She had known his hair had been coloured to better hide him, but even with the warning Harry had given her, seeing Viserys alive and in Dorne had nearly knocked the breath out of her.
He almost looks like his father, she thought, as she imagined Aerys might have looked had he not fallen to madness and let himself go. Not an exact copy, but enough that it made her pause. That was where the resemblance ended; for all that Aerys had held a cruel glint in his eyes when he looked at the world, Viserys' eyes were haunted by the shadows of his life.
"Princess Elia," he said lowly, eyes flashing uncertainly as he bowed in greeting.
"Prince Viserys," she greeted, irritated at the shock that passed through her brother's face as she cut off his attempt to introduce his former squire.
There was a curious look in Viserys' eyes, and Elia saw the precise moment he realized how she might have known beyond that cursory first glance. He hesitated, swallowing uncertainly before he steeled himself, the action so reminiscent of Rhaella that Elia had to turn from him.
Doran sat calmly in his wheelchair, the same thin blanket covering his legs even as he spent the past week feeling relief from the aches of his condition. There was nothing to show his surprise at her knowledge – not a hint – and Elia felt her lips tug downward as she studied him.
"Is the colour not hiding his identity?" Oberyn asked, a touch exasperated.
"No, Ser Baelor is well hidden to the rest of the world," she answered coolly, gaze turning to him. Oberyn's dark eyes widened in surprise before they narrowed, an almost defiant expression crossing his face as he clenched his jaw, gaze darting away as Elia remained unyielding.
"How is your sister?"
"Well," he answered, glancing between Elia and her brothers. She gave him a pointed look, seeing only wary curiosity in his until he relented. "Dany is with the others here. I should see to her before I return to Sunspear."
He left before she could respond; not looking back as he scurried away to wherever it was Daenerys was hidden, eager to put some distance between them.
It would take time, she knew; Viserys was not the young child she had known, no longer a prince of the realm. There had been regret in his lilac eyes mixed in with the uncertainty and wariness – though what regrets the child held she could only guess – and Elia would give him the time he needed to come to terms with their new reality and what might have been.
All this time, she thought, gaze turning to the three others left in the room. Areo stood as he always did, axe gripped tightly as he kept watch for any threats to Doran.
"Elia…"
"Sit, brother. I would have words," she said, waiting until he did as told.
"Sunspear is currently under lockdown," Oberyn told her, a peevish look to him. "Your husband has decided it prudent to leave undetected."
"For good reason," she countered. "Perhaps you might not have known at first if he was telling the truth, Oberyn—"
"I did not," he insisted.
"And yet you made no mention of him once we met," she continued sharply. "Nor did you rectify that mistake upon meeting the children. My children have magic, brother, as does their father. Are you surprised he has not seen fit to remain locked in the tower you threw him in after the welcome he received?"
"He'd not done anything the entire journey," Oberyn pointed out stubbornly.
Because he could not, she thought. Had his magic been accessible to him, there were no lengths he would not have gone to discover their whereabouts.
"How was I to know? The Seven have smiled on him Elia, for if the Stormlords had found him there would not be anything left for you to mourn."
"Just as your arms around his neck were to ensure that you received the answers you wanted?" she said drolly.
There was old anger in his eyes, and Elia worried Oberyn's temper would be the death of him.
"Essos?" she asked Doran, brow raised as she stared down at him. It rankled, that after all those years teaching her to play the game Doran would see fit to lie so boldly to her face.
"A necessity," he answered calmly.
"An assurance," she retorted, "and perhaps a betrothal to seal it?"
He did not deny her words, and her heart cracked at the implications. Had you so readily written us off? Doran was nothing if not pragmatic, perhaps to the point of being overly cautious, and he would think of contingencies. That it meant he had not thought to see her again – had planned for their death – hurt, and the last parts of the Elia of the rebellion died a swift death.
"Aegon is to be king," Doran said, "as was always meant to be."
"You expect my agreement when you've not seen fit to involve me in your planning?" she asked, slightly amused at his audacity.
He blinked, not comprehending her words. "Elia, your son—"
"—is my son, yes, and I'll not see him thrust into a restoration without knowing what lays ahead."
"Elia," Oberyn attempted to soothe, glancing between the two of them.
"No, Oberyn. Perhaps my years away have warped what memory you hold of me, brother. Both of you," she amended, turning dark eyes to stare sharply at Doran. "I am not one to be coddled and soothed as those around me manoeuvre my family as if pieces on a board, nor am I the frail princess to be pitied as the Rebellion has no doubt painted me as. I am a Princess of Dorne, a Princess Regent to my son. Make of it what you will, but the blood of Nymeria has never shied away in the face of danger to our family."
