A/N: Thanks to Wobb Nox, filipinosberman and Ascalon for beta-ing.
Chapter LVIX: Broken Fates, Part V
29 AC
Fourth Moon
Zolha Noy (Sandstone), Dornia (Dorne)
Elia Qorgyle
Elia Qorgyle found that her life was a fulfilling one, despite her tumultuous marriage to Rhodry Rada.
An egotistical and highly insecure man, not least fueled by the unfair treatment he suffered at the hands of her own brothers and sisters, the years that passed since the passing of the rest of her family were filled with pain and misery, Rhodry subjecting her to his lashing out.
She remembered the bruises he inflicted on her, all the harsh words and domineering he indulged in as Lord of Sandstone, all the torture both she and her children had to endure, and she shivered from time to time when recalling it.
Even now, some small part of her refused to forget such trauma, as if forgetting it would lead to a worse fate for her.
And then the Udohanar answered my prayers and saved my family.
The Udohanar, not the Seven-Who-Are-One. Since when did they do anything for their worshippers? They took and took but never gave back, and neither did the Septons and Septas who professed the virtues of the Seven. Glorified charlatans, every single one of them. At least the Maiyehram performed what they preached, going as far as to help in times of war as 'combat medics', as her goodnephew called them.
Now, looking at her children and grandchildren playing with each other, she was content.
"Grandma!"
Elia looked at her granddaughter Irina, 4th child of her grandson Arin Qorgyle, firstborn son of her son Lewyn, approaching with a struggling step.
"What's the matter, dear?" Asked Elia.
"My shoelace's loose," Irina complained.
"Alright, just a moment," Elia chuckled.
The shoelace was tied, and Irina happily thanked her grandmother as she went back to play.
"It really feels nice, seeing your own children be so happy…" Elia muttered, turning to face her right, "Isn't that right, Arin?"
Her goodnephew kissed her on the lips, and Elia leaned her head on his shoulder.
"It's always a joy to see them so carefree," Arin smiled, "Easy to forget all the bad times we had and the bad times to come."
Elia nodded off to sleep, feeling rather tired.
IIOII
1 AC
Second Moon
Arsalm (Swordport)
She awoke with a scream, cold with sweat and hyperventilating as she shot up to a sitting position, her sleep rudely interrupted by yet another nightmare of Rhodry's abuse. His hand tightly gripping her neck to choke, her skin bruised red and black from blows by a wooden implement, his words of abuse hurled like a vulgar cutthroat…
She panted for a few moments, her mind trying to gather its thoughts, and then she broke down crying, alone and terrified.
Then the door to her bedchambers opened, and she saw Arin enter with concern written on his eyes.
"I heard you screaming, Aunt," Said Arin, "Another nightmare?"
Elia tried to speak, but her voice was raw with emotion and unable to form coherent words, so she settled for a nod.
Arin embraced her in a tight hug, and Elia sobbed quietly into his chest, staining his tunic with tears and mucus. He did not break the embrace even when he started to suffer discomfort.
"I still see him in my mind… I still see his wicked, crooked smile, his fist overhead… I hate it. I hate it and I can't stop thinking about it…!" She muttered under her breath.
Arin patted her head like a father comforting her daughter after a terrible hurt, and it was all he could do for her.
"Why can't I stop thinking of it? Why can't I stop thinking about him?" Elia questioned, her voice broken with hurt and betrayal.
"Because you loved him once. You both loved each other before, and that love was so real," Arin explained, "That is why the hurt is so terrible."
Elia nodded in acceptance, having realised this terrible truth long ago.
"Let me know if you need anything," Arin said, and he moved to get up.
Yet Elia tightly gripped his arm, refusing to let go, her teary eyes glued to the floor.
"Could you… Could you stay with me… please?" She asked, her voice barely above her whisper.
Arin sighed to himself, and spent the rest of the night lying down next to Elia who hugged him tightly, never letting go, basking in his warmth.
