Warnings: Mentions of blood and violence; not graphic but could be disturbing.
Three
Detective Randyll Tarly is as cold-eyed and disapproving as ever as he escorts them to an interrogation room where the boxes containing the physical evidence from Elia's case has been placed.
Jaime and Brienne don rubber gloves even though the clothes and sheets and blankets are all still tightly sealed in their separate evidence bags and will remain that way. Even so, the sight of these remnants of a long ago crime still has an impact: Brienne's hand shakes as she picks up the bag with Elia's torn and bloodstained underwear as, for a moment, she can see what happened, she can feel it, and her fingers clench as she fights a sudden urge to weep for the woman whose life has been reduced to a case number and a pile of plastic bags.
Brienne takes a deep breath and glances at Jaime and sees his face is as grey as hers feels as he stares down at a bag of bloodsoaked sheets. Something softens inside her at the expression on his face.
Randyll's laugh is harsh and mocking. "Is this the first time you've seen real physical evidence in a murder case?"
Brienne puts down the bag she's holding and turns to Tarly with sudden, surprising empathy for the first-hand horrors he deals with every day.
"Yes," she says, her voice husky, "it's the first time." She clears her throat. "Have these ever been sent for DNA testing?"
Tarly scowls. "No," he snaps, "not yet."
"What do we have to do to make that happen?" Jaime asks.
"We have to officially reopen the case." Tarly shifts uncomfortably beneath their level stare and raised eyebrows. "Which we have now done, to a certain extent," he grudgingly admits. "I'll be sending these to the lab once we're finished here. It may take longer for the results since the case is so cold; we do have active cases we might actually be able to solve."
"So long as the testing gets done," Brienne murmurs and turns her attention to the other evidence that's in the boxes.
She picks up a daytimer while Jaime opens a wall calendar and they silently skim through the pages. For the most part, the daytimer is innocuous—the day-to-day appointments and activities of a wife of a movie star—but every now and then...
"Jaime," she says and his shoulder brushes her as she shows him the book. They both look up at Randyll with puzzled frowns.
"You've found what we believe are a person's initials?" Tarly says.
Brienne nods, scowling back down at the daytimer in her hand. Scattered on various pages, on various dates, are the letters S, C, and G, sometimes together, sometimes separately, sometimes repeated, sometimes not, sometimes with question marks, sometimes not.
"What's the theory?" Jaime asks.
Tarly shrugs. "Everything from lovers she might have had, friends, her favourite restaurants, or mayhaps it's a reference to her health or mood or what she ate on those particular days. No one we've spoken to has been able to determine a pattern or meaning."
Jaime and Brienne glance through the notebooks but they're mostly blank except for lists of groceries and tasks to be done. Brienne's heart suddenly twists again because it's all so...ordinary, especially for a woman living such an extraordinary life and who ended up dead in such a brutal way.
Jaime closes the last notebook. "If we can have copies of these," he says, his gesture encompassing the daytimers, calendars and notebooks, "we'd appreciate it."
Tarly rolls his eyes even as he nods and Brienne grudgingly admits the man at least knows enough to follow his Chief's orders.
*/*/*/*/*
Bronna pounces the moment they walk into the office.
"Ashara Dayne is in the boardroom," she hisses. "She's been here for over an hour. I told her I didn't know when you'd be back but she insisted on waiting."
Even Brienne recognizes the name: a Dornish socialite, the darling—and often the target—of tabloids since she burst on the scene thirty years before.
Jaime frowns. "Does she want to hire us?"
Bronna shakes her head. "She says she's here because of Elia Martell."
*/*/*/*/*
At just shy of fifty, Ashara Dayne is still one of the most beautiful women in the world. Her hair may now be blackened by dye instead of nature, but her face is as striking as ever and her violet eyes have lost none of their beauty.
She shakes their hands, and when they're all seated at the table, she says, "I've heard you're investigating Elia's murder."
Brienne says, "Do you mind telling us who told you?"
"Normally I would say I must protect my sources, but in this case I think you'll realize who it is soon enough. My brother, Arthur, is a member of Rhaegar's Valyrian Company." Her smile is faint. "He is not well pleased that the case is being—as he says—stirred up all over again."
She takes in Brienne's expression at that statement and laughs, a husky sound as beautiful as she is. "You have to forgive Arthur; he's been too long employed by one Targaryen or another, and sooner or later you either get sucked in to enabling their behaviour or you go as mad as they are...or mayhaps both."
