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An Oath to Keep

Chapter 4

For a long moment, Elia stared at him silently. Then, her face became blank all of a sudden. She turned her head aside and snuggled back against the pillow, as if he wasn't there at all, as if she couldn't bear to look at him.

Rhaegar hesitated. "Elia, I…"

Still, she wouldn't look at him.

What could he say to make her understand? How should he start? With explanations? With begging forgiveness?

"Elia, I came back," he said. "May the Mother bless you. You gave me a son and he's perfect."

She slowly turned back, her eyes not on him but the child in his arms, as if she had just now realized that he was holding it. She didn't smile as she had done when he had visited her after Rhaenys' birth.

"What a scoundrel you are," she said evenly. "How dare you behave as if he's a newborn? What are you thinking, that the potions have made me forgetful?"

She sat up, undid the laces of her shift and reached for the babe; for a moment, Rhaegar thought she would try to avoid touching his hands as she did so. She didn't. She took Aegon and placed him to the breast, staring down at him.

Rhaegar expected further questions, further accusations, but it seemed that for Elia, the entire world had shrunken to the soft silver head at her breast.

Moments passed, and then some. He felt relieved and even a bit stupid for expecting Elia to lash out at him. She didn't have it in her. She was too gentle.

"Aegon," he said. "What better name for a king?"

"Will you write him a song?"

Her voice still held that even hollowness but the words themselves were neutral.

"He has a song," he said. "He is the prince who was promised and his is the song of ice and fire."

Elia recoiled in horror. "There must be one more," Rhaegar tried to explain. "The dragon has three heads."

She laughed then, harsh and bitter, and derisive. Aegon lifted his head and whimpered. She made some soothing noises and soon, he calmed down and kept suckling.

Elia looked back at Rhaegar. "I suppose that's why you took her?" she asked. "How very convenient! Your new wife, so young, and strong, and fertile. And she just happened to be the little wolf-girl you humiliated me for?"

The scorn in her voice was scathing, although she didn't have strength to voice it more loudly. Rhaegar blushed. "Elia, it was never my intention to hurt you."

She stared at him, stunned. "Well, what was your intention then? Don't tell me you didn't think that your actions would hurt me. You can't be this stupid, now, can you?"

He stared back at her, equally stunned. He had been called many things throughout his life – a dreamer, a fighter, the hope of the Seven Kingdoms. He had been called romantic and melancholic. Too peace-loving. But never stupid. And this of Elia? Sweet Elia who never raised her voice even to her servants? Elia who took care to ask how her ill handmaidens were faring? Elia who saw good in everyone?

"Let me explain."

"Oh please, do keep your explanations for yourself," she snapped. "If you can do something about my fellow Dornishmen and women here, do it. Let them go home. They… they only came here to serve me. And I cannot protect them. They aren't the ones to blame that I cannot please you."

"Don't say that! There's nothing about you that displeases me."

Elia smiled bitterly. "Really? The wrong hair colour, the wrong eye colour, not healthy enough to satisfy you, not beautiful enough for you to crown, too stupid if you think you can explain this to me… need I go on?"

Dark blush had crept up her neck and pale cheeks. Her eyes were burning. Aegon whimpered again and she moved him to the other breast.

"Let them go, Rhaegar," she said softly, her anger abating for now. "Speak to your father. I don't care what you'd do. But let them out. I failed them already. I cannot fail them once again."

Shame burned all the way through Rhaegar's body, from head to toes. He had heard the Lord Commander's explanation as to what had happened but it had been easy to postpone for later, to keep fulfilling the prophecy in the Tower of Joy. Now the reality was here, in Elia's haunted expression. "No," he said. "Elia, you weren't the one to blame. Blame my father. Blame me, if you want to…"

"I want to," she said, her eyes flashing angrily. "Who do you think you are, speaking soothing words to me as if I were a child in need of comfort? How dare you patronize me as if I am broken? Jaline is disfigured, Rhaegar! Disfigured! They had her skin burnt away in ribbons! She can hardly walk, for her feet are burnt. She cannot feed herself, for the burns on her hands are too fresh. She doesn't even look human any more. And yes, it's your fault. It's also mine because I tried to make your father listen to reason when he started burning his Hands. He wasn't mad enough to lay a finger on me but Jaline was another matter. She paid for my 'insolence', as he called it. The Lord Commander himself took her out from amidst my ladies, may he burn in the seven hells. He's as mad as your father, just so you know. But then, you wouldn't know, now, would you? If you were sane, you wouldn't have thought for a moment that disappearing with the girl was a good idea."

Aegon stirred and Elia sighed, taking him away from her breast. "I am sorry, my sweet," she murmured. "I am not being very nice today, am I? Am I troubling you?"

She looked at Rhaegar. "Have him taken to the nursery," she said. "He can feel the tension here and it makes him anxious.

Silently, he took the child from her and carried him out.

