#when both Ashara & Arthur were at court with Elia

[bumblesimagines]

Imagine:

Having the attention of Oberyn

Request: Yes or No

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Oberyn being clingy

~~~

Vipers were notorious creatures; quick, deadly, and adept hunters who'd strike and catch their prey before the poor creature even realized its intentions. They were beautiful with scales that glimmered under direct sunlight, smooth to the touch as they slithered against the skin, entrancing with their beauty and charm. The Red Viper was perhaps the most deadly with his ability to dance on the line between a vicious warrior and a dutiful lover. 

But alas, even with their sweet words and gentle touches, one always had to be careful of growing attached to a viper.

With the sun beginning to rise over the dunes in the east and chasing night away with its light, (Y/N) similarly went with the shadows. He moved quietly, managing to untangle himself from the prince without waking him and collecting the clothes Oberyn had haphazardly tossed around his room. Mindful of the crinkling of the clothes, he slipped them back on and spared the sleeping prince one last glance, ensuring his chest continued its steady rise and fall and his eyes remained closed. 

It was not uncommon for figures to be seen coming and going from the bedchambers of the prince, ladies and men alike slipping away for whatever reason after spending a night with Oberyn. Servants barely batted an eye at him when he stepped out into the halls, merely smiling and murmuring greetings before continuing down the halls. (Y/N) could only return the knowing smiles as he returned to his room, finding relief in the fact his elder brother remained in Starfall, although the whispers would no doubt reach him in no time. Those who resided in Sunspear or even in the shadow city sitting at the feet of the castle knew of Oberyn's infatuation with him, how he frequently courted and flirted but was left brushed aside. A game of chase they both equally enjoyed.

"And so you've finally fallen into his jaws," A husky voice purred right as he reached the doors of his bedchambers, hardly needing much else to identify who the voice belonged to. He pushed his door open and turned to face the heiress of Sunspear with the hint of a grin on his lips. "It was only a matter of time. Shame, though," Arianne batted her long lashes, slim fingers toying coyly with one of her dark curls. "I hoped to catch you first." 

"I'm not one of your little knights, Ari." (Y/N) replied, chuckling when her lips formed an exaggerated pout. "Nor am I my cousin."

"You most certainly are not." She laughed, crossing the distance swiftly and tossing her arms around him, purposefully pressing up against him and making use of the sheer silks she so often enjoyed wearing. With her shorter structure, she had to tilt her head up to look at him as she did with everyone else, flashing another smile. "You are much more interesting than Gerold. But alas, I love my uncle, and I will not steal his catch unless he decides to share." 

"Run along then, Ari." (Y/N) gave a small eye-roll, listening to her laugh echo down the hall when she retreated, the purple skirt of her dress flowing freely behind her. 

Once the sun rose and stepped out of hiding, (Y/N) knew it'd only be a matter of time before Oberyn would be on the prowl again, no doubt more determined to find him once he realized he'd snuck out of bed. He kept himself on the move, visiting his usual spots but only lingering long enough for a servant or courtier to be able to point Oberyn in the right direction.

It'd always been fun; pretending as if he wasn't fully aware he was being hunted down by the Red Viper. It'd started as youths when his parents had brought him to Sunspear, back when his siblings, Arthur and Ashara, as well as Elia Martell, were still living and breathing. (Y/N) had never given in to the prince, but he supposed Oberyn had caught him in a better mood than usual.

(Y/N) peeked over his shoulder, his footsteps light and quick while he walked, gingerly plucking a plum from one of the trays once he confirmed he was in the clear. He stepped forward toward the railings overlooking the gardens, searching for any sign of Oberyn or one of his Sand Snakes who'd no doubt betray him in exchange for helping their father. He bit into the plum, tasting the tart flavor from the skin and then a sweetness. He considered heading to the Water Gardens but right as the thought crossed his mind, arms wrapped around him from behind and caged him against the railing.

"Little Star," Oberyn's familiar voice murmured in his ear, lips brushing over his earlobe before dipping to kiss the base of his neck. (Y/N) tried biting back a smile. "You left too soon. There was more fun to be had."

"Was there? I thought that perhaps you'd be... too tired." (Y/N) replied teasingly, taking another bite of the plum before Oberyn spun him around to be chest to chest. His dark eyes narrowed playfully yet he planted a chaste kiss between (Y/N)'s brows. "A man of your age needs much rest, no?"

