Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.

Turn Left For Fate

Cold Shoulder

'Expect problems and eat them for breakfast.'

~ Alfred A. Montapert ~

The sunlight, caressing the lids of Elia's eyes, was strong enough that she could lie in bed and pretend for a few moments more that she was back in Dorne. It was neither forgetfulness of yesterday's events, nor a desire for oblivion that kept her in bed. It was sheer laziness that kept her eyes closed, less from the alcohol consumed and more from the lateness of the previous night.

At last, she stretched, opening her heavy lids, plots and plans already swirling into creation before being discarded for their heavy-handedness. Whilst it was idiocy, arrogance and backhandedness that governed those vying for the Iron Throne, she would not add to the masses of fools. She intended her plans to be far more delicate and therefore, considerably harder to identify. Subtlety would be the key to her victory.

Gowns were laid out for her inspection by one of her handmaidens, a daughter from one of the lesser known houses under the banners of Yronwood. Aoi was a pretty name for a girl with pretty blue eyes, but her face was plain and held a forgettable beauty. It was doubtless for this reason that she had been sent to serve Elia, doubling as an insult. Elia didn't care. If anything, Aoi had afforded her an opportunity to win the heart and favour of admittedly a small house, but a house nonetheless, that followed Yronwood. It might not gain her much loyalty or power but something was always better than nothing.

She had settled on a gown of peach and pale blue, much to Aoi's surprise, when her husband requested admittance to her chambers. Other than a tensing of her fingers, Elia's feelings remained her own, even as Aoi's keen eyes watched her. In a tone as flat as she could make it, she asked Aoi to send her Lord-Husband away as she was still readying for the day. The little lady scuttled away, relaying the message faithfully to Prince Rhaegar, keeping her voice and face blank, but withstanding without any obvious strain the Prince's desire to have words with his wife.

Careful fingers had matched the careful eyes of Aoi as she had dressed Elia and were now busy combing her hair. Down in natural waves, Elia had stated plainly, as Aoi's sharp eyes had once again looked at her, absorbing all that was not being said, when Ashara was freely given entrance to the Princess' chambers.

'Beautiful dress,' was all that the renowned beauty said, sitting herself on the bed comfortably.

'My Princess is looking radiant indeed,' Aoi agreed in a soft voice, eyes glinting sharply and Elia smiled, satisfied. The gown was not of Dornish material or style or colours but she did not need them to be. That they were not Targaeryan colours would be message enough for those who were searching for the kind. And those that didn't pick up the message would be too feeble-witted to be of use to Elia.

Once ready, Aoi bowed respectfully to Elia, preparing to leave when her hand was grasped. 'Aoi, I thank you for your help,' Elia said, her eyes intense and impossible to look away from. 'If you need any in return, let me know,' she pressed her hand once more, burning hot, before letting it drop and nodding her dismissal.

'Am I being replaced?' Ashara questioned with amusement.

'Would you consent to being replaced?' Elia challenged, a genuine smile lifting her lips now. 'Never underestimate those beneath your station or the value they may one day hold,' she said, almost to herself alone. 'Isn't the weather glorious for a walk?' Ashara smiled, rising gracefully and linking her arms with those of Her Princess.

She hadn't been lying when she had complimented Elia on the gown. The pastel colours of the gown enhanced the golden glow of her skin and contrasted starkly with the rich darkness of her hair that she wore down. It was one of a handful of times since her marriage that she wore her hair in the Dornish style but it made her a vision to behold, enhancing her own assets rather that attempting styles that favoured others. Ashara desperately wanted to question her on Rhaegar and Aoi and what all these words, signs, meant but she bit her tongue. She would be wary of asking these questions anywhere private but it would be more than imprudent to say anything in public.

It soon became clear that the casual meanderings held a purpose, heading away from the tents closest to the royal camp, containing those favoured by the king and House Whent. Ashara's enjoyable pastime from the previous night told her that they were heading towards the tents of House Stark and though outwardly she appeared neutral, her nervousness pulled Elia closer to her than they would ordinarily have been, as they strolled.

'Nervous, Ashara?' Elia teased her friend, a smile not quite mocking her.

'Of what?' She retorted, resisting the childish urge to pull her friend's hair. It would do neither of them any service. On the other hand, it would give her immense satisfaction.

