This chapter is primarily flashbacks told through an outline of one event so I've broken the present and past, hope that keeps it clear


Elia hated the throne room.

Until recently, she could only associate the massive hall with death and madness, where stone dragons watched the folly of men with no eyes.

Now she and Rhaegar were preparing to enter the hall for the coronation. She wished Oberyn or Doran were here - not to witness her being crowned, but simply to remember what it was to truly feel safe. There was Uncle Lewyn, of course, and his presence was a great boon. And with Aerys gone, she could finally erase the little tapping within her brain, the bit that wondered if Aerys would for some reason turn on her uncle for no reason.

Just like he could have done with her at any moment since he had forced her to return to the capital.

She closed her eyes.

As he boasted once that he could do to Rhaenys or Aegon. In just one swift motion, he could have burned them before her eyes, taken their lives - the pulse of heart.

Aerys is gone, she repeated to herself.

Gone, gone, gone.

Dust beneath the Sept.

Elia opened her eyes as she exhaled a deep breath, shedding those nerves. She let her eyes trail just slightly to her side to take in Rhaegar. He was resplendent in a doublet of black and scarlet red, the latter color matching her own gown. And yet of course he looked completely calm, as if nothing were amiss.

It's not as though his father died by drinking wildfire. Mixed with his own blood.

Or a Lord Paramount was burned alive.

Right here.

Aerys died here too.

She had dreamt of the day that they would be rid of Aerys - not so she could wear a crown, but so that they could truly breathe. And yet now here they were and her breath felt measured once more. It had only been a few days since that disastrous meeting with Robert Baratheon and the Starks - since she was slapped in the face with the reality of her husband's folly.


'I am his wife!' the Stark girl had yelled.

Everything had become a buzz - a hum - as soon as Elia heard those words. It was as though she were falling through a tunnel while remaining still the entire time. The flashes of some of her warmest memories washed over her - perhaps in a bid by her mind to cradle her: playing in the Water Gardens with Oberyn when they were young and Doran and their mother watching over them; Rhaenys - Rhaenys, precocious and running and laughing with Viserys; and Aegon, her sweet babe, nestled in her arms while Rhaella sang a sweet tune. The memories, images, battled against the overwhelming beat of her heart that roared throughout her.

"Elia?" a voice had called out to her.

She snapped backwards, cold from the loss of her most comforting moments and then a hand grasped her own, thin but secure.

Rhaella.

'She is to be my second wife,' her husband then said.

It had been her good-mother that had convinced Rhaegar that he should not insist on Lyanna being part of the coronation.

"It is too soon to force such change after the actions of your father. Let the High Septon approve whatever you intend," Rhaella had told him after Robert Baratheon left the room and then the Starks, the girl included. "Hold a simple coronation that shall not cost much to show there is a peaceful transition between your father's reign and yours, that there is stability." By some miracle, Rhaegar had nodded in agreement, saying that the ceremony was not what mattered. Then they had all bid each other goodbye for the day.

Well…

It had not really been that simple. Would that it were.

Robert Baratheon had to be restrained and then taken away from the room with his grandmother left to deal with him until proper negotiations could be held. And Brandon...Brandon Stark looked at Rhaegar with such contempt, it was a miracle that he did not lash out like the stormlord. But Elia had realized through the past few weeks, as she and Brandon had spoken more time in each other's company, that he was a changed man. Witnessing his father's death may have taken some of his brashness and impulsiveness...

But in their place, they seemed to have been replaced by something deeper - a cold anger, waiting to be unleashed.

"I never liked my maester's lessons," Brandon had finally responded, his voice holding no ounce of emotion. "But I paid attention all the same. And I don't remember learning of your southern gods approving of two wives."

"As a matter of fact, Lord Stark, we wed by...by the old gods. A heart tree at the Isle of Faces."

The look in Brandon Stark's eyes right then made Robert Baratheon seem like a mere fawn. Then he laughed. Quietly at first, before it grew into a roar.

