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Lady of Dorne

A Harsh Beginning

Elia's eyes wandered around the study before she started pacing. It was cool, as cool as it could be in Dorne, with windcatchers making breathing easier, heavy beige curtains containing the sun to not so glaring sunlight, and water whispering in a small fountain in a corner. She could appreciate it even more after her visit at the quarters with more than half of the houses burned down to scorch the plague away. The scent of despair had been so tangible that it still clung to her like a film she could not scrub away, the scar on her torso that would never disappear. All those people looking at her in bleak mute appeal. Craftsmen and tradesmen who had lost their goods and trades and stood silent, their arms hanging limply against their sides. Old women feebly caring about their orphaned grandchildren… Five months had trailed since the last victim had been buried but to those people, time seemed to have frozen.

A pair of violet eyes followed her movements. She felt them like a steady calming presence, unostentatious but unyielding support. She was grateful to Lord Dayne that he would stay with her for this. Technically, it was no concern of his. Sunspear was the stronghold of House Martell and they were the ones who should support its people. Elia could not and would not present this to a council with all her bannermen included – but it was reassuring to know that someone who had gone almost through the same thing was here. Maybe Arel Dayne would notice some details that she could not see.

The man was announced in the time she had appointed. He was ushered in with all due ceremony, the servant bringing him in seasoned by too many years of serving in this part of the Old Palace. But Elia thought she had detected a faint trace of curiosity that she could not fault Caril for. The man's Stormlands' origin was evident, although Elia could not quite put her finger into the reason. Men of Stormlands varied in their looks as storms varied in their gathering and deadliness. Maybe it was his weather-beaten face, or his stance, staying with his feet firmly planted at the width of his shoulders. As if he expected a storm – or had just conquered one.

She stepped out from the shade of the fountain and he gave a clumsy bow. "M'lady," he said.

"Master Sidor," Elia replied. "Welcome. Please take a seat."

He took the chair she pointed him to without showing any surprise, despite certainly having met many lords and ladies of lesser rank than Elia's who would keep him standing as if he were a servant. Stannis Baratheon must truly let people of this standing sit in his presence, Elia thought. She had heard about the Lord of Storm's End peculiarities, including the one that was named the Onion Knight. She was pleased for Alaenys, for a girl who had grown up with children of cooks, washerwomen, and masons at the Water Garden would have a trouble with a husband who deemed smallfolk so vastly inferior.

"This is Lord Dayne," Elia said, noticing the man's passing look at Arel. "He's a valued bannerman of mine."

Arel nodded politely.

"Would you care for some refreshment?" she asked and indicated the fruit and balls of almond paste a servant maid had laid out a little earlier.

Master Sidor gratefully accepted and bit at an almond ball with the gist of someone who was starving. There was a slight caution, though. He was clearly on the watch for too many spices. Elia smiled a little.

"You've made a good time of it," she said. "I trust your voyage was a peaceful one?"

"Not a single storm, m'lady," he assured her. "And Lord Baratheon made it clear that I should make haste."

It was good to hear that. Elia had hoped that Stannis Baratheon would prove as true ally as she needed. The start was promising indeed. She had done meticulous research to choose the builder she would entrust the rebuilding of the destroyed quarter to. It would have been a pity indeed if his being of the Stormlands had posed an obstacle.

"I am very grateful to your lord for his help," she said. "When are you going to be ready to start?"

"Now, m'lady."

Elia and Arel exchanged a look of surprise when the man actually took his bag from the carpet, took some rolls of parchment out and spread them on a table, as if he was indeed ready to start .

"I thought you'd need… to have a look at the part of the city I was talking about…" Elia said.

"I already had," the Stormlander answered readily. "Before coming here."

A man who likes to keep it short and effective, Elia and Arel both thought as they approached the sturdy oak table.

"It was a shame, what happened to all those people," Sidor murmured and went to the matter at hand. "With what I know about Dornish climate, I would say that stone would be just wasting of means. Mud would serve just as fine or even better, sun-dried bricks. You people aren't stupid, using what is best suited to you and not wasting efforts."

Once again, Elia and Arel looked at each other and then quickly away to stifle their laughter. The man was addressing them like a benign grandfather, his enthusiasm of his work clearly overcoming propriety. Good!

"I'd start with building the quarter not the way it used to be," Master Sidor went on. "Not quite… I'd be grateful if I can have some of the old plans, by the way… But I'd made some changes, m'lady. I'd wager that some of the streets sported houses that leaned against each other so close from the opposite sides that they blocked the sun. It isn't safe."

He went on explaining the way he wanted to change the map of Sunspear. Elia listened, from time to time giving a brief thought to how that would fly with her treasurer. Alyse Ladybright had brought up the matter of the shelter given to the people from the houses they had set to fire and the cost of their upkeep. Well, she'll have to find the means from somewhere, Elia told herself. Even if she had to economize on everything in her daily life, she owned her people support and care. Especially in the wake of a disaster comparable only to the Great Spring Sickness that her grandmother had survived as a child.

