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Sunset and Shadows

Home

When the Prince's Pass disappeared behind them and they were left in the green and blue embrace of the heart of the Red Mountains, Elia looked at Ser Vorian. "Aren't you going to Starfall?" she asked. He looked worse than she had ever seen him. Aging, the battles, and the incredible tension of the last few months when he had been arguing for Elia's cause with the Master of Laws – the thrice damned Jon Connington – pressed him hard. He looked like a man who'd fall asleep the moment his feet touched firm ground.

The Dayne knight shook his head. "I want to know what's going on," he said. "And what will be going on. In time, not relying on ravens and words hidden in words."

"Perhaps you should," Arthur put in, exchanging a look with Elia. Unfortunately, his uncle noticed and gave the reaction they feared and disliked.

"If I want to hear your opinion, lad, rest assured that I'll ask you," Vorian snapped but fortunately decided against pressing the matter further.

Elia stared forward and felt relief when Arthur stormed forward and Vorian kept his sand steed next to her litter. In their group of few who were related by blood or shared past, silence had been an uncomfortable companion ever since they had left the stink of King's Landing behind. Even the most innocent exchange could and did lead to unpleasant clashes.

Vorian sighed and shook his head. "I am sorry," he apologized. "My nerves aren't what they used to be." He looked at Rhaenys and reached out. "Do you want to travel with me?" he asked. Until now, she had always welcomed the chance to have a ride on his stallion but now, she hesitated and pressed against her mother. Elia who had hoped that she could have only one fussy child to deal for a while closed her eyes and resigned to her fate.

The travel to Sunspear was a long one. They moved slowly because either Elia or the children often got unwell with hotness and shaking. The fact that they didn't stop at any castles was not a great help but Elia would not change her mind. One such was enough – one stay, one night, one supper where tensions ran high, the desire for revenge was discernible, and she was treated like a widow, so very courteously, although she did not have the luck to be one. No matter how her ladies begged her, she did not relent, although she wondered if they had already started to regret their decision to come with her. Her companions at Dragonstone had been divided into three groups: women she had brought over from Dorne upon her wedding, political appointments made for Rhaegar's benefit, and daughters of impoverished highborn families who simply could not afford dowries and had appealed for her to take the girls. The political appointments had stayed behind to serve Rhaegar's new queen and Elia had been ridiculously touched when the huge part of the third group had chosen to join her in her new life.

"Is that Sunspear, Princess?" Coral Hightide now asked, her rosy face alight with expectation.

"It is, indeed, Coral," Elia confirmed, her heart soaring at the sight of the towers, the feeling of being home. It was so exhilarating that she barely noticed the disappointment of the girls who had expected something more like King's Landing or at least Dragonstone.

A few leagues from Sunspear, a party came to meet them and some of the women drew back, startled at the sight of the huge man with the monstrously huge longaxe. Elia smiled, delighted.

"Hotah," she said. After the initial shock, she had grown quite appreciative of the silent Norvosi who had arrived with Mellario eight years ago.

He bowed and something in the way his face relaxed slightly told her that he was relieved to see her here safely. What had everyone expected, that Rhaegar would send Faceless men to kill her on the way? Or that she would simply die of despair?

"The Prince sent me to accompany you to the Old Palace," he announced and Elia's smile died. Only now did she have a good look at his men. Some of them she knew, they had served in her mother's guard. That could only mean that the old Captain Malek she had known from her childhood was no longer.

Silently, she nodded and gestured at her people to keep going. When Hotah asked her to have the curtains drawn, she did not protest and soon was too glad to be ensconced inside where she listened with her heart drumming the roar of the crowds. Never before had she heard anything else but cheers of acclaim aimed at her mother and father, at herself, at her brothers, yet now among the shouts for vengeance against the Iron Throne and raising spears there were quite a few voices against the Targaryens as a whole and against Doran's decision to send people to the Trident, after all. Those who had died had had wives and children, people who had loved them and now cursed Doran's actions and claimed that Dorne should not suffer any Targaryens here. Thankfully, they were not near numerous enough, yet Elia clutched the children to her and counted the moments until the gradual fading of the shouting told her that they were now within the castle walls.

The first person she encountered was her half-sister Loreza Sand. Loreza Gargalen. Immaculately dressed, there was nonetheless something off about her as she embraced Elia and whispered that she was so glad Elia was here safely. She smiled at Rhaenys but the little girl looked at her with distrust and hid behind her mother. And when Loreza's eyes fell on Aegon, the agony on her face was unmistakable. Her own babe would have been his age, had he not died at birth. A child conceived against her wishes but her child nonetheless. Elia clasped her hand and squeezed it.

