Chapter 7: The Dornishman's wife
Elia woke in a pleasant mood that morning feeling the rays of the sun against her olive skin causing it to glow in its warmth, as she readied herself with the help of her handmaidens looking forward to seeing the melee that day, and the wild wolf Brandon Stark probably make a fool of himself.
Feeling a small smile creep over her lips recalling their many walks along the grounds and rampant of Harranhall knowing she was already falling for the Stark heir, something she knew would displease her older brother and head of their house who sought to have Martell's blood sit upon the iron throne by any means necessary, least she not bother returning to Sunspear or Dorne for that matter.
The nerve of him, Elia thought annoyed with herself for the circumstances she now found herself in knowing none of the charms she'd used on the crown prince has worked in her favor.
"You should wear this today princess," one of her handmaidens mused pulling Elia away from her worried thoughts as the summer islander twirled in the dress she held running her hands across the plunging neckline of the red myrish laced gown styled in Pentoshi fashion.
"I would much rather wear something in the color gray," Elia answered annoyed stepping out of the tub as another one of her handmaidens wrapped her in a sheer robe moving her over towards to looking glass to prepare her hair for that day as she watched the confused look on the coppered skinned woman who still held up her dress knowing fully well there was nothing in the princess's trunks that was of that color.
Sighing to herself not wanting to cause the woman any distress on the matter in trying to find her lady a gray dress on such short notice, "One of the many gold ones will do, Nohia," Elia said pausing only to allow another of her handmaidens to paint her lips crimson red as she puckered her thin lips wishing they were a little more plumper before turning back to the summer islander who still awaited to see which gold dress her princess preferred. "Any dress will do, I think it would be much more fitting to wear my house color on this fine day."
Elia watched as the handmaiden bowed before stepping back into the antechamber no doubt in search of the perfect dress.
Walking through the candlelit hallways deep in her thoughts, wondering which path she should take when it comes to her heart wondering if the path her brother wanted her to take would be the best for her knowing both her and the prince would hold no love for each other. Their marriage would not be one for the songs about the fired dragon who fell for the sun princess. No, there's would be a song of duty and nothing else something she knew she wanted not of. Where some may have no problem being locked down in a marriage of no passion, she wanted the opposite. To love and be loved was a song of its own, the melding of two hearts where the sun could shine bright in the darkness of the cold, bring warmth to a place that only knew the cold. Suddenly grey wolfish eyes and a mischievous grin flashed before her eyes causing Elia to stop in her path knowing the wild wolf had already started chipping away at her heart.
"Princess Elia," a voice she recognized called to her, "are you well my lady?"
"I am well your grace" Elia inhaled deeply curtsying before the prince before rising and acknowledging sers Arthur and Oswell who were always by the crown prince side like the shadows they were. "Are you heading to the tourney your grace?" she asked clasping her wary hands in front of her.
"Yes, but only to observe," he replied, with his arms wrapped behind him smiling.
He was truly indeed a handsome man, with his long curly silver locks and deep indigo eyes that sometimes seemed black like obsidian. But despite that, she did not feel that pull for him as she did for another. Instead, she tried to compare him to someone else, with his cheeky and almost Dornish-like manner, while the prince seemed more shy and melancholic.
"Will you give me permission to accompany you to the melee?" Rhaegar asked holding his arm out for her to take.
Smiling in return Elia took his arm into hers as they walked along the halls speaking of the weather since there was nothing else to point out along the path they took towards the courtyard for the day's festivities.
They were walking through the courtyard towards the main gates of Harrhenal, with the eyes of everyone on them. Where she saw Oberyn deep in conversation with a few of their guards, before one-pointed in her direction, causing her younger brother to look between her and Rhaegar, a smirk layered across his lips and dark eyes, no words needed to be spoken until they saw each other later that day.
"I bet after this walk, the rumors about us will be all everyone speaks about," she jokingly said, breaking the silence, and glancing at Rhaegar as he was stared ahead.
"They will, but I am not worried about them. And you shouldn't be worried either," he answered seriously, glancing at her, before looking forward. "It is another rumor that has me worried."