Sometimes at night, the air became so cool that Elia needed to throw a light cover over her shoulders before going to the roof to stare at the stars or just walk in the gardens and try to forget the daily cares. This was one of those nights. She wrapped a shawl fashioned in yellow fabric and left. A pair of eyes followed her from the staircase at the end of the hallway her bedchamber was in and the man followed suit, leaving some distance, as not to disturb her. Elia didn't care. But she didn't call him either. It would be some long time indeed before she let Arthur close or even speak to him. Almost every day, she got news concerning Aegon's forthcoming departure for Dragonstone and they pained her anew with the sting of helplessness, fury, protectiveness… and offense. She could not believe that she could still feel insulted by Rhaegar's onetime decision to remove her from the capitol but she was.

In Rhaenys' chamber, there was still some light. The girl had fallen asleep in bed, a thick tome opened on her chest. Elia smiled a little. Her daughter's reading habits were all Rhaegar but Rhaenys liked the company of other children as well. She leaned over to collect a piece of attire from the carpet and smiled again at seeing that it was a jerkin. A boy's jerkin.

Rhaenys had clearly been spending time with Laval again. To Elia's perfunctory disapproval and Alric's undisguised amusement, she had announced that riding like a lady was clearly unfair since it limited speed, so she wanted to know how boys did it. Laval had enthusiastically undertaken the task to show her. Alas, he had clearly neglected the washing-after part, as Elia found out when she brushed her lips against her daughter's forehead. Once Rhaenys had managed to stay on horseback the way men did it – two days and five falls in the process, – all ladylike notions had ended where riding was concerned.

Lately, Elia had started finding sleep increasingly elusive and harder to come. She supposed it was just because of the anxiety over her recent investment and the first Council Session – the annual assembly of all her bannermen where they discussed things that mattered greatly – or not so greatly – to Dorne's wellbeing. Tonight, even a long stroll in the gardens didn't help her insomnia. Her ache for Aegon. Her desperate sympathy for her people's plea. Instead, her fears rose and she hardly realized where she was going until she suddenly found herself in a chamber she hadn't seen in eight years, yet remembered as clearly as if it had been only yesterday when she had spent hours here in laughter, chatting, and shared confidences. A chamber she had avoided most painstakingly since her return. The moonlight coming through the slit between the shutters silhouetted the small alcove hiding the bed, the fluffy carpet on the floor, a cradle in the corner, the silver hairbrush on the dressing-table, and the high-backed chairs… Had she come here to seek alleviation to her restlessness from someone long gone? Elia gasped and stepped back when another silhouette stirred between the shadows. A living one. A woman.

Arthur made a swift step, as if he wanted to enter the room, but then reconsidered as the woman opened the shutters and the room filled with ghostly light.

"Lady Loreza died here," she said in a soft, subdued voice as surreal as the silver radiance flickering between them. "Oberyn found her next to the cradle. Since that day, nothing had been removed. Laval comes here sometimes, as do the servant maids to clean… but no one else."

And you, Elia thought as she took in the dark hair, the sensual curve of the mouth, and the shade of an old grief in those black eyes. All of a sudden, she connected the dots, the memories she had of her time here and what she knew now. "You're Ellaria," she said. "Oberyn's lady. And you used to be Loreza's friend. I remember seeing you with her often."

The other woman nodded. "That I was," she said. "And at the end, I failed her. But I didn't know…"

Her voice caught. But Elia had understood. Indeed, how could have anyone known? Her half-sister had been a cheerful, vibrant creature who had loved life. How could have anyone supposed that she'd take her own away, no matter how provoked? Her eyes went to a dark stain in the carpet, near the cradle. Was it blood? She shivered and tried not to look at it. "When did you arrive?" she asked.

Ellaria smiled. "Oberyn came to the Water Gardens this morning," she said. "And since he isn't going to have the time to cross between here and there often, we decided we'd better accompany him here – the children and I. And Lady Nym, of course. She was getting restless there anyway. Too calm for her, she says."

Her voice was sweet, her eyes affectionate. Everything about her inspired calm trust, just as it had many years ago. Maybe that was why Elia had never made the connection between Loreza's friend and Oberyn's paramour. Ellaria was the last person she would imagine keeping Oberyn's heart for years. He had never tired of mocking her and Loreza for being too gracious. Maybe being gracious is a trait he finds endearing in a beloved mistress when he wouldn't in his sisters, she thought.

"Do you come here often?" she asked.

"I come a few times a year."

Just like Loreza would have liked. Nothing too evident, just a private visit. It fitted the person she had been in life. In some ways, she and Doran had been even more similar than he and Elia had been. Elia swallowed painfully.

"I have to go," Ellaria said. "Oberyn will come to our chamber soon if he hasn't already. I am sorry I startled you, my lady."

Elia smiled a little, although shakily. "I think we both startled each other. Well, I suppose we'll be seeing more of each other now."

Ellaria smiled back. "I'd say so."

She headed for the door where she turned and briefly hesitated. "I'd appreciate it if you don't mention to him about this encounter," she said. "He… he doesn't like it when I come here."

