Maia's giggles reached her, the little girl using her hands to muffle the sound lest her great-uncle take notice. Much as the portraits adored her, Owen was like to take umbrage with any disturbances to his lesson.

"Maia," Elia said, lips quirked in amusement. "Come along, sweetling. We mustn't bother them. Do you want your uncle to ask you to join them?"

Maia shook her head rapidly, eyes wide as she scrambled away from the door where Aegon sat forlornly as Owen Potter explained the intricacies of magical oaths.

"Why is Egg in trouble, Mama?" Maia asked.

Because he very nearly killed himself, she didn't say. Instead, Elia held a hand out, feeling Maia grab hold, little fingers curling around hers.

"Does Uncle Owen mean trouble?" she asked in amusement, smiling slightly at the guards as two of her brother's men fell into step behind them. Despite residing in Martell-held lands, Doran was not taking any chances, magic or not. Sunspear was far more open to little birds and wandering hands than the Water Gardens.

Maia nodded solemnly, green eyes affecting seriousness. "Grandpa says Uncle Owen puts naughty boys and girls to sleep."

Elia laughed, a full, honest one as Maia's face morphed into a pleased expression. James Potter was the terror of his ancestors – in youth and his time as a portrait – and enjoyed telling tall tales to his grandchildren. That Maia very clearly favoured the man of all her relations gave him what her grandmother considered to be an arrogant swagger to mimic his years at Hogwarts.

James had merely preened as he considered himself the favourite amongst the multitude of Potters and Peverells.

"Your grandfather is always right, is he?"

Maia nodded enthusiastically before grinning in delight as they neared the small hall off Doran's solar. Viserys' pale hair was visible through the open door, and Elia tapped her daughter lightly on the nose, bending as much as her stomach would allow, staring intently at her. Maia's smile slowly slipped off her face at the sight of the serious expression on Elia's face.

"What have I told you?" she asked lowly.

"No shifting," Maia grumbled, a slightly peeved look on her face. "Not until Papa and Rhae and Teddy come back."

Elia stared at her, gauging Maia's sincerity before she nodded in satisfaction. "Once they return you can morph to your hearts content," she told her. Bloodstone had awoken her magic but Elia remained listless in Sunspear, unable to do much and unwilling to chance a glamour that would fail. One ripple of magic a fortnight past had been enough to convince her of the need to ensure her daughter practiced her control.

"When is Papa coming back?" Maia asked.

"Not long, I should think," Elia replied, smoothing her daughter's hair before she straightened, making their way into the room.

She saw the intent stare on Maia's form as her little girl bounded over to her uncle, beaming as Doran allowed her to clamber into his lap. Caleotte's gaze drifted to Elia as she slid into her seat before returning to Doran, and Elia forced herself to not react as his eyes lingered slightly on Maia.

Not every maester is another Pycelle, she reminded herself.

Caleotte had served her brother loyally for a number of years, but a part of her remained in King's Landing, where loyalty was a commodity to be sold and the maesters owed their loyalty to their order and any number of people who found themselves in possession of dangerous secrets.

Perhaps pregnancy was making her more paranoid – or the Blacks she knew had rubbed off on her – but Elia couldn't shake her discomfort. Even when Caleotte's awe at the magic of her family had pushed him into seeking the portraits while they resided in Sunspear, her skin crawled at the thought of the maester's assistance despite his kind demeanour throughout her pregnancy, the glances at Maia for the past fortnight only heightening her paranoia.

"You'll spoil her," Elia told her brother, pursing her lips to hide a smile at the sight of them. Doran looked utterly unrepentant as he fed Maia pieces of blood orange, ignoring the little girl's sticky fingers as he halted his story.

"I am only doing as an uncle should," Doran replied.

"Telling her tales of Nymeria as she feasts to her heart's content?"

"Naturally. A daughter of Martell blood should know where her ancestors came from," he said pertly.

She withheld her eye roll, glad to see Doran in good spirits as she turned to the waiting maester.

"Princess, you will need to decide on a household on Bloodstone once the keep has been prepared," Caleotte began.

She made a vague noise of agreement, sighing as the maester jumped into the list they had drawn up. Since her return from Bloodstone a moon prior with Aegon and Viserys in tow, Elia had spent her days going through the necessities to form a household, judging the list brought to her by what she knew and what her brother did, as the boys sat beside her, learning the intricacies of running one's household.

They had narrowed it to Dorne; Elia was unwilling to let anyone not aware of their return be brought in, and Dorne held love enough for their princess to keep her secrets.