In the antechamber, Arthur and Ashara talked in hushed tense voices. Judging by the broken look in Arthur's eyes, he stood accused as well.

Ashara turned to Rhaegar and took Aegon with a low, "Your Grace" before heading for the nursery. Arthur stood where he was, wearing an expression of wretched misery. Dejected, Rhaegar returned to the bedchamber where Elia sat upright, her eyes no more forgiving than before.

"I'll do my best to have them all released," he said softly. "And Lady Jaline will have the best husband that can be found. I swear it."

Elia laughed at this, ugly and maliciously. "You swear? Please don't. I've had enough of King's Landing vows. She deserves better…"

He started pacing but when he reached the far wall and turned back, he realized that she was not looking at him which would be the most natural reaction. Her hair fell down, hiding her face – a fragile shield but a shield nonetheless. He felt a pang in his heart. From now on, it would be forever like this. The warmth he so treasured in her was gone.

"Will you set me aside?" she asked, all of a sudden.

Stunned, he could only stare.

"Well?" Elia insisted. "Will you?"

"Elia, what sort of question is this?"

She shrugged. "A very reasonable one, I would think."

Had she really thought that he would…? That he'd disgrace her so? That he'd do this to their children, his heads of the dragon? Had everyone else thought it? He had only meant to make Lyanna his second wife, nothing more.

"No," he said.

"Good," Elia replied. "Because if you try such a thing…" For a moment, there was a savage flash in her eyes. "If you ever try such a thing, don't hold me responsible for the consequences, Rhaegar."

He recoiled. This was not Elia. Elia was gentle and kind, compassionate toward everybody. But she would not show him a hint of compassion.

"I have wronged you," he said suddenly, softly. "And for this, I am sorry. But the world needs…"

"I don't care what the world needs!" she spat. "I only know that my needs did not confront the needs of the world so very much. They were very simple, indeed: don't humiliate me. Don't disrespect me. Don't run away with another woman without sending word. Don't leave me and our child with this mad father of yours. And don't let my family and entourage pay the price for your folly."

To this, he was silent, for what could he say?

"Now, go," she said. "I don't want to see you for a moment longer than is strictly necessary."

His hands clenched into fists. Who did she think she was? No matter his faults, without him, she was nothing. How did she dare…

"You will accept me," he said coldly. "You will accept me in your chambers and in your bed each time I want to come. I am your husband. And we have children who bind us together."

Elia paled, the very idea of it sickening her, obviously. But she managed to get a hold of herself, her hands gripping the bedcover. "You silver fool," she said softly, all anger leaving her voice. Instead, there was something like… pity? "You presume that I was overjoyed at having you in my bed. You presume that it was you and only you I wanted to be bound to by having children with…"

He could not believe it. He had expected it to be bad but not this bad. And he had never expected that she'd be as brave as to express her disdain in such a way.

"Do you hate me so very much?" he asked.

"Does she? Your little wolf?" Elia replied, and he wanted to strike her, make her take the words back. How could she know? How could she know of Lyanna's screams and vows to hate him forever, and how she wished she had never left with him? How could she know that he had had to bodily restrain her from leaving the Tower of Joy that did not bring joy any more?

"I'll pray to the Seven to keep you alive," his wife said and Rhaegar could hear what she didn't bother to say aloud: she'd pray for his life because that would mean life to her children, too, and herself. With Aerys, they were no longer safe here.

"I'll have your people released," he assured her and left, for there was nothing that they could say to each other.

Outside, Ashara and Arthur waited silently. The young woman hurried to the bedchamber as soon as Rhaegar left. Arthur looked at him and asked, "Am I to accompany you, Your Grace?"

Rhaegar took in his friend's haunted expression, his sagged shoulders, the bleak despair in his eyes. "No," he said. "Stay here and guard my wife. From everyone," he added and emphasized. "Anyone."

Arthur nodded.

In the bedchamber, Ashara sat silently in her chair while Elia stared at the candle, the last few years of her life passing before her eyes, her hopes and dreams crumbling, finally. The intensity of her hatred for Rhaegar stunned her. She had never loved him – in the beginning, she had tolerated him, then she had grown fond of him, then she had become disappointed with him and now she was surprised to realize just how much she hated him. And still, there was some pity in her heart. She knew that he had meant well, that he was shocked at the way things had gone. But her pity was as feeble as candle next to the bright fire of her hatred. She had never thought herself capable of feeling such hatred.

All of a sudden, a thought came to her mind. With shame, she realized that she had been so wrapped in self-pity that she had forgotten what she had been planning for days and weeks, what really mattered.

"Bring Arthur to my solar," she said and Ashara hurried to obey.

Elia called for her handmaidens and donned the plainest gown she owned. With displeasure, she saw how loose fitting it had become. She was struggling to eat so she could nurse Aegon – but it was not enough to keep her healthy.