"You say that as if you're Arianne's age." Oberyn huffed, palms moving to run along (Y/N)'s hips and back with a familiar spark igniting in his eyes. He glanced at the bitten fruit in his hand and arched a questioning brow, the corner of his lips twitching upward when (Y/N) offered the rest to him. Instead of plucking the fruit from his hand, Oberyn swooped in to kiss him, tongue darting between his lips. (Y/N) couldn't help the muffled laugh that escaped him, his hand lightly shoving Oberyn's shoulder and breaking the kiss. 

"I should have known." (Y/N) allowed himself to melt into Oberyn's arms when he brushed their noses together despite knowing fully well how enchanting the Red Viper's eyes were. 

"Come," Oberyn tugged on his hips and kissed the corner of his lips. "You must make this morning's escape up to me, Little Star."

[eliamartel]

The only inconsistency in this theory is that Aegon does not know that "the Pisswater prince" was actually Lemore(Ashara)'s son. He thinks he was replaced with a peasant's child.

If the baby swap happened, why was he not told that it was Ashara's son who died in his place especially if Septa Lemore really is Ashara Dayne? Aegon is implied to know Lemore's identity(She turned back to Prince Aegon. "You are not the only one who must needs hide.") but he is not told that her son died in his place?

Why?

-> Some secrets are safer kept hidden. Some secrets are too dangerous to share, even with those you love and trust. - agot Eddard VIII

If all of the above is true, then Septa Lemore has three secrets -

1. Her identity as Ashara Dayne

2. The baby swap of Aegon VI and her son

3. RLJ

Secrets risk being leaked when more people know of it

every additional man doubled the risk of betrayal. That much my father taught me, at the least. -AFFC The Queenmaker

Doran explains he kept his secrets from Arianne because it could spread through carelessness

"I know. If I kept you ignorant too long, it was only to protect you. Arianne, your nature . . . to you, a secret was only a choice tale to whisper to Garin and Tyene in your bed of a night. Garin gossips as only the orphans can, and Tyene keeps nothing from Obara and the Lady Nym. And if they knew . . . Obara is too fond of wine, and Nym is too close to the Fowler twins. And who might the Fowler twins confide in? I could not take the risk." - AFFC The Princess in the Tower

This same scenario plays out on the Shy Maid when Haldon loses a bet to Tyrion and reveals Aegon's identity to him

Probably Ned, Howland Reed, Ashara and the Daynes decided to keep the events in Starfall a secret confined only among themselves (Varys & Illyrio would be aware of it as well). If Aegon's survival and RLJ somehow spread out at the wrong time to the wrong people, it could implicate multiple people in treason against Robert

The baby switch of Ashara's son & Aegon implicates the Daynes in treason. The Rebellion generation Daynes would have been aware and involved in the switch and they committed treason against Robert as they hid the survival of Aegon VI. The Pisswater Prince story masks their treason and House Dayne does not get implicated even if Aegon VI is discovered in Essos and that version of the baby switch gets out(bc according to that story Varys arranged a peasant's child to take the place of Aegon)

And RLJ implicates Ned and Howland Reed in treason against Robert

It is likely that even Jon Connington was told the Pisswater Prince version of the switch bc it's best to keep these secrets from spreading to multiple people. Jon Conningtion only met Aegon(& Ashara - presumed dead in Westeros) six years after the Rebellion in Illyrio's manse.

As to why the Martells were kept in the dark of Aegon's survival? I think Varys took advantage of Robert's victory to pressure Ashara & the Daynes to give baby Aegon to him to be molded and raised according to his vision of an ideal king. Ashara probably decided to raise Aegon as she did not want Elia's son to be raised among strangers. The Daynes must have wanted to inform the Martells about Aegon but maybe Varys threatened to reveal the entire scheme to Robert and that would put all of them at risk.

Okay, but why give Ashara purple eyes and make the Daynes partly Targ-looking, if not so the child that died in Aegon’s place was Ashara’s kid? He would have, potentially, the right eye and hair color, even a credible skintone, being just as part-Dornish as Aegon. The Daynes are not Valyrian in any way. GRRM gave this prominent Dornish House these odd traits for a reason. Barristan even emphasizes Dany’s resemblance to Ashara. Her kid could easily impersonate Aegon if it took after her.

It would have been so much easier to switch those infants within the Red Keep than to smuggle in some lowborn child which just so happens to have these rare traits. They would have been very close in age, and the baby would have likely known Elia, while Elia would not have entrusted her boy to a stranger like Varys but to a kinswoman, her own lady in waiting, who had every incentive to protect the boy and believe the same care from Elia for her own.

