Warnings: Oberyn/Pero come with their own warning, pregnancy, f/f action, oral (male and female receiving), vaginal sex, cum eating, anal sex, m/m action, nipple play, lactation kink, threesome and foursome activities, childbirth, talks of pregnancy
Comments:Part 4 - Alternate Ending ofThe Spaniard Series Carrying your Spaniard’s baby, you come across the loveliest of creatures, a woman posed on the edge of her fate. To become a whore or…..to be set on a different path by fate and you. An unforeseen meeting in a market changes the course of your relationships with your lovers.
A/N: From the beginning I had two different endings in mind for The Spaniard Series. Here is the happy ending that some wished for.
Artwork by @ronnieiswriting
ClickKeep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says ’creator chooses not to use warnings’. You also agree that you’re the right age to be consuming anything here.
It is a perfect day in Dorne. The wind is mild, the warm temperatures are not exceedingly hot. Your thin silk dress does very well in warding off what heat there is and yet still proudly displays the slightly swollen stomach that is growing beneath your breasts.
You are flanked by two impressive men. One draws people to him, like flies to honey. The charm and danger that seems to be so equally mixed in his blood makes him irresistible. It doesn’t hurt that he is the prince of the region, even if he is a second son, he often acts on behalf of House Martell and all of Dorne.
The other man makes people hesitate before they approach, or back away entirely. His scowl is made to seem even fiercer by the scar that split his eyebrow in two and shows just how close he had come to losing his eye in a gruesome fight that he had described to you in perfect detail. He had won, of course, killing the other man even as blood had dripped into his eye and stinging so fierce that he feared he might have actually lost it.
Oberyn struggles to piece together memories from the days leading up to that moment. All he can remember is the shape of her eyes, turned downwards at the corners and creasing against her cheeks and her furrowed brow as she shivered. The look of fear and confusion trembled on her lip, that was split, and congealed with blackened blood.
“Dove-”
He grabbed her with urgency and pulled her inside his apartment. As though pulling a child away from a busy road. As if someone was chasing her. He slammed the door behind her with one hand, whilst his other clasped gently at the angle of her jaw.
“What happened- who did this to you?”
She’d heard his voice under strain before. In anger. In frustration. Under the gentle thumb of tiredness. Or, wrapped around the finger of desire or orgasm. But, never like this.
It trembled. Controlled only by the urgent rush of emotions consuming him at the sight of her.
“I don’t know-” she whispered meekly “I- some men, they-”
“Who.” He pressed her.
She shakes her head lightly from side to side in response, her mouth open but no words allowing themselves to escape.
A sheet of red flickers behind Oberyn’s vision, his eyelids twitch open and closed as he slams his flat palm against the wood of the door behind her.
“WHO.” He snaps.
Her body instantly becomes smaller, widened eyes finding him and nostrils twitching in shock and fright. She spends only a few moments suspended in that expression before her face screws up, tears threatening to fall from her already glassy eyes.
“No-” he takes back his previous outburst by offering a gentler tone “No, Dove. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”
He immediately pulls her into his chest, arms wrapped around her tightly in an earnest effort to breathe her in.
“I’m sorry Dove, I would never hurt you. You know that. I—”
His heart breaks at the sound of her muffled sob against the silk of his shirt.
“I would never hurt you.” He repeats “No one will ever hurt you again, do you hear me? No one… Look at me.”
His palms caress the sides of her face as he beckons her eyes to meet his.
“Whoever they are, I will find them.” He tells her, brushing a tear from her right cheek with his thumb “We’re going to get you some water. I’m going to take a look at that lip. Then you’re going to tell me everything, alright? So I can fix it.”
She nods lightly and the hand she has at his collar grips tighter for comfort.
“I will fix it, Dove.” He reassures her “If it’s the last thing I do.”
The next few hours had been a blur to him. Head ringing with the descriptions of the men who had attacked her - he knew exactly who they were, and he was going to put a stop to them, to all of them.