"…left to the maester of the keep," Caleotte said.

"A maester in Bloodstone would require bringing the Citadel into our confidences," Elia said, staring darkly at him.

"Not if I requested an additional maester for Sunspear," he told her. "A touch unusual, but they will not deny my request."

"Three maesters for a lone family is more than a touch unusual," Arianne chimed in from her seat. "How do we know the crown will not hear of this?"

They would, Elia knew, though she was unsure whether Varys would bother to hide that information. They might believe Doran dying with an eager, untested Arianne coming into the Sunchair, or they could believe Dorne was attempting to expand.

It all depended on the web of words the Spider weaved, something she was uncomfortable to have to rely on him for despite what goodwill he had earned.

Have faith in the Spider. Will wonders never cease?

Maester Caleotte pursed his lips, a troubled expression on his face. "There is one," he said slowly. "We studied at the Citadel together. I shall request his specific presence here; Maester Garth is beloved of the Archmaesters and can convince them to appoint him here."

"Can this Maester Garth be trusted?" Viserys asked, lilac eyes dark in remembrance – likely of Rhaella's distrust for their order.

"A maester is loyal to the castle he is sworn to," Caleotte protested, Maester Myles nodding his agreement as he handed a scroll to Doran.

"Invite him to Sunspear," Elia agreed. "Should I find him lacking, I'm sure we can come to an arrangement."

"Enough of that," Doran said, waving them off. "Lord Willas sends his regards. They are expected to return to Sunspear…a fortnight from now."

"Another feast," Arianne said, exchanging a glance with Viserys.

"One you will prepare," Doran told her, and Elia smiled to see the girl straighten in expectation.

She was glad Doran had not kept Viserys' presence hidden from Arianne; necessity had forced her brother to trust his heiress, something she was glad had changed well before her arrival.

"I don't suppose Lord Willas has eloped while in Lys," Elia murmured, a twitch of her lips at the thought of the Queen of Thorns' reaction to her grandson should he entertain such a thought.

"No," Doran said, his amusement plain on his face. "Though you shan't have to worry on that end."

"Oh?"

She had been glad to see the back of him and gladder still that Lady Anwyn had accompanied him to Lys. A royal match might be something the Tyrells aspired to, but Elia was leery of disturbing the tenuous threads holding the Reach together. A dragon in Highgarden would have worked to their benefit – and Elia had insisted Rhaenys stay in Bloodstone to avoid giving the Tyrell the temptation – but the young man needed Gardener blood to strengthen his position amongst his bannermen.

"He seems besotted with his betrothed," Doran told her.

"More than besotted," Viserys interjected in amusement. "He's chosen her against the wishes of his family; his grandmother supposedly wanted to wed him to a Fossoway, though his brother has gladly taken up that task."

A summer love, she thought, or perhaps more. Lord Willas became more intriguing by the day; she could imagine the boy had taken his grandmother's lessons to heart, though perhaps they might not expect the direction he would turn the Reach.


Manfrey's low murmur told her everything she needed to know, and Elia sighed internally as she contemplated this newest addition. The game never stopped, and playing so far from King's Landing unaware of the loyalties of the court, playing with the inability to see for herself how others might react to these changes left her on the back foot – something she swore she would never again feel.

We all believe ourselves players, yet the Spider weaves his web as he sees fit, moving us as he wills, she thought darkly.

Dorne was still in full attendance – had promised to remain until they had seen for themselves these friends from Essos – and Elia knew her people felt a vicious glee at the nervousness that was bound to be felt across the Stormlands and in King's Landing.

Dorne had not gathered in full since the lull in war, when their spears had died and the decision to let the Marches run red with blood came. That Randyll Tarly sat amongst them would go unreported, else they might have hastened any preparations to counter whatever Dorne came with.

She felt her son shift slightly to her left, straightening as he adopted a serious mien. Viserys stood to her right in a matching black doublet, the red three-headed dragon embroidered carefully on his breast. Elia did not need to look at him to know there would be a dark look in his eyes.

"Do you think your husband would mind terribly if I asked a favour of him?" Viserys asked idly.

"If you ask nicely," Elia answered. Perhaps you won't have to ask at all, she did not say, knowing how Harry had felt once Viserys had told them of his years in Essos.

The man had barely stepped foot in Sunspear before whispers of his arrival had reached the hall, an event darkly anticipated by the young man beside her.

"Lord Randyll looks unamused," Aegon murmured, indigo eyes catching the man stood near the front next to Lord Willas.