"No," Doran said softly, eyes assessing. "For we are Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken."
The lingering tension in the air would remain until Doran had made his move, and Elia firmed her resolve. Once, she had remained in the dark of events that had placed her children in insurmountable danger. No longer, and it was time the others realized that for themselves.
She made to return to her rooms, eager to be with her reunited family before facing what remained of Rhaella.
"Your husband?" Doran asked, forcing her to pause. "What are his thoughts on this?"
Is he dangerous was the unasked question, and Elia turned slightly so that she saw him from the corner of her eyes.
"Harry is fiercely protective of those he loves," she said softly, hoping he would heed her words.
Their first, official meeting had gone about as well as Elia expected.
The children had been there, watching as Harry was properly introduced to both her brothers and their retinue. Larra had been surprised at seeing him with her, an almost resigned expression on her face as she glanced between Harry and Oberyn, seeing the falsely pleasant greetings they exchanged.
For the love he bore her, he wouldn't do anything harmful to her brothers, and Elia knew it would take little for Harry to overcome that limit. She'd not felt the presence of his magic once while he met her brothers; any other would write it off as his recovering from magical exhaustion, but Elia knew how difficult it was for him to hide the lingering aura that made others wary around him, that would have forced Doran to restructure whatever plots he had cooked up instead of being pleasantly charmed.
That he was doing so now meant he wanted them to think him relatively harmless, and she could only pray there would be no need for them to personally learn just how very dangerous he could be.
"I promised to behave for now," he said, wrapping his arm around her as they watched Maia splash about in the pool, her sons cowering under torrent of water she pelted them with.
"I know. Thank you," she told him, knowing he had been tempted to do more than just apparate out of the Spear Tower.
"Do we have cause to worry?"
"Not yet," she admitted. "Doran is cautious, and he will not want war to be brought to Dorne for no reason."
She felt him shift, able to tell what he was thinking, and she linked their fingers together over her middle, squeezing gently. It was still too early for her to be confident, nearly six weeks from the last time they had been together, and the sudden upending of their lives had driven her to distraction so that she had not thought much on it. Elia wondered how it would change things if her suspicions were confirmed.
"Prince Maron built the Water Gardens," she said, remembering the story she had been told as a girl. "It was a gift for his bride, Princess Daenerys, to help her feel welcome in Dorne. Lords and Ladies across Dorne sent their children to foster here, and one day, Princess Daenerys felt pity for the son of a servant and let him cool in the pools. Since then, the Water Gardens have been the one place where status holds no bearing, and all of Dorne's children foster and play together."
"It sounds too wonderful to be touched by war," he murmured.
"It is," she agreed. She would be doing her people a disservice if they brought war here. They would have to move, she thought, knowing Sunspear would be open to them and preferring elsewhere. The portraits were tired of being cooped up, and Sunspear was not a place she wanted to see them hung.
A little girl's nervous chatter floated through the air along with her footsteps, puncturing the sound of Maia's play as she ran circles around Aegon and Teddy. They turned to see Viserys holding firmly to a little girl's hand.
Daenerys. The little princess was painfully shy, her wide purple eyes darting between them as she clutched tighter to her brother, pale silver-gold hair pulled into a braid. Viserys was staring intently at them, eyes dark as he saw the picture they made, yet Elia ignored him for the moment, focusing her attention on the little one before her.
She was an adorable little girl – would grow into a beautiful woman – and she ached to know that Rhaella would be unable to see this.
"Princess," Harry greeted warmly, stepping away from her to give an exaggerated bow to Daenerys.
She giggled slightly, curling into Viserys for a moment before she remembered her courtesies. "Well met Lord Potter-Black."
He smiled gently at her, glancing at Viserys before he gave his apologies and excused himself.
Elia caught his eye, thankful that he was willing to ease Viserys' discomfort for the time.
"Papa," Maia was saying, craning her neck to glance at the three of them as Harry he scooped her into his arms. "She has the same hair as Egg."
His reply was cut off, a silencing ward springing into place as they were left in an awkward silence. There was a lingering tension in the air as Visery stared after him, eyes far off and expression closed when he saw Aegon, jerking to attention when Elia gestured to the seats behind her.
"Dany wished to meet you," he told her, shifting before he remembered himself.