"Get your little advisors, set the meeting," he gritted after his bitter laughter subsided, "and we will deal with this. You'll not take my sister in the night and make a mockery of our gods." His words were complimented by a feral smile and wild eyes as he shook his head slowly. "My father did not consent to that wedding, he did not bring her before a heart tree."

"Brandon, it was done properly! I pro - "

"Lyanna," he whispered but it came out like a growl. "If you have any love for our family, you will remain quiet - now." The girl turned even paler than she already was.

Then his eyes turned Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell - they all knew the two had been with Rhaegar at the time. "Neither you nor these so-called knights had any authority to bring her there." Brandon's voice was so chilly, Elia thought he had brought the full force of winter down upon them. Then quickly his attentions were set back on Rhaegar. "And if you think I shall watch you be crowned, you are as much a fool as I thought you were," he finished before moving to exit and take both his siblings with him, though the girl went with a torn expression. Just before he walked through the door, his eyes landed on Elia for a few moments before he left.


And so here they were, she and Rhaegar, walking through up to the Iron Throne to be crowned and begin their reign as King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Rhaella stood to the side of the steps to the awful throne holding Aegon, while Rhaenys stood with Viserys as they held each other's hand.

The whole court had heard of the King's return as soon as he appeared but the whispers were all about Lyanna Stark and how she had not been kidnapped. Then of course, lords and ladies recalled the King's crowning of the girl at Harrenhal and took this latest development as confirmation that he had taken her as a mistress as many had suspected he had done already at that blasted tourney.

Of course, none knew that he intended to do something his ancestors had not done since Maegor the Cruel.

Elia wanted no part in the gossip nonetheless, it did her no good to fuel it. The more people regarded Lyanna Stark as someone who had the favor of the King, the more her position and influence could grow at court - whether the girl realized it or not. Somehow though, Elia did not think the girl had the faintest clue how the court worked - or that she even cared.


"In a way I pity her," she had told Rhaegar after the absurd meeting with all involved parties. The children were asleep by the time they were finished. So she and her husband - I may have to say 'our husband' soon - retired to his solar to speak finally.

"But perhaps she does not warrant my thoughts when she did not herself spare me hers. But you are the one who has truly done me ill, husband."

"It was not meant as a slight, I have told you - "

"Are my needs, my life less worthy than hers?"

Her words were met with a sigh. As though by voicing her frustration it was somehow a slight against him.

"Of course, now the realm will see us as foes even if we are not," Elia continued without emotion. "She, the young, vibrant and fair northern girl...to me, the older, sickly Dornishwoman."

"I wish you would not speak of yourself as such, Elia," he said with a deep and frustrated sigh. And there came the hint of melancholy, always rearing its head eventually. "I do not see you that way."

"You have made it so the whole realm sees me that way. You're a fool if you do not realize that. Never mind that I gave you two healthy children in less than two years - something most women do not do. No one will talk about that, of course," she added the last as an aside. "No, now I am seen only in contrast to her, I will be defined by her, as the impediment to your perfect love story. How perfectly marvelous for me."

"I do all of this for the realm!" he yelled in frustration.

"You fucked a girl for the realm?" she asked with false innocence. "If you were not intending on defying the Seven, I would think you've been praying daily in thanks to them that it is not Pycelle you were required to fuck."

That shut him up, but only for a moment.

"I told you before - the dragon must have three heads."

"How could I forget? It was not so long after I nearly died birthing our son."

He winced at that but was clearly not discomfited enough to stop talking. "All the signs were there, Elia," he pleaded. "An ice maiden, the False Spring - I merely followed the signs, you see."

Elia looked up and closed her eyes with a hum of a prayer, trying to calm herself. It wasn't Rhaella's fault she could not be there more for him when he was a child, but the Queen wondered if her good-mother had been right - if she'd been able to be with him more as he grew up, would he still be so utterly delusional? Had books and privilege and Aerys somehow knotted into one rotten bundle in his brain?

