Sunlight So Evanescent

"Would you care for some practicing?"

"If Your Grace so wishes."

Ser Arthur Dayne's reply was entirely proper, yet there wasn't the tiniest bit of joy or anticipation when only two months ago, there would have been one. It was as if an invisible wall separated Rhaegar from those who had been in his confidence, the men who had come to court with Elia. They still were – but they no longer seemed to think so. They no longer trusted him. Even Arthur who had been at King's Landing long before Elia arrived – even he seemed to share his countrymen's misgivings. That was what surprised Rhaegar most, that Arthur would place his sympathies with the princess of the land he had been born to instead of the prince he had given his allegiance freely.

"And then, we can go to the Great Sept of Baelor," he went on, determined not to show that he had noticed Arthur's withdrawal.

"I have some other business to attend to."

It was a rare event that Arthur refused his invitations – and when the Sept of Baelor was concerned, it never happened. Arthur claimed that he admired the structure of the building but now it occurred to Rhaegar that there might be another reason for Arthur's liking of it. That was the place of Dorne's greatest triumph, the place where Maron Martell had received more than any of the other rulers of the old, joining Dorne to the rest of the realm without bending the knee.

"Very well," he said curtly. "When you're done with your business, come to my chambers. I'll give you a letter I want you to take to Dorne."

He enjoyed the utter shock in Arthur's eyes, swiftly followed by joy. No doubt Arthur thought he'd have time to visit his family and spend some time in his homeland, however little. He would have, indeed. Aerys would only feel relief in seeing the back of the man he distrusted as Rhaegar's friend and a Dornishman. And Rhaegar would not deprive Arthur of this reprieve.

If the letter turned out not to be enough, he'd have to go and collect Elia and Rhaenys in person, bring them back to Dragonstone where they belonged. No matter that Elia herself doubted it right now. Rhaegar cursed his own stupid consent to let her visit her family in Dorne. He had thought that some time apart would soothe her anger. But he hadn't let meant for them to stay there indefinitely – and Elia's dutiful, bland letters spoke of no intention to return any time soon. His rash gesture to Lyanna Stark might cost him Dorne's support. If Arthur could believe that he intended to disadvantage Elia in any way, play foul with Dorne, then everyone else could. All those he could rely on only a few months ago. And they would whisper their unfounded fears in Doran's ear. Elia's anger would do the rest. All his plans might turn to ash in no time at all. All his preparations to neutralize his father… ruined over nothing.

No, she had to come home. The world had to see that no matter his indiscretion, he planned his future with her and no one else.

"She does know that Rhaenys isn't a doll, right?" Elia asked suspiciously.

Doran laughed. "I hope so!" he said and seeing that she was genuinely concerned, turned serious. "Don't fret. We're watching them, aren't we? So are Rhaenys' nursemaid. Let Arianne have her doll. Nothing bad is going to happen."

"I'd like to see whether you'd hold the same view once the baby is born," Elia murmured and reached for a blood orange from the branch overhanging so close that she didn't even need to rise. She peeled it without spilling even a drop of its juice and bit at it hungrily. She had missed the fruit of the sun so much at the misty, gloomy Dragonstone.

Doran didn't say anything, just watched her. Something was troubling her and that pained him. For the last two months, she had slowly recovered her old buoyancy and joy in the simplest things. The shade of anger and humiliation had dissolved somewhat. But now, it was a new shade clouding her eyes, numbing her smiles, making her pause in the middle of a sentence. He had no idea what troubled her and he didn't want to press her into sharing. But he did make an attempt at prodding her into confiding. "Are you going to stay here for the birth?" he asked.

The official explanation for Elia's return to Dorne was the fact that her goodsister was in the throes of a hard pregnancy. As someone who had recently gone through the same thing, Elia could sympathize and try to cheer her up, or so the story went. Of course, the rumours went rampant – Rhaegar had sent her and Rhaenys away, disgruntled that she hadn't given him a male heir. She had tried to kill him in a fit of jealousy and he no longer wanted her around. He intended to take Lyanna Stark in her place. She was so insulted at the affront at Harrenhall that she no longer could live under his roof and that had cost him Dorne's support in his game. There were as many versions as there were tongues. Until now, Elia had paid no attention to them, too happy to be away from her husband and lick her wounds without the entire court of Rhaegar's people at Dragonstone watching. But lately, she had started listening to them. She had to. Her brief moment of the sun finally shining upon her again, of feeling somewhat recovered here, in Dorne, was not to last. She looked away.

"I don't know," she said and blushed, realizing that she had eaten almost the entire blood orange mindlessy. "I am sorry," she apologized and offered the last bit to Doran. He smiled, shook his head, and picked another one for her. His eyes stayed fixed across their table until Elia turned to see what he was looking at. A sad smile tugged at her lips at noticing their uncle, without his white – "What? It isn't the white guarding you, it's me, and I am still here even in my own attire," he claimed – walking in the distance, hand in hand with his paramour for the last ten years or so. Not for the first time, Elia ached with desire to have something like that, too. But she had known from the very beginning that she wouldn't with Rhaegar. However, she had not expected to have humiliation and being laughed at behind her back either.

And the worst part was that she had to return. She had no other choice.

But not yet. Right now, she'd keep healing in the land of her birth, in the company of her family, the people she had grown up with, and the sight of Arianne playing with Rhaenys as if she were a doll but a much more fascinating one.