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Suns and Stars Both Light the Way

Chapter 5

Ashara made one last attempt at the time they were headed to board the ship. "Let me come."

"Out of question," Edric snapped and she glared.

"I was addressing Elia, if you don't mind."

"Out of question," Elia said tiredly. She was not taking Ashara into whatever awaited them.

The soft twilight mist veiled their faces and it was a good thing. Elia did not want her feelings to show and she was not sure she could prevent them from playing all over her face. She kissed Ashara, her goodmother, then, with her heart pounding, Allyria. Arthur looked grim, even in the mist. He realized that his coming would just make it worse for everyone but he disliked being left here. It would make more than a year of idleness for him and he had never taken well to it.

Elia looked at the castle glowing impossibly white in the distance. There, Rhaenys and Aegon were being prepared for bed. She had waved at them as they watched from the window, too young to understand that she was going to meet the fate of all of them. What this fate was, only time would tell.

Soon.

"Come on," Edric said. They had to go out into the open sea before the night tide. Elia still shuddered at the memory of the flood – and experienced boatmen were leery to cross the Torentine at night even at the best of weather.

She took his hand and headed towards her fate.

The journey was a peaceful one, at least where the sea was concerned. Sometimes, the sticky wind on her skin and the incredible blend of scarlet, aquamarine blue, and orange that was deeper than even the ripest blood oranges made her forget the haunting worry, the growing fear, the nightmares that had started coming back, their frequency intensifying with each mile bringing them closer to King's Landing. In daytime, she loved watching the sailors go about their job, liked their songs and ribald jokes.

She hated the sad envy in Edric's eyes when he watched them, though, and she wondered if it had been there the first time, when they had fled to Starfall, and she had been just too blinded by her own grief and rage to see it. Not that seeing it did her much good now. He would not talk about it and whenever he caught her being more patient and tender with him, he flew into a rage. "Don't do this," he would snap. "Don't indulge me as if I am a child. It happened and that's it. No need to treat me as if I'm ill."

But she was so used to indulging Rhaegar about his prophetical leanings – and sometimes, not listening to him at all, although she rarely showed it – that she felt she would need much time to overcome it. Of course, she could not say so to Edric. Their arguments became sharper because he wanted her to have expectations of him and she had almost forgotten how to state her own demands loud and clear. "Who are you?" he would ask sometimes. "What have you done with Elia of Dorne?"

But at night, they reconciled, always, in the sweetest way, although even then, there was a shadow lying between them: Edric had always been mad about her and very attentive but now, he had become far more skilled and while Elia enjoyed it, she could not help but wonder in whose bed he had learned the things he did to her. Who was the woman - women – who had taught him this? She had thought him dead but he had known that she was alive. She would have waited for him for years if she had known – why had he not?

"Waiting for me?" he asked when she finally asked him. "Do you really think that being in Rhaegar Targaryen's bed and bearing his children was waiting for me? At the time I was well enough to do anything in this regard, I already knew you were wed and bedded, Elia. How is it different?"

It was. She could not say how but it was.

Sometimes, she sat at the deck until the night became too cold and forced her to come back. Cold and biting, even in a nice and warm sea. She remembered the grey sea washing the shores of Dragonstone, how oppressive it was and how icy the sea drops flying in all directions were. She imagined the ship carrying Lyanna Stark there. Lyanna Stark who had lost all colour. Grey and hopeless. She's used to much colder weather, Elia would remind herself. To her, this one would be perhaps a little cool. And what happens to her is no concern of mine. Yet, she could not help but wonder how the incessant rocking of the high waves would affect a woman with child. Sending the girl off had been the only way to make sure that her child would be as safe as possible, away from the rebels, but Elia prayed for a safe journey and delivery, and a healthy boy also to divert the attention from her own children .

Still, when they landed at the capital, no rumour of Lyanna appearing at Dragonstone had arrived. The gates of the Red Keep opened in front of her like the gaping mouth of a beast and she walked straight in. Edric did not reach for her hand and she was glad, both for this and his steady presence. This was a road that she needed to walk with resolve and nothing could undermine her resolve more than his touch, for it could induce her to clinging to him and starting to shake. Next to her, her uncle was staring right ahead, stony-faced.

As she passed through courts, galleries, and halls, murmurs of surprise greeted her. Servants bowed and highborn, not quite sure how to behave with her, solved the matter in the simplest way: by pretending not to see her.

They were immediately admitted in the new King's presence. The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard came to fetch them himself, staring somewhere above Elia's left shoulder and carefully avoiding looking at Lewyn. For an unguarded moment, right when he was letting them in, Elia saw the anger on his face and anger rose in her like the flames Aerys was so fond of. The man who had turned his cloak blamed her uncle for not marching off in the Targaryens' defense to the very end! Incredible! But she had little time to spare for Barristan Selmly. She had greater enemies to fight.

Somewhat to her surprise, they were not shown in the throne room and this was a relief. She had only been there a few times but she had always associated with Aerys' hateful ramblings and the smell of burning flesh. Burning living people. When she saw the three men waiting for them in a private chamber, she wondered if the non-use of the throne room had been done for the new Lord Stark's sake. Perhaps he would envision his father and brother's horrifying deaths each time he set a foot in there. Elia knew that in his place, she would have.

The hangings in black and red were already replaced with Baratheon ones; at the walls, the tapestries with scenes from the lives of previous kings had left white marks, quite distinguishable from the surrounding surface of the walls. Lord Commander Selmy looked at the new King and he nodded at him to leave.