Then she opened her eyes to look back at him. "Rhaegar, I do not want to discuss your prophecy. If you had paid more attention to all the books, you would know how fickle such a thing is - that you cannot force it to be. And how do you not know it is not Viserys - or his future children?" He looked at her as though she had slapped him and then the smallest ripple of uncertainty flashed over his eyes - perhaps he has his own doubts, but will not say it.

Then a thought occurred to her. "What would you have done if your father had killed Rhaenys and Aegon? What of your three heads then?"

She should not have relished it, but she could not fight the victory she felt in seeing the horror cross his face then. Let him know what his actions could have wrought. "Yes, he often taunted me as such once we came here from Dragonstone upon his order. While you were the gods know where with your 'ice maiden.' He said he could burn them - "

"Elia - "

" - but what would be the point when you did not care? Then he realized it was best to keep Dorne in line by keeping the children and myself alive."

"He would never -

"I can't even imagine you care that their lives were in such a precarious state," she continued in a blithe stream of thought. "Mine was as well, of course, but we both know that you care not for me. But I had thought that you perhaps loved the children. I suppose you would just recreate them with the Lady Lyanna and - "

"I didn't know he would call you here! And I never thought he would hurt them!" he shouted, displaying more emotion than Elia had ever seen from him and she found herself shocked. "And of course I love them and you!"

Elia studied him, the man she thought she had grown to love - and perhaps he had too for her - after she'd been forced into the marriage. Everyone thought she and her mother were some Dornish witches that schemed for it; or that somehow Dorne was powerful enough to bend Aerys to her will. In truth, it was the King's demand and one did not refuse Aerys, after all. Elia had just wanted to remain in Dorne, if she could have.

She brought herself to the present once more and took in the visage of her husband. Walking slowly, she closed the small gap between them and gently placed a hand on his cheek. She could see curiosity - and hope - in his eyes before they flitted to her lips briefly. Does he believe I shall just move past this? That we can be as we were in that first year of marriage, hidden away on Dragonstone? After a few moments of letting the tension build, she finally spoke.

"You do not know what love is, Rhaegar. You should not pretend at it." Her words were not malicious - just bittersweet.

Before he could try to argue with her, she continued. "I will call on the High Septon tomorrow to arrange the crowning. Heed your mother's words - do not dare bring the girl on that day when you are not married in the eyes of the Faith."

"I already told both you and mother, I shall not," he confirmed wearily. "I will explain it to Lyanna."

She fixed him with a cool but curious gaze. "Does she know of the prophecy, of what you want from her?" His eyes widened before he attempted to school his face and she could only let out a laugh though it was mirthless. She shook her head, wishing she could run away in the night with the children to Dorne. But that was only a fantasy. What she wanted was never a true option, of course. For now, she knew she could only end the day finally and try to find rest. "I only hope you can understand that you have begun your reign on the shakiest of grounds, and it is in no small part due to your own actions."


Large applause welcomed them both as they were both crowned by the High Septon. She and Rhaegar both turned to acknowledge the crowd before descending the steps down. When they reached the bottom, they went to Rhaella and Aegon first. The babe of a prince did not seem to like the loud clapping, squirming in his grandmother's arms, but settling a bit when he saw his mother.

"Are you king now, brother?" Viserys asked solemnly. Elia had taken the moment to go to Rhaenys, bending down to kiss her cheek and smooth her hair as the toddler toyed with the bracelets on her wrists excitedly.

Rhaegar smiled at the young boy. "I am, Viserys."

"Like father?" the young prince asked, utterly unaware of what could lay behind such a question were anyone else asking it.

"I am King," was all Rhaegar could reply. Then he turned to Rhaenys just as Elia had slipped her hand away from her. "My little dragon, did you enjoy the ceremony?" he asked his daughter.