"Where is everyone?" she asked. She was relieved that there'd be no official welcome but her father? Oberyn?

Loreza shrugged. "I have no idea," she said indifferently. "I suggest that you ask him," she added, nodding at Hotah who followed them, somewhat to Elia's surprise. "He tends to know everything. He might even talk. Unless Doran has forbidden him to."

Her tone was so inimical that Elia could only blink. And then she realized, a little too late, that Loreza was drunk, terribly drunk, so drunk that the seeming control she had over her demeanor would fall apart any minute.

"Come on," their father's voice said from a door in the family wing, startling them both. "Let's go to Elia's chambers."

Loreza glared at him, spun back and stalked away, enraged. Hotah trailed her.

"What's going on?" Elia asked, amazed, and entered

"She's beyond reason," Alric Gargalen replied wearily. "She's mad with grief. Come here."

He took her in his arms and Elia was startled to feel just how tight his embrace was. His relief knew no limits. But when they broke apart, Elia became more worried. Over the course of three years and a half, her father had aged beyond belief but the change in his expression was worse. There was no fire in his eyes, no trace of the liveliness that had shone even in his darkest hours. He seemed too exhausted for the rage against Rhaegar that she had expected.

"I'm so happy to see the three of you here safely," Alric said and his eyes became even softer as they took the children in; horrified, Elia realized that he looked even pleased by their arrival, by having the chance to have them near. What has befallen him? She looked at Vorian and saw her own dismay writ on his face.

"Where is Doran?" she asked. "Where is Oberyn?"

Alric didn't answer immediately. Instead, his gaze was drawn to the turn of the hall where two big curious eyes peeked from. "Arianne," he said and smiled. "Come here, child. Come and meet your aunt."

The little girl came forward hesitantly and smiled at Vorian whom she clearly had seen before; in answer, he bowed officially. Arianne gave Elia a fast look and then whispered something to her grandfather.

Alric shook his head. "No," he said. "I don't know when your father is coming back."

"But he promised!" Arianne insisted, louder now. "He said he'd be back before noon and he never lies. I thought it was him when I heard someone arrive…"

"He'll be back before you know it," Alric promised. "And in a few days, we'll be leaving for the Water Gardens. Are you coming with us? Your mother will be glad to see you."

Elia missed her niece's reply because the part about the Water Gardens had alarmed her even more. After the insult Rhaegar had done her and the children, her father's answer was to… go to the Water Gardens and let Doran deal with the problem without meddling? By the Mother! Had his mind grown feeble? Her fear for him pushed away the devastation of Rhaegar's betrayal, the first thing to have done so since Lyanna Stark's abduction.

She woke up when it was already dark. She was starving, so starving that she could even show up at the evening feast and withstand the curious looks, the sympathy, and the rage on her behalf if she had to. But fortunately, she didn't. Coral arrived almost immediately, followed by a maidservant Elia did not know. On the tray, there were foods that she remembered from childhood and some that she had gotten accustomed to at Dragonstone.

Her surprise must have shown because Coral smiled and said, "The Prince your brother asked what you liked to eat before, Princess. He said you might have gotten unused to Dornish food now. I thought it was very considerate of him."

"Right," Elia agreed between two mouthfuls. "Which brother?" she asked and scolded herself for the slight disappointment she felt when she was told that it had been Doran.

"The feast is going on," Coral went on, eager to introduce her to everything that was happening. "But Princess Arianne threw a fit when she saw that her father wasn't there so that huge captain had to carry her out… she isn't scared of him at all, can you believe it?"

Elia could but she was not about to say so. Instead, she forced herself to listen to the girl's chattering, pleased that Coral had found something like a niche for herself so soon after their arrival; but as soon as good manners would allow, she sent her away, checked on the children who were sleeping soundly in small beds next to hers and donned a silken robe with a sigh of delight. It felt so nice and loose! She had missed those so!

Coral's news had let her know that when Doran didn't attend the evening feast, he usually worked in his study, so that was where she went now. Her legs trembled a little after such a long time in her litter and for a while, she stood near the door to regain control over her limbs. The scene in front of her made her smile despite the sharp pain brought out by the realization that it was no longer her mother's study, that in Arianne's place, Doran sat now, engulfed in a bunch of parchments, a quill in his hand. On the carpet, not far away from him, little Arianne was playing with a bunch of parchments of her own, probably given by him; amused, Elia saw that the girl was imitating her father, his frown, the pressing of his lips and the swift running of his quill along the parchment. From time to time, Arianne would crawl to him and butt him with her head; he would push her away absent-mindedly, as he would have chased away a pup, and she would return to her parchments, pleased to no end.

