Theon Greyjoy, no, Theon Snow was in a chamber made specially for him. Theon Snow he was called now. Not even Theon Pyke, but snow. Theon Greyjoy had failed to take the North, and now the North had claimed him, calling him her bastard. Robb had erased the history of his existence as an Iron Islander completely.

There were bars instead of a door, to remind him that he was now the prisoner of the King in the North. Other than that, baths were drawn for him, food sent to him. He was not ill-treated. From his window, he watched Ramsay Snow being chained up, his breeches bloodied at the crotched and thrown onto a ship. He knew not where the ship was bringing him. He did not even know why Robb was keeping him alive, after all that he had done. He killed Ser Rodrik, those farmboys, he had taken what was his home for a father that never loved him, forsaking the people and children for the one man that he should have loved as a father.

Robb came to see him every day. Dear, old Robb. Dear, honest Robb. Sometimes, his wife would tend to him, checking him for any ill-recovering wounds, applying ointments for him, giving him medicine, under his watchful eye of course. Robb's expression was hard as ever, cold and distant, but Theon knew that he was not talking to some new devil that walked in Robb's skin, he was talking to Robb, the one that he knew. Every time Robb would see him, his questions would always remain the same.

"What happened, Theon?"

He did not blame him, he did not curse him. He asked him the same question over and over.

"Theon, I need to know."

Theon could not answer him. He could not bring himself to.

"Things wouldn't get better for you if you run from what you did, Theon."

"I..."

"You were sent to get your father's ships so we could face Stannis' fleet. Thank the Gods that he lost the Battle of the Blackwater, or we'd be literally sitting ducks!"

Theon sat still before Robb, unable to speak a word. He no longer shivered, he no longer sobbed, but still there was fear in his heart. He knew that Robb could have seen it in his eyes.

"Theon, how long are we going to be at this for?" Robb demanded. "I need to know..."

"Why don't you just kill me and be done with it?" Theon asked him. "I took your home, I made your brothers run away..."

"Because killing you won't make anything better!" Robb roared back, standing up to his full height. "Killing you would make it too easy for you, too."

Psychological warfare. With Robb, it was always wits against brawn. Theon remembered how he had fooled Tywin Lannister into thinking that he would be facing the full Northern army, but in truth Robb had led them to Riverrun where they captured Jaime Lannister and effectively destroyed half the Lannister army. It was a glorious day, that day. Some part of him would smile when he remembered that day. Even Robb himself did not know that he had such a hold on this lesser-used tactic.

"What were you thinking anyways? Your father couldn't have had the means to try to take over the rest of the Kingdoms even if he wanted to," Robb chided. The tone of voice that he had was not threatening. Nor was it menacing. It was merely his friend, his brother, chastising him for going through such a harebrained idea. "You could have told me what happened. We could've sent more men to talk sense into your father..."

Theon couldn't take it any longer. "What would you have done if you were in my place?" he demanded. "That was my fuckin' father that told me to take the North. If Lord Ned wanted you to take the Iron Islands you would've done the same!"

Theon stopped. His eyes wide. He was in such disbelief that he collapsed into the chair he previously sat in.

Then, something he never thought would happen occurred. Robb's Northern scowl broke into a whisper of a smile. His eyes were slightly red, wetter than they were five seconds ago. "That's what I told Mother too," he said, still looking directly at Theon. "But, that doesn't mean that you're a free man."

"What are you going to do to me?" he asked Robb.

"You're going to do whatever I tell you to do," Robb replied. "You're a Northman now, Theon Snow. You'll heed the words of your King. You'll start by telling me what the hell happened from the moment you got off the ship at Pyke right until Ramsay Snow caught you."

Theon froze up again. "I... can't..."

"Theon, your loyalty and life belongs to me now," Robb emphasized, staring him down this time.

"It's not that," Theon argued. "I really... can't... Not now."

"Then we'll try again tomorrow," Robb said. "See you, Theon."