"Which one your grace?"
"With all respect, Princess Elia, I don't want to reveal them. That person is significant to me and I don't want to see them getting hurt by anyone."
Elia wondered for a moment who that person may be until she remembered the night of the first feast where Rhaegar danced with the young Lyanna Stark.
Brandon was crossing the great courtyard of the cursed fortress, to head towards the field of the tourney and attend the melee, when he heard his name-calling and turning around, he saw the Red Viper of Dorne approaching him with an air of arrogance like most other southern lords. "I've heard rumors that you took an interest in my sister. Is that true?" the Red Viper asked, with his strange Dornish accent once he was a few inches from him.
Not replying right away, Brandon stared the man down eyeing especially his hands to see if he in the case has some hidden blade, but nothing, so smirking he replied, trying to be as jokingly as possible, "Yes. I'm sure the envious maidens have spread gossip about a moment that many will think were too overstepped."
"And was it too overstepped?"
"Depend on what you mean by overstepping, Prince Oberyn. Fucking septas is too overstepping? Taking the maidenhood of Ladies is too overstepping?"
The prince didn't reply, just staring at him emotionless, and Brandon was sure that he hit some sensitive and true spots with this revelation. But taking a step closer, he said, "But if you wonder if I took her against one of the walls, then the response is no. Just wrapped an arm around her and prised my manhood. Good day, prince." Moving away, grinning to himself.
Tywin was heading towards the dungeons of Harrhenal where the lord of the Stormlands helped. He was surprised that Aerys didn't kill, but maybe after many years he had lost his touch, or maybe it was a favor to Steffon. That damn fool. If only he had accepted his proposal of an alliance against the crown, now he would have been alive.
As he was walking through the cells, Tywin could smell the stench of death and despair inside them, and upon reaching his destination, he saw the so-called Dragonkeepers at the door.
"Lord Tywin. What brings you down here?"
"I want to see the prisoner," He replied with coldness and determination.
"You can't," replied the man.
"I can't? Who are you soldier that dares to address a high lord with such arrogance and disrespect."
"We are the Dragonkeepers and the King commanded us to let no one see and speak with the prisoner," replied the man, placing the hand on the dagger at his right side.
Hearing that, Tywin approached him, and in a rather menacing tone, said, "I hope you remember the stories about Castamere because your families will end up the same way".
"We have no families, my lord. Now, with all respect, I ask you to leave," the man replied in a challenging way too, and Tywin glanced at the other soldiers who had their spears ready to attack, and so Tywin backed away, leaving the dungeons with an unhappy mood, and heading to his rooms. He needs to send an act of revenge to Genna and Jamie.
Upon entering, Tywin saw his daughter waiting for him, as he sighed in annoyance, closing the door, knowing perfectly why she was here.
"Father. We need to talk,"
"Not now, Cersei," he replied, moving to the table, sitting down at the chair, and taking scroll, pen, and ink, starting to write.
"Father. I saw the Prince walking arm in arm with that Dornish whore that they call a Princess," his daughter said leaning against the table, looking down at him, as he keeps ignoring her. "Father?"
"And?"
"And? What do you mean by and?" she asked with confusion clearly in her voice.
"Why are you telling me this, Cersei?" he asked without looking up from the scroll which was far more important than his daughter's childish behavior.
"Father you promised me that I will be the queen of the Seven Kingdoms next to Prince Rhaegar? The whore-"
"Enough with this childish behavior, Cersei!" he said, raising his voice, and making her jolt. "If I said that you will be the queen then you will be. I don't care if he speaks with women, or if he beds her. Right now, I have better things to do than dealing with your whims."
"But father?"
"Leave, Cersei," he said again, taking another scroll, as he hears the door slam.
The melee went on for three hours. Near forty men took part, free-riders and hedge knights and new-made squires in search of a reputation, and from what she understood from her brother, maybe new members of the Kingsguard since there is one place available.
"What do you think of this green boy, sweet sister? Is anyone of them worthy to join the brotherhood?" asked her brother leaning.
