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[ open to random pms if you'd like to plot beforehand! otherwise, feel free to throw something up. (: ]
texts เฑจเง starters เฑจเง prompts
[ open to random pms if you'd like to plot beforehand! otherwise, feel free to throw something up. (: ]
no subject
The words on everyone's tongue had been his open accusal of Tywin and doing that while defending his imp son in equal measure made a mockery of his majesty and softened his hold on the Iron Throne. Such offense would not be taken lightly, and while Oberyn was always willing to fight he was never willing to offer Dorne, or his people as collateral.
When he returns home it's to report his new circumstances to his brother, and the sand snakes. Ellaria hasn't spoken with him since the news of his betrothal which he expected but tensions within the city at this new turn of events have garnered him long looks the likes of which he's never experienced.
The ceremony was too much pageantry for his tastes but he participates in it well and wears the marriage coat with dignity on behalf of Dorne and his new wife. He's quiet, reflective as the sun casts an amber hue across the gardens and the pools of water in the courtyard illuminate the colors of orange and yellow back toward them. Colors of Dorne, highlighted in a brilliant cobalt underlining the golden hues in a flattering shadow that obscures their image to those lingering near. The vocal symphony around them is eager, invested, and interested despite the tension that remains between the two of them. Unaware of it, giddy with the prospect of the future and drunk on the dining of the evening and the Dreamwine. ]
My lady, I'm sure you are aware of my appetites. It is no secret in the Westerlands any more than it is here.
[ Despite the unceremonious words, his tone is kind and Oberyn places a warm and calloused palm over the same hand wrapped over his arm. They had very little time to get to know each other and Margaery a woman of this world has done much to keep her reputation enshrined in the stereotypical sense. She had no privilege of life in Dorne, and he allowed her this knowing all too well the way of the world and how it saw fit to treat its women.
That said, the sordid history between their houses had been rekindled by him. His incidental maiming of Willas while not purposeful had been presumed as much by all those uninvolved given the disrepute that followed him. Many of the Tyrells declined to attend their nuptials, positing difficulty in travels given Dorne's location but they both knew better than to accept it as such. ]
No secrets then. Do you mean to please me by consummating these vows because it is what you are meant to do? Who are you when you are not adhering to your obligations as a noblewoman?
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ridiculous, as Willas would have gladly made the journey himself if time was not of the essence. ]
And if I tell you that I do not know who I am without my obligations? Would that displease you, my lord?
[ her tone is wry enough that despite the sharp quality of her lopsided smile, she appears to be speaking entire truths. ]
What I do know is I would be pleased to consummate these vows, that I find you very attractive and the variety in your experience thrilling. Beyond that, I also hope for us to become friends, at the very least, and work together for the combined benefit of our families. That is no obligation, but my true wish.
[ she pauses in her steps, turning to look up at him with her smile fading into a far more sincere expression. her hand remains where it is, curled around his arm.
a breeze from the sea gently sifts through her hair, cooling her bare skin as it makes her skirts billow. her dress is in more of a Dornish style, and while she's always found them to be beautiful, she appreciates the airy quality of their fabrics even more now. ]
As my husband, your happiness counts as much as my own. I know I am far from who you would desire to bind yourself to, if you ever carried that desire at all. But women of my position are used to making the best of our circumstances, and I can tell you now that I am more elated to be standing here with you, than in the Great Sept once more, to another golden-haired child.
no subject
Her open honesty brings a smile to his face that betrays his measured responses thus far. The gardens are beautiful, and he breathes deeply in the aroma around them of foliage native to his homeland, the spirits, and the spices that surround them. Grateful, despite their circumstances such as they were ruled gives way to more difficulty to be weighed. ]
So, I see the reputations of Dorne were not sullied by the hands of young Lannister men and their machinations of power.
It would be a lie to say that I had no interest in bedding you, my lady. I could split you open and find your sweet center, the peach pit you hide, and in that maybe vocate you to a truth that lies outside of those obligations.
[ Her allegiance to her family, though, is mirrored by his own. He and his brother were hotheaded and fought as a form of love, loud language, both vocal and physical but things often ended in an embrace. The way of the world for the Dornish was vastly different from the other lands in Westeros which most knew but not intimately, not in the ways that she would soon come to find.
Oberyn brings the back of her hand to his lips and places a chaste kiss on the surface of her skin. His fingers trail over the same place on his way back up, and he traces that pattern up toward the delicate features of her wrist.
She is a sight to behold in the Dornish dress tailored for the wedding, her hair pinned into rivulets with a sun-shaped broach. Bold makeup for her face, deep reds, golden hues. ]
It is no secret I would desire to not be bound at all, but speaking of your circumstances while touting your position is the heart of the matter I was trying to address. Those lions and their gilded cage cannot reach you here, so take all the time you need to find yourself as a Dornish woman proper. You can study whatever you like here, be it the old gods, alchemy, or arms. The world away from the Lannisters and their keep is open to you.
no subject
and yet, her heart is already thrumming with excitement, with long-forgotten desires suddenly alive with surges of intense energy. is this happiness? it's been so long since she's felt such a pure strain of it that it almost aches - and yet, she keeps herself as calm as ever, too cautious to put all of her faith in one private conversation. what he offers might not even come to pass, depending on how the war continues.
but here, in this sunny, beautiful place with a man who touches her so gently, who asks for her for nothing but honesty, and holds the most grounded conviction in his eyes - Margaery finds herself beginning to hope. ]
You're so very kind, my lord. Forgive me for being the instrument of your chains, while you give me freedom.
[ her smile is soft, as she takes his touch as an invitation to step closer, making room for herself so her arm can curl around his waist, as natural as a seasoned lover. ]
But I do not intend to ask you to change anything about your life, only that I become a part of it. I would very much like to meet your paramour, and your daughters, and everyone else who has the privilege of having your attention and affection.
[ standing so close, she has to tilt her head up to look at him, doe eyes in full effect with her smile. ]
Would that be alright?
no subject
Ellaria has not spoken to me since the announcement of our betrothal.
[ Though he has tried to reach out, his interest has been in remaining respectful for the sake of his girls, and their shared respect for both Ellaria and himself and their duties to Dorne. Ellaria was a hotheaded and proud woman, and Oberyn's choice to wed her out of duty to his country and family was met with the disdain he expected from her, though he hoped she might relinquish it over time. ]
But I will introduce you to my daughters, they are as sharp of tongue as I am and almost as deadly.
[ Oberyn leans into her advance, gently like a wave lapping at the shoreline. This was new, tentative in a way that physicality had never been for him but the body responds in kind and her curvature pairs nicely with his form, two half moons making themselves whole.
His jasper eyes find hers with some presentiment; they barely knew one another, but one thing he was certain of was that Margaery Martell was more than the sum of her parts, or as appearances would have a man believe. If he was the snake, she might well be the mongoose, unseeming but innocuous at a glance but just as capable. ]
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she hopes the paramour will reconsider her position, in time. she's always wanted to participate in a threesome.
just one of many fantasies she will divulge to her new husband, in due time. ]
Are you warning me because you plan to see how I fare against them?
[ it doesn't escape her notice that he praises their deadly talents, but in a country like Dorne, even royalty can't escape the need to be sharp at all times. and if she hopes to be true friends with his daughters, then she must find a way to maneuver herself so she's not dancing on the edges of their blades.
not for the first time, being Olenna Tyrell's granddaughter has prepared her for the most unexpected circumstances. she can only hope to pass on the same legacy for any who would consider her their guardian. or mother, if he's so inclined. ]
I promise I do not wander without baseless confidence, my lord. You needn't worry for me, as soft as I might look. Roses have the advantage of drawing admirers close to prick them with their thorns.
[ her eyes are glittering with amusement as she raises her brows, watching him watch her, smile suddenly mischievous. ]
Would you like a demonstration of how dangerous I can be?
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Oberyn can still feel the sting from her open palm when he'd taken the time to tell her, her other hand in between his two palms. Regardless of the nature of how it came to be, it still wounded her ego, and he'd expected the resentment, but not the silence nor the careful avoidance. ]
I am warning you so that you can be prepared for the swiftness of their words, should they have judgments or reservations, or merely no need for formalities.
[ Another thing not often done in Dorne, but in her time spent in his home, he has noticed her opening up to the idea, blossoming like the rose she happened to be. Exposing herself to the sun and the warmth of it despite the softness of those petals.
Even now, when she basks in that glow, it surprises him so far from the woman he'd met before, in King's Landing. His quiet introspection peels up at the sides to unveil a lecherous smirk; he stalls beside an ornate topiary, fitting considering the verbal discourse between them. ]
A rose or a sundew? [ She was no longer a Tyrell, after all, and there was more than one kind of deceptive plant that she could parallel herself to. His amber eyes sparkle like mead under a sun dipping low over the horizon, tired of blessing their union with its rays. Oberyn had always been curious; he'd always had a taste for knowledge, danger, and the unknown, and she played right into his desires, despite their surroundings. ] Show me.
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[ she means it sincerely: it would be easy, even understandable, if Oberyn were to leave Margaery on her own entirely after their wedding out of spite, to keep her vulnerable in a place she doesn't know well with culture that runs more deeply than the pretty utterances and superficial displays of King's Landing. many men have done worse with their intentional carelessness for a lot less.
when he stops, so does she, eyes narrowing under that same playful smile. this time, instead of keeping a respectful distance, she moves closer, owning the space between them as if it's entirely hers; not unlike a cat when it looks for a place to rest, especially when imposing itself on others. her hands travel up his arms, resting lightly on his biceps before moving up to wrap together around his neck. ]
Patience, my prince. I'm not so arrogant as to think I could be any danger to you when you're already on your guard.
[ the press of her body against his is deliberately slow, meant to be a distraction that pulls anticipation as a physical response. even if he can see through her ploy - and he most likely can - she doesn't care. after a day of careful formalities and being delicate, it's much more gratifying to indulge in a bit of harmless fun.
if he lets her continue, one of her hands will rake through the hair on the back of his head and tug with a gentle fist, meant to tilt his head up, exposing his throat. and there, she'll place a kiss - so soft that it might mimic the whisper of a blade. ]
ooc: sorry for the delay i hurt my hand
As much as he loved Dorne, he'd been traveling so long he didn't realize how much he'd missed it. Being here, even because of another wedding, filled him with a lust for life and rekindled an inner flame to a cresset long since extinguished.
The way 'my prince,' rolls off of her tongue peels his eyes from the sunset building on the skyline and to her angelic face. His mouth quirks up at one end, a smile in the face of her exploration, measured and therefore more memorable. Oberyn slides his hands down the silken back of the gown to reciprocate, splays his fingers out in five points as far as they will reach.
The tips of his fingers work toward the pursuit of tender tissue, moving past the landscape of supple flesh with intent to feel the musculature beneath, when Margaery grabs at the length of his hair. He grunts, for the first time too preoccupied with his desire and exploration to see it coming, and his chest rises to allow her the moment, eager to see where the softness and sharpness might meet. ]
I'm not known for my patience, Princess Martell. Few have deigned me with that virtue. Or any virtue for that matter.