When he left, Theon Snow slumped into a little pile and sobbed again. It was a mixture of regret and joy for him. The very fact that his brotherhood with Robb was reaffirmed by the similarity of their thoughts brought him an untold amount of joy, and the pain of his betrayal of that brotherhood was so evident in Robb that it hurt even more than when Ramsay tortured him. He cried himself to sleep on that cold stone floor and was a broken man, more than Ramsay could even break him.

Ellaria had thrown a vase at him when he told her of his decision. After she had thrown said vase, she threatened to castrate him with the dagger that she always held with her. After that, she asked Sansa how she was able to stand by his decision and Sansa told her outright that she did not.

"I'll kill myself the moment anything goes wrong," his wife told his paramour, holding Ellaria's hand that still held the dagger. "I'll not let myself fall back into the hands of the Lannisters again."

"You will ruin your new wife," Ellaria hissed at him, clearly near tears. "Our daughters will grow up without a father and your older ones will have to shoulder a war between them with or without Sansa's family backing them!"

Oberyn was silent. The two of his loves were seated close to one another and he knelt between them. He took each of their hands and covered them with his. "I won't lose," he promise them, just as he had promised Sansa. "You have my word."

"Your word is nothing against the malice of the lions around us," Ellaria cautioned. "You're walking into their trap and it'll be too late to run." Sansa looked at him pointedly. She agreed with Ellaria although she said nothing against him.

Oberyn sighed. "I have arranged for a ship that would bring you two and Brienne directly to Lannisport. You will be safe with Obara, Nymeria and the Northern Army," he told them. "Our men will fight to the death to make sure that you get on the ship."

"When Father was arrested, they killed everyone in our household in King's Landing," Sansa reminded him. "My Septa's head was next to Father's on the pikes that lined the walls of the Red Keep."

Oberyn was silent. He still held their hands together, looking pleadingly into Ellaria's eyes. "Give me this one chance to avenge my sister, my love. Let me have the peace that her soul would finally rest."

She knew that there was no stopping him. If he had not been the obstinate, stubborn man he was, she might not have loved him as she did. Without saying a word, she nodded and stormed out of the chambers.

"Well, that went well," Oberyn told Sansa, however, Sansa turned to leave as well. "Where are you going?"

"To see to Ellaria," Sansa answered. "Please don't do anything that would make her angry in the time being."

Oberyn gave her a low bow as a symbol of his deferment to his wife, but she left even before he could rise. Women. Women were the center of all his troubles, and women would take all his troubles away. He was a cursed man.

Tyrion Lannister had an unexpected visitor in his cell. "I imagined that you'd be back at the brothel at this hour," he told his guest sardonically. Yes, he was married to Sansa Stark, but that did not change his habits one bit. He had heard that his father convinced him to be the third judge at his trial in Littlefinger's brothel where they first met.

Oberyn shook his head. "I did spend some time with an absolutely stunning blonde the other day," he returned his voice laden with sarcasm that Tyrion was probably too tired to detect.

"Mm, do tell," he replied. "I've got every kind of filth down here except the kind that I like."

"Your sister," Oberyn clarified, allowing the truth to sink down upon the Imp. "Cersei approached me, and we spoke a great deal about her daughter, how worried your sister is about her..." He had been writing a poem to send to his fifth daughter, Elia, who was missing her parents and her older sisters that afternoon, one that Ellaria and Sansa had spent accompanying Margery Tyrell through her period of mourning under Brienne's watchful eye. "She was trying very hard to pretend she had not come to sway me against you. I think she may have even believed it herself."

Tyrion gave a little sigh and looked back towards Oberyn. "Making honest feelings do dishonest work is one of her many gifts," he explained. It was Cersei did the best, actually.

Tyrion had a point there. "It was difficult for her to hide her true intentions," Oberyn continued. "It's rare to meet a Lannister who shares my enthusiasm for dead Lannisters. She desperately wants to see you killed."

"She didn't need to bother you," Tyrion declared. "It looks as though I've taken care of that myself... The joy she will feel when my head leaves my neck. She's wanted this for a long time."

That much, Oberyn understood. "Yes, I know," he told Tyrion, sitting down on a stool opposite the dwarf. "We met, you and I, many years ago."