"I would say they are quite skillful, your grace. Though, since they fought with blunted weapons, I don't know how good they can be said to be."
"Yes. Like a bunch of brats," the king replied annoyed. "I would much prefer to spend my time in another place." And hearing it, Rhaella, rolled her eyes, knowing perfectly what he was meaning, but asked, "And where it is the place, your grace?"
"Inside the keep, and planning our revenge," he replied, and she saw him glare at every lord who was sitting in the crowd.
Rhaella asked nothing else returning her attention to the yard and seeing the old knight Yohan Royce triumphant between the fray. All around him there was a chaos of mud and blood. She may non be a Maester, but Rhaella could see that there were broken limbs, shattered collarbone, a dozen smashed fingers, wounded horses that for sure had to be put down, and more cuts, sprains, and bruises. She was glad that Rhaegar didn't join the melee, and she hoped that in the future Viserys would like his brother.
"Well, it seems that the old war veterans still have a lot to teach to these green boys," laughed the king as he stood up. "Crowd. Here is your champion of the melee. Ser Yohn Royce, Lord of Runestone. Give him the prize."
And Rhaella saw a little coffer with coin brought to the Lord for the victory. The knight willingly accepted and walked away, while the king stretched his back, before holding his hands towards her, without saying anything, and Rhaella, knowing that it was time to go, got up and took it, heading back to the Keep.
"Aren't you afraid that he will use that gold against you, dear brother?" whispered Rhaella, as they were crossing the courtyard.
"It's not real," was the only thing he said, and Rhaella, even if she was confused had no intention of asking furthermore.
Even if he wasn't the one to win the melee but that old Bronze Yohn, Brandon was very happy to have seen that cunt of Oberyn Martell with his mouth full of dirt and a broken nose. And now he has one more argument to use against him.
But after that long action that he loved, Brandon wanted to take a long walk through the Godswood to cool his mind and think about what his father told him before the melee. Lysa Tully. The girl indeed was a beauty, not as much as her sister was, but still enough to be a pleasant sight to behold during a fuck. Slender, high-breasted, and dimpled. But still, besides the so-called beauty and the great pleasure she may give him, there was something in her that didn't attract him.
Suddenly he was brought from his thoughts by the screams of women coming from the deepest of the Godswood, who were calling for help, and he immediately rushed in that way, to see what was happening.
When he reached the destination, Brandon saw a big man trying to force himself on a crying woman, and another one was holding Ashara Dayne by the neck, and with a knife.
If Ashara Dayne was there, that meant the woman on the ground was the Princess of Dorne. So, charging at the big man with full force, like a bull, Brandon managed to knock him down and starting to hit the face. But that beast of a man seems not to feel his powerful punches and managed to throw him away.
With a roar, the man got up and charged at him with full force, knocking him to the ground and starting to hit him on the sides with punches that seemed like thousands of falling stones from a high mountain, before turning his attention to the face, which Brandon tried to pair but one got it straight and left him stunned
As the big men that attacked Elia were hitting Ned's brother, the one that was holding her started to lose the grip of her neck, and the nearness of the knife, giving her the possibility to use her hidden blade and stab him through the tunic.
The man collapsed to the ground, holding with one hand the wound and with the other try to strike her, but she managed to avoid it, running to her Princess, who was on the ground.
"Princess Elia," she bends and wrapping her arms, as the woman was crying against her chest, as the beast of a man was hammering the heir of Winterfell on the side and the face. Then suddenly she heard, "You Dornish whore! You will pay-" he couldn't finish that an arrow pierced his neck, killing him, and looking in the direction, Ashara saw it was Prince Rhaegar with a bow in hand, right before throwing it aside and charging at the big men.
The Prince immediately stroke the man with a slash on the side, making him release a scream of pain mixed with a roar, before getting up in rage and turning to the Prince. When that beast of a man started to charge at the young Prince, the dragon started to run away, droving the mad man deep and deep into the Godswood.
