Steps of Fire
Chapter 1
The first time Elia felt like smiling was when she saw them. Doran and Ashara. It was like they had brought the Dornish sun with them, although above their heads it was still the same, a pale winter ball of feeble gold and fire. For a moment, she felt a stinging regret for not seeing Oberyn but it disappeared swiftly, swept by the joy and relief bubbling up. With them, she felt protected. Less lonely. The world was suddenly a better place, although she still had to surrender her children as soon as she had this last one.
"We'll take good care of them," Doran promised.
"And raise them in humility before the Iron Throne," Elia said automatically because even with him, even now she could not let go of the mask of abject obedience. She now feared that her children might be handed to someone else. Another House and not her own. Of course, she knew there was no House that could be trusted and hers had the utmost agenda in keeping Aegon a dutiful subject but reason played no part in it.
For a moment, Doran watched her and then sighed. "I wish Robert Baratheon was slower with his hammer," he said and she blinked.
"You do?"
"Rhaegar died only once and barely had the time to realize that he did."
Elia nodded, all her attempts to forgive a dead man, her children's father no less, doomed by the memories of abandonment, humiliation, endangerment. The babe in her womb stirred a little and Elia imagined it was nodding along. The thought scared her. Was vengefulness the last thing she'd give to this babe?
She was surrounded by women all the time. Estermonts who would be her kin soon. Lysa Arryn who looked even more miserable than Elia felt and fared worse in hiding it. The golden-haired Cersei Lannister, as beautiful as ever, smiling at her with such sweetness that it soured, flaunting her graceful frame as Elia swelled rapidly for the third time in this many years, her face blotted with dark spots that would only fade after she gave birth, to return as soon as she got with child again. It was no secret for anyone what – who – Cersei was aiming at. She batted her eyelashes at Robert Baratheon at every chance and Elia could see how her mind, or perhaps her father's, worked: Robert was a known man of pleasures, man who never denied himself anything. Why should he reconcile himself with an older, exhausted, glamourless wife when he could have a golden beauty? The throne meant for the Queen was not yet occupied, after all.
Elia could arrive at her assumptions of how things between those two developed based on their interactions in her presence because she and her Dornish attendants were cut off from all the court but the ladies from the rebel Houses: Cersei never changed her game of chasing after Robert. She had not caught him. Not yet. And he didn't look ashamed as he would have if he had promised something to her. He didn't make a good liar. For now, the queen in-waiting was still Elia Martell. Her children would still live. Day after day, he came to pay his respects and ask about the children and as uncomfortable as it was for both of them, she could say that he wanted to be here. I was very lucky that it was him who saved us, she thought. If it had been someone else, he wouldn't have felt… Felt what? Responsible for them? Connected to them somewhat? Whatever it was, she was careful to always present herself as the perfect lady, the weak creature in need of Robert's mighty defense. If it was insulting to her to be pitied by him, she refused to recognize it. She had to do what worked.
"What a jest the Seven has played on you," Ashara murmured one night as she brushed Elia's hair out. That was the only thing growing with child did for Elia's looks: it made her hair thicker and more glossy. "You're trying to play the part he thought the Stark girl was playing."
Elia's hands curled in her robes. Their two years together and the adoration the little girl at the Water Gardens had felt towards the much older Princess gave Ashara some daring to say what Elia didn't want to hear. At the same time, it was such a relief! Ashara felt real in the midst of all those ladies who cherished Elia's company no more than she did theirs. They were her jailors, from young Lysa Tully to Mace Tyrell's obnoxious mother who had arrived just the day before.
"I'm happy that you're here," she breathed and the very next day, it was because of Ashara that her painstakingly maintained image of being in desperate need of Robert's chivalry fell apart.
It started out innocently enough. With all the innocence Cersei Lannister could muster! In the rainy day when the moods were as grim as the weather threatening to turn the Red Keep into an underwater castle, she turned to Ashara and said sweetly, "Honestly, my lady, I am in awe of your quick recovery! You must really tell me the secret: how did you manage to get your figure back so fast? It'll be very useful to me with my own children one day!"
For the first time, Elia saw Ashara silenced as she struggled to understand what was being said. Thick flush came to her cheeks at the same time Elia realized what the Lannister girl was insinuating.