It exactly matches Gilly and Dalla’s boys. Even Gilly’s disreputable child and Dalla’s “queenship” with the threatened “heir”, Gilly’s plucky practicality and Dalla’s gentle wisdom.

Why have Ned Dayne looking just like a little Aegon, and have him tell the story of Ashara and “Ned”? (I don’t buy that Ned would have dishonored a highborn lady even with her enthusiastic consent…) Why have him tell the story of wetnurse Wylla at Starfall? It visually places a young Aegon into the story that obscures both his own origin and that of Jon.

Why would they name that kid ‘Ned’? For Eddard Stark killing Arthur? Or for him conspiring with them against his king Robert to save another infant? A mutual pact of secrecy? Jon and Aegon? They are telling coordinated lies about Wylla. Why?

It just makes so much sense.

[hopelesslygazingthestars]

Update: A Dance Of Love And Duty

- Engulfed By Dragon Fire

Elia/Rhaegar (+ mentions Elia/Ashara)

Elia Martell was the prized sun of Dorne. Her mother had searched high and low for a match worthy of such light. Yet, as knowledgeable and formidable as the old Princess of Dorne had been, even she could not have predicted that in the Seven Kingdoms only dragon-fire was looked upon.

Elia did not know she could hate a person so much. But she did. She hated her husband.

She hated how he made her feel; how she beamed in the shadows as the Silver Prince defeated Ser Barristan in the final tilt, how she clapped as he looped the crown of winter roses over his lance and started his horse in her direction, and how she bowed as he rode past her.

Her face burned like the feverish Dornish sun in utter humiliation when Rhaegar laid the wreath of flowers onto the lap of Lyanna Stark. He named a maiden barely a woman grown the Queen of Love and Beauty, and with that single act, undid all their months-long efforts to see their ascension to the Iron Throne.

Not only had he insulted her before the lords of Westeros, but simultaneously disrespected the Warden of the North and his own cousin by choosing Robert Baratheon’s betrothed.

However, Elia’s hurt extended beyond the insult given, and the gasps of shock, and the Mad King’s cackling; hers was a breath-taking anguish from broken treaties.

And when the wolf girl accepted the roses, looking as embarrassed as Elia felt, the Dornish princess somehow schooled her pained expression into one of unphased indifference. Despite the boiling in her blood, and the prince inside her that fussed in protest; Elia refused to crumble. She would not prove the lies of Dornish savages right, nor the tales of her unworthiness for the beloved Targaryen prince.

“Are you not furious?”

Oberyn seethed when she fastened her hand around his wrist so tightly that she drew blood. Prince Lewyn and Arthur also had their hands on Oberyn in anticipation, but Elia saw that both men battled their own fury too.

“A fire rages inside me hot enough to make even dragons sweat,” Elia replied lowly as she lifted her chin proudly and kept herself very still, hyper aware of all the eyes watching the commotion at the Stark stands.

She was reminded again that the dragons had engulfed the sun, when she noted that none outside of her own retinue even cared as to observe for her reaction.

“Whatever you would have us do, let me be the first to get my hands on him.” Ashara snarled through gritted teeth.

Although Elia had never felt such a strong desire to kill Rhaegar, to incinerate him from the inside out, violence was not her reaction.

“You will do nothing.”

Oberyn and Ashara’s heads snapped to her in unison, for as hot-tempered and blinded by love as they were, they could not see what Elia knew.

“But-”

“I, and I alone shall deal with my husband.” She spat out the term she once said in endearment.

Tearing her eyes away from the display, she saw Oberyn gauge her before relenting; but Ashara, remained tense like she was contemplating a most terrible act of treason.

“Ser Arthur, please escort Lady Ashara to her quarters.”

“Elia I will not-”

“Immediately.” She commanded.

Arthur all but lifted and dragged Ashara from her side, and luckily, the spitting protests were largely overshadowed by Brandon Stark being physically restrained by his brother and kinsmen.

If Elia once questioned her husband’s affinity for madness, she certainly no longer did now. She thought him absolutely insane, especially when he turned his horse towards her. Whatever act of reconciliation he intended was of no interest to her. She would not give the Westerosi the satisfaction of a reaction, but she also refused to be remembered as having been remotely in favour of Rhaegar’s actions. Thus, heartbeat still thundering in her ears, her hands tightened on the material of her foreign robes, and she turned away just as Rhaegar finally acknowledged her.

The Dornish party followed without instruction. Dorne was a proud kingdom, and a snub to her, was a snub to them all. She walked with a strength her brittle bones had never known, and for the first time, she wore the skin of the Queen she intended to be. Unbowed. Unbent. Unbroken.

When she eventually reached her chