unbowed, unbent, unbroken

Welcome to MARTELLDAILY, a blog dedicated to House Martell of George R.R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire. We track #martelldaily. Sidebar art by ProKriK.

[ivashkovadrian]

That was many years ago, to be sure. The boy of sixteen was a man past forty now, and [Prince Oberyn]’s legend had grown a deal darker. (for @elaena)

[banrion-dearg]

[ivashkovadrian]

dornish characters posters › elia sand

And Elia Sand, oldest of the four girls that Prince Oberyn had fathered on Ellaria, would cross the Sea of Dorne with Arianne. “As a lady, not a lance,” her mother said firmly, but like all the Sand Snakes, Elia had her own mind.

[elaena]

a little arianne to test out rebelle 5 pro :o)

[ennitungl]

Princess Elia was a good woman, Your Grace. She was kind and clever, with a gentle heart and a sweet wit. I know the prince was very fond of her.

[westerosiladies]

All of Prince Oberyn’s daughters have his viper eyes. The color does not matter.

[dornedaily]

I was a foolish willful girl, playing at the game of thrones like a drunkard rolling dice. (The Winds of Winter, Arianne I)

[ennitungl]

Princess Elia was a good woman, Your Grace. She was kind and clever, with a gentle heart and a sweet wit. I know the prince was very fond of her.

[ivashkovadrian]

“Fierce, ambitious, no one could doubt they were of the same stock. Their bond was as strong as the raging sun in the desert. Even as children, they were inseparable, one mischief after the other. Oh, and when they would argue…their shouts could be heard from the shadow city below. But they loved and relied on each other too much to stay cross long.”

@jayneladybright requested young Unnamed Princess of Dorne and Lewyn

[cosmiart]

The Grass and the Viper

Oberyn was ever the viper. Deadly, dangerous, unpredictable. No man dared tread on him. I was the grass. Pleasant, complaisant, sweet-smelling, swaying with every breeze. Who fears to walk upon the grass? But it is the grass that hides the viper from his enemies and shelters him until he strikes.

[hagofbolding]

Sorry to blow off all the good ideas I got the other night BUT I would be remiss if I didn’t break in my new Cintiq with a good old fashioned piece of ASOIAF fanart o boi o boi–don’t worry though, I’m probably going to do a couple more of these ladies.

I love the Sand Snakes, so, Obara Sand! If you don’t want to be spoiled for books 4 or 5, don’t look her up. (I’m pretty sure she’s the one who kisses that one skull but I forget, it seemed like something she would do nonetheless)

[dwellordream]

#1 for handing holding for a big Sand Snake and a smol Sand Snake. Or #50 for touches for Tyrion & Cersei or Robert & Stannis. Thanks so much!! I love your prompt fills❤️❤️❤️

Obara is thirteen now and too old for the Water Gardens, by her own reckoning. It does not help matters that she is big and burly for her age and regularly mistaken for a woman of twenty.

But of all her half sisters, Sarella is her favorite, so she will begrudgingly join her in this.

“Careful, you’ll drown yourself,” she snaps, hoisting Sarella back onto her feet. “Why are you lying on your belly like a beached whale?”

“I was looking for treasures,” Sarella rubs at her eyes, her coily black hair confined to a brightly patterned scarf wrapped around her head.

Obara’s own hair is much thinner and straighter and confined to a tight knot at the nape of her neck.

“The only treasure you’ll find here is if someone shit in the pool,” Obara mutters, but smirks when Sarella bursts into laughter. She’s clever and very well spoken for her age, Sarella, though she’s barely five years old.

More clever than Obara, who did not learn to properly read until just a few years ago. Sarella is already reading books for seven year olds and can count to one hundred, too.

Still, she is never cocky about it, which Obara likes, though she could not blame Sarella if she was.

Obara is cocky about her skill with arms, after all, because she’s earned the right to be. She’s as strong as any boy her age, and tougher, too. She’s had to be, bastard born of a whore that she is.

“Come on!” Sarella grabs her hand and races along through the orange trees. Obara easily outpaces her, then scoops her giggling sister up into her muscled arms. She’s not too old for this, at least.