He was tired.
Tired of it all.
All the tiptoeing and underhand dealing. All the blackmail. All the threats. He’d been letting them treat him like a beaten down dog for years. Well now, he was feral, tired of his leash, and ready to rip a chunk out of a leg or two - maybe even a face.
It was all well and good when it was only him it was affecting, only his life and his livelihood. But this?
He’d seen it all before with his sister. He’d tried to push Dove away, to no avail. Told himself he was being ridiculous, that he was just being paranoid - he’d tell himself anything just so that he’d be able to justify crawling into her bed with her again.
And when a man cannot even have something so simple as a girlfriend without them making an attempt to rip her away from him, then-
Girlfriend.
Did he really just tell himself that?
Yes,yes he did.
Once satisfied that she was sound asleep, tucked deeply beneath the fresh white cotton of his bedsheets, Oberyn finally pulls out his phone.
His chest heaves in anger as he waits for an answer.
“Hello?”
“I need to talk to you - now.”
***
“You knew this would happen. I warned you.”
Oberyn tries desperately not to raise his voice in response, Dove still sound asleep in the next room.
“Yes, well it’s too late for that now isn’t it.” He hisses on his breath.
“Why don’t you just buy her a plane ticket. It’s really that simple. Send her somewhere with lots of sun.”
“Ellaria.” Oberyn’s voice warns “This is serious.”
“I know full well it’s serious.” She responds, leaning back against the kitchen counter and crossing her arms “It was ’serious’ with all the others too, and you didn’t bat an eye when you sent them away.”
Oberyn rolls his eyes as he turns away from her, jaw clenching as he pinches his nose between two fingers.
“No-” Ellaria continues with a wistful tone “-but this one’s special, isn’t she? Hmm? I know because otherwise you would have asked me to join the two of you.”
Oberyn doesn’t respond.
“But you want her all to yourself.” She uncrosses her arms and slinks towards him with steady steps “Sneaking her up here like none of us notice. Like we can’t hear her screaming your name out, over and over, at 2 o'clock in the morning, even over the sound of the music.” She prods him playfully on the shoulder with her index finger. “It’s very rude that you keep her all to yourself, you know? So greedy.”
“That’s enough.” Oberyn tells her, although his tone is not assertive or full of venom - it’s instead, defeated.
Ellaria studies him for a moment; the sloped angle of his shoulders, the cloudiness in his eyes. The way his lip seems to twitch as if he’s fighting against it, preventing it from pouting.
“I need to protect her.” He whispers finally.
“Then I will help you.” Ellaria responds, mimicking his tone.
His head turns to face her, studying the genuine intention he can see glistening in her eyes.
“But-” she says, causing Oberyn’s heart to falter just a little “-you must answer me one question.”
“What question?”
“Ah-ah.” She stops him “You are not allowed to know the question until I ask it. Answer it, and truthfully, and I will help you - Deal?”
Oberyn’s eyes turn to the floor for a short moment before he looks back at Ellaria, offering her a quick nod in agreement.
Ellaria smiles earnestly,
“Do you love her?”
The silence that precedes her question is enough to offer Ellaria her answer - yet she waits patiently to see if he will offer any words.
Oberyn’s lashes flutter as he loses himself somewhere. Not in conflict, not in thought, not even in the question. Just, for a moment, he is gone - retreated to a place in his mind that not even he knows the location of.
“Yes.” He answers “Yes I do.”
Ellaria approaches him in one step, and takes his chin between her thumb and forefinger. Oberyn’s head turns slightly, guided by her touch. She meets his eyes with a wicked grin,
“Then, leave it to me.”
A/N: A switch to 3rd person because YOLO. I’ve missed these two
A/N:I have been wanting to challenge myself to write a drabble a day for a whole month for quite some time now, and I finally decided to just go for it. The goal is to fill every prompt on this listby@creativepromptsforwriting with a short one shot (500 - 2k words) by the end of June. Can I do it? I do not know. But let’s find out! - This one immediately brought the Prince of Dorne to mind. It’s not connected to The Viper & the Wild Thing or Aphelion… but it is sort of connected to this one shot I wrote about you and Oberyn and the blood oranges.