Elia stood and watched them, feeling how a part of the ice cube crushing her heart melted. But when Arianne's next assault was accompanied by a fierce growl and Doran asked, "What are you today, a cat?", she couldn't help it: she laughed.

Both Arianne and Doran turned to her; Arianne glared and went to sulk into a corner; Doran quickly rose and came to Elia, took her face between his palms, gave her one of those looks that long ago, when she had been Arianne's age, had made her think he could see into her head. Clearly assured that she was fine, he sighed and drew her near. And then the rest of the ice cube melted away, pouring out in the tears that she had contained since the very beginning of the horror: when she had been told that Rhaegar had disappeared with his wolf girl, when she had been seized from her chambers and dragged to King's Landing to soothe Aerys' fears, when she, along with everyone else, watched him burning people in the hall that she was so glad she'd never see again, when, right before Rhaegar left for the Trident, he told her, eyes cast down, that she would never be his queen and their children would be no more than bastards, when she thought of so many of her kin who had died so Rhaegar could satisfy his lust for prophecy and grey eyes, when she had left King's Landing, when Rhaenys asked why her father hadn't joined them… Finally, she could afford the luxury to cry.

When she had cried herself dry, the candles were already burning out. Doran moistened a piece of fabric in a small bown and wiped her face. Elia sighed and took a seat on the couch. "Don't replace them," she said unnecessarily since it wasn't what he was doing anyway.

He took a seat next to her and took her hands in his own.

"I suppose I am being ungrateful," Elia said after a while. "At least we're alive. I saw so many others dying in horrifying ways…"

"Not ungrateful at all."

"Let her have him," Elia said with sudden anger. "I wish her all the happiness marriage with him gave me. She's in for a big surprise. Rhaegar doesn't know how to be happy."

And do you? Doran was scared of the answer, so he didn't ask. His fear that the horror she had been through had changed her as it had everyone else gripped and choked him.

"At least we're home," she said after a while, more calmly.

For all the good it'll do you, Doran thought and as if she had read his thoughts, Elia asked, "What's going on, Doran? We haven't been in touch for a long time and I find so many changes here. Father sounded… he looked like a common smallfolk pleased to have his daughter and grandchildren close. Loreza was drunk and I don't remember her ever having undiluted wine. She seems to hate Hotah, of all people. Mellario is in the Water Gardens… What's going on?"

"What not," Doran replied. "You're right about Father. He spends most of his time in the Water Gardens and he refuses to take interest in anything other than his grandchildren. Mother's death was only the beginning of everything that went wrong for him… He's not the same person, Elia. He's changed."

Elia wetted her lips, suddenly terrified that he'd tell her the truth about the rest of her observations. To prevent it, she asked, "Is there someone in this family who has kept their head in all of this and can be relied upon?"

"Yes. Oberyn," Doran replied and she stared at him aghast. Oberyn, the beacon of normalcy? Had they really become this desperate? "He's away to bring us another one," he went on and Elia blinked.

"I do not follow you."

"Another niece," Doran elucidated. "This one is half-Volantene. Nymeria, she's named. It looks like her mother is getting wed and her family no longer wishes to take care of the child."

The family? Or the mother? Elia wondered bitterly.

"Well, we'll welcome her, of course," she said weakly. She had already heard about the whore's whelp from Oldtown and the little girl of the sea captain. And of course, she knew Tyene who had been brought to them when she and Arianne had been still in their cradles.

By the Seven, her own children had been welcomed in the exact same way Oberyn's girls had been, would be. They, who had been meant to rule the Seven Kingdoms… Great fatigue fell upon her. She closed her eyes. That was the truth: she and her children were no one, just as dependent on Doran's mercy as Oberyn and his girls were. With the distinction that Oberyn could do something useful for Dorne, of course…

Not letting her out of his sight, Doran saw the change in her face. Despite her closeness to Oberyn, it was Doran who she resembled more in mindset, so he had no trouble reading her thoughts. Do not be afraid, your son will be king and his good for nothing father and the she-wolf will pay for what they did to you, he wanted to say but he recognized that in this state, she could not bear to think of plans and vengeance, and hope of birthrights. That, least of all.

But he didn't dare give her time to dwell on her downfall either.

"I'll leave that to you," he said lightly. "I'm sure you'll do a great job."

Elia opened her eyes and looked at him suspiciously. "What are you talking about?"