'Of whom, perchance?' Elia had answered like for like, something dangerously akin to a smirk teasing at her lips. Before Ashara could say (or do) anything, a boy younger than ten summers had bumped into the princess. Stammering out an apology, or presumed apology – he seemed fairly incomprehensible, blushing wildly and arduously avoiding eye contact – Elia cut short his suffering. 'Dear boy, it's alright. As you see, I have neither fallen, nor been injured, so there's no need to worry. What you may do is accompany us to Lord Brandon Stark, if you please?'

Her eyes were quite kind when wide brown eyes met hers. 'Brandon Stark?' The boy repeated the name in disbelief, face pale and suspicious. 'What do you want to see him for?'

'I don't think The Princess needs to explain herself to you, does she?' Ashara interrupted crossly, unsure whether the aggravation was from the boy or from Elia's words. It melted away into guilt when she saw the fear electrify his face.

'Ashara,' Elia admonished her under her breath. 'Don't worry about my friend. She's always cross before she's eaten,' she spoke to the boy, smiling brightly for his sake and adding a wink to good effect. 'And no need to apologise,' she hastened to add, seeing his mouth open, undoubtedly to pour more incomprehensible apologies out. 'Would you be kind enough to escort us around? It would be a great favour,' she added gravely, eyes twinkling with humour at Ashara.

'Yes, your majesty. Of course, your majesty,' the words tripped out of his mouth in a nervous rush.

'Please call me Elia. Your majesty makes me feel so old. And what is your name, my sweet?'

'Benjen, your- Elia?' He ended uncertainly and Ashara had to admit that there was a certain appeal in a little boy so keen to be polite. She wouldn't object to having a little boy like him, one day, but those thoughts were for another time.

'Lovely. And what game were you playing?' She arched a quizzical eyebrow playfully, adding in a conspiratorial tone, 'My brother and I used to play Monster Snakes. He was always the Monster Snake.'

Finally dislodging a smile, he answered her bashfully. 'Wolves and Monsters.'

'Were you the Wolf or the Monster?'

'Wolf, ma'am,' he answered instantly, as though scandalised that he could have been anything else. Almost certainly a Stark, Elia thought and if Ashara's immediate interest was an indication, she had come to the same conclusion. The strolling resumed, with Benjen chatting now animatedly to Elia and Ashara suffering in silence. Little more than ten minutes had passed when there was a yell and someone stumbled into Elia again, this time large enough and strong enough to unceremoniously tackle her to the groung. Gathering all of her wrath within her to demolish any that dared harm Elia, however unintentional, Ashara was forestalled by the little boy.

'Ned!' He sounded indignant and even a little fierce. 'How dare you? It's The Princess,' his stance was aggressive. He looked prepared to go on the offensive on Elia's behalf, to protect her and nothing else he could have done would have endeared him to Ashara more. There was a repeat of apologies and bright red cheeks hidden with little facial hair as he helped Elia up, apologising ever more profusely when he noticed a tear in her gown a little below her bust.

'Don't worry about me. I am no frail flower,' Her smile was kind but there was defiance as she spoke. 'Ned? Eddard Stark, aren't you? It's a pleasure to meet you,' she said, the words falling readily enough, such that even she wasn't certain of their verity. 'We were just searching for your older brother. Benjen, you never told me you were Lord Brandon's younger brother,' she turned her eyes to the little boy, who started at the words. 'Before you apologise, again, let me tell you that Wolves have a duty to the Truth and not just to fight off Monsters,' she told him, faux serious.

'No, no, I was never lying,' he reassured her, too young to comprehend the amusement in her eyes. 'You never asked me, so I never told you. But it wasn't lying because I didn't tell you I wasn't his brother,' he said earnestly, eyes wide. Ashara had to bite back a smile. Elia had always had a way, particularly with children and she was sure to have a new avid fan in this one. She had vanity enough, though, to realise that throughout the discourse, Ned's eyes had remained trained on her and to feel gratified. She was also human enough to feel guilt and was firm in keeping her eyes trained on Elia's profile.

'Well, fine, as long as you weren't actually lying,' Elia told him sombrely, her lips unable to resist twitching upwards. 'But you must guard me better, Little Wolf. What if your brother had been a Bandit or a Pirate?' She turned her eyes to the older brother. 'Your little brother has been kind enough to act as a guide and a guard both. We have been very impressed with the skills he has shown us.'

'You're too kind, Your Majesty,' Ned blushed brightly, eyes unable to stay on the Princess for longer than a few seconds before returning to the beautiful vision beside her.

