The idea of this story came after peacock33, a reviewer on another story, and a reviewer on another site, showed interest in the controversial nature of the relationship existing between Elia and Oberyn Martell's parents. Before, I only intended to do a flashback or two. So, thanks, peacock33.

Suns and Storms

When They Were Young

She died at dawn, so quietly that the woman hired to attend her did not hear a thing. Only the wailing of the two week old babe, protesting loudly that his needs weren't being met, alerted her that something was off. She rubbed her eyes and lifted the little boy from his cradle to bring him to his mother. Only when Lady Maril didn't reach out to take him did the first sparkles of worry appear.

"My lady!" she cried out, urgently.

But the woman did not stir.

Alric Gargalen entered the house about an hour later and stood silently at the foot of the bed, staring at the dead woman intently. The handmaiden watched him anxiously, wondering what he would do now, whether he'd be crushed or indifferent. One could never say with those Dornish lords. He had treated the Volantine lady with affection and respect and had been highly attentive during her pregnancy. But men often did that. They might not love their women but most of them were caring toward their bastards, even if it was only in the beginning. She had heard that he already had a trueborn son by his Dornish wife, so she didn't expect that his care would last.

Alric still stood without moving, staring at Maril. What had gone wrong? Two weeks had passed after the birth and it had been a very easy one, the midwives claimed. She had been recovering wonderfully – much better than he remembered Arianne recovering after the birth of any of her children. And now she was dead.

He had never loved her but her death still caused him grief. She had been a good companion in this last year that he had spent here smoothing thing between Lys and Dorne and he liked to think that he had been one to her, as well. He felt guilty, for despite not knowing why, exactly, she had died, he had no doubt it had something to do with the child and therefore he had something to do with him, too. He was the one who had fathered this child on her when she had been just a young woman running away from a plague that had almost ruined her native Volantis, leaving her with no close family and no means to support herself. If I hadn't taken her to my bed, she would have ended up a common whore, he defended himself in his head but it didn't sound so convincing, not when he was staring at the face of a woman in her prime who shouldn't have died and he had no idea why she had.

"My lord," the handmaiden spoke hesitantly. "The babe…"

Alric startled, taken away from his thoughts. "I already sent for a wetnurse," he said. "She'll be here soon. I'd have you stay here and attend her, so she could focus on him alone until time comes for us to leave. It won't be long."

The woman felt a profound relief. He was not a bad master, never hitting her and always paying handsomely. A few more weeks in his service would mean a few more months of meat in her family's broth. And if he stayed a month, she might even provide her daughter with dowry that could let her win a better husband than one of those drunken oafs who carried cargo in and out of ships…

Alric had already forgotten about her. He was watching his son, wondering what he should do with him.

Even before she was roused fully, Arianne Martell smiled. Something in her hazed mind told her that the warmth next to her was very special, that she would wake up to something very pleasant indeed... She stirred a little and then groaned, the events of last night surging to her mind. She had offered her husband a memorable welcome, indeed, one that she had not thought physically possible. Now she knew it was possible… but it was by no means recommendable for one's bodily comfort in the aftermath. There was not a muscle in her body to feel easy.

Alric's eyes opened and he grimaced, no doubt assessing his own share of consequences. They looked at each other and he laughed. "For the gods' sake, my lady, were you trying to kill me? One would say you have slept alone all those months."

"No," Arianne answered reasonably. "But not sleeping alone isn't the same as sleeping with you. Am I not allowed to show my husband how much I've missed him?"

He pretended to be puzzled, looking around dramatically. "If I see the man, I'll be sure to tell him," he promised and drew her near, wondering whether last night he had begged for mercy aloud, or had it been in his head alone.