The three men in the chamber rose at Elia's entering, a courtesy due to a lady, and bowed their heads. Even Baratheon… For a moment, she felt confused. She had been preparing for the role of a relegated princess assuring the new rulers of her loyalty that coming into the part of a lady did not come to her naturally at all.

She made a deep curtsy as soon as she stepped in, a second one in the centre of the room, and a third one when she came immediately close to the new King. Three pair of eyes followed her every movement and only belatedly came to the realization of what she was doing. The three curtsies were an ancient custom that had never been practiced anywhere but in Dorne and it had long fallen out of favour even there. The sun danced over Elia's lavender gown, made the falling star on her cloak glow and sparkle.

"Elia Martell," the new King said slowly. "What have I missed?"

"I am Elia Dayne now, Your Grace," she replied, forcing level words through a closed throat. "Rhaegar Targaryen discarded me, so I wed again – to the man I was supposed to wed in the first place."

Edric stepped next to her and took her hand. Despite everything, his touch felt like the certainty that he could not offer her.

Baratheon was still very calm. Forcefully and innervingly so. Elia stole a look at the other two men. Eddard Stark's resemblance to his sister filled her with a surge of hatred that the man had done nothing to deserve. He met her eye without flinching, his face hardened and aged and not like the shy boy who had never dared to look at her face or bulging belly at Harrenhall even as they had conversed. War had changed him… but looking her in the eye made something in him stir and he looked away, his shame and guilt obvious. Shame and guilt on the behalf of a sister who felt none… Elia had no focus to waste on him either, so she looked away, to Lord Arryn who was the only one in full control of his emotions. So full that she could not read these emotions at all.

"So, it's true," Robert Baratheon finally said. "He did abandon you for Lyanna."

Elia nodded. "That he did."

"And you had no part in it?" he demanded.

Suddenly, Elia felt an emotion that was extremely inappropriate for the moment. Anger. She had been prepared to prove the wrong that had been done to her, with Rhaegar being so carefully discreet, so willing to put everyone before a deed done. She had not, however, expected having to prove that the wrong and humiliation her fickle husband had heaped upon her were wrong and humiliation. "Yes," she drawled sarcastically, her Dornish accent suddenly clear and purposefully intensified, "being placed in mortal danger and almost dying to give Rhaegar children to discard for your precious wolf girl is something that arouses me, as a Dornishwoman. Of course I had a part in it. I only stood my children's lives and a crown to lose. Nothing this big."

He looked as if she had just hit him with a wet rag right between the eyes. "So he did, indeed, repudiated you without even having the decency to tell you what he had done?" he asked. "This was nowhere in the High Septon's parchments!"

Vaguely, Elia noted that they had gone through the man's documents. They had known. But how? Baratheon noticed her confusion and nodded at the table before him. "Your Arthur Dayne did a good job at informing everyone," he said. "I have to admit it was… hard for me to accept it. But what we found in the High Septon's papers confirmed it… and now you've done the same."

Edric gave a low whistle. "So his missives reached you? All the way through the battlefields?" he asked. "I am astounded."

"May I see this parchment?" Elia asked because it was clear that this was what Baratheon expected of her.

He gave it to her and Elia read it with a thrill that had not faded since the very first moment Arthur had shown it to her, although she had read the words over so many times that she already knew them by heart. She skipped the formal address to Rhaegar and went straight to the core of it.

You despicable, mad and cowardly abomination,

What you did, annulling your marriage and making your children bastards on the basis of an argument that holds true for your so-called second marriage, and namely the fact that Princess Elia Martell was betrothed before you wed her, without any explanation and without even taking care to ensure her safety and the safety of your children, instead letting your father use them to blackmail Dorne without telling anyone that they were no longer your family, is a betrayal to everything good and honest that the two of us have ever wished for Westeros. You threw it all away to get into the good graces of this girl who considered herself too good to be your mistress but pounced on a marriage that you were not free to offer her, the Lyanna Stark made of ice, and in the process dishonoured your lady wife, your children, and the land I come from. And then, you left intending to lie to my countrymen, using their spears to place Lyanna Stark and her children on the Iron Throne. A bad reward for the princess who almost lost her life in the birthing bed to provide you with the children you rejected. But Elia Martell will emerge from this mud unbent, unbowed, unbroken while you stink of the taint that you are.

I have no idea how I could have ever believed your words of wanting to make things better for Westeros. I must have been blind. But fortunately, now my eyes are open, so farewell from your former friend, former confidante, former Kingsguard

Arthur Dayne

Even now, Elia almost smiled remembering how white Rhaegar's face had gone when he had read the missive. And imagining the faces of lords all over the realm as the truth that the dragon prince had kept so carefully hidden was unveiled before them. Eddard Stark was looking straight ahead, avoiding anyone's eyes, and she had the feeling that he wanted to be anywhere but here.

"Very well," Robert Baratheon said when he saw she was finished. "I don't suppose you have brought your children over here?"

"The bastards?" Elia elaborated. "Indeed, I have not."

"Take a seat. Strong or diluted wine?"

"What?"

He looked at her impatiently. "I asked what wine do you prefer. Take a seat and let's talk. All of us," he added, looking at Edric and Lewyn.

It sounded more like the words of a warlord to his men at-arms than a courteous invitation but Elia did not have much of a choice. She took a seat.