'Not at all,' she said politely. 'But perhaps you could lead us to Lord Brandon?' She hinted without subtlety. She had forgotten that most men could barely function when faced with Ashara.

'Of course,' Ned agreed quickly and they resumed their walk, this time without the easy banter that had filled the silence.

'It's lovely weather,' Ashara lied through her teeth, the silence suffocating her to madness. Ned did little but blush furiously, quickly removing his eyes from her. Fortunately, his little brother was made of sterner stuff.

'It's not really. It's paltry weather,' he explained to Elia kindly. 'The weather in the North is far more famous. You can get blizzards with snowfall for days and the wind swirls it around.' In turn, Elia told him about the sandstorms from the land of her birth, and the scorching heat. He watched her with an open mouth, enraptured. They eventually reached an innocuous looking tent, a little larger than the surrounding ones.

'I believe he should be up by now,' Ned's voice sounded choked and uncertain and he was careful to avoid everyone's gazes. 'I can find out for you?'

'I'll find him for you,' Benjen walked inside with purpose before anyone could try and stop him. His youthful high-pitched voice carried outside with ease. 'Brandon? Good, you're awake. The Princess is here to see you. You never told me she was so beautiful,' he reproached his older brother. 'But she's here, and I have vowed to bring her to you,' he paused with confusion. 'I mean, you to her, but she was walking so I suppose I brought her to you. But at her request.'

His words faltered at the laughter that erupted and his countenance was pouting furiously when he came outside. 'If you will follow me, I can take you to see him,' he spoke stiffly, unbending only at Elia's smile as she thanked him gravely.

'Your majesty,' Lord Brandon bowed his tall, broad figure gracefully to Elia's neat, little form. 'I apologise for the mess of the room,' his voice held questions.

'Late night drinking, no doubt,' Elia quizzed him wickedly, impervious to Ashara's muffled gasp. His eyes twinkled unrepentantly back at her and she took a sudden liking to him.

'Guilty, your majesty. Would you care to be seated?' He was quick to remove some clothes from the bed and briefly tidy it for her benefit. His eyes returned to her as she gratefully took a seat.

'It's a pleasure to meet you finally, Lord Brandon. I've heard so many things that I had to quench my desire to see how much truth there were in the rumours,' she murmured, her voice low and soothing as they watched each other guardedly. 'Lady Ashara and I were contemplating a, well, a pastime we used to enjoy as children. A midnight feast. If you are available, we would be grateful if you could join us.'

His eyes held an arrested look but Elia didn't fail to notice that, while his eyes glanced briefly to his younger brothers, they did not glance at Ashara. 'It would be my pleasure to accompany you, your majesty,' he replied cautiously but fearlessly.

'Please, call me Elia. Your little brother does,' she smiled brightly at him, pleased that she had managed to finally visibly puzzle him. 'And of course, your brothers are more than welcome to join us. Your sister, too,' she added, once again escalating the tension a dozen-fold, her own face serene and her posture unbothered.

'That'll be brilliant,' Benjen appeared to be the only one unaffected by the tension in the room, other than Elia. 'What do we do at the Midnight Feast?' He asked eagerly and Elia was not the only one to smile at his enthusiasm.

'We eat the food, of course,' the princess answered promptly. 'It's all the most delicious of the foodstuffs available, and when the hour turns to midnight, there's an ancient magic that makes the food taste even better,' she adds for his benefit, thoroughly enjoying his eyes widening like a waxing moon.

'But we must get the permission from your Lord Father,' Elia added, cautious of having been led astray into inadvertently making an almost promise to the charming brown-haired boy before her. 'If they deem you too young this year, you must make a solemn promise to me to visit me when you're older and I shall host a special Midnight Feast in your honour.'

She stood to her full height, ready to take leave and prepared to see what fruits her sown seeds would bear. Even at her tallest, she had to tilt her head back to look the young Lord Brandon in the face. Not so young, she corrected herself, for he was already older than her by a few years. Ladies married young, men married whenever they chose. She took in his broad shoulders, the strong lines on his face that made him strikingly attractive, the small eyes that glistened so handsomely. He was nice and she could see why Ashara was partial to him; Elia was sure that her friend would lead the man into a merry dance. No doubt both would enjoy it excessively but it held no appeal for her.

They took their leave and Elia once again appreciated how Lord Brandon's manners prevented his eyes from straying to the beauty beside her. It was a politeness that she had not come across often.