Anger took her aback, sudden, unpredictable. This was the first time she saw her cheerful, witty companion being mocked this monstrously, the first time Ashara was unable to respond in kind. Elia pushed herself upright and stared Cersei down. "Leave," she said, relishing the cold sound of her own voice. For first time in more than a year, she was letting her true rage show. "Immediately. I will not suffer your slanders here. Tomorrow, I expect you to apologize to Lady Ashara and then, I'll consider having you back in my presence. Maybe. But now, I don't want to see your face anywhere near me."
The women gasped. Cersei Lannister just smiled haughtily. "It's the new King's wish that I be here," she said. "And I only follow his orders."
"Do you, really?" Elia asked and raised her voice. "Ser Arthur!"
He came in immediately. Ever since his return, he'd been trying and failing to make up for his betrayal with following her wishes even before she voiced them. Behind him, two Baratheon and a Martell guard could be seen and Elia told him to let them in. "Take Lady Cersei and rip the clothes off her," Elia ordered. "Then, you can lead her out of my chambers and escort her to her own."
Arthur stared at her, agog, but when he saw she was not jesting, he made a step forward. The guards did not even stare. The Baratheon ones' duty was to prevent their lord's – king's – future bride from running away and obey her commands in everything else. The man of House Martell carried obedience to her wishes in his very bones.
"I'll go out on my own!" Cersei said quickly.
Elia smiled. "I was sure that you'd agree," she said, making no effort to disguise the Dornish drawl in her voice. She accentuated it, even. Some said it sounded like the hiss of a Dornish snake.
In the wake of Cersei's retreat, the women stared at Elia with disbelief and, in Olenna Tyrell's case, a little respect. Trust the old witch to appreciate barbarity, Elia thought and wondered if the Reach woman thought she had been bluffing. She was pleased that she had not needed to act on her word because she would have, turning Cersei into a victim and confirming all the rumours about the Dornish women's morals and savagery. Ashara smiled at her, gratefully, and Elia smiled back even as her mind was reeling with the realization that Robert might not like his future queen's input in his relations with the West.
But her husband to be, her late husband's murderer didn't look all that concerned when he came to pay her his usual morning visit. For the first time, he looked like he actually wanted to stay. "Did you really tell her you'd throw her out naked?" he asked, his eyes shining with mirth.
Elia blushed. "I'm afraid I did. She got me so angry. And I was going to do it, Your Grace, mark my words," she added, just to be in the clear. If she had let the gentle creature's mask slip a little, why not a little more?
He nodded. "One should always stand by their friends," he said. "Even when they are in the wrong. I can respect this."
"Lady Ashara wasn't in the wrong!" Elia protested. "She was never with child – her lady mother was ill and…"
But she could see he did not believe her. By the Seven! Had the lie spread all around? How could they have let this happen? She? Arthur? But of course, she had been struggling to recover her health at Dragonstone and Arthur had been letting Dawn get rusty in Dorne instead of treating her to the throat of the first slanderer – and then, there certainly wouldn't have been a second one!
Still, Robert did not believe her. Well, it wasn't new to her. She had been surrounded by rumours since the very day of her betrothal. He would have grown up with tales of Dorne and Dornish women.
"It doesn't matter," he said. "She insulted your friend and she had it coming. I didn't know you had it in you, my lady," he added, giving her a long look. For the first time, he seemed to be trying to see her.
"Aren't you angry?" she asked. "I could have severed your relations with Tywin Lannister."
He waved a dismissive hand. "At the end, he needs us more than we do him. And let's not forget that he tried to have you and your children killed. Speaking of your children…"
He paused and Elia's hopes surged all of a sudden.
"We got news that there had been a coronation at Dragonstone," Robert said. "The old queen crowned her son, Viserys, the Third of His Name. I thought you should know."
Her head was pounding. Somehow, she managed to thank him for letting her know, for telling her in person, for not holding her outburst against Cersei Lannister against her. The years of being taught self-control paid out. He seemed unwilling to stay now and she was pleased. When he left, she sank deeper into her chair, put her head back and wept, the feeling of betrayal sharp, the tears as bitter as salt. She had not wept like this since the day Aerys had called Rhaenys Dornish-smelling. When Rhaegar had left Dragonstone, she was still so weakened by the loss of blood that she had been unable to produce many tears.