"Unamused and unimpressed," Viserys added, satisfaction in his tone. "Lord Tarly is not one to take kindly to someone attempting to assert control over his command. I fear Lord Griffin has not yet learned his place."

Elia felt her lips twitch unwillingly, recalling a young Viserys' terrible habit of making names for the knights and lords that had circled his brother. Lord Griffin was his kinder name for the crabby man they had known.

"Manners, Viserys," she murmured, smoothing the non-existent wrinkles from her yellow gown.

Ricasso's introduction was a minor thing, and Elia felt a flash of irritated amusement as he came closer, seeing where his eyes landed.

Jon Connington looked older than his years; his red hair was no longer a firebrand, instead turned grey with sprinkles of the original colour peppered throughout. He was clean-shaven for the first time since Elia had known the man, face weathered and lined.

The differences ended there. For all that he was in exile and without a king or prince to give his devotion to, the man stood proud as ever beneath the eyes of Dorne, blue eyes hiding the instinctual disdain she knew he carried with him.

"Prince Doran," he greeted stiffly with a perfunctory bow, blue eyes darting back to Aegon.

His eyes lingered on her son, cataloguing every inch of him for the resemblance to his long dead prince, and Elia felt Viserys' tension much as he tried to mask it.

"Ser Jon," Doran replied, dark eyes staring carefully at the younger man. His eyes tightened at the perceived insult – never mind that Aerys had stripped him of his title – before Jon's gaze returned to Aegon.

"Your Grace," Jon said, the hint of reverence in his tone causing Elia to raise a brow. He was not usually so obvious in his devotion save when around Rhaegar. Even that had been tempered by the man's awareness of the many eyes at court and the many courtiers grasping for a taste of power.

Jon had failed to hide it to those closest to the crown; Elia saw the swirl of emotions in his eyes – muted as they were – and knew Jon Connington's devotion to his Silver Prince would transfer to her son.

"Ser Arthur has mentioned you spent years in search of us," Aegon said, indigo eyes pinned on the man. "It has been some time, but I'm certain you recall my mother and uncle."

"Prince Viserys. Princess Elia," he said, eyes drifting to Viserys for a moment.

"Princess Regent," Viserys corrected, a dark joy in his voice as he saw the slight falter in Jon's expression.

"Princess Regent," he echoed dully, brows knitted in question.

"Indeed," Viserys continued, a sharp grin on his face. "Who better to rule as regent but the princess who should have been queen?"

Pale blue eyes finally deigned to look her way; Elia smiled coolly as Jon Connington failed to quickly hide the flash of anger at the sight of her, the noticeable swell of her belly the focus of his ire.

Still so hateful, she thought. The man nursed grudges as a woman did a babe, and Jon had never thought Elia worthy of his beloved prince.

That she dared to be with child now likely rankled him.

A part of her expected a vicious outburst from him but to his credit he managed to contain himself, settling for a reddened face and an awkward bow.

Elia's eyes drifted to the man stood behind him and before the other lords Aerys and then Robert had sent into exile, the armour and white cloak impeccable despite the journey he must have taken.

"Your Grace. Princess Regent, Prince Doran," he greeted, dark hair falling into muddy eyes as he took a knee. Oswell's eyes had hardened in his years abroad, a few scars visible in place of the dark grin he normally wore. "I come to swear my sword in the service of the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms, Aegon, Sixth of His Name."

The room seemed to hold their breath, eyes flitting between Elia and the two knights of the Kingsguard. She kept her expression blank; Aegon and Viserys knew of her decision and would not dare gainsay her.

"The King will take your oath, Ser Oswell," Elia said, noting the flash of surprised relief in his gaze at her words.

"I, Ser Oswell of House Whent swear my life in service to Aegon, Sixth of His Name. I swear to ward him with all my strength, to obey his commands, to keep his counsel and secrets, to hold no lands, to take no wife or father children; I swear to defend his name and honour, and give my blood in service of his."

The tension hung in the room for a long moment as Aegon scrutinized the knight before him, indigo eyes impassive before he nodded.

"Rise, Ser Oswell, and take your place beside your brother," Aegon said.

"Be welcome, my lords," Doran said as Oswell took his place. "Ser Manfrey will show you to rooms so you may rest before the feast tonight."

"Come, Viserys," Elia said lowly, taking his offered arm. "We have much to do before the feast."

Doran's dark eyes caught hers, a promise passing between them as Aegon remained with his Kingsguard, Winky hovering unseen in the background. Elia had not had to ask the elf before she was showing the same devotion to Aegon as she had to Teddy and the first boy she had watched grow into a man.