Ned insisted that he be called Ned and also insisted on walking them back to their encampment area, as if a sullen guard in white was not protection enough. Knowing Ser Jonathor and his views on Dorne, the additional protection would probably be needed, should there be an attack on her person. Lord Brandon insisted on Benjen staying with him, much to Ashara's relief and Elia's disappointment, though Elia accepted it with her usual grace.

Ashara and Elia conversed with little substance, Ned adding a monosyllabic or disyllabic word on occasion. Elia watched him with great interest from the corners of her eyes; his thoughtful brow, deep-set eyes that looked so damning and severe in such a youthful face. Though there was little hair, the childhood plump was long gone and without having the strong lines that made his brother so arresting, Ned's face was likable and pleasant, with its own hidden strength. Elia surprised herself by taking a liking to the green youth; there was an earnestness, an instinctive integrity and honesty that was refreshing in this part of the world.

'I apologise again, Your Majesty-'

'Elia.'

Ned ignored her interruption. 'I apologise greatly for ruining your dress. I will be happy to recompense in any way you desire-'

Her peal of laughter finally stopped his speech as his cheeks reddened even further. 'Dear Ned, if a princess is incapable of replacing a simple gown, she is not worthy to be a princess. Think nothing of it; I assure you it matters not to me. Thank you for guarding us but I am sure you have other matters to attend to, so I shall take up no more of your time.'

Stammering a farewell, he left.

'You like him,' Ashara's whisper sounded outraged.

'What of it?' Elia's eyes held mischief as she looked at her over her shoulder. 'Be glad you do not have competition for your paramour,' her eyes glittered like a black fire, her smile at once alluring and mysterious as. Ashara rolled her eyes, pouting and sighing, and just followed her.

Author's Note: Words cannot express how touched I am by the positive response to this story. I never expected to get even 5 reviews and to have exceeded that by so much is almost overwhelming.

A big thank you to Crebel, CherryBlossoms016, Delena.O, Namesarestupid95, Opuria, PurpleWitch25565, TheAntidisestablishmentarian, annabellecutie, and for favouriting the story.

A big thank you to Carnacki23, Donroth, Failed to De-anon, Firefly-class, HeartSpell16785, LuanaCiuffreda, Namesarestupid95, Opuria, Ramzes, SongsofSiren, Tatah Nunes, The Lady Lannister, annabellecutie, bananacupcakes, karenabrenes, lady fairy goth, meanas, slaterbug, sweetdreamszombie, tainted-angel21, tinymurph, tsundere-awai and for following this story.

In relation to the reviews, I'll be honest and admit that I have gone to them time and again. Less for inspiration – I actually know exactly how this segment of the story will end and the major events in it – more to get the warm, fuzzy, 'oh-my-goodness-I-didn't-expect-so-much-love' feeling.

Those with accounts, I will be answering your reviews directly rather than taking up space here. Those without accounts, could I request you to write your name or a pseudonym, to make it easier to identify my answers to you.

Hanna: I hope you get the chance to read this and enjoy it.

Guest ?1: I'm glad you enjoy it. There will definitely be bits that are a little more romanticised. And I am keeping mum on my plans for Eddard but I do hope you enjoy this chapter.

Delena: I'm so glad you love it. I don't think there are enough stories focussing on friendships rather than relationships alone, so I'm glad you like it. And I hope this chapter has added a bit more depth to the friendship between Ashara and Elia too.

Guest ?2: This story is definitely not abandoned. I can't promise on the speed of chapter uploads but I will endeavour to be much faster next time.

Guest ?3: I have to say, I do agree with you. Having said that, my interpretation of Romeo and Juliet is very much that of spoilt, self-absorbed teenagers really. I mean, not as a single point did they employ common sense?! Anyway, R&J aside, this story will definitely be Elia-centric but it will not be biased from purely her point of view. It will address things from Rhaegar's point of view and the Starks'points of view too. I hope you enjoy it.

Guest ?4: I hope you enjoy it. Alas, Jaime and Cersei will not be joining us for some time but they will definitely (both of them) have decidedly large roles when they do make an appearance. I am keeping mum on ships, be they requited or unrequited. It makes it so much more fun to read if you don't know the ending, surely?

That said, I sinerely hope you enjoyed the chapter but constructive criticism is cherished too, so please do tell me what you like and disliked about the story. And what your thoughts on the characterisations thus far are.