They lingered in bed for a while until they were somewhat recovered. Not quite surprised, Arianne found out that the feeling of his black hair between her fingers was no less pleasant than the lovemaking itself. His long limbs wrapped around her tiny frame were something she had gotten used to pretty fast and gave her great pleasure. If he wasn't my husband, I would have made him my paramour, she thought, smiling. Out of all the men who had shared her bed, there had never been one that she wanted more to wake up next to and stay abed with. When they finally stirred, Alric rose, leaned over to gather the clothing strewn all around and handed her her nightgown before starting to inspect the items lying on her dressing table. Ointments, potions, perfumes… it was all mystery to him, although he quite liked tasting them on her skin.

Standing at the window, he stared at Sunspear lying at their feet. He did not remember his first years in King's Landing – his life had begun here, in Dorne, when he had been brought here as a very small child to be groomed for Arianne's, then the future Lady of Dorne, consort. Arianne and Dorne – those were the two things he had grown up with. The two things that could make him gloriously, indecently happy.

Two floors beneath him, his son appeared in the courtyard and looked up. Alric waved at him and Doran returned the gesture, albeit not too enthusiastically. Alric was not surprised – he had been absent for nineteen moons and for a child of five, that was a lot of time, indeed.

He turned to Arianne who had yet to rise and dress. His eyes were guarded. "There is something you need to know. I did not return from Essos alone."

Her hand froze on the bedcover. If he intended to tell her that he had brought one of his harlots to Dorne, he had a good reason to be guarded, indeed! She had no doubt that he had not slept alone in Essos and that didn't bother her at all. But bringing a woman with him meant something different. Something worse. Attachment. If he thought that she was going to forgive an emotional infidelity – that he could get her to forgive it, - then Arianne didn't know which one of them was the bigger fool. She would not suffer from lack of pride, even if he was afflicted by lack of loyalty!

"I have another son," he said. "And I brought him with me."

Her initial relief soon turned to puzzlement. Babes needed their mothers, he knew it as well as she did. "And the mother?"

He looked aside. "She died a few weeks after the birth. He's four moons old already. I named him Elvar."

Once again, Arianne was relieved, although it was lowly of her. Not because of the woman's death – she was comforted that despite the touch of grief in Alric's voice, there was no heartbreak. The mother of this new son, she hadn't replaced her in his affections.

"Where is he?" she asked.

"I left him at Salt Shore," he said. "Until I can think of a way to best accommodate him… the best way for everyone involved."

Now she understood. It was not only about sparing her pride. Honesty was a big part of the welding that kept them together, with their unusual arrangements, but he had been hesitant to raise the matter of the child another woman had borne him when their own son had died shortly before he had had to leave for Essos, twenty two moons ago.

Banishing the pang the thought of that always brought her, she smiled a little. "I would never attempt to talk you into turning away from him. It isn't the Reach here. I find it terrible when men walk away afterwards and I truly expect better of my spouse. But somehow, I doubt Isanne would be terribly welcome to a bastard brought to her home."

For a moment, he stayed silent, examining her. He recognized the source of her pain for what it was, grief for their own lost son and not resentment for him having another… albeit that might have changed, had Maril lived.

"She isn't," he said. For all her makings, Lady Gargalen, his goodsister, was a woman from the Vale and shared all dislike and distrust of those born on the wrong side of the blanket. She had accepted Elvar, of course, because his brother had said so. But Alric had no intention of letting his son grow up there. He just had to find another place for him.

Arianne sighed. "We cannot truly leave him in Isanne's care, can we? She'll try to do her best, I have no doubt, but her best won't be good enough, I suspect."

"Do you have a better idea?" Alric asked as she rose and put the nightgown on.

"Yes," she said. "Bring him to the Water Gardens. He'll go there eventually, so why not now?" She shrugged meaningfully. "Children are not my enemies, my love."

He heard the unspoken end of the phrase quite clearly: as long as he didn't bring the mothers into their own lives, all would be well. And since he didn't intend of ever doing so, he expected no storms in their future. Not such storms, at least. He reached for her, got her rid once again of the nightgown that she had just slipped on and carried her to the adjacent chamber to share a bath.