Rhaenys leaned into Viserys, her chin tucked into her chest as she looked down and away from her father.

"She must be tired, I'm sure," Rhaegar said, his face slightly tight. Uncle Lewyn picked up Rhaenys then so they could all leave, and Elia cupped her daughter's cheek softly, earning a small smile of relief. The King looked on with no words.


The day after the Awful Horrendous Meeting and after Rhaegar first returned, he insisted on seeing the children first thing in the morning. Elia had wanted time to prepare Rhaenys but he would not be persuaded otherwise.

When they walked into the nursery, Rhaenys was there sitting a light green dress and playing with a wooden dragon toy as the nursemaid changed Aegon into his day clothes.

"Good morning, my little sun," Elia called to the toddler as they walked in.

"Mama!" she shouted when she saw her mother, as a bright smile swept over her face and she stood up to toddle quickly over to her. But then she saw Rhaegar behind Elia and her smile was gone within less than a moment as she stopped in her tracks abruptly.

Elia went to her and gently picked her up as Rhaegar joined them. "Rhaenys," he breathed excitedly. "How I missed you, my little dragon."

Rhaenys looked at her father, her brows furrowing in dismay before she buried her head into her mother's chest and clutched her small arms around Elia's shoulders.

"Rhaenys?" Rhaegar asked with confusion. "What is wrong?" The toddler's only response was to tighten her hold on her mother.

Her sweet girl was at the stage where she was so excited to use any and all words she could form every day. And when she used none now, Elia knew she was upset. When Rhaegar first left Dragonstone, Rhaenys had asked for him every day, multiple times a day. And then when they arrived in the capital, Elia was afraid it was too much change - and bad change - in such a short period of time.

"She has not seen you in months," Elia explained slowly, trying to be patient so as not to upset Rhaenys further. "She missed you, asked for you." Her hands caressed her daughter's hair soothingly. "And all she knows is that you have not been here. Your prophecy, your reasons mean nothing to her."

Elia could see the slight horror take over his face but he seemed to shake it away as he approached their daughter once more. "Rhaenys," he said, gently placing one hand on the back of her head and soft brown hair and trying to look at her face. But her only response was to turn her head to the other side.

"Please, Rhaegar," Elia said softly. "You cannot expect her to be happy just because you want it."

And that was the crux of it, was it not? He expected everything to be as it should - because how else should life be for him?

Then Rhaenys shifted her head to look up at her mother. "Stuck?"

"Stuck?" Rhaegar asked in confusion. "What does she mean? She's not stuck anywhere."

Elia breathed out a small laugh because the situation just felt utterly preposterous. "She means Stark - Brandon Stark."

"What? Why is she asking for him?" Now he was truly horrified.

"He has been here these past few weeks, and Rhaenys has taken a shine to him."

"Stuuuuuck," Rhaenys repeated, this time more adamantly.

Elia rose with her daughter in her arms. "It seems your fondness for the Starks runs in the blood," she told him dryly before turning her gaze to Rhaenys softly. "Come, my love. Let us find Lord Stark, shall we?" The young princess was running her hands along the sheer ivory fabric of Elia's dress sleeves. She looked up and nodded with wide eyes.

"Elia." She turned at his call - it melancholy as ever - to find him holding Aegon now. "I'm still their father."

She gazed at him with a feigned quizzical expression. "Are you reminding me - or yourself?"

She was told that she could find Lord Stark in the godswood of the Red Keep. She wondered if anyone had worshipped there since perhaps Betha Blackwood. As they approached the entrance to the wooded area, she asked Ser Jaime and Ser Jonothor to wait on the outside in case Lord Stark was at prayer.

When they entered the secluded grove, she found Brandon's back facing them. He was kneeling in front of a large tree, though his head was not bent in prayer as far as Elia could tell. She had hoped to enter the area quietly but as soon as Rhaenys saw him, she called out excitedly. "Stuck!" And then squirmed down from Elia's arms to run over to him. He stayed kneeling before turning to them and greeting Rhaenys with a mischievous smile.