[dwellordream]

24 hand holding - quentyn martell, cletus yronwood “give your bride a kiss for me”

When Quentyn came to Yronwood, he was a terrified, timid boy of six, who expected nothing but contempt and loathing from the family of the man his uncle had killed- poisoned, many whispered.

But when he dismounted from his pony, his legs shaking from exhaustion and anxiety, a little boy with deep tanned skin and sandy blonde hair darted forward, clutching his hand and introducing himself with a bright grin.

Now he holds that same boy’s hand, twelve years later, as he bleeds out onto the rocking deck of the ship. Even in death, Cletus is still handsome, though one eye looks the wrong way, and his face is unusually pale as parchment, all color drained from it.

“Give your bride a kiss for me,” he murmurs, and presses his bloody, parched lips to Quentyn’s bruised knuckles.

Quentyn jerks and shudders as if a shock had gone through him. I was supposed to wed your sister, he thinks. We would have been brothers for true. We were always family. We would never have been parted.

Cletus’ good eye looks skyward. The sky is blue and cloudless overhead. On a day like this at Yronwood, they would be out hawking in the meadows, breathing the sweet mountain air, listening to the birdsong and the buzz of cicadas.

It’s not winter yet, is it? Can it be?

It snowed once at Yronwood. Cletus thrust handfuls of it down the back of Quentyn’s shirt. They rolled around and tussled in the drifts. They looked nothing alike but Quentyn had never felt so similar to anyone before.

Cletus has stopped breathing now. Quentyn holds him close, resting his chin on his beat friend’s warm hair. He stays there until Archibald pulls them apart.

[melrosing]

could you draw quentyn?

here he is

[samwpmarleau]

[18/20] ASOIAF power couples → Oberyn Martell × Ellaria Sand

The boy of sixteen that had felled old Lord Yronwood was a man past forty now, and his legend had grown a deal darker. He had traveled in the Free Cities, learning the poisoner’s trade and perhaps arts darker still, if rumors could be believed. He had studied at the Citadel, going so far as to forge six links of a maester’s chain before he grew bored. He had soldiered in the Disputed Lands across the narrow sea, riding with the Second Sons for a time before forming his own company.

[…]

Prince Oberyn tilted his dinted metal shield. A shaft of sunlight blazed blindingly off polished gold and copper, into the narrow slit of his foe’s helm. Clegane lifted his own shield against the glare. Prince Oberyn’s spear flashed like lightning and found the gap in the heavy plate, the joint under the arm. The point punched through mail and boiled leather. Gregor gave a choked grunt as the Dornishman twisted his spear and yanked it free. “Elia. Say it! Elia of Dorne!” He was circling, spear poised for another thrust. “Say it!”

[…]

Ellaria’s cheeks were wet with tears, her dark eyes shining. Even weeping, she has a strength in her, the captain thought.

“Oberyn wanted vengeance for Elia. Now the three of you want vengeance for him. I have four daughters, I remind you. Your sisters. My Elia is fourteen, almost a woman. Obella is twelve, on the brink of maidenhood. They worship you, as Dorea and Loreza worship them. If you should die, must El and Obella seek vengeance for you, then Dorea and Loree for them? Is that how it goes, round and round forever? I ask again, where does it end?” Ellaria Sand laid her hand on the Mountain’s head. “I saw your father die. Here is his killer. Can I take a skull to bed with me, to give me comfort in the night? Will it make me laugh, write me songs, care for me when I am old and sick?”

[…]

When she had gone, Lady Nym said, “I know she loved our father well, but it is plain she never understood him.”

Prince Doran gave her a curious look. “She understood more than you ever will, Nymeria. And she made your father happy. In the end, a gentle heart may be worth more than pride or valor.”

[mylestoyne]

lgbt lovers in asoiaf, happy pride!

(rhaena targaryen & elissa farman, laenor velaryon & joffrey lonmouth, jeyne arryn & jessamyn redfort, daeron targaryen & jeremy norridge, jon connington & myles toyne, oberyn martell & ellaria sand, renly baratheon & loras tyrell)

there are some pairs I didn’t include because of time but they are not forgotten :>

[amuelia]

Portraits of some of the windblown! [pretty meris, the tattered prince, caggo corpsekiller, denzo d’han, quentyn martell]

prompted by this ask which inspired me to do some more of these characters