Scrunching his face up in disbelief, Tyrion said, "I think I would have remembered that." There were many legends about Oberyn in every stage of his life. When he was a teenager he had slept with the mistress of the Dornish lord he was fostered too and due to his high birth he was allowed to duel with the lord until first blood. Oberyn had won but the lord died of his wounds. Oberyn had clearly poisoned the tip of his spear. It was why he was called the Red Viper.

"Unlikely," Oberyn recalled. "You had just been born. Our father brought me and my sister Elia with him on a visit to Casterly Rock, my first time away from Dorne," he explained with animated gestures, as though he was telling some epic tale. "I didn't like anything about the Rock, not the food, not the weather, not your accents... nothing. But the biggest disappointment was you."

Another sigh from Tyrion. "You and my family have a lot more in common than you might admit," he stated woefully.

"The whole way from Dorne all anyone talked about was the monster that had been born to Tywin Lannister. A head twice the size of his body, a tail between his legs, claws, one red eye... the privates of both a girl and a boy... When we met your sister, she promised she would show you to us. Every day we would ask, and every day she would say, 'Soon'. Then she and your brother took us to your nursery and... she unveiled the freak." The Dornish prince even had the audacity to pause in his words for effect. "Your head was a bit large, your arms and legs were a bit small, but no claw, no red eye, no tail between your legs, just a tiny pink cock."

For whatever reason, Tyrion felt relief wash over him. Oberyn Martell might have been half a madman (his father's favorite description of him), but he was not a hateful man. He might have hated, but not for the sheer reason of hating another.

"We didn't try to hide our disappointment," Oberyn continued. "'That's not a monster', I told Cersei. 'That's just a baby!' And she said, 'He killed my mother.' And she pinched your little cock so hard, I thought she might pull it off until your brother made her stop. 'It doesn't matter,' she told us. 'Everyone says he'll die soon, I hope they are right. He should not have lived this long.'"

Tyrion's eyes were red. He was close to tears because he realized that there was never really any possibility of peace between him and Cersei. All his life, he had always tried to get on her good side, just because he was her sister, because they were family. It would seem that his whole life to actually be loved as part of a family was a futile effort.

"Well, sooner or later, Cersei always gets what she wants," Tyrion commented sadly.

"And what about what I want?" Oberyn asked him. "Justice for my sister and her children."

"If you want justice, you've come to the wrong place." King's Landing was a place where everything but justice thrived. He had lived there long enough to realize even that.

However, Oberyn only smirked. "I disagree," he said confidently. "I've come to the perfect place. I want to bring all those who have wronged my family to justice, and all those who have wronged us are right here. I will begin with Ser Gregor Clegane, who killed my sister's children and then raped her with their blood still on his hands before killing her too. I will be your champion."

"What about Lady Sansa?" Tyrion asked. "You can't risk making her a widow just months after being married, can you?" He knew how angry Sansa had made Cersei after she became Princess Sansa Martell

"My wife owes you a debt, Tyrion Lannister," he said. "She told me that you were kind to her when the little butcher king and his mother tormented her. For that she is grateful."

"I don't believe that you talked her into letting you do this," Tyrion said, shaking his head. If there's anyone with the will to live greater than anyone else, it was Sansa. She would not easily agree to anything as suicidal as what Oberyn was trying to do.

"You're right," Oberyn replied. "Both she and Ellaria put up a great fight, but they know that I have to do this. If not for myself then my family." The world had thought he had raged over the death of his sister, but Doran... Doran was in so much pain that he could not eat or sleep.

He would end all of their pain by getting the Mountain to admit what he had done.

"Are you sure about this, my love?" Ellaria asked Sansa, helping her don the sheer gown that revealed most of her body. They had found it in the market when both of them had left the Red Keep in a huff with Brienne in tow, needing to part with some coin to relieve themselves of the anguish and also slight anger that Oberyn had caused them. "You don't have to rush this if you don't feel ready."

Sansa smiled and turned towards Ellaria and nodded. "I'll never be ready if I wait too long," she told her, earning a light kiss from the Dornishwoman. She could not remain a virgin if she was to be safe from the Lannisters should anything happen. They would know if the bloodied sheet that Cersei Lannister was given after her wedding night was falsified. They could easily have given her to other lords or even have her marry Tyrion Lannister if they wished. "Are you sure that you don't want to join us?"