"And where did Elia end up?" Jaime asks.
Ashara's smile is both bitter and sad. "Elia, I now think, was edging towards madness." She stares off into the distance. "Not that I believed that at the time but..." She pauses, frowning, then shakes her head. "I'm sorry; I'm fucking this all up, aren't I?"
"You're doing fine," Brienne says. "Let's start at the beginning: why are you here today?"
"Because I feel responsible."
Jaime and Brienne exchange another lightning glance.
"Responsible in what way?" Jaime asks.
"I'm the one who introduced Rhaegar to Lyanna. We were all at the Harrenhal Festival—you've heard of it?"
Jaime's grin is genuinely amused. "The largest and greatest rock concert in history? Of course I've heard of it! Who hasn't? You were there?"
Ashara's smile is fond as she nods. "We didn't know it was history-making at the time, of course. I didn't think anything we did that weekend was going to be history-making! Robert Baratheon was headlining, of course, the closing act of the weekend, and in the meantime, we were all there on the grounds of Harrenhal, in the tents and the mud, listening to the best rock musicians of the time—legends, all, now—and we spent our time drinking and drugging and dancing and fucking like the young, rebellious children we were."
Brienne frowns. "Even Elia?"
"Even Elia, although it was more...Elia's health was always delicate and by the time we were at Harrenhal, she'd already suffered two miscarriages in three years. Whatever love that had been keeping her with Rhaegar was rapidly withering and then..." She shakes her head, staring off into the distance. "When we were at Harrenhal, I met Brandon Stark. He was handsome and witty and charming and could fuck all night. I was smitten...at least for the weekend. At some point, when we needed a breather, we decided to go find Elia and Rhaegar. We found Brandon's brother, Ned, and his sister, Lyanna, on the way so we dragged them along. Robert had fucked off with several groupies, Lyanna was in no mood to be forgiving, and Rhaegar took one look and became as infatuated with another person as he's capable of being. They disappeared together about an hour after they met and we didn't see them again until a couple of days after the festival ended."
Brienne scowls. "And nobody worried about them?"
"Everybody knew what they were doing; we just didn't know where."
"And how did Elia react?"
Ashara pauses then says, "Elia was always difficult to read. She didn't seem to mind Rhaegar had deserted her for another woman but then, she also disappeared a time or two and returned looking smugly satisfied." She glances at Brienne's face and chuckles. "Like I said, it was a different time, and Harrenhal was all about sex and drugs and rock and roll. Although how Ned Stark managed in that environment is anyone's guess!" She lifts her shoulders in a careless shrug. "I was busy most of the time with Brandon so I don't know for certain everything Elia did. What I do know is she was in good spirits when the weekend was over and we returned to King's Landing. Or mayhaps it's because we left Rhaegar to find his own damn way home."
She frowns. "Mayhaps she wouldn't have been quite so cheerful if she knew how obsessed Rhaegar would become with Lyanna."
"Obsessed?" Brienne asks, practically pouncing on the word.
"After Harrenhal, neither of them made much effort to hide their affair, at least not from Elia. I'm assuming Lyanna was a bit more circumspect with Robert; even then, Big Bobby B was notorious for his temper. Why Lyanna's brothers still consider Robert one of their closest friends..." Ashara shakes her head in disgust. "Regardless, Rhaegar spent every moment he could with Lyanna."
"And you know this...?"
"Elia told me. Plus I was still seeing Brandon—he really was very good—and he was not pleased with Lyanna's behaviour either. Although he was torn, because Robert was being such a slut even by the standards of the time and he was publicly humiliating Lyanna even more than Rhaegar was humiliating Elia." Ashara grimaces. "It was an ugly, tense time...but I never expected it to end the way it did."
"And Elia just...didn't say anything?"
"Oh, she said many things, especially when something particularly salacious hit the tabloid press, but strangely, she seemed...grateful more than anything that Lyanna was taking Rhaegar off her hands. Elia always seemed happy enough. In fact, I suspected she was having an affair of her own, although she always laughed it off and never admitted to anything."
Ashara shakes her head, an expression of nostalgic yearning on her face. "It was a different time," she murmurs, "and we were all so young; painfully young and still immortal...and yet…a year after Harrenhal, Elia was dead and Lyanna missing..."