"Princess, where have you been? I've not seen you in a few days," he chastised though his tone was warm.

"Playing! With Vissy," she answered, tiling her head as though it were utterly obvious. Brandon shook his head, laughing richly, before his eyes landed on Elia. He rose to stand, pushing away his dark loose hair from his face. He was clad in a dark grey tunic that day. She suspected the heat of the capital forced him to shed his leather doublet.

A few beats of silence reigned between them before he spoke. "My Queen," he greeted her, his voice more somber, deep in its northern timbre.

"Have we returned to our formal titles then, Lord Stark?" she asked jokingly, but her voice shook a bit. She was nervous, she realized. Had his anger over Rhaegar's actions transferred to her as well now?

But then he smiled, genuine and warm. And his eyes were dark and sincere. "Elia."

That made her smile - until a voice inside her woke her: I should not like how my name sounds just because he says it.

She cleared her throat. "Rhaenys asked to see you. I hope we have not disturbed your prayers?"

He looked back to the tree. "This is not like any godswood I know. This heart tree is oak and does not even have a face. I don't think my gods can see me here," he observed with a bit of unease. "So no, you've not disturbed me. I'm glad to see you - " His eyes seemed to widen at the realization of his words before he spoke again quickly. "See you both, I mean." His eyes went to Rhaenys then and in with quick movement and a grin, he picked the little girl up and placed her atop his shoulders, winning an excited squeal from her.

"Alright, Princess. You've a duty now - you must show me this godswood of yours. Are you up to the task?" he asked seriously as she placed her small hands under his bearded chin to hold on.

"Yes! Go, go!" she commanded, urging him forward.

"Rhaenys!" Elia chastised but letting out a small laugh at the same time.

Her daughter looked at her seriously for a moment and then inclined her head to the side and down to look at Brandon. "Please?"

"I am yours to command," he grinned wolfishly. "Come now, I see there's some water there." And so they began to walk through the wooded area, more secluded than the rest of the gardens. They walked past a few tall black cottonwood and elm trees before they arrived at the edge that looked out to the river.

The wind breezed past them, rustling the skirt of her silk ivory gown and teasing at Elia's hair. She'd worn it half-up and half-down that morning, too tired from the previous day's events to bother with an elaborate styling. She looked to Brandon and Rhaenys perched on his shoulders merrily. "Are you sure you do not mind?" she asked. "I would hate to trouble you - "

"I do not mind," he assured her. "After everything that has happened..." His face tightened as he looked into the distance for a moment before returning to her. "It is nice to find some relief in the laughter of this wee rascal."

"She does have that effect, easing one's woes," Elia commented wistfully. Then they stood at the overlook for a bit, taking in the river below as Rhaenys peered at birds flying above them.

"How are you?" Brandon asked.

Elia could not stifle a short laugh."Oh, you know. My husband intends on making me a sister-wife, so my life is certainly on the path I always wanted.," she replied with a dry grin.

"I'm surprised you can laugh at it," he observed though he looked amused.

"And I was surprised at the restraint you showed with my husband yesterday," she dared to say and hoped he would not take offense at the remembrance of yesterday's events. But it hung in the air like the stench of death and there was no use ignoring it.

"I've had time to reflect," he began, his words coming out slowly. "And as my...actions have only brought ruin here, I am trying to weigh what I do more carefully."

She could hear the restraint in his voice and wondered what lay underneath. But all she could do was nod and try not to give him a pitiful look of sympathy. "How are you?" she finally returned quietly.

Rhaenys began to direct him to another patch of the godswood then and so they walked there so she could look at a squirrel on a branch.