By then, Sansa had already enjoyed more than innocent contact with Ellaria, who had taken it upon herself to educate her lover's wife on the finer points of loving a man as he. She reckoned that the only way to learn was to show Sansa and to have her experience what could be.

"I am not the one walking to my death," Ellaria reminded her, pulling out the remainder of Sansa's braids and combing out any tangles with the nearest comb she could find. "Besides, your maidenhead will not be taken even if I did take you." However, Sansa still seemed nervous. "Don't worry, love, Oberyn is a gentle lover."

"What if I... stop and I don't know how to continue?" Sansa asked. "What if..."

"Hush, my love," Ellaria silenced her with a quick, chaste kiss. "You will know what to do, because it is in your instinct. The more you fear it, the more that fear will drive you. I can teach you how to do everything in the world and more, but it would come to nothing if you do not embrace the fire within you and do as it tells you to do."

They heard the doorknob move and Ellaria promptly shoved Sansa back to her hiding spot behind the screen they had in their chambers. When Oberyn entered, she listened in as Ellaria pretended to still be angry at him and promptly left the room. Her poor husband was left alone in their chambers, sighing as he kicked off his boots and slumped on the bed.

Sansa then took a deep breath and walked towards him from the screen. He must have sensed her presence, because he sat up the moment she took her first step, and before she knew it, he snatched her body into his arms and touched his forehead to hers. "To what I owe this pleasure, Sansa?" he asked her, drinking in the sight of her body once again. He was only able to barely explore the beauty that was his wife before the trial, and very honestly forgotten about it due to the whirlwind that followed. If they were in a time of peace, he would have spent every waking moment attending to his wife since then.

"I... I give myself to you," she told him, reaching for the ties of her new, sheer dressing gown. "We can't wait any longer..."

Before she could even finish her sentence, Oberyn had seized her lips in a searing kiss that left her without breath the moment they parted, their tongues dancing between their mouthes. She had frantically reached for his clothes, trying to pry them away, but he gently moved her hands away from him and held them to either side of her head.

"Patience," he cooed into her ear. "We will have all night, love." One by one, he kissed her fingertips, and then her brow, her eyelids, her cheekbones before moving to the center of her collarbones, the arch of her neck and each of her shoulders. She held him close to her, burrowing her fingers through his dark hair. There was something... inherently delicious about his weight above her, to have him resting between her legs.

She watched as he made short work of her new shift. With one hand he managed to untie all the ties it had and quickly shifted it above her head and threw it to the floor. Even before she was able to blush, Oberyn had kissed the highest points of flesh on her left breast and took the coral-hued nipple into his mouth. He nipped at it gently, at first, and then he sucked on it. After twirling his tongue around it a few times, he moved to her other breast and did the same thing.

"O... Oberyn..." she gasped. There it was again, that winding feeling at her gut. She felt his eyes on her, watching her every reaction to his every ministration, and she met his with hers. They laced their fingers together and he kissed her lips hungrily before moving past her navel, straight to the outer folds of her nether regions.

It was impressive that she was still coherent enough to call his name. Leaving nothing to chance, he flicked his tongue at her core of her being, her pearl and thrust his tongue into the cavern of her sheath. She had gasped so loudly, and as if to reward him further he could feel her inner muscles start to clench his tongue. She would soon be ready for him.

For whatever reason, Sansa felt her own body raise itself to meet Oberyn's skillful tongue. Remembering Ellaria's advice, she let her body do it's own work. She listened to it, and listened to him. Oh, how he had moaned against the skin of her womanhood as he pleasured her. She had never heard his voice take such a timbre or tone.

"Look at me, Sansa," he told her, his head coming up for a kiss, and in that kiss she realized that she was tasting herself on his tongue. She did not know how she tasted like, but before she was able to think about it, Oberyn had held her chin by his finger and thumb, forcing her to meet his gaze. Slowly, she felt something enter her, something thin. It took her a few more seconds before she understood that he had sheathed his finger within her. "Move as I do," he whispered into her ear, and she did just that, making her hips rise and fall as he did. When she found her rhythm, she realized that he had added another finger.