Word Count: 1,005
Warnings: None really. Implied smut and one (1) solo swear word but otherwise exceptionally tame for Oberyn
Summary: Oberyn makes a special trip to the marketplace in search of something specifically for you, only to realize that he will get to reap the benefit of your gift, too.
The open air market on the outskirts of Sunspear had always been one of Oberyn’s favorite places in Dorne. Because it is always so… alive. Taking a deep breath in through his nose, he closed his eyes and let a slow, easy grin spread across his lips. The aroma of rich spices and herbal oils swirled through the hot, Dornish air to mix with sweet fruits, floral perfumes, and the pungent smell of still sizzling, just cooked meat. Always so enticing.
Under the hot sun, the bouquet of scents seemed to blossom even more vibrantly, and he hummed contentedly. As he opened his eyes again he noted that the same was true about the colorful tents that covered the stalls, their awnings appearing even more bright in the unfiltered sunlight. The shouts of vendors and their customers haggling over prices, the clang of hammered copper, and the whimsical trill of lyre strings filled his ears more fully with every step he took, and it would be easy to follow the music of the market to every last one of the makeshift shops that sprawled through the streets to form a small city of their own.
The prompt for this week’s Writer Wednesday was given by the new and improved @writer-wednesday!
You loved the days you were allowed to walk among the people in the streets, mingling and experiencing. It was a luxury for you, even if it only occurred a few days out of the long year.
The air smelled like flowers as you wandered, humming to yourself as you took in the architecture. It was stunning this time of year in Dorne, with all the trees finally shedding their winter branches for beautiful pink petals and the fresh air of spring. For three days of the year, the three used to celebrate Ostara, and subsequently you, you were allowed to come to the earth, see your people, talk to them and get to know them as if you were one of them. But at the end of the day, you weren’t.
“Excuse me?”
You turned, seeing a little girl standing before you, her gauzy yellow and gold dress indicative of her high social standing. She had wide black eyes and equally raven hair, her sharp widow’s peak narrowing her face and causing her to look much older than her likely ten or eleven years. You knelt down, your own embroidered golden robes pooling around you as you bent to the little girl’s height. “Hello,” you said sweetly. “What’s your name?”
“Loreza,” the little girl proclaimed. “I’m lost.”
You cooed softly, taking Loreza’s hand. “Where do you remember seeing your parents last?” You asked, looking around. There was no one else in the open air halls you were previously examining.
“Outside,” Loreza said. “In the tree fields.”
Nodding, you stood, scooping Loreza up as you went and placing her securely on your hip. “Let’s go find them, shall we?” You asked, poking Loreza’s nose and causing her to giggle sweetly. “Tell me if you see them, okay?”
So you began to wander, holding Loreza close and chatting with her the entire time you walked. She spoke of many things, mostly her sisters and how annoying they all were.
“And Father never has any time to teach me what he taught Obara, Nym, and Tyene!” She said, huffing slightly. “We don’t see them much anymore anyway. But I’m sure they’re here somewhere!”
You smiled, looking out over the ocean, listening to the bustle of the city. It was peaceful, even with Loreza’s talking.
“Loreza Sand!”
You turned, seeing a distressed man rushing towards you, his face flushed and his robe askew. “Where have you been?” He demanded of the girl, instinctively taking her from you as you passed her over. “Your mother is worried sick!” He began to look her over, holding her tight. “Are you hurt?”
“No!” Loreza insisted. “I’m fine!”
“You better be,” the man said. “Or I’ll never hear the end of it. What part of ‘stick close to my side’ did you not understand?”
“The part where that was boring,” Loreza countered, and you couldn’t help the amused snort you made at her boldness.