IIOII
Fourth Moon
Zolha Noy (Sandstone)
Months would pass and Elia was gradually able to function better in society, aided by the support of her children and their closest friends and family. Maryse, in particular, was a particularly good listener who always took the time to perform the part of a statue as Elia vented out her frustrations and fears.
"I constantly think of what I could have done differently back then, Maryse," Elia poured out with burning passion, "Could I have acted to slowly undermine Rhodry's influence, stopped his plots, saved those I could have saved? If I were my nephew, he would never allow this to happen; he'd sooner put him under and eliminate all his lackeys in one night, just as he did so with Falion Ardera's collaborators in Qorenport!"
Maryse maintained a professional silence as she listened to Elia venting.
"I sometimes feel that rather than staying meek and letting Rhodry do as he wanted, I could have mustered some form of resistance, convinced my children to do the same," Elia huffed before falling down to her chair, panting slightly from her tirade, "But could I bring myself to have my own husband killed? Could I bring myself to sink to his level? Rather, am I capable of the same feats my nephew is?"
Elia took a deep breath, steadying herself and collecting her thoughts before locking her eyes on Maryse.
"Tell me, Gooddaughter, what could I have done better?" She asked almost pleadingly.
Maryse simply shook her head with an understanding smile, "You think too little of yourself, Goodaunt."
"W-What do you mean?" Asked Elia.
"You always compare yourself to your nephew and think too little of yourself and the circumstances at hand," Maryse explained, "You always think: What would my nephew do? How would he prepare for this? This kind of self-comparison with one's betters is just a way of self-demeaning that leads to destroying your self-esteem, your sense of self-worth, all because of your perceived failures. Could you truly have done better in those circumstances, when you had no friends or allies left after Rhodry's taking over?"
The answer was a simple no.
Not only were her family members gone, so too were her most trusted retainers, either dead or turned traitor, and with the army of Sandstone completely under Rhodry's control, what else could she do, a powerless woman? And that was not mentioning the fact that she was no talented politician or schemer, much less a general. She simply lacked the skill and the charisma as a leader to rally her own faction or stand up to Rhodry's tyranny.
Maryse, seeing the look in Elia's eyes, smiled knowingly, and said to her, "His Lordship Rada always said this: Too few men in the world are like me, and they should not be me."
"Yes, he's right," Elia slowly nodded, "One doesn't have to be Arin Rada to be a skilled player."
"Exactly, Goodaunt," Maryse smiled, "And then there's a matter of perspective; could you have known that Rhodry would turn out the way he did? Was there truly any way of predicting such a change?"
"No, I couldn't have known," Elia admitted, "I did know he was growing increasingly frustrated with his goodfamily, and I tried my very best to soothe his fears and insecurities."
She heaved a heavy sigh.
"I never could have seen it coming," Said Elia, "I suppose it was a mercy he did not kill me or our children."
"Precisely. There was truly nothing you could have done, Goodaunt," Said Maryse, "No one holds this against you, least of all Lewyn and Druselka. If anything, I feel that because you shielded them from the worst of Rhodry's evils, you saved their lives, gave them the chance to live their lives again once you obtained your freedom."
"...You would excuse my powerlessness?" Elia inquired.
"Excusing it isn't the course of action here, merely accepting it and moving on," Maryse explained, her eyes turning distant and sorrowful, "...Just as I have."
Elia chose not to pry.
"Thank you for listening to me tonight, Maryse," Elia smiled as she got up, "I needed that."
"You're most welcome, Goodaunt. If you ever need someone to talk to, find us or His Lordship," Maryse said, "The best way to heal from trauma is to confront it and accept it before moving on."
IIOII
Sixth Moon
Arsalm (Swordport)
Despite the scars largely fading from memory, traces of it still remained in her mind no matter her attempts to confront her trauma, as if her mind would never allow her to forget it. She no longer winced or jumped at the voice or contact of a man, yet her nightmares persisted.
There was little she could do to put a stop to them.