In her solar, she found only Arthur and Ashara – all the others had left. They don't want to have anything to do with Arthur, she thought. In truth, she'd rather not have anything to do with him, either, but now she needed him.

His face was ashen, his eyes sunken. He could not bring himself to look at her. He was ashamed. He should well be, Elia told herself. Still, it was good to see that beneath his Kingsguard vows that had made him accompany Rhaegar in his folly he was still Ser Arthur Dayne of Dorne. She could put that to use.

"My princess," he said and bowed. "I cannot express…"

"Cut it down, Arthur," she interjected with bluntness that was not typical of her. "What happened did happen and you cannot make amends. Now I need you to do something for me."

"Anything."

"My cousin Alynna is in King's Landing," Elia said and sat down, gesturing at him to take a seat near her. True, there were only Dornishmen and women in her chambers and Ashara stood guard at the door but the words should not leave this solar anyway, so they'd better be careful. "Alynna Gargalen. Her husband was killed in the Battle of Summerhall."

"I know," Arthur said and sat down next to her, reluctantly. Ashara had already told him how at hearing the news of her uncle and cousins' deaths, Elia had fainted. But she had not mentioned anything about Alynna Gargalen being at King's Landing. "Why should she be here? I can't believe Errol took her to battle."

She looked annoyed. "He didn't take her to battle," she said. "She was trying to get back to Dorne after visiting with her mother's family. The battle came across her, or the other way around. Obviously, she was caught and brought to Lord Grandison in his retreat. He recognized her and since it was already known that no Dornish could leave the Red Keep, he decided that the King should be delighted to have her as well. She managed to escape somewhere between the city gates and the Red Keep. They are still looking for her, on His Grace's explicit orders." Elia paused. "She's with child, you know."

Arthur was not a cowardly man but now he shuddered. A child who was already an orphan, a child of despair, a child that might not be born at all. He was suddenly remembered of all the babes his goodsister had not managed to birth alive.

"She's out there somewhere," Elia went on. "She must be very scared. And I am powerless to help her. We are all kept under close watch. You, on the other hand… You are the Sword of the Morning. You are Rhaegar's closest friend. I don't think anyone could try to stop you."

Would they? Arthur wondered.

"Find Alynna," Elia said. "Help her."

Arthur's first thought was to protest, to say that he could not possibly aid the lady if the King wanted her captured. And then, he felt sick. He had vowed to obey the King but he had also vowed to help the defenseless. Who was more defenseless than a widow or an expectant mother? Now, Alynna Gargalen was both.

The two vows clashed in his mind like swords. He closed his eyes, tried to resolve the conflict, and couldn't. Outside, a storm started raging in rhythm with the turmoil in his heart.

Who should he listen to? His King or his sense of justice? Which oath was the valid one – the one he had sworn in the throne room, or the one he had sworn at receiving his knighthood from the hands of Lord Gargalen, Lady Alynna's uncle?

"Help her," Elia said again, and there was a pleading note to her voice that shook him to the core, for as sickly and meek as she was, Elia Martell never pleaded.

Suddenly, he felt a hand touching his. "I am so sorry," Elia whispered.

"Yes," he sighed without opening his eyes. "So am I."

For a moment, they stayed silent. As odd as it was, he felt at peace now. He could say that she felt the pain in his heart, his regrets, his loneliness, his despair – and he didn't even try to hide them. Briefly, he wondered whether she rejoiced in them. After all, he had betrayed her. Surely that was how she took it?

"Do you hate me now?" he asked, as Rhaegar had.

Elia was surprised by the question. "No," she said. "Of course not."

And then she wondered why it should be obvious. She had hated him for a while, although she had known that he had only followed orders. But he was of Dorne, her childhood friend, her companion from those later days at Sunspear. She had felt resentful and angry, till this very day.

He opened his eyes and gave her that intent look that had stolen her breath once. "They all blame me, you know," he said. "For leaving you here. All of you. For going with him for the wolf girl, instead of protecting you from the King's whims. And they have the right of it."

"They do," she agreed, her hand still on his. She had shared those feelings until this very night. But she hated seeing him so crestfallen. She had hoped he'd have some regrets – but she had never wanted him to sink so low.

"I lost Dorne," he said simply, looking aside. "They made it clear – Lord Gargalen, and my brother, and now my sister. Dorne has forsaken me justly."

She clasped his hand more tightly. He looked at her once again. "And what about you?" he asked. "Elia of Dorne, do you forsake me?"

She did not hesitate. "No, I don't."

Now, it was him who grasped her hands, a flicker of joy mingling with regrets. "Maybe you should," he whispered, his voice hoarse.

Elia shook her head. "Never."

Outside, the storm kept howling. A curtain of heavy clouds hid the sky as they gave themselves to the kiss they had been longing for in years, one that no more tasted of blood oranges and hope but salt and regret.