No copyright infringement intended. All recognizable characters, places, events, etc. belong to George R. R. Martin.
The tourney at Lannisport ended in a tumult of events that made it clear to all attending that all was not well between Tywin Lannister and his king.
To the disappointment of many, Prince Rhaegar had fallen in the final tilt to Arthur Dayne of the Kingsguard. Ever gracious, Ser Dayne offered a hand to his prince, bowed to him, and when the time came to crown the Queen of Love and Beauty, he dutifully marched to his sister, the Lady Ashara Dayne, and placed the wreath of white lilies in her lap. All clapped and cheered for the victor and their prince, but there were those in the stands who whispered amongst themselves excitedly, for they could have sworn they saw Ser Dayne hesitate a moment in front of Lady Elia before he moved along to crown his sister.
But any stirrings of possible scandal had been quickly swept away during the celebratory feast that night when Prince Rhaegar seated himself on the dias and began to play his harp. Elia had heard of his prowess on the instrument- indeed, all of Westeros had- but she had never truly believed its veracity until that night.
It was not a beautiful melody nor a cheerful one. Rather, it was melancholic song that spoke of pain and loneliness that swept through the hall, through the castle, and spilled into the streets of Lannisport until everyone, even the smallfolk, stilled to listen to their prince play. There were no words but that was just as well: speech would have tarnished the splendor of that mournful sonata.
Only after Rhaegar had plucked the last somber chord and rested his fingers on the base of the instrument was the silence broken with wild cheers and applause. The prince bowed his head and smiled gently.
Chattering resumed once again around her, but Elia continued to gaze at the dias and at the prince who was slowly raising himself from it. Attendants rushed to place the harp in its ivory case, but Rhaegar waved them off, bandaging the golden instrument in layers of silk before carefully laying it in the bosom of the case. Servants took it from him, and he nodded his appreciation to the before he descended the steps.
He was immediately claimed by Cersei, who grabbed his hand for a dance as the musicians struck up a lively tune. It seemed the silver-haired prince was a consummate dancer as well, Elia noted wryly; no matter how close Cersei seemed to press herself to his body, his steps did not falter.
Elia was still staring, she realized, when Oberyn suddenly appeared by her side and remarked, "Careful, sister, or the Lannister bitch might have to challenge you to a final tilt."
Elia broke her gaze and took a small sip of her wine. She immediately wished she hadn't; of the many things the Lannisters were known for, being fine brewers was not one of them.
"Oberyn, with the amount of attention you pay to Lady Cersei, one might think you had designs on her yourself. Perhaps it is the prince who should be on guard, hmm?"
Oberyn laughed and grabbed her elbow, saying, "And feel her claws in bed? I would rather keep my manhood intact, dear sister.
"Now, come. We must show these Northerners what a true dance looks like- the Dornish way!"
Elia laughed, nodded her acquiescence, and placed her wine on the tray of a nearby servant before her brother swept her to the center of the hall amid the dying strains of a Northern ballad.
Oberyn waved to the musicians, who struck the familiar nascent chords of a traditional Dornish song. Elia stood opposite from her brother as various couples, mostly from Northern families, quickly returned to their seats upon hearing the unfamiliar tune.
As the song swelled, Elia felt a mysterious tension leave her shoulders. Her body wove itself lithely in tandem with the familiar music, the cradle song of every Dornish child. Her feet struck the floor in perfect synchronization with the fast tempo. Her small hands held Oberyn's sure ones as he flung her away from him and, just as quickly, swung her back. The air felt electric and metallic. All she could see was her brother; all she could feel was the pure adrenaline, all she cared about was the pure elation of being free.
Elia smiled broadly, knowing her hair was flying wildly out of its meticulous coiffure, knowing her Dornish dress was baring her shoulders and ankles to the crowd of lecherous men, knowing that Cersei Lannister was standing somewhere in the room wishing Elia was dead, knowing that Arthur was dying as he watched her act so deliciously wanton, knowing that her body would hate her tomorrow, and knowing that at this very moment- for these next few minutes- she did not care because Elia Martell was going to live.
Despite her momentary exuberance, the remainder of the night did not end so innocuously for Elia. After she and Oberyn entertained their fellow Southerners and scandalized the rest of Westeros, dancing resumed as previously, albeit slightly more drunkenly and brazenly. The exertion quickly took its toll on her body, and Elia excused herself, smiling away Oberyn's concern and insisting that she was capable to making her way through a few corridors on her own.
Elia left the hall with her limbs aching and head spinning. She stumbled through the foreign hallways of the Lannister castle, growing increasingly unsteady and alarmed at her inability to find the east wing. Oberyn had told her how to return to their rooms; he had said to go left from the hall, then right, then the third left...or maybe it was another right? She was not entirely sure anymore.
The doors seemed to move when she reached for them. The shadows in the nooks and crannies began to encroach on her vision. Feeling overwhelmed with the urge to sit and relieve herself of her stomach's contents, Elia slumped behind a large tapestry depicting a Lannister ancestor. She vomited into the rushes littering the floor but quieted and covered her mouth upon hearing the loud, angry tones approaching her from further down the corridor.
"My king, I believe you misunderstand. Cersei would be-"
"I misunderstand nothing, Lannister! I will not have the prince, a Targaryen, bring to his bed a lioness! He is a dragon! A dragon! His blood will not defiled by coupling with your kind! Throw your daughter's cunt to someone who wants it. A Baratheon, perhaps. Or even better, a Stark. Guard the door, Arthur. And tell someone to bring me a wench."