"Do you think it wise?" Viserys asked quietly, nodding at Ser Archibald as they made their way to Doran's solar, Ser Daemon shadowing them.

"Lord Randyll?" she frowned.

"Lord Griffin," he replied, ignoring the look she sent him. "The man is Rhaegar's devotee and like to—"

"—give that self-same loyalty to my son. To the son of his Silver Prince," Elia replied. "It will do for now; such fervent loyalty is not without its benefits."

Viserys frowned, watching as Elia sank gratefully into the cushioned chair behind the desk, hand soothing the ache in her back.

"Forgive me," he said, flushing lightly as he shifted awkwardly. "I should not have brought more worries to mind in your state."

Elia waved him off, smiling slightly in amusement as he moved to stand beside her. "It's a child, not the end of the world. Besides, needs must, Viserys. I should like to have as much of our worries addressed before I take to the birthing bed."

He grimaced before they were interrupted by a knock on the door. Elia straightened in her chair as Daemon Sand announced their guest, seeing Viserys stare carefully at the man.

Randyll Tarly stopped a foot away from the chairs in front of Doran's oak desk, bowing slightly as he greeted them both. "Princess Regent, Prince Viserys."

"Lord Tarly. Please, join us," she said, gesturing to the seat before her. A servant brought a pitcher of wine and empty glasses, though she left hers untouched. "I imagine you wish to return to your family. It has been a longer journey than you may have expected."

"Less troublesome than others might guess, and fruitful," Lord Randyll answered.

"Indeed," Elia murmured.

"You have how many battles as commander, my lord?" Viserys asked, leaning forward curiously as if an eager green boy.

"Seven and ten, my prince," he answered. "Ashford was the first. Storm's End and the battle for Shipbreaker Bay the second."

"Then the Wars for the Marches," Viserys concluded.

"A misnomer," Lord Randyll corrected. "The first battles were fought along the Rose Road, my prince, though the majority of that war I spent in the Dornish Marches."

"A difficult task, commanding the Reach's armies," Viserys said admiringly.

Randyll Tarly's eyes flicked to her before they returned to Viserys, understanding plain in his expression.

"Lord Randyll," Elia said, dark eyes focused on his. "The King will have need of a commander for his armies during the restoration."

"The Lord Hand is responsible in such an event, Princess," he countered.

Elia inclined her head in acknowledgement. "Indeed. Had this been any other time that would have been the ideal choice. The Hand will assume responsibility once my son is seated on his throne, my lord, but a war such as the one we plan requires an experienced commander."

"I imagine Prince Oberyn would be honoured with the position."

"I'm certain he would be, yet it is not my brother I mean to honour," Elia replied. Nor my husband went unspoken, and Elia waited with bated breath to see what he would say.

"You honour me, Princess Regent," Lord Tarly answered, something like a smile coming to his face.

"You will, of course, need to linger in Dorne a while longer, and to Bloodstone afterward before you return to assist Lord Willas in his endeavours."

"The Spider is not yet done weaving his plots of lords," he agreed. His dislike was plain on his face, yet Elia sensed it was less for the man and more for his methods.

Curious, she thought, tucking away that thought for another time. There was enough to worry on at the moment without burdening herself just yet with Lord Varys' past dealings.


The feast was in full swing when Elia received word that her husband and children had returned alongside Oberyn, the four in their rooms washing up before they joined them for the end of the feast.

She had expected him to come searching for her, yet Elia was slightly surprised at how little time it had taken the man to do so.

Pity, she thought, glancing across the room at her friend. Larra had thought he would mind his distance for the entirety of the feast, but Jon Connington had barely waited for her to return and rest her feet.

"Ser Jon," she greeted, carefully sipping the lemon water. The sapphire gown she wore would hide stains better than most, but Elia did not want to ruin the thing; it had been one she brought with her from England, the middle taken out to account for her pregnancy.

"Princess," he said curtly, eyes stormy as he invited himself to the seat next to her.

"I apologize for not greeting you earlier. You seemed almost disappointed to see me hale," she said calmly.

"Merely surprised to see you with child," he retorted, flushing in anger.

There you are, she thought, hiding her smile behind the glass. The brash man she had met at court was making himself known, something that comforted her with its familiarity.

"A welcome part of marriage, my lord. Surely you did not believe me incapable?" she asked sardonically, seeing the lingering confusion in his eye. "Excuses and justifications, I fear. Utterly convenient at the time."

His lips tightened, and Elia stared intently at him, daring the man to say what was no doubt running through his mind.

"The king refers to another man as his father," he gritted out, nostrils flaring in fury as he reached the root of his anger.

