GoT One-Shots!

Teach Me (Oberyn Martell x fem!reader)

(a/n: I decided to use a young Oberyn for this fic.)

Your laughter echoed through the gardens as you strolled with your best friend, Prince Oberyn. You and Oberyn had been close from the moment you met. You spent a little time together every day. That day, the two of you decided to take a leisurely stroll through the palace and gardens. The two of you joked and laughed as you walked. More than once, Oberyn tried to get you to accompany him to bed. Each time, you would shake your head fondly and giggle. Oberyn merely shrugged and joined in your merriment.

A silence fell between you as you walked. That often happened with Oberyn. You actually enjoyed the comfortable silences, but Oberyn seemed to notice something off about you that day. "What troubles you, Y/N my flower?" You scoffed at him, as you always did when he called you that. You looked up at him and saw the genuine concern in his dark brown eyes. It made you sigh, before you flushed with embarrassment at what you were about to confess.

"My family...we are hosting a grand feast in a fortnight," you answered quietly. Oberyn quirked a brow, unsure of what you were getting at. "That is wonderful. I enjoy a good feast," he said, "Why should a feast be so troublesome to you, my friend?" You sighed again and sat down on one of the many benches in the garden. You weren't sure you could explain to Oberyn what troubled you. You didn't think he'd understand.

"My father has invited many lords and their sons. I will be expected to dance with them," you told your friend, your voice getting quieter with every word. Oberyn didn't say anything. He simply waited for you to continue. "I, uh, do not know how to dance," you finally confessed and waited to hear his laughter. It was silent for a moment as Oberyn sat with you. The chuckles never came.

You looked up at him. There was no hint of amusement on his face. "Is that all, flower? Why did you not say? Come. I will teach you." Your brows furrowed. Was he being serious? "What, now?" He nodded and offered you his hand. You took it and stood. Oberyn carefully placed your hands where they were supposed to be and did the same with his own. His eyes never left yours as he began instructing you through the steps.

He chided you several times for looking down at your feet. You'd immediately pick your head back up and blush. He'd laugh at you gently and then turn his attention back to the dance. Soon, you were swaying and twirling far more gracefully that before. You were still a little clumsy, but if you kept practicing, you would be able to dance by the time the feast was held.

"Already, dancing so well," Oberyn praised. You smiled up at him. You were still swaying gently in his arms. "Thank you, Oberyn. You did not have to help me." He returned your smile, his bright white teeth contrasted beautifully against his tanned skin. "I wanted to. I could not have you embarrass yourself by tripping over your feet. What kind of friend would I be?" You playfully punched his shoulder and backed away. "I must go, but I will see you at the feast?" Oberyn nodded and gave a small bow before you turned and hurried away.

*The night of the feast*

Oberyn watched merrily as you were passed from one young lord to another for the dance. He could tell two things. One: you had been practicing. You were extremely graceful and did the dances nearly perfectly. Two: you hated being around all the young lords that were only there at their fathers' urging. After about the fourth dance, you found Oberyn's gaze with a look that screamed "help me!"

Oberyn chuckled to himself and moved to cut in. "Of course, my prince," the lord you were currently dancing with said before he bowed and let Oberyn sweep you away. "Thank you, my friend. I was afraid I would die of boredom if I had to listen to one more story from that young man." Oberyn laughed heartily. "Of course. You have turned into a magnificent dancer, Y/N. I am a wonderful teacher." You rolled your eyes. "Yes, my prince. Thank you for your offer to teach me," you said sincerely. The music stopped and Oberyn pulled you into a hug. "It was my pleasure." He pulled away from the hug and, bringing your hand to his lips, kissed your knuckles.

You felt an odd fluttering sensation when he did that, especially because his eyes did not leave your face. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks. "Come. I need to feast!" he declared, pulling you to the table by your hand. You saw both your parents and his shaking their heads and smiling as Oberyn practically drag you to your seat. After he grabbed a bite to eat, Oberyn took two goblets of wine and the two of you snuck away with them.

You were hiding just outside the door next to your parents' table and you could hear them talking. "Y/N and Prince Oberyn get on so well," you heard your mother comment and then, Oberyn's father spoke just as the two of you took large gulps of Dornish wine. "They do. I wonder if perhaps they are already aware of our intent to betroth them to one another?" You both choked on your wine and looked at each other in surprise. Betrothed to Oberyn?

For a moment, the two of you simply stared at each other. Oberyn found his voice first. "Betrothed? We are to be wed? Did you know?" he asked. You shook your head. "No. I-I cannot believe they did not tell us." Oberyn moved slightly closer to you. "I suppose there could be worse fates that being wed to you," he said softly. You frowned and retorted, "Thank you. I could do far worse for a husband I suppose. But it means things will change between us."

Oberyn shook his head slightly. "No. It will not change much. Except for a couple of things." You cocked your head to the side. "Such as?" He took another step closer. You hardly noticed. He was your best friend and you were close to each other all the time. "Such as...I can call you my flower anytime I wish." You rolled your eyes again. "You already do that, Oberyn." Another step. "And you will have to kiss me, my flower."

You swallowed thickly and blushed again. "You have never kissed anyone, Y/N?" You shook your head. "Not a real kiss, no." Oberyn cupped your chin with his hand and lifted your face up to his. He gazed into your eyes, silently asking permission. "Teach me," you whispered. Just like that, his lips were on yours. He tasted of the wine you had been drinking and it was intoxicating. You relished the feeling of his lips on yours. And to think, it never would have happened if he hadn't taught you to dance.

EPUE