"Elia, my dear sister." Oberyn murmured. "Don't lose heart." He looked at her with those calm dark eyes, but still she could see the rage in his youthful face.
Tywin Lannister's insult had not been taken well by the younger Martell. Not even her mother had been calm as they left behind the cold rock where the lions dwelled.
Even now as they sat in their carriage, the Lady Loreza Martell was silent and staring out the carriage window.
It was unsettling for Elia to see her mother so disheartened. Even after they had visited the Dayne's and the Hightower's her mother had not been this upset.
"Not one suitable match for a Lady of Dorne. I am not asking for the Seven Kingdoms, am I?"
Elia knew better than to respond when her mother was in a mood such as this.
"No." Loreza Martell responded firmly. "Arthur Dayne prefers to swing a sword at the whim of a Targaryen king and you ," she turned those burning black eyes on Oberyn where he sat beside Elia, his legs outstretched lazily in front of him.
Elia could see what was coming next and she winced as her mother brought the back of her hand down on Oberyn's shin. The prince started and hissed out at the slap.
"You! With your infantile jokes and ruinous temper! You are to blame for the failure at Oldtown. And for the failures in the Arbor, the Shield Islands," she brought her hands down again at his knee, "and Crakehall!"
Her mother had been right. After all, Oberyn had insulted all but one possible match. Baelor Hightower had caught Elia's eye, a tall and handsome man indeed. But after he had had a bout of flatulence in front of brother and sister, Oberyn had taken to calling him 'Baelor Breakwind', and Elia could not look at him but to burst into laughter.
And thus the possibility of a match had failed.
The Lannisters of Casterly Rock had been different. Cersei and Jaime's mother had been close with Loreza Martell when they served Rhaella Targaryen together. Oberyn had told her that most likely the two women had arranged a match between their children. He had also made it expressly clear that he despised Cersei Lannister.
"If she pinches my cock the way she did that little Lion's…" Oberyn shook his head, leaning into Elia's ear as their mother bid goodbye to Lord Tywin Lannister, "Thank the Seven I have escaped her grip or I would not be able to produce a child."
"And we know how heartbroken mother shall be." Elia whispered back, her voice low with amusement.
Oberyn chuckled, catching the green eyes of the young Lady Lion. "I pity the Targaryen prince. Tywin is already planning to sell his daughter to King Aerys to wed Rhaegar."
Elia raised a brow, "Do not pity Rhaegar. He is a prince. Pity us. Reduced to being turned away without a match from a Lannister lord." She sneered, her eyes fixed on Tywin Lannister - the traitorous man could not stay true to his late wife's wishes. Not even a year after her passing.
Tywin Lannister had offered her his youngest son, the deformed Tyrion, as a husband. This was the slight her mother fumed over as they travelled home and it had taken a bell and a half to get Oberyn calm enough that chopping of the Hand of the King's head wasn't the one thing on his mind.
"I haven't lost heart." She frowned at her younger brother. "I never had it in the first place." she murmured quietly, hoping to avoid her mother's attention.
Oberyn grinned, "I am glad. What a sad pack of suitors you have to choose from."
"I miss Doran and his cautious optimism. He would not have called Baelor that terribly funny name and ruined my chances with him." Elia huffed softly, turning her nose to the air.
"You will thank me eventually when Baelor's wife complains of his stink in the marriage bed."
Elia held back a bark of laughter, knowing her mother would turn her judging eye upon her thin, plain daughter and find her wanting.
"And what of your stink? It's filling up this carriage, I can hardly breathe." Elia eyed her brother.
"Ah, this my dear sister is a man's stink. You will grow accustomed to it, I'm sure." Oberyn smirked his self-satisfied smirk.
"Be cautious, little brother. You don't know all of what I do when alone in Dorne."
Oberyn fell silent, his dark eyes widening till it was almost comical. He threw back his head and bellowed with laughter at the thought of his sickly sister sniffing at available men in the streets of Sunspear.
Their mother turned that eye on them in an instant and judged, and found them both wanting.
It was Sunspear that she had missed the most. The Dornish sun and the Water Gardens and the way the light played on the splashes made by the ever-present children there. It was Sunspear that was her home, and Elia was in love with it.
Even Oberyn grinned a little brighter in the Dornish sun, he stood a little taller when walking on the Dornish sand. And almost immediately in the week of their arrival back home, Loreza Martell began a new regiment to better her daughter's health.
Her mother had decided that their failure to find a proper suitor was in part due to Elia herself.
"You're too small - a slip of a girl. Hardly fitting of a descendant of Nymeria. You must lay out in the sun and get some warmth into your skin again. And you will eat more. You will benefit from a bit of fat on you, my daughter."
Elia had protested, but in the end she knew her mother to be right. Doran himself was encouraging her, and his betrothed, Mellario of Norvos, had become a fast friend.
"Are you prepared to marry Doran?" Elia asked.
Both women were currently sunning themselves by the Water Gardens, the sounds of children squealing and the splashing of water echoed out across the courtyard to where they sat.
"Prepared?" Mellario laughed, "No woman is ever prepared for marriage. It simply happens."
Elia frowned, toying with a grape still attached at the stalk. "But you are marrying Doran for love."
"I was not prepared for love either."
Elia laughed, "Nothing is simple, I suppose. I do not know what mother wants from me. I believe I am incapable of looking like any other Dornish woman." She popped the grape into her mouth and let the sweet and sour juice flood over her tongue as she bit down on the fruit.
"Perhaps. And if it is not to be, then you will find a man who will marry your waifish self." Mellario grinned and Elia was struck with the dare of the Essosi woman.
Doran and Mellario were so different it was a wonder how they could have fallen together as they did. Doran was so quiet and calm, always a pillar of strength, whereas Mellario reminded Elia of Oberyn at times. She was fiery and bright. Oftentimes Elia wondered that if Mellario had been born to Loreza Martell as a Dornish Lady, perhaps there would have been a match to Arthur Dayne or Jaime Lannister by now.
"And what about bearing children?" Elia asked, watching the older woman as she plucked at cured meats set out on a platter. Elia was supposed to be eating them too, but her mother was not around to watch her opt for the fruit instead.
"What about it? I will do my duty as a Dornishman's wife. And the wife of a prince, of course." Mellario added before Elia could correct her.
Suddenly, the Norvoshi was leaning forward in her chair and her gentle hand was upon Elia's. "Do not fret, good-sister. Your husband will be worthy of you. And if he is not," she shrugged and gave Elia one of those grins that called to mind thoughts of Nymeria, "Then you will find other methods to have what you want."
Elia laughed that loud and harsh laugh that set Mellario into her own laughter. For a moment, Elia dared to hope Mellario was right. Perhaps one day she would find a man worthy of her. And if she was even luckier, she would marry a man who would love her as she loved the Dornish sun. For that was what she wanted most of all.