"It's to be expected," Elia replied flippantly, glancing at the rapidly approaching Viserys. "Aegon has only known one man to care for him as a father should."

"An up jumped basta—"

"You forget yourself, Ser," Elia warned darkly, "you are an exiled and attainted lord; no longer the Lord Hand or even the regent. In spite of your connection to his sire – something your king might have welcomed hearing – insulting the man who raised him is like to remove you from the king's good graces."

"Or see you sent into another exile," Viserys japed, seating himself on her other side. "I'm sure you've had more than your fill of Essos; mores the pity if it were Rhaegar's son to see you removed from his sight. Perhaps Lord Harry will do the honours himself. I don't think you would recover from that slight."

"Unlikely," Elia denied, tapping Viserys lightly on the arm in mock admonishment. "Ser Jon was a valued member of Rhaegar's circle before his time as Hand. Only a fool would so easily dismiss him."

She smiled at him, face cleared of any displeasure as he seemingly took the hint.

He mumbled something about speaking to Lord Cheltstead, Lord Qarlton's heir, leaving her and Viserys with a polite bow, cautious of the watching eyes.

"Still not learned to mind his tongue," Viserys sneered quietly.

"I fear we've left him rattled," Elia said. "He'll remember to mind his words in future."

Viserys scoffed in disbelief. "Why bother keeping him amongst us?"

"He has his uses," Elia murmured, eyes lingering at the door where Harry slipped inside, wearing a silvery-blue doublet, smiling as she caught his eye. "Those exiled lords have seemingly joined in his fervour and he likely commands their loyalty. A loyalty we need shifted to Aegon."

"He could prove troublesome – will prove troublesome," Viserys pressed, lilac eyes glancing at the man in question. Someone had pointed his attention to where Harry was speaking laughingly with Ashara as they made their way to the dais. "I don't trust him."

"Nor I," Elia agreed sagely. "The problem with men like him is that they will always plot and plan to get their way in the game, circling around the dragon that they forget to fear the viper's bite."

She felt a kiss pressed to her cheek, leaning back into his hold as Harry dragged his seat closer and murmured, "Is everything fine?"

"No more difficult than usual," she answered, catching the smirking Ashara's eye. "The castle?"

"Full of surprises," he told her, gaze flicking to Viserys. "The ritual is ready and can be done in a few weeks."

Viserys stiffened, gaze snapping to Harry. "Truly?"

Harry nodded, and they watched as a smile grew on Viserys' face.

"I should tell Dany the good news," he said, quickly excusing himself.

"Will it work?" Elia asked, turning to face him.

"By all accounts, it should," he reassured her, green eyes dark. "Who's the crabby man staring at us?"

"An old friend," she said dryly, tone giving away just what she thought of the man.

Harry smirked, a mischievous glint in his eyes that was more at home in James Potter's face. "Well, I suppose I should say my hellos. Let it not be said the king's father is lacking in manners."


Thanks so much for the reviews! Glad you continue to enjoy. To answer any questions/comments;

saku hyuuga: Oberyn's intervention in Bloodstone set them on a bit of a course correction, so I'm glad you like the change. Bloodstone is very much tied to the Children, which we'll see further on.

osterreicher97: yeah, in canon it's a bit of a chicken-and-egg situation between the Children and the blackstone structures. They're very much tied together here, and we'll see more of why they were desparate enough to cause the Breaking. I hadn't thought of how much it would affect them magically, but it makes sense, considering Essos still held magic while it fell off in Westeros. Harry is not yet aware of the Three-Eyed-Raven, but I will say the Children here are not single-minded in their goals. Not creators of the Others as the show painted them, but hopefully something more along where the books sorta hint at. Varys is plotting; he doesn't have eyes on Bloodstone but he knows of the magic, which absolutely makes him unpredictable. No fAegon here! I figured Elia surviving would have thrown all possible plans out the window since she could have returned to Westeros at any point with the real Aegon. But he's definitely reshuffling the board and considering his options.

era-romance: definitely play a bigger role than they did in the show!

Separ: well-defended and accessible by ship. We'll see a few more allies pop up soon.

malinkody: glad the castle surprised you. We'll eventually touch on why it's there in Harry's future chapters.

red demon161: the beginnings of their household are coming together, but they'll make the final decisions together. We'll touch a bit more on the condition of the island in the next chapter, and see it fully explored I believe in Harry's next chapter, which should answer the question of deforestation and where the people who built these houses might have gone.

Up next; birth, Bloodstone, and broken bonds.