In the meantime, Elia escaped her grip and crawled in tears quickly to the Wild Wolf, and Ashara herself, quickly got up to approach the body. She really hoped that someone will come in their search. Maybe Ned or her brother.
Rhaegar tried to lure the Mountain in the deepest of the Godswood and away from the woman and the Stark heir, but now as he was hiding behind one of the trees and with Blackfyre draw, he lost sight of the Mountain.
As he was peeking from behind it, Rhaegar hear a roar, and a small tree being thrown at him, and which he, fortunately, managed to dodge.
The beast of a man was enraged, and with his bare hands he rips out a tree and charged at him, swinging the object like a club, trying to hit him, and Rhaegar dodged and paired what he could pair, but the big man was damn strong, with the result that one strike made him lose his sword.
"Why are you doing this, Clegane?" asked Rhaegar, dogging the attacks, and hiding behind trees, trying to figure a way in how to get the sword from the ground in time.
The big man hit the tree, shattering the one he had in his hands, and realizing a long and angry roar, which give Rhaegar the possibility to Run towards Blackfyre, pick it from the ground, and turn in time to pierce the man trough the belly.
The strike seemed not to affect him, as he grabbed him by the neck, trying to choke him, but Rhaegar, managing to free himself, moved a bit away, before cutting his head. The lifeless body of Gregor Clegane fell to the ground almost making shake it, as Rhaegar backed away to lean against a tree, breathing fast.
"My Prince!" he heard Arthur's voice came and saw him and some member of the Dragonkeepers follow him, "Are you all right, my Prince?"
"Yes," Rhaegar replied, swallowing. "Just a bit tired. How are the ladies and Brandon Stark?"
"They are all right but very scared. Brandon Stark was brought to the Maester as we spoke," replied his friend, and Rhaegar nodded, cleaning his sword, and sheathing it back.
"The king will want to know what happened, and will call a meeting," Arthur said, looking at the dead body.
"Or the other way. Come, Arthur, let's hurry up and prevent the starting of a war between these walls."
He was sure that as soon as news of what happened will reach Lord Stark and Oberyn Martell the chaos will blow up in Harrhenal.
A few hours later…
The king was sitting on the great seat of the lord, gazing with his deep purple eyes at those who were present in the hall of hundreds of hearts. The queen standing on his right side while the heir on his left side and the Kingsguard deployed on the sides but bellow them ready to defend the royal family from any attack.
The dusk outside was making this hall even more gloomy and cold as usual and Ned tightened the cloak around himself as he was standing on the side part of the Northern-Dornish, the one who was wronged by the two lords of the Westerlands, while the Old Lion with his lords and supporters was on the other side.
"So, Tywin of House Lannister, you have been summoned before the crown to answer for the attack of your two lords, Ser Gregor Clegane and Armory Lorch who attacked two Dornish ladies trying to deflower them," the King said, adding the last part with a bit of sarcasm, and almost laugh, which was making him get angry a bit.
"Yes. That is what I heard. But I also heard that the Prince brought the king's justice on my Lord, Ser Gregor Clegane, so I don't understand why we are gathered here," Tywin Lannister said, looking straight at him. Ned could see the coldness, the evilness, a calculating mind behind those pale green eyes that hold the glimpse of gold in it.
"We want retribution for what happened, Lannister!" shouted Oberyn Martell, stepping forward, but was stopped by the guards who stepped in the middle.
"Retribution!" shouted one from the Lannister side. "You already had retribution. Ser Gregor and Ser Armory are both dead!
"They tried to rape two ladies of Dorne. One is a Princess of House Martell, the other of House Dayne, two of the oldest and highest families of Westeros. If it weren't for Lord Stark's intervention, the act would have been done!"
"Then we thank Lord Brandon for his prominent intervention," the lion said almost mockingly, "but I will give no retribution for something that had already be done. Remember that I lost two bannerman too today. Very loyal and dutiful. And since we only heard one version, and can't hear the other, the trial is done."
"Done?! Nothing will be done till I won't put my spear up your ass, Lannister!" shouted the arrogant Prince Oberyn, but his father, approaching the King said, "What is your decision, my King? "Will you let this go unpunished?"