"I..I do not know how to answer that." He was looking up at the tree now but his eyes did not seem focused. It was then that Rhaenys demanded to be put back on the ground so she could run after the squirrel she had been watching. Brandon placed her on the grass, and she went as quickly as her small legs would let her in search of the small beast. The northern lord's eyes turned to look across to the faceless heart tree. "Lost...furious...I wake every morning, and I can't believe I live in a world without my father. And it is by my doing."

"Brandon," Elia began, moving to him and placing one hand on his arm gently. His eyes turned and focused on her. "You came in search of your sister. You could not have known what Aerys would do."

"I should have known better."

"It does not make it your fault."

He laughed mirthlessly. "You're too kind to me, I do not understand why."

"I suppose I have rather a soft spot for those who love their families so deeply they would do anything," she confessed.

"Why did you do it?" he asked as he gazed down at her. "I know what you said before - and you know I am grateful. What you did saved my life. But he could have hurt you, Elia...he did ," he whispered urgently, his eyes intense. But there was no anger there, just worry, desperation. It almost seemed like he was going to reach out to touch her cheek that had been hurt by Aerys, but he did not. "He could have done worse, surely you know that."

Elia looked up at him, at a loss for words at first and she wondered if her expression conveyed that. "I do know that. So many thoughts ran through my head that horrible afternoon, Brandon." She was trying to keep her voice steady but she could but help the occasional break. "I thought of what would come with him killing your father," she said quietly. "Then I saw you - and I imagined myself, straining for my children. I suppose at first I saw myself in you - and my children in your father. All of us pushed to a place we'd not wanted to be. And then I saw any hope of peace disappearing if I did not try."

"There were so many people there, your bloody southron white knights! And they just...watched! Why? How can that be?" he asked, anger lacing his words now.

"That's just it. I wondered when it would stop... if it would stop?" Her eyes traveled to Rhaenys who was standing not far but looking up at a tree where the squirrel had climbed up. "Instability...war...it will only bring ruin for them, I know it - in my bones. And I cannot imagine life without them."

Brandon followed her eyes to the toddler and smiled. "I'm quite fond of her. She seems a tough little one."

"I believe the feeling is mutual, Brandon. And yes, I like to think she is quite tough," Elia smiled warmly before the previous events of the morning ran through her mind. "She's very confused about her father, I think."

"How so?"

"He left so suddenly and I think she could not make sense of it. And then we came here…" Elia sighed. "She is upset with him, I know that."

"Well, then she's smart as well," he muttered. "Half the realm would champion her." That garnered a snort of a laugh from Elia which drew out a laugh from Brandon, first softly. Then they both laughed without a care to hold it back.

"Oh," Elia breathed, trying to collect herself and wiping away some of the tears of laughter that had escaped. "It feels good to laugh."

"Aye," he concurred as his own laughter slowed. Then she realized he was staring at her. Slowly he brought one hand to her face, pausing for a moment as though he were waiting for her to pull back - but she did not. And gently, his fingers grazed over her cheek. "You missed a few," he said quietly, his voice low and deep. "I am glad these are from joy and not sorrow."

Something inside her told her she should pull back from his touch, that it was inappropriate. Perhaps it was the fact they were alone, secluded from the harsh world around them, that she did not stop him - and instead let herself relish in the exhilarating calm she felt at that moment. The breeze from the river sailed around them, crisp, raw and soothing. "I suppose we must be glad when we can find some happiness to hold onto in this world," she whispered, warm brown eyes meeting the steely grey of the north.

It was then that Rhaenys scurried back over to them. They both seemed to wake from their thoughts in a start. "Sit?" the toddler prodded her mother, tugging on the ivory skirt of her dress.

"Of course, my love," she said in a rush, taking a seat in the grass and tearing her gaze away from the northerner quickly. Elia could feel his eyes on her but dared not meet them. "What do you have here?" she asked Rhaenys looking at a bundle in her hands.

"Flowers, mama," she whispered excitedly, handing her a few ragged red pieces.