Elia waited to hear the slam of an oak door and for Tywin Lannister's angry footfall to recede. She was very lost, indeed.
"Elia."
"Yes?"
Her voice sounded muffled from behind the tapestry, as did Arthur's from beyond it.
"Are you lost?"
"A little, yes."
Elia heard a sigh, felt the tapestry move to one side, and saw Arthur's shadowed shoulders before her.
"How did you know I was here, Arthur?"
"I saw you turn this way at the end of the corridor. Elia, how much did you hear?"
She did not answer.
"Elia, listen to me. No one must hear of this. It will eventually be known, but until tomorrow, no one must learn that the Lannisters have been rejected. Do you understand?"
Elia searched for his eyes, found that she could not see them in the darkness of the corridor, and simply nodded. He breathed out slowly, rested a hand on her elbow, and pulled her out into the soft glow of the torches resting along the stone walls. As she gazed at his stern face, his beautiful face, Elia was attuned to the calloused fingers pressing into her arm, to her own hands resting on his breastplate, and to the sweet, sweat-laced, beguiling scent of Arthur.
Longing had always been her companion- longing for health, longing for love- but the most acute desire she could feel was to preserve these few moments in a million where she was with her chivalrous knight of the white cloak.
Said knight's brow furrowed as he took in her appearance.
"Elia, are you well? You look pale. Did you not?"
She smiled wanly and leaned toward him imperceptibly.
"You know I did. I saw you. I saw your eyes following me, tracing my body."
"Elia, " he warned, his other hand coming to rest on her elbow so as to hold her at an arm's length from him.
She did not know why she was speaking so. It could not have been the wine; she had barely tasted any. It must have been the night, the melancholy of Rhaegar's music, the elation of the dance, the crushing knowledge that the man she loved would be torn from her in a matter of hours.
"Did you wish it was you? Did you long for it to be you by my side, not Oberyn? Did you wish-"
"Elia! Stop this!"
Now she was beginning to feel his frustration, too. She shoved him fruitlessly; his armor made it much too difficult to push him any considerable distance.
"Why, Arthur? Why should I stop? Do you not want to be reminded of what could have been? But is that not what life is for? To squander away the days, longing for what can never be had? Well, you cannot have me, Arthur. Just as I cannot have you. I can never have you."
He immediately softened, pulled her closer. He pressed a soft kiss on her brow, she clung to him, quivering at the feel of cold metal and warm man against her bare skin.
"My flower of Dorne, you shall always have me. I am yours first and then the king's and then the kingdom's. I promise, Elia. A life without you is a life dead."
Elia ducked her head, feeling the foolish petulance of her previous words wash over and shame her. Her childish feelings of self-pity had spilled from her bosom and through her mouth, culminating in re-opened wounds for both herself and Arthur.
"I know, Arthur. I am sorry. I do not know what came over me, why I said those things."
He said nothing, simply held her for a long, long while.
Their embrace was broken when a soft footfall was heard from further in the hallway. Slowly, Prince Rhaegar stepped out of the darkness, his silver hair shining gold from the torch fire.
Both Arthur and Elia put further distance between themselves and bowed.
"My prince, " Arthur intoned.
Rhaegar bowed his head, saying, "Arthur."
He turned to Elia, remarking, "Lady Elia, what brings you to the king's chambers?"
Elia understood the meaning behind his question, but she refused to blush or be cowed by its implication.
"I am afraid I lost my way, Your Grace. I saw Ser Dayne and while asking for instructions to the east wing, I am afraid I distracted him by talking to him of home."
Rhaegar nodded, accepting her explanation. He looked at Arthur, smiled slyly, and said, "Why, Ser Dayne, I had forgotten your Dornish heritage. Can you dance as boldly as House Martell?"
Arthur responded, "Not quite as well as Lady Elia and her brother, I am afraid. The Dune Dance is in their blood, I am afraid."
Smiles were exchanged all around, and the conversation lulled to a standstill. Understanding the time for her departure had come and gone long ago, Elia curtseyed and remarked, "If you shall excuse me, my Prince, Ser Dayne; I must return to my quarters before I am asked for."
To her surprise, Rhaegar responded, "Let me direct you to the east wing, Lady Elia. You said you had lost your way, yes?"
Elia confirmed his question and murmured her appreciation. As she left with the prince, she cast one last look at Arthur. He had steeled himself against the entrance to the king's chambers, looking as if he had been born to be in the Kingsguard.
Well, if he can put on a facade, so can I, Elia resolved. Then, she squared her soldiers, smiled gently at Prince Rhaegar, and stepped into the darkness that lay before her. And as they made the long trek through the castle, Elia once more felt like young girl, the same girl who had tearfully watched a young man with blue eyes ride away from Sunspear, her heart in his hand and a future that did not include her on his mind.
Little did Elia know that what she would soon overhear, the clandestine plans she would see being made between a prince and a princess in the darkness of a tourney night would return her to Arthur Dayne. But, he would no longer be Arthur Dayne of Starfall but Ser Arthur, the Sword of the Morning, destined to be as untouchable to her as the sun.
2/19/18:
Hi all, still not an new chapter, just a few edits. The changes in this one probably aren't that noticeable, but the next chapter is definitely different. Thanks to everyone who kept on commenting and reading this! I really appreciate the continued support!