"The Prince brought the King's justice on the knight Ser Gregor Clegane. As I was informed the two ladies have still their virtue, while your sone only a few broken ribs. I would say a good price for stupid bravery," the King said, and Ned could see the glimpse of a smirk on his face. "As for Lord Lannister, I say that…he can go."
"Your grace? This is unacceptable!"
"Is it? Well, it's my final decision, Lord Stark. Do not try to cross a line where you may lose your head," the King said, getting up, and his father after a bow stormed out the hall, with all the other Lords.
They were in the depths of Godswood, with the sun already down. They came to this sacred place to plot against the king, tired of his mistreatments and especially because of what happened. It was too much, and he was sure that Tywin Lannister did that.
"This can no longer continue, Lord Arryn. If Robert was king, this would have never happened," replied angrily.
"I know Lord stark, but how do you suggest to free him? The King placed the newly restored order of the Dragonkeepers," replied Jon Arryn, sighing, and glancing down for a moment.
"During the last day of the tourney. When the eyes of Harrhenal will be on the champion, we will send men without banners to free Robert. Once that happens, Lord Hoster will help him leave the Riverlands," said Rickard, nodding toward Hoster Tully, who strangely remained silent throughout the entire time of his conversation with Arryn.
"Lord Tully?"
"Yes, yes. I will help him, but before this happen, I want to ask, is it worth the risk?" the lord of Riverrun replied. "If the plan doesn't work, the king will want our heads on a spike. The king has her at least a hundred good men, and the army of the Crownlands may be on us in a fortnight. Our army instead would never come in time."
"He would never dare to do that. Not here. Not in Riverlands," replied Rickard sure of the victory they may gain her if the king attacks them.
The Lord of the Riverrun didn't reply, looking down with hands behind his back.
Silence dropped over them with the only thing that could be heard was the rustle of the tree leaves but was Jon Arryn the one to break it.
"We would act that day. By the end of the year, house Targaryen will fall. I advise you Lord Tully to send your daughter Lysa to visit Brandon."
"I will," Tully replied, leaving them alone, and once Rickard saw that the Lord of Riverrun could no longer be seen, said, "If Tully betrays us, we would not have the numbers to win the war against the crown."
"He won't. And soon Robert will be King and your daughter as queen," replied Arryn, smiling, and Rickard nodded, though he knew it would be tough to make see her that this is the best thing for her. A man like Robert was the best for her.
"Lord Stark is she still a maiden I hope," said Arryn, bringing him back from his taught as they started to walk.
"She is. And I want to send her back to the north before the end of the tourney. OR at least away from Harrhenal."
Arryn nodded, and they resumed to walk.
Elia was patching in her room, still overwhelmed and shocked by what had happened. When Oberyn found out, he wanted to go straight to the chambers of the old Lion and stab him with his spear, but she made him give up, saying that they don't know if it was him the sender of the two knights.
But in addition to that, there was something else that haunted her mind. And it was about the condition of the man who saved her life and reputation. Brandon Stark. If he didn't intervene, Elia was sure that they wouldn't have survived the day.
Looking outside, she saw that it was already dark, but her brother hasn't come back yet. Either the meeting with the King lasted longer than expected or he is with some whore. He was supposed to come here to inform them about Brandon Stark's condition, but it seems he forgot.
Tired of waiting for Oberyn, Elia took a fur coat, as it was quite cold around there, and headed for the door.
"Where are you going, Princess Elia?" Ashara asked, immediately getting up from the bed. "Your brother hasn't come back yet."
"To hell with Oberyn. I must know how he is and if he is still alive," answered Elia, opening the door, but she was immediately stopped by Ser Arthur. "Get out of my way, Ser."
"No. I cannot, Princess. The king's orders. He asked for me to never leave your side till the end of this tourney."
"My side? If it's that the case then you can accompany me to Lord Brandon's chambers," she said, bypassing him and increasing the patch, hearing her being called by the two Dayne.
When she reached her destination, Elia saw Eddard Stark came out of the chambers, and she immediately rushed towards him, "Lord Eddard. How is he?"