She stares off into space for a long moment then gives a determined shake of her head. "Anyway, all of this is why I've never truly thought Rhaegar did it. Elia wasn't making waves and even if they divorced, it's not like she needed Targaryen money. She was a Martell, for the gods' sakes! No, I always just assumed it was a secret lover...but mayhaps the Targaryen madness is contagious and affected her more than I knew."
"What makes you say that?" Jaime asks with a frown.
"Elia had a writing desk, ancient and beautiful and made of oak. She bequeathed it to me in her will because I had always admired it, and in her will, she said she hoped the desk would guard my secrets as closely as it had guarded hers. I put it in a place of honor but for years—decades, really—I couldn't bring myself to actually sit at it. It wasn't until the twentieth anniversary of her death that I finally forced myself to use it."
Jaime and Brienne exchange a puzzled glance and Ashara chuckles although there's no humor in it.
"I'm sorry; I've always been an overly dramatic soul. I'm just trying to explain why—about three years ago, I discovered what Elia meant about the desk 'guarding secrets'. It has hidden compartments, the first of which I discovered by pure accident. Inside those compartments were these."
She reaches down beside her chair, and straightens again with five coil-bound notebooks in her hands. She pushes them across to Jaime and Brienne.
Brienne and Jaime each open one then Brienne blinks as she tries to make sense of the writing inside.
She blinks again and finally understands she's staring at a solid wall of random letters. She flips pages to find more of the same until what's written on the page turns to numbers then letters then numbers again. She glances over Jaime's shoulder and sees his notebook looks like hers.
"They're all the same," Ashara says. "Filled from front to back with...gibberish, as far as I can tell. Elia always enjoyed puzzles and word games, but why keep these hidden if that's all these were about?" She shakes her head. "I don't know if these are just the scribbles of a woman playing with puzzles, or the ravings of a woman driven mad by her psychopathic father-in-law and her cheating husband."
"Why didn't you take these to the police when you discovered them?" Jaime asks.
"I did. The detective I spoke with told me he couldn't see how they would be relevant to the case and to do anything I wanted with them. I couldn't bring myself to throw them away; Elia herself—or her memory, at least—has already been thrown away and forgotten. I just couldn't bring myself to destroy some of the last pieces of her I had left, even if I couldn't understand the meaning of them. When I heard you were investigating, I decided I had to bring them here and show you. I don't know if they're important but...I would never forgive myself if I didn't do everything I could to help."
Brienne nods as she slowly flips through another notebook. "You did the right thing," she murmurs. "Until we understand what these are, we have no way of knowing their importance, if any." She looks over to her. "Thank you for bringing these to us and for telling us about Elia."
Ashara nods and stands. "Anything I can do to help," she says. "I miss Elia very much."
They escort Ashara to the door of the agency where she turns and says, "Oh, I should also warn you that Oberyn Martell is likely on his way and will want to talk with you as soon as possible."
"Oberyn Martell?" Jaime says, alarmed. "The Viper?"
"If you think they didn't know you were investigating Elia's murder from the moment you agreed, then you don't know the Martell family at all. Say what you will about their family...business, no one can deny that Doran and Oberyn adore their sister. They have not forgotten, and they sure as fuck will never forgive whoever did this. If you don't want another murder on your hands, try to have the guilty party in custody before they're told who it is. It won't save the guilty man's life, but he'll at least have a few days to get his affairs in order." Her lips twist. "It'll still be more mercy than the bastard showed Elia."
*/*/*/*/*
Oberyn Martell calls the next day and invites them for drinks at his hotel.
"We've agreed to have drinks with the man known as the Viper," Jaime grumbles in the car. "We're clearly as insane as any Targaryen."
*/*/*/*/*
Oberyn Martell is a handsome man in his late forties, his lustrous black hair liberally streaked with silver. He oozes a lusty sensuality that manages to reduce Brienne to a blushing, stammering puddle of sexually frustrated goo within ten minutes. Jaime rolls his eyes as he watches her and turns up his own charm. The resulting clash of charisma ups Brienne's sexual frustration while at the same time makes her heartily grateful Bronna is back at the office, keying in the seemingly endless blocks of text from Elia's notebooks.
"This is all very entertaining," Brienne finally says, pulling herself together with an effort, "but I'm sure you didn't call us here simply to trade witticisms with Jaime all afternoon."