Then she heard noises coming from Arin's personal study, noises that were familiar to her but which she almost forgot.
Walking slowly, she approached a slightly ajar door from whence the noises emerged, unguarded and unlocked. Risking a peek, her eyes were captivated.
Her nephew and goodniece were having a very intimate lover's moment in his study, at a time when most had gone to sleep and the study left unguarded, the important documents long tidied away and kept under lock and key. She could not turn her eyes away, eyeing Belandra with no small amount of jealousy and envy, somehow hoping that it was herself in her position.
Wait… why am I thinking this…? I can't possibly…
Despite her mind thinking one thing, a part of her said otherwise.
Arin Rada, her strong, charismatic and wise nephew possessed of experience beyond his years. Arin Rada, her saviour, saviour of the Qorgyles and all of Dorne, enemy of the old order, of stagnation and lordism.
He was her saviour, and he never failed to care for her since then; he arranged for countless 'therapy' sessions with Hydromancer healers, gave her a large, spacious room to live in, and even made sure to encourage her to talk with him or any of her family to facilitate her healing process. If this was not a miracle, what else would it be?
And yet, all she did in return was help the transition process for her son Lewyn to become the new lord of Sandstone. She managed a little bureaucratic and diplomatic work here and there, and her input was always appreciated, but it was much too little to give in return.
Perhaps… as a woman, I…
Her mind recalled Arin's features; his handsome, dashing face, his piercing eyes that bore into her heart, weighed by a distant weariness; his glossy skin free from imperfection, a few scars of war that enhanced his attractiveness; his smooth brown hair as straight and silky soft as a woman's; his ferocious protectiveness of her when Rhodry threatened her…
She felt a blush on her face, her mouth swallowing subconsciously. Her heart beat with passion and desire, her eyes clear and unclouded, and she walked with a greater spring in her step.
No, this isn't just something I can do; I want to do this.
With that in mind, she had a confession to plan.
IIOII
Seventh Moon
Arsalm
"Aunt Elia, I came at your request."
On this particular night, Belandra was away at Qorenport to help her brother Edryck settle several administrative and family matters, leaving Arin to handle most of the work as Lord of House Rada and Arsalm.
"Thank you, Arin," Said Elia smilingly, "Listen, I… there's something I want to tell you."
"I'm listening," Arin beckoned.
And without another word, Elia walked up to Arin, gently cradled his face in her hands, and devoured his lips in a hungry kiss that saw their tongues intertwine. The kiss lasted several moments before Elia finally broke it off, and a stunned Arin simply stared at Elia like a fish out of water.
"Aunt, what…?"
Elia simply placed a finger on his lips.
"I love you, Arin. I love you so much as a man," She said, her eyes like a bewitched maiden's.
"Elia, I… Do you want this?"
"Am I not your Goodaunt, Arin?" Elia smiled, "And since we are not of the same blood, does that not mean I can be your paramour?"
Arin breathed through his nose, partly exasperated and partly shocked, unsure of how to reply to such heartfelt affection.
"So, you really, eh… like younger men?" Arin said, his eyes darting elsewhere, his body firmly rooted as if willingly.
Elia giggled, appreciating this unexpected crack in his persona.
"You are a special case, Arin," Elia said, "So… do you accept me?"
Arin grasped her hand in his, "I might sound like a fool, but do you truly want this?"
"Yes, I do," Elia said, "And it's not because of any obligation or the fact you're the Black Fox; you are the man I love, and I want to offer everything of myself to you. That's all."
"...Quite a straightforward answer," Arin smiled, "And… you should know, I can be quite the problematic husband."
"Don't we all know…" Said Elia, and she kissed him again.
That night, they shared each other's comfort, and Arin would claim Elia as his paramour.
IIOII
Present day…
Fourth Moon
29 AC
"Elia? Are you asleep?"
Elia slowly awoke from her nap to see Belandra staring her down, crossing her arms and pouting heavily.
"Belandra, what's the matter?"