The coil within her tightened and tightened. As she moved to accommodate his two fingers within her, she once again felt him on her breasts, then flitting to every part of her body, covering her skin with wild kisses. When the coil became to tight that it seemed to have broken, she cried out, arching her back and clung onto him with dear life until whatever she was feeling abated. Only then did he remove his fingers, and she could see that they were slick with whatever moisture accumulated within her.

"That was your first orgasm," he told her, taking off his own clothing piece by piece. "Had you have met me earlier, my beautiful wife, you would have had many of them and still be a maid."

"You... can't be serious," Sansa replied after she had caught her breath. Whatever she had felt, it was unlike anything that she had felt before.

"Oh, but I am," he told her, finally removing his smallclothes. His manhood was already erect when it sprang free. She had never seen a more peculiar thing in her life. Before her curiosity goaded her to act, she felt his hand leading hers towards it. "Touch," he commanded gently, and touch him she did.

He was warm, very warm. The skin was smooth. She had traced his length with her fingertips at first, a tentative touch. When he brought his arm across her shoulders, his mouth was so near her ears that she could hear every single reaction from him. Gingerly, she began to envelope his girth with her hand and began to move said hand up his length and down again. He let out a lusty groan as her reward, relishing the feel of her hand around his member.

"Does this, pleasure you?" she asked him, still unsure of her actions. One day, when she was experienced enough, she will be formidable, he thought to himself.

"It does, Princess," he answered, and started to spread the skin of her womanhood and rub that area in large, circular motions. "And I would not be one who stands only at the receiving end," he growled into her ear. Before long, he lifted her so that she would be straddling him.

"Wait... what are you doing?" Sansa asked. She could feel the tip of his manhood just barely grazing the lips of her sheath, but she did not understand. During her bridal training, her septa said that a man would mount a woman, not the other way around.

Oberyn chuckled. "I am doing as you wished me to," he told her. "Every woman is different, my love. For some, their first time might hurt and for others, they might not. When I sheath myself in you, you must tell me if it hurts. I will stop until you no longer feel pain, and then..."

"Then what?" she interrupted, and he kissed her over and over.

"And then, you will ride, as Rhaenys the Queen rides Marexes."

Sansa did not know when exactly he had lowered her onto his manhood, but she felt a strange burning sensation. There were slight tears in her eyes and by the them he kissed them away, the burning was gone. In its place was the coil again, and this time, the feeling of being filled. It was as if a missing part of her had returned.

"Ride, my love," he whispered, and ride she did, undulating her hips, moving backwards and forwards, continuing as he matched her pace. The feeling of it was... magical, there was nothing like it. As they moved as one, her back was arched backwards but she could feel his hands on her breasts, cupping them as if they were the only thing he could reach for.

After what seemed to be an eternity in paradise, she felt the coil go blank again, and she collapsed onto him, her body still riding out the aftershocks of her ecstasy. By the way her inner walls had seized him, he knew that he would soon come undone, and removed himself from her depths, spilling his seed on her belly instead. In the very least, she understood what he had meant by that. She could not get pregnant at that time. They were in a middle of a war. A child would only complicate things, a child brought into the world then would not be safe at all. They would have to wait.

"Now, my love, you are truly a woman," he told her with a lazy kiss when she flopped herself beside him. He would remember how her fiery hair had fallen in molten rivers as they took one another, how her eyes burned with desire for him.

"Thank you," she peeped, bringing her head to his chest. Before long she was fast asleep, leaving Oberyn to contemplate his duel with the Mountain.

It would be a waste to have someone like her widowed so young.

HAN: In all seriousness, I had great fun writing this chapter, from start to end. However, I despise writing first times for virgins.

I also realized that Robb has an innate ability to know what other people want the most and use it against them. He could be the only one in GoT that uses psychological warfare. Sadly, some people just want to see the world burn *glares at Walder Frey and Roose Bolton*

Ellaria is used to Oberyn's pig-headedness. She just wants to show him that he's stupid, hence the theatrics.

Enjoy!