Oberyn's smile is pure charm. "Unfortunately, no, although mayhaps next time."
Jaime's smile is equally charming. "Mayhaps," he says smoothly.
Oberyn sobers and says, "I, as you no doubt already suspect, called you here to discuss my sister Elia's murder. I know you're investigating."
Jaime and Brienne exchange a glance then nod.
"The police have always assumed Elia was killed because she stood in the way of her husband's desire for a new life and a new wife," Oberyn says, "and mayhaps that's true. The only reason Rhaegar Targaryen has not yet met with an unfortunate accident is because my sweet brother has the same twisted sense of honor as our sweet sister, which dictates they, as much as possible, do not harm innocents."
"You run drugs in and out of King's Landing," Jaime says flatly. "Your family owns most of the brothels in Westeros and that's not even getting into the real estate and investment scams. This 'protection of innocents' is superficial at best."
Oberyn's smile is slow and genuinely amused. "Do you think I'd be sitting here with you now if there was any way to prove any of your allegations?" His smile fades. "Be that as it may, times have changed. We are, whether you believe me or not, a family who owns and operates a vast network of legitimate businesses, and before we were rich, we were just like everyone else: we were simply trying to make a living."
Jaime's skeptical expression doesn't ease and Oberyn laughs.
"It's true we did not always play by the rules and that's one of the reasons why I've always been hesitant to point the finger of blame at Rhaegar or Lyanna. Elia might have been killed for purely personal reasons, true, but given her role in the family business, I'm afraid even I need more concrete evidence before I can confidently tell my brother who murdered our Elia and took her from us far too soon."
Brienne frowns. "What role in the family business?"
"We used to call Elia the Lady Commander of our business interests here in King's Landing and beyond."
Brienne's mouth slowly sags open.
Jaime looks just as shocked as he says, "You're telling us that Elia Martell Targaryen, the delicate, downtrodden wife of Rhaegar Targaryen, was actually running your criminal enterprises in King's Landing?"
"Who said they were criminal? Although I suppose if there were criminal activities and if they were to come to light now, the statute of limitations would have run its course for most of them."
"Elia?" Brienne sputters, ignoring him. "Sweet, biddable Elia, who didn't even blink an eye when Rhaegar publicly humiliated her with his affair with Lyanna?"
Oberyn shrugs. "Rhaegar might have actually felt a true emotion about Elia if he knew she mainly married him so she could more easily launder our money through him and his family…if we were doing anything that required such a thing. Although I believe she might have actually been rather fond of him, once."
He smiles.
"But Elia was not simply our Lady Commander in King's Landing; her mission was to expand our business interests in the territory north of Dorne and south of the Neck." Oberyn frowns. "We did quite well under her leadership, but at the time of her murder, there were unknown rivals beginning to...hmm...infringe upon our market share, you might say. After her death, well, a number of rival business interests rushed in to fill the vacuum left behind. We're still not near as strong in King's Landing as we once were."
Jaime frowns. "You're suggesting Elia was murdered because she was running the Martell family business outside of Dorne?"
Oberyn shrugs gracefully. "Mayhaps; mayhaps not. That's the issue: we just don't know. At the time, of course, it crossed our minds, but Elia was so very good at flying below the radar—a skill she learned that from our sweet mother. Even when she was alive, people outside of Dorne were hard-pressed to remember my mother's name yet she was one of the most powerful people of her day."
He grimaces and waves his hand.
"All of that just to say that, at the time, it seemed far more likely that the police were right and Rhaegar was behind it. However, as the years have gone by and the first heat of rage has cooled, well...we did lose business after Elia's death. Someone profited because she was no longer doing her job, and while slim, it's a possibility that should no longer be ignored."
Jaime glances at Brienne before he nods.
"We'll look into it," he says.
Oberyn glances from Jaime to Brienne and back again, his eyes sharp. "Believe me when I tell you that I have not told you all this because I hope to destroy our business rivals. We do quite well and the business we lost twenty-six years ago does not concern me near as much as the loss of my sweet sister." He leans forward, eyes glittering, teeth bared in a caricature of a smile. "I want to know who murdered her! Elia has been too long forgotten, too long ignored, and no matter who did this to her, I will see she receives justice. One way or another."
*/*/*/*/*