"You're hogging Arin all to yourself," Belandra said crossly.
"Oh? I get that you're his wife, but am I not allowed this privilege as his paramour?" Elia slyly winked, causing Belandra to huff.
"Even then, it's only fair for us to take turns," Belandra pointed out.
"Oh really?" Elia questioned, "Then what about the time that you hogged Arin all to yourself when I was sick with the flu? I recall you were quite attached to the point you refused to let go of physical contact."
"That was then, and this is now," Belandra countered, "And besides, aren't you too old to be so intimate with him like before?"
"I could say the same of you, Belandra," Elia argued back, "Besides, Arin himself has clearly shown his interest in older women."
Neither Elia nor Arin could say anything in response to that, though Arin was quick to hold out his hands between them.
"Alright, knock it off, both of you," Arin stated, "I'll make time for the both of you, so no picking a fight over this, alright?"
"If you say so," They chorused.
"That's better," Arin smiled, "How is Elaegelle doing here, by the way?"
"She's been such a great friend to all our grandchildren, Arin," Elia smiled, "Lorrent, in particular, has taken quite a liking to her."
Lorrent was the third son of Arin's third son Arlian, a young boy who had extreme shyness from young, and would often take a long time to open up to new people he met. He inherited his father's brown eyes but his hair was rather curly, styled into a short mane for ease of combing. His forehead was small, his eyes big, and his hands full of calluses.
"Lorrent? I have to say, he's getting along very well with Elaegelle," Arin said, "Given his extreme anxiety, he doesn't really take well to new people, and it takes much time for him to open up; I remember that one time when I brought her here for the first time not long after her twelfth birthday [1, he instantly ran off to hide somewhere."
"Yes, I remembered Elaegelle was quite confused, maybe slightly discouraged," Belandra nodded in agreement, "At least he's not so shy anymore."
"Actually, it seems he now wants to accompany Elaegelle on her travels, and by that I mean the battlefield," Elia mentioned, much to Arin's and Belandra's surprise.
"He wants to go to war?" Asked Belandra, "Not to dash his hopes, but it's not a walk in the park; unless he's an administrator or a healer, there isn't really a place for him in the army. And then there's the matter of those… things."
"I felt the same too, and when I asked him about it, he expressed a very fervent desire," Elia stated, "He was extremely insistent, willful even, and even though I told him about the horrors of war and the fate of captured prisoners, he refused sitting it out, even started talking back to me."
"Did he?" Asked Arin.
"Yes, Arin," Said Elia, "And this was the first time he was ever so willful.
"He was always a very indoors bookworm," Said Arin softly, "He can handle travel and the outdoors just fine, but he's more a pampered boy than anything else."
A bookish introvert going to war? The results would be unpredictable on how it would change Lorrent and to what extent. Arin was concerned for good reason.
"Yes, I truly wonder just what made him so spoiled…" Elia muttered.
"Yes, perhaps his dearest mother is the biggest culprit?" Belandra side-eyed Elia, who held up her hands in defence.
"Hey, he's just so cute and adorable! I couldn't help it!" Exclaimed Elia.
Arin merely rolled his eyes with a smile, "He was this insistent?"
"There's no other time he ever was," Elia pointed out.
"...Then I think I need to have a talk with him," Arin said, "Where is he, by the way?"
"I think I saw him going somewhere with Elaegelle," Belandra said.
"That so?" Said Arin, "Guess I'll have a look, then."
IIOII
"Run that by me again? You said you want to go with me onto the battlefield?"
"Mm."
"Even though you're not a soldier at heart?"
"Mm."
"I'm sure others said this to you before, but the battlefield isn't a place for the weak-hearted."
"I know, but I can heal with my Water Magic and medicinal training."
Elaegelle sighed as she looked at a very eager and insistent Lorrent, the young boy of ten-and-seven years giving her a very puppy-eyed look that made most hearts melt.
"I'd tell you otherwise, but something tells me you won't take no for an answer," Said Elaegelle.
