliberately clenching each time you bounce on his cock and throwing your head back with a whine at the exquisite way he feels dragging through your walls.

Oberyn shoves your dress up further, watching himself disapear into you with rapt awe and cursing when you notice what he's doing and flutter tightly around him, he'd imagined fucking you like this but imagination didn't hold a candle to the real thing. 

"You take me so fucking well sweet girl, just look at that pretty pussy swallowing my cock." He purrs, snapping his hips up into you and slipping his hand between your thighs to rub your clit when he feels the pleasure beginning to scorch up his spine.

He surges up wrapping a strong arm around your back to keep you on his lap and latches his mouth over one of your stiffened peaks straining against the fabric covering your chest. You cry out at the stimulation from his wet tongue and the drag of material, hurtling closer to the edge until you feel like you can't breathe with the pressure waiting to burst.

"Oberyn! Fuck Oberyn I'm gonna-" 

His head snaps up quickly, grabbing the chain around your neck again to yank you into a brutal kiss. 

"Cum for me little one." He pants against your lips and you obey with a muffled scream that he greedily swallows down.

You're a fucking vision when you cum, face blissed out and lips swollen from his kisses, and he dazedly thinks it's the most stunning sight he's ever seen. His cock throbs and pulses whilst you clamp around him like a vice and soak him in your release, his other hand fiercely gripping the back of your hair as his cum floods your walls and his wrecked groan vibrates against your lips.

Your hands remain tangled in his hair as the two of you pant and attempt to catch your breath. His fingers are stroking your back idly, his face pressed into your chest and you sigh softly, knowing when one of you pulls away this becomes so much more complicated. 

You've fucked the man who's supposedly your enemy twice now. But do you even consider Oberyn your enemy anymore? The two of you fight and hurl insults and he probably still hates your guts but your hatred towards him seems silly now when you think about it. 

There's two men who mean you real harm, who want nothing more than to trap you and beat you into submission. Two men you have just majorly insulted by sleeping with the man they both despise whilst you're supposed to be engaged. 

You're playing a dangerous game, caught inbetween Lions and Vipers and a dark dread tells you there's no way this won't end bloody if anyone finds out the lies you've been spinning.