"Those were under your mummer's heart tree," Brandon said, as though he found his voice anew. He'd taken a seat on the grass as well.

Elia continued to keep her eyes away from him and instead focused on the dark red flowers in her daughter's hands. "They're called Dragon's breath."

He scoffed lightly. "Of course they are. They remind me a bit of the leaves of a weirwood tree," he remarked fondly. "I suppose that was the intention."

With Elia sitting, Rhaenys began to run her fingers through her mother's hair before placing a few pieces of dragon's breath in her dark brown hair where the loose strands met the part tied away. "Thank you," Elia whispered to her daughter before bending her head down to kiss her cheek and then tickle her.

"You look a bit like a weirwood tree now," Brandon observed with a half-smile.

She gave him a puzzled look with the threat of offense taken. "Should I take that as a compliment?"

He nodded to her ivory dress. "Your white gown, the dark red flowers. And yes, I meant that as a compliment, my Queen. Weirwoods are...quite beautiful."

Elia had always thought northerners and their accents to be harsh and cold, just like their climate. But now she found her mind changed.

"I'm not lying," he said, breaking her from her thoughts when she did not reply. "It truly was a compliment."

"No, I - I was just thinking your accent is...different than I once thought northerners would speak."

"Oh?" he asked, intrigued. "What is it like then?"

Comforting, warm. "Just different, that is all."

Rhaenys tumbled into Elia's lap then, playing with the skirt of her gown and humming to herself. "I should perhaps take her back to the Keep soon," Elia finally said, her voice quiet. Somehow they had managed not to talk about the one thing that they really should have talked about. "Are you ready to meet with the Small Council...and him?" she asked, running her hand through Rhaenys's hair gently.

There was only silence and the sound of the river nearby and leaves rustling for a few moments. Then Brandon spoke once more. "As ready as one can be, I suppose. Should I expect him to be as mad as his father?"

"No, but….but his unpredictability…"

"Are you certain he understands what his own father has done?" There was no malice in his tone, just earnestness. "Of what he is trying to do with my sister?"

She raised her eyes slowly from her daughter to him, meeting his eyes with naked honesty. "There are very few things of which I am certain anymore, Brandon."


It felt like some kind of miracle that the coronation had gone so smoothly. No surprises, no incidents. All as it should be, as much as that ever was possible.

The reception was to be held the next day after they held the first negotiation to resolve the woes brought on by both Aerys and Rhaegar. And so the next morning they commenced - beginning with House Baratheon.

When Elia and Rhaegar entered the room, Rhaelle Baratheon was already there, waiting for them and the necessary members of the small council who would attend.

"Aunt, thank you for joining," Rhaegar greeted her, unable to hide the wariness he clearly felt in her presence. "Will Cousin Robert be here soon?"

"Oh, I'm afraid you shall have to settle for me, nephew. As it happens, my grandson shall not be attending."

"What?" the King asked, incredulous. Even Elia could not hide her surprise at that information. "What do you mean?"

"'It's really quite simple.'" She enunciated each word with delight. Elia's quickly went back to The Worst Meeting as she heard Rhaelle repeat Rhaegar's own words.

And then Lady Baratheon smiled pleasantly. "He's no longer in the capital."


-Elia's conversation with Rhaegar is really my version of a super mini-meta/critique on the way GRRM has partly written her role in the books.

-I find it laughable that people think Elia's mother held the power in arranging the marraige with Rhaegar - just because of what Oberyn *kind of* said? At the end of the day, Aerys decided and he wasn't gonna listen to anyone but himself. Like GTFO here lol

-This was supposed to be my funny and slightly more political and non-angsty fic since my other fic is ALL angst - and then I just leaned in real strong on Elia and Brandon. Le sigh.

-A question/survey: why do you read stories on FF vs AO3? I'm a bit tempted to only post on one site cause posting on both seems superfluous but let me know your thoughts

-And finally - drop a review and a follow/favorite while you're here