"Mm."
Elaegelle sighed, scratching her head before shrugging to herself.
"If you want this so much, can I ask why?" Asked Elaegelle.
"...I want to help you," Lorrent mumbled.
"What?" Asked Elaegelle.
"I want to help you," Lorrent said, his voice louder and clearer.
"Help me? As a healer?" Asked Elaegelle, as if trying to clarify an unclear truth.
"Yes," Lorrent said, his eyes boring deep into Elaegelle's.
"...Somehow I feel there's more to that," Elaegelle commented, "But you tell me at your own pace, alright?"
Lorrent simply nodded, and Elaegelle put a hand on his shoulder.
"Just promise me you'll take good care of yourself, and no unnecessary heroics," Elaegelle said firmly, "Those're my only requirements for me taking you along. That okay with you?"
Lorrent enthusiastically nodded and hugged Elaegelle tightly, nuzzling his face onto her shoulder. Elaegelle simply sighed like an exasperated sibling dealing with a willful yet playful child.
"Bloody hell, so damned spoiled and willful…" She muttered under her breath, feeling a smile on her lips.
From behind a door, Arin simply nodded to himself and walked away, feeling that his grandson was in good hands.
IIOII
Fifth Month
Aryslonye (Sunspear)
With the Sand Dragon Army's ranks expanded to ten thousand troops, Elaegelle stood at the head of her army, bedecked in a suit of shining armour that gleamed with a misty finish, marred by countless scratches, nicks and scratches. Lorrent stood at the side, gazing in wonderment at the sight of his gallant knight in shining armour.
"She looks so dashing…" He muttered.
Jaehaerys smiled knowingly, keeping his words to himself.
The sight of thousands of troops standing in lockstep formation, their armour and weapons polished clean and their stony faces unmoving never failed to inspire power, awe and wonder, as if the people bore witness to an army of noble knights waving the banner of righteousness.
"Men and women of the Sand Dragon Army!" Elaegelle began, "We've come a long way from hunting slavers and bandits, now we're hunting mutated slavers and bandits, necromancers, evil mages and the like!"
Many veteran troops laughed in a most uncharacteristic show of unprofessionalism, bright smiles adorning their faces in contrast to their jaded hearts.
"But never fear!" Elaegelle continued, "We are the Sand Dragon Army! We have fought countless battles ever since this damned war broke out, suffering setbacks and defeats and attaining victories that have since seen our army grow in size and prestige! Yet prestige is not why we fight this war! No, it is to end a menace from beyond the Narrow Sea, a menace that has claimed countless thousands of innocent lives and continues to claim more, a menace born of evil magic and which has nearly claimed the life of my father!"
While it hurt for House Targaryen to lose the myth of invincibility surrounding its dragons, unexpectedly it proved to be a boon in disguise for Dornia; the blame lay squarely at the feet of the Midnight Scourge, which would divert attention and suspicion, and no matter the outcome of the war (preferably a victory) House Targaryen's reputation would suffer a drop.
"These Karaqhor [2] that we faced, these Ebon-bloods that wield such dark magics as black as night, their might is great and their resolve ferocious, but ours is the greater resolve! Ours is the greater cause, for they seek to corrupt and pervert anything and everything they touch, just as they did with the Essosi indiscriminately!"
Slaver or not, the depravity the Midnight Scourge inflicted upon its victims was a fate worse than death, such that rescued slavers and other captives begged to be killed to be free of their torment.
"We shall fight them no matter where, no matter what! Be it when the waters are in a state of Dyacsen [3] (riptide) or Parzivos [4] (undertow), when our blades run dull and our bones are broken, we shall fight! We must fight! The moment we stop fighting against such a threat is the moment we condemn our homes, friends and families to unthinkable fates! They fight with savagery and mad zeal, we fight with strong blades of Andhari [5] and Antyne [6]!"
"Oorah!" The men chorused.