And you cannot deny her anything, she thought fondly, seeing the look he sent her. Daenerys had her brother's devotion and Elia was glad to see that Viserys was gentle with the younger girl.
"Well met, Daenerys," Elia smiled, seeing the muted excitement in her gaze. Her purple eyes continued to drift to the pools where all but Rhaenys were playing even as she returned the greeting, and Elia watched in amusement as Viserys failed to steel himself to the look in her eyes.
"She also wishes to meet Aegon and Rhaenys," he said lowly, wariness in his gaze, and she knew, had he been more comfortable, he would have held the same exasperated tone Teddy had with the rest of his siblings when he knew he would give in to their wishes.
"By all means," Elia said, turning to smile at Daenerys. "They're a bit loud, but welcoming all the same."
Daenerys fidgeted, glancing at the hesitant Viserys with bated breath as he seemed to struggle to decide, eyes darting between Elia and Harry before he gave her a nod of encouragement. It seemed it was all she needed, for she relaxed and slowly made her way to them.
Elia saw his eyes return to Harry, watching stiffly as Daenerys spoke briefly with him before he called the others to him.
"Did you imagine I would deny her request?" she asked curiously, seeing him tense at the question.
"Why would you allow the Mad King's children near yours?" he countered, a bitter look he failed to hide flashing quickly.
"The queen's children," she corrected gently. "How long have you been in Dorne?"
"Six years," he answered, glancing oddly at her as he saw her hands clench slightly before she smoothed it.
Four years they had spent abroad under the care of others, and for all that she was upset with her brothers, she knew they were not cruel enough to hold the children to account for their father's actions. She raged internally at the thought of someone throwing Aerys in their face at any possible opportunity.
"Your Kingsguard?" she asked, wondering what had happened to the remains of Aerys' men.
Viserys scoffed, lips twisting into a moue of disdain before his face closed off, eyes hardening as he glanced at the door behind her. Elia could afford to ignore the urge to know who was to blame for the dark look in his eyes and the almost angry expression whenever he deigned to look in Aegon's direction, fearing he would withdraw entirely should she push for answers.
"She's inside, if you wish to see her," Elia told him, changing the topic as he continued to glance at the door. "I imagine it would be better without an audience."
"Vissy! Let's play dragons and princess!" The memory came to her, recollections of her daughter's closeness with her youngest uncle floating to her mind as she waited for him to come to a decision.
He left her, only glancing at Daenerys to assure himself of her safety before passing through the door.
It was unexpected, knowing he trusted them enough to leave his sister in their care when there seemed to be no trust left for him to give. It would take time; Viserys had found comfort in Dorne and their return had peeled away at his defences, exposing the shadows that haunted him.
For all their sakes, she hoped he found some measure of peace when he spoke with Rhaenys.
The scroll came in the hands of a messenger, unmarked and unremarkable, hiding the identity of whoever it was that reported Doran's actions as he stood surrounded by the three siblings, Harry and Doran's retainers.
Dark eyes glanced at it, feeling a tendril of magic as Harry no doubt checked to see if it was simply a scroll, and Elia waited to see what Doran would do. He'd not sought her out the past three days, and Elia had been more than content with spending that time with her family, seeing Rhaenys lighten after her conversation with Viserys. She had not told them what they spoke of, promising that he would return eventually as Daenerys became a more prominent fixture in their lives.
He held it in hand, scrutinizing the messenger – a young man from the Reach, it would seem, hazel eyes not showing any nervousness as he held up under the intense scrutiny – before passing it to Areo, the Norvoshi handing it to Elia.
It was addressed to her, the words inside bringing to mind the last memory she held of Varys, and Elia pursed her lips as she felt the first stirrings of the game.
"Ser Garret, is it?" she asked, seeing no sigil on his clothes to mark his House.
"It is, Your Grace," he answered.
"When can we expect our visitors?"
"At the turn of the year," he replied, brown eyes scanning the expressions of those around him.
Four moons, she thought. Long enough to have plans in place.
"Tell your lord we are in agreement," Elia told him.
She waited until he was escorted out – no doubt handing a message to a little bird – before she spoke. "Have you come to a decision, brother?"
There was a glint of pride in Doran's eyes when she looked at him, inclining his head before he gave her the answer she sought.
"Dorne stands with its children always, Princess Regent."
Her lips curved into a satisfied smirk. "We've four moons to prepare all of Dorne and our friends from the Reach for our return."