"Alive," the man only said, before stepping aside to let her in. Elia took a long breath, before placing her trembling hand on the handle, and slowly opening it, hearing a groan of pain inside. Pecking from behind the door, she saw that the Maester was there at the moment, and next to the bed there was Lord Brandon's sister.
"May I come in?" Elia asked, and the stark girl immediately got up, and the Maester turned towards her, with a bow, while Brandon Stark, chuckling said, "Well, finally a pretty face came to visit me. I was tired of this old wreck." But immediately started to cough.
Elia smiled, closing the door, and as he approached the bed she asked, "How is he Maester?".
"He has some broken ribs and scratches on his face. But nothing that time cannot heal," replied the Maester.
"Get some rest, brother," the stark girl said, smiling, and starting to head towards the door, and leaving them alone inside. She would have wanted to speak with the girl, know her better, but now seems not to be the right moment.
Silence dropped on them, with the only thing that was breaking it was the crackling of the wood-burning from the fire in the fireplace. The room was very heated, and the fur coat she was wearing at that moment increased, even more, the warmth of her body almost as if she was in her homeland.
"I know I'm not a great looker, Princess, but will you really spend all your time standing there avoiding me?" said Brandon Stark.
Elia chuckled, looking down for a moment, and taking off the fur coat, she approached the bed and sat in the chair where his sister was sitting.
"How are you feeling, my Lord?"
"like shit, I would say. My ribs hurt. My head hurts. and my view is somewhat blurred," he answered, and Elia looked down knowing that what happened to him was her fault. "But not blurred enough to not make me admire your beauty." And hearing that her heart lit up with a strange sensation, and her cheeks became warm.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, squeezing her fists.
"Don't be. It's not your fault that I'm in this bed," the man replied, trying to raise a bit, but only to groan and squeeze his teeth, and Elia immediately wanted to help him, but Brandon Stark rose his hand and she sat back. "Besides, I may be a brutish Northman, but in front of a lady in distress I will never hesitate to rescue her."
Elia looked at him for a moment, trying to see if the northern brutish could be seen in his expression, but nothing. The story she heard about the north seems to be wrong. Well, almost wrong, but she replied, "I don't think of you as a brutish Northman."
"No? And do tell me what you truly think of me, sweet princess, since the moment of our meeting, it was only me the one to chant my great qualities."
"In bed," she added giggling, before even realizing, and therefore blushing.
"Yes. I see you have a good memory, Princess."
"Yes, I do. And we both should never forget that in the end, we both need to thank the one that saved both of our lives. Prince Rhaegar."
"Yes. That little silver-haired cunt. Damn him. Now I will be in debt," Brandon Stark groaned, as he tried to shift in a better position. "Do you know how to sing, Princess?"
"What?"
"A song. Can you sing me a song? I need to clear my head and raise my mood."
"I-"
"Sing me a Dornish one. I need something cheerful because the only thing my sister did was reading about the damn silver-haired cunts."
"Well, I will say I know only one. My brother thought me the Dornishman's wife. But I don't think-"
"Go with it, Princess," the man said eagerly, before realizing a painful groan followed by a murmuring 'fuck.'
Taking a long breath, and hoping to remember it, Elia started to sing that song, that wasn't suitable for a Princess or a lady, but that Oberyn loved it a lot, since he feet that character of the song.
The Dornishman's wife was as fair as the sun,
and her kisses were warmer than spring.
But the Dornishman's blade was made of black steel,
and its kiss was a terrible thing.
The Dornishman's wife would sing as she bathed,
in a voice that was sweet as a peach,
But the Dornishman's blade had a song of its own,
and a bite sharp and cold as a leech.
As he lay on the ground with the darkness around,
and the taste of his blood on his tongue,
His brothers knelt by him and prayed him a prayer,
and he smiled and he laughed and he sang,
"Brothers, oh brothers, my days here are done,
the Dornishman's taken my life,
But what does it matter, for all men must die,
and I've tasted the Dornishman's wife!"