And then Elaegelle drew her sword of Valityne, its distinct smoky wave pattern granting it an exotic appearance, the bluish metal possessed of a keen edge capable of slicing dragon bone in twain.
"Alhapdrynis [7] shall cut down all my enemies, as will Zarnhiv's [8] edge sing true, and yours shall do the same!"
"Oorah!" The men cheered again, thumping their spears on the ground or clanging blades against shields.
Lorrent felt almost overwhelmed by the sheer energy of the troops on display, yet his eyes and body remained firmly rooted like a thick, tall tree with deep roots.
I want to help her; I have to help her.
[1] Westerosi did not have a habit of celebrating the days people were born, and when Arin introduced the practice, it was to celebrate every day their beloved family and friends survived another year in the cold, cruel world of Planetos.
[2] Karaqhor - Rhoynish for 'Ebon-blood', the term used by Dornians to refer to the Midnight Scourge's followers. Derived from 'qohrys' [blackwood, ebony, from 'qoh' (wood)] 'rhys' (dark, night) 'kara(kh)' (blood)
[3] Dyacsen - Translates as 'Riptide', used by Rhoynish to describe choppy waters which were often dangerous for sailing.
[4] Parzivos - Translates as 'undertow', a term used to describe calm, gentle waves by Dornian sailors.
[5] Andhari - Rhoynish for Steel. Derived from 'andry(a)' (strong, great) 'dhamas(ke)' (iron).
[6] Antyne - Translates as 'Tidal Ocean Steel' due to the rippling wave pattern on the damasked steel. Derived from 'valityne' [ondine, undulate, from 'vanyul(eta)' (rippling, wavy)] 'trayne' (sea, ocean, saltwater) and Andhari, the Rhoynish word for steel.
'Valityne' is a cognate from High Valyrian 'Valiri' (of Valyria) due to the striking resemblance with regards to Valyrian steel, except Valyrian Steel had smoky patterns while Antyne has a distinct rippling wave pattern.
This damasked steel alloy was made as a response to Valyrian Steel, using highly carbonated steel ingots made from special crucibles and further refining them through painstaking weeks of work with both mundane techniques and magical infusion.
Unlike Valyrian Steel which was created through the use of dragonfire and blood magic, Antyne is created through banding together pieces of high-quality steel and heating them in a crucible, heating them and then hammering them perpendicular to the bands to increase toughness, then adding a special white powdery substance and dragonglass powder to the heated metal to remove impurities.
Then the steel alloy is cut and folded repeatedly, reheated and hammered, and the process is repeated until the desired toughness is achieved, while the smith himself slowly draws ambient mana from the air to infuse into the metal. Once the forging process is finished, the steel is quenched in oil.
It is much more time-consuming to produce Antyne, however, and thus more expensive, so only the wealthiest warriors can hope to afford one piece of Antyne weaponry, and such orders are strictly commission-based.
[7] Alhapdrynis - Translates as 'Blue Dragon', the name given to Elaegelle's sword made of Antyne. Its Etymology is derived from the Rhoynish words Lapyno [(Azure, Blue-green, from 'Alip(zu)' (blue) 'Ny(o)' (green)] Maugynor (Dragon) and Salhadrysis [from High Valyrian: 'Zaldrizes' (dragon)].
Originally, 'Maugynor' referred to river snakes and other related water serpents, but it became a byword for dragons for their lithe and long appearances.
Arin originally suggested the Rhoynish word for wyvern, 'Myapoetl' - itself derived from 'Methitophel', a winged snake-like deity's name of unknown origin - but likewise has also been used to refer to dragons. However, Elaegelle settled on Salhadrysis as a nod to her Valyrian heritage.
[8] Zarnhiv - Elaegelle's named sword made of Valyrian Steel. Derived from 'Zarn' (to cut) 'arze(n)' (sword, blade) '(he)lyva' (crowd, gathering, swarm, horde).
A/N: I decided to add fantasy damascus steel for the Rhoynar, just as Gurm did so with Valyrian Steel for the Valyrians.