"I won't," Elia promised. The truth was, Loreza was a topic that Oberyn would flatly refuse to discuss and pretend not to hear when she tried to. Just like their father did. She wondered how Doran had felt. After all, he had been the one making the verdict that had driven Loreza to such despair.

Yes, the walls of the palace of her memories and dreams now whispered of horrors and hurts, and the Stranger's steps as much as the Red Keep did. Elia listened at the echo of the other woman's retreating steps and imagined her throwing herself in Oberyn's arms to be soothed and loved. She had never been treated like this. Even with Arthur… For that night of madness, she had let herself believe that it could work but the very next night had sobered her, bringing her back to the loneliness of heart that she had lived with for nigh than nine years. She loved Arthur but she could never trust him. And without trust, there could be nothing between them.

Once again, her eyes found the dark stain on the carpet. She knelt down to inspect it. She had been right. It was blood, bleached and parched, and darkened to black.

"No way," Alyse Ladybright stated flatly. Her shrewd brown eyes were ready to cut the builder into pieces for daring to propose that they actually built a stone building here and there to better resist the fires that were not so rare in Sunspear.

Yes, way, Elia almost said, although, of course, such an input would befit Rhaenys and not her. Her treasurer and Master Sidor had taken most genuine dislike to each other from the moment he had presented his calculations. They bickered like market sellers, each trying to best the other. Elia tried to listen to both of their arguments but they always came to the point when words would start flying so fast and sound so elaborated and professional that she was lost. She did her best not to show it, though. If things kept going this way, the survivors of the plague would stay homeless for a very long time indeed!

She opened her mouth to smooth the things over when she felt faint and slumped over the table. The next thing she knew, she was in her bed, surrounded by servants, and Alynna was squeezing her wrist to make sure that she had pulse.

"Maester Caleotte will be here any minute now," she said when she saw that Elia was awake.

"No!"Elia said sharply and tried to rise.

"Elia," Alynna said patiently. "You fainted. You should be examined…"

Elia's eyes went over all the faces in her shelter, her very own bedchamber. "Everyone, leave," she ordered. "And no maesters. I am fine."

"You've lost too much weight," her cousin said as the others left. "I knew it. It's no wonder you collapsed. But just to be on the safe side…"

Elia still felt dizzy but reality could no longer be denied. "Alynna, I think I am with child."

"Oh no!" Alynna's hand rose to her face, as if trying to protect it from a strike. "It can't be. You have no husband," she said stupidly.

"I think I am. My flux has been late for almost three weeks."

"Your what?" Alynna's voice rose but she immediately got a grip over herself. "I thought you no longer had those! For the Mother's sake, wasn't this the whole reason Rhaegar sought the Northern chit out, because you no longer had a womb to speak of?"

"They came back two years ago… I kept it in secret…"

The thought of Rhaegar getting to know that she might not be barren had been unconceivable. She could not have accepted him in her bed ever again. She couldn't. And she sure as hell wouldn't have given him the daughter of his dreams… or a son who would be behind Lyanna's son in the succession!

"What are we going to do?"

"Go and fetch Naeryn, please… She'll think of something."

At first, their cousin only gave her a blank look, as if she couldn't process what she had just heard. But then, she sprang to action that, for Elia and Alynna's mental paralysis, was a great relief.

"Maester Caleotte should examine you and confirm that you're with child. This way, we'll know for sure how to act. And now, get up, don't just lie in this bed. What are you trying to do, be on bedrest? Why didn't you tell me the moment your flux didn't come? Never mind that now… Fall from this bed. Now!"

Elia shook her head. "I am still too faint… I don't think I can…"

"Faint, are you? Do you think the next seven months will be the time you'll feel utterly strong? Fall down, I said."

"Naeryn!" Alynna exclaimed, stunned by her cousin's vehemence.

"Don't Naeryn me! Come over and help instead!"

She grabbed Elia's hand and started pulling her down. Elia fought but feebly and anyway, Naeryn's sole hand was so strong that the rest of them were always caught unprepared. Alynna wouldn't be too surprised if Naeryn turned out to have more strength in this hand than most knights had in their sword hand. To her, it had been a matter of survival. Mere breaths after, Elia fell down on the carpet with a soft thump. Naeryn stepped back.

"Now, go back there and do it again. And then again. We might be lucky. Sometimes, these babes just fall out before they become babes if the collision is hard enough…"

But for all her determination, she did not drag Elia back to the floor. Instead, she started biting her lips and muttering to herself.

"By the Mother, Naeryn! You haven't even been with child, ever! How is it that you know what to do?" Alynna asked, a little scared.

"Because I am neither a lady who's expected to kill to give her husband's heirs nor a fool, that's why! I wouldn't spread my legs apart if I didn't know how those things were done. Have the two of you never heard of moon tea?"

"I did drink it," Elia started explaining and then moaned, remembering with horror what else had happened. "I was so hungover that I threw up almost immediately after taking the tea."

Now, she remembered that she had intended to have another goblet, just in case, but then the news of Aegon had come, pushing everything else aside.

Her cousins took her silence for what it was. As Elia frantically tried to calculate the length of her new fluxes, Alynna rose and sent for Maester Caleotte, after all.