The man finally turned to you. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I hope she wasn’t much trouble.”
You shook your head. “No trouble at all,” you promised. “In fact, she was giving me quite the in-depth tour of the city when you arrived.”
“You’re not local?”
“Afraid not,” you said. “Quite the opposite. I find myself here but once a year, somehow always around this time. The festival is so beautiful.”
The man smiled. “Thank you for helping Loreza find her way home nonetheless. I’m Oberyn.”
You gave Oberyn your name, placing your hand in his and allowing him to give the back of it a gentle kiss. His hand was warm, and you felt rough calluses, shocking considering you were almost certain he was a prince.
“A true pleasure to meet you both,” you said. “Loreza.” You bowed to the little princess, and she beamed at you. “Oberyn.” You bowed to him, and his lazy grin told you all you needed to know. “I hope to see you again during the festival.”
Just like that, you walked away, leaving the father and daughter among the chaos.
It was hours until you saw Oberyn again, and yet again, it was because of his daughters.
“Ladies,” you greeted, passing two women settled together on a balcony. There were two embroidery hoops between them, but neither seemed to be focusing on their task. Instead, they were gossiping, whispered giggles about who would be marrying who and when passing between them. They both stiffened when you sat on the balcony, watching the blossoms dance in the wind.
“Good afternoon,” the one on the left said, picking up her hoop and delicately attempting to look like she was being productive.
You grinned. “Oh please,” you said. “Go back to your chatter. I only hear it once a year, it is quite the comfort to know what’s going on.”
Both girls looked at each other before hesitantly returning to their conversation, cautiously including you once they realized it was safe. As they spoke, you examined them both. They had to be twins, with the same smooth tanned skin and damn near identical faces, their long hair worn in ribboned braids down their back, the only identifier being the starburst scar on the right one’s cheek, marring her perfect skin.
“And did you hear the Starks had another child?” The right one, Elia, you had deciphered, said eagerly. “A little boy.”
“How many is that?” The left one asked. You were fairly certain her name was Obella.
“That makes four,” Elia said. “And the bastard.”
“Don’t speak of bastards in that tone,” Obella said lightly, stabbing her needlework again. “Don’t forget that’s all we are.”
Elia snorted. “At least Father dotes on us like we are of pure royal blood.”
“Spreading rumors, are we?”
You turned, seeing another girl, similar to the twins, only older and much more graceful, standing at the balcony’s entrance.
Obella waved her embroidery hoop at the woman. “You’re late Obara!” She said sharply. “Father was about to send the rest of us after you!”
Obara shrugged, sitting beside her sisters. “I got held up,” she said.
“More like held down,” Elia said. “How many times did that husband of your fuck your brains out on the journey down?”
“For your information,” Obara snapped, no real heat behind her words. “My Christian is at home. He declined a visit. Said someone had to watch after little Satine.”
“So you finally had that daughter,” Obella mused. “Father will be pleased.”
“As if!” Elia said. “He’s always complaining how old we make him feel. As if he isn’t almost fifty. A perfectly reasonable age for a grandparent, but he’ll complain anyway.”
“I will?”
All four of you whipped around to see Oberyn standing there, an amused smile on his face and the rest of his daughters crowding around him. He looked at you and your barely contained mirth, your eyes alight with silent laughter. “And so we meet again,” he said. “Shall I introduce you to the rest of my daughters so you don’t run into them later?”
You stood, feeling your fingertips tingle. It was almost time. “I’m sorry,” you said. “I only wanted to learn of the state of affairs across the world, and your girls are quite the rumor spreaders. Forgive me for asking about.” And just like last time, you brushed past him without a second word.
Practically running to a field of trees, you finally let yourself out, the glow you’d been hiding all day spreading across the trees and causing them to bloom rapidly, the wind picking up and scattering petals everywhere.
“Finally,” you mumbled, shaking petals out of your dress, gently shifting the delicate fabrics. You hated bottling yourself up. After a while it burned, and the release was so rewarding.
“And here I thought you couldn’t get any more captivating.”
You turned, seeing Oberyn standing behind you. “You really must stop sneaking up on me,” you said. “If you keep it up, I might just curse you on accident.”
Oberyn chuckled, stepping closer. “As if,” he said. “How long are you here for?”
“Two more days,” you said softly, allowing Oberyn to take your hands.
“Should we make the most of it?” Oberyn asked. “You and I?” His mischievous grin was infectious. You often found yourself longing for human men, and finally, you found one you could have.
“I suppose we should,” you agreed slowly. “It’s the sensible thing to do, given the circumstances.”
Which was how, hours later, you were settled in a field of fallen blossoms, Oberyn’s head laying in your lap as you tucked flower after flower into his hair. His family was around you, his paramour by his side, equally as doted upon by you as he was.
You looked out across the field, seeing the beautiful structures of Dorne flickering through the branches of the trees. “This city is stunning,” you murmured, tracing a finger gently down the structure of Oberyn’s face. He wrinkled his nose when you poked it, and you smiled. “And the residents are even more so.”
“Again.” You heard the soft words from across the meadow, where Tyene and Nym were teaching Loreza how to spar with shoddily made wooden spears. Loreza huffed, lifting her stick and charging her big sisters again.
“Are they playing nice?” Oberyn asked, not bothering to open his eyes.
You nodded, continuing in your delicate stroking of whatever exposed flesh you could reach. “Yes,” you said. “They’re sparring. I believe Loreza may very well win this time.”
Oberyn smiled. “A fighting spirit,” he said. “She reminds me much of me when I was young.”
“A thousand years ago,” Ellaria said, her smile tainting her words and giving them no real heat.
Giggling at Oberyn’s newfound indignation, you silently reveled in the beauty of a simpler life. In two days, you’d be home, among gods and immortals, and memories of Oberyn and his family would be few and far between. But now, right now, you had them, safe in your arms, and for as much as you loved them, they loved you just as much in return.
I have sorelymissed Writer Wednesday ❤️ The problem I am now having is that this prompt spiralled into something I want to write several parts for. I already have 6 WIPs, not including the Christmas Challenge stuff Why am I like this?
A/N:I have been wanting to challenge myself to write a drabble a day for a whole month for quite some time now, and I finally decided to just go for it. The goal is to fill every prompt on this listby@creativepromptsforwriting with a short one shot (500 - 2k words) by the end of June. Can I do it? I do not know. But let’s find out! - This one immediately brought the Prince of Dorne to mind. It’s not connected to The Viper & the Wild Thing or Aphelion… but it is sort of connected to this one shot I wrote about you and Oberyn and the blood oranges.
Word Count: 1,005
Warnings: None really. Implied smut and one (1) solo swear word but otherwise exceptionally tame for Oberyn
Summary: Oberyn makes a special trip to the marketplace in search of something specifically for you, only to realize that he will get to reap the benefit of your gift, too.
The open air market on the outskirts of Sunspear had always been one of Oberyn’s favorite places in Dorne. Because it is always so… alive. Taking a deep breath in through his nose, he closed his eyes and let a slow, easy grin spread across his lips. The aroma of rich spices and herbal oils swirled through the hot, Dornish air to mix with sweet fruits, floral perfumes, and the pungent smell of still sizzling, just cooked meat. Always so enticing.
Under the hot sun, the bouquet of scents seemed to blossom even more vibrantly, and he hummed contentedly. As he opened his eyes again he noted that the same was true about the colorful tents that covered the stalls, their awnings appearing even more bright in the unfiltered sunlight. The shouts of vendors and their customers haggling over prices, the clang of hammered copper, and the whimsical trill of lyre strings filled his ears more fully with every step he took, and it would be easy to follow the music of the market to every last one of the makeshift shops that sprawled through the streets to form a small city of their own.