He handed her a goblet of water and poured another for himself. He wasn't quick to answer. "I'm placing you in charge of organizing the events on the highest level in the household of the Old Palace and the Water Gardens, from time to time. Oh, and running the household. The Seven see that Mellario isn't very good at that… when she bothers to show up, that's it," he added, with a touch of bitterness. "You can start tomorrow."

"I was thinking of going to the Water Gardens," Elia declared.

"So have I," Doran agreed. "Alas, I haven't done my share of work to go there for a rest. And you haven't even started. Put your charm and organizing abilities to good use, and we can find ourselves on our way there before Oberyn returns with the newest addition to the family."

Charm. Organizing abilities. Meeting people. People who would know. People who would pity her. Elia stared at her brother, wondering if this was some kind of cruel jape.

It wasn't.

She rose. "No," she stated simply, without bothering to raise her voice. "Out of question. I am not doing this."

"I am sorry but you are."

"Why?" Elia burst out. "What the hell do you need me for?"

For rebuilding your confidence. For making people see you for what you are. For not hiding away in the Water Gardens because the longer you hide away, the harder it'll be to emerge back.

"For bringing this palace back to normal," Doran said instead, because this, too, was true – and too an important truth.

"With charm and organizing abilities?" Elia mocked. Those hadn't been enough to make Dragonstone a normal place, had they? People had come and gone, taking away the memory of the charming, elegant, hospitable and oh so kind queen in waiting – but that hadn't gotten her a throne. Just repudiation and shame. "Don't you have a wife and a castellan for that? Are you so desperate that you need my charm? And since when has charm been needed for anything of note?"

"Since the beginning of time," Doran snapped back. "But those who have been born with it never notice that, do you? Only those who lack it, like me, can appreciate it. Listen, I cannot force you to take Loreza's place…"

"Loreza's?" Elia interrupted and Doran waved an impatient hand.

"Loreza's, of course! Mellario won't be fit for the role in a hundred years. She does have the charm but she has no grasp of politics and no idea how to rule a Dornish household. Basically, it was Loreza doing the work and Mellario playing hostess. It worked until Loreza lost herself in despair. And even if she hadn't, she wouldn't help me. She blames me for her sorrow… but let's leave that for another time, shall we? For now, think of that: charm is a talent. Drawing people to you is a gift. And it takes lots of brains to know how and when to tell something without offending any of the people who'd gladly leap at each other's throats. To make them want to come back and think favourably of us. You know as well as I do that Mother planned her receptions as carefully as she did her politics – and it wasn't because she enjoyed them so much. It's a job like any other, it isn't for everyone and I happen to think you excel at it. I hate to see people losing their time with no better reason than someone else's infatuation with a pair of wild eyes or whatever drew Rhaegar to that girl."

Elia swallowed, wildly and unreasonably scared. She knew he wouldn't hurt her, of course she did, but both she and Oberyn got stunned by the moments they managed to provoke Doran to anger, simply because it almost never happened.

Still, it wasn't his anger that prompted her to give his demand some serious consideration. It was the general mood of unhappiness, of desperate sorrow that marred the home of her childhood. No one was the person she had left anymore. Smiles didn't seem to come easily – they didn't come at all… People blamed Doran for making the only decision he could have done at the time – helping Rhaegar without knowing what her husband's intentions about her were. His relationship with Mellario seemed to be deteriorating. She didn't need to think hard of why he would keep Arianne here instead of send her to the more cheerful Water Gardens .

"Fine," she finally said. "I'll give it a try."

He gave her one of his rare smiles. "Thank you," he said simply. "And do me another favour, would you?"

"What is it?"

"Before you start, give yourself a good look in your looking glass and stop presenting yourself as the cast aside wife of a man who cannot hold a candle to you."

Elia burst out laughing, so hard that Arianne looked away from the corner where she was playing with her newest friend – a fluffy monkey Oberyn had brought her from Essos a year ago. Oh that was so typical of Doran. Never witty as Oberyn, he looked genuinely puzzled when he said things that were funny beyond belief. Because he didn't know they were.

Well, in this case he couldn't know anyway.

"Oh yes," she agreed. "Soon, Rhaegar Targaryen will know just how little he can hold a candle to me."

Doran didn't understand what she was talking about, of course. How could he? But he believed her immediately anyway – another thing that she loved about him. "Unbowed, unbent, unbroken?" he said.

"Indeed," Elia agreed and squeezed him in an impulsive hug.

Despair, fear, and humiliation gave a temporary retreat.

Finally, for the first time since crossing the Prince's Pass, she felt that she was home.