No. The answer echoed in her head. No. No. No. His sullen defiance annoyed her. But mixed in with the anger and frustration was excitement that she didn't have to release him just yet.
She took another look at Rhaegar, the well-stretched muscles on his stomach twitching, his pale skin almost begging to be burned and broken. He flinched as she ran her hand over his sore back.
You asked for fire and blood, so fire and blood you shall get. The thought brought a smile to Elia's face. She had come to get answers, but that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy the process of getting them. Breaking the dragon with fire... that should teach you some humility. The longer she thought about it, the more she liked the idea.
Rhaegar was proud of his ability to withstand heat. He would always ask his servants to boil more water when he took a bath. But even the blood of the dragon had his limits, Elia knew, and this was as good a time as any to determine where exactly those limits lay.
She turned around abruptly. "You will tell me why."
There were more instruments hanging on the walls than she could count, each of them designed to inflict exquisite pain. Some were covered in dust, but others had been used more recently. Interesting. Who would have thought they still kept a confessor at Dragonstone. I'll have to ask Rhaegar about that some time.
She chose an iron rod and a pair of pliers, placing the rod in the brazier before picking up a glowing piece of coal with the pliers.
Rhaegar was twisting his body trying to see what she was doing, but strung up by his wrists, he could barely move, much less see what was going on behind him.
He let out a yelp and jumped up in surprise as she pressed the coal against the small of his back.
"I still remember when you were born." She stepped around him so she could see his face, pushing the ember into his navel before drawing it upward. He was biting his lips, his whole body suddenly tense.
"I must have been three, at court with my mother. You were always crying, but when I held you, you would quiet down. It was like magic, your mother said." She traced the muscles on his chest, lingering on his sensitive nipples, making him hiss.
She paused. "What? Is that too hot for you?"
It took him all his strength to shake his head.
"Oh, good." She returned her attention to his nipple, leaving a trail of fine black dust as she circled it. "Because I'd hate to see a dragon hurt by fire."
She got a fresh piece of burning ember from the brazier and started singeing the hair in his armpits, watching as his eyes began to water. "Ah, yes, I still remember those years when you were little. Once you could walk and talk, you would follow me around like a puppy, repeating everything I said. What happened, Rhaegar? When did you stop loving me?"
He pressed his lips together, grimacing as she explored the insides of his elbows, his underarms, and his neck, mapping his most sensitive spots.
When she held the coal to his temples, he began to struggle again. "Don't! Not the face, Elia! Everybody will see!"
That made her laugh. Ah, Rhaegar, I thought you were smarter than this. "You mean just like everybody could see you humiliate me at Harrenhal? Trust me, you're a dragon. These burns will heal. And you have worse things to worry about than what people might see and will think about you in the meantime."
"I'm sorry, Elia! I didn't mean to... Stop!" He tried to twist his head away from the ember searing his hairline.
"Last chance, Rhaegar. I've been gentle with you, but I won't be for much longer. Why did you have to make a fool of me?"
"I told you I was sorry, Elia. Just let this go."
She lowered the pliers. "Fine."
His relief was almost palpable – that was until he saw her reaching for the hot pokers. "Oh, gods, no, please don't-"
She pressed the glowing hot metal down onto his chest, holding it firmly in place, turning his pleas into shrieks. He was dancing on his toes, desperately trying to get away from the source of the pain. So beautiful, she thought. So perfect.
"Just as I always suspected. The blood of the dragon is not immune to fire after all," she said, a wry smile on her face as she pulled the rod away and placed it back in the fire. It had left a dark red mark on his skin. "Wishing you had scales yet?"
"You're enjoying this!" He cried.
He was right. For a moment, she felt almost guilty. I ought not enjoy torturing my husband. But he'd smirked when he crowned Lyanna. "You brought this on yourself, Rhaegar," she told him calmly. "Just tell me why, and this will stop."
His lips twisted upwards in a grotesque smile. "I don't regret it. I'd do it again. That's all you need to know."
Elia sighed. I suppose you're making this easy for me. She grabbed the hot pokers and spread his buttocks apart.
Pride and defiance turned to fear in his eyes. "Please, Elia, don't!"
But she had lost all patience with him. If there was one thing she had learned it was that he wasn't going to talk unless she raised the cost of staying silent for him. You brought this on yourself, she thought as the sizzling metal made contact with the delicate skin between his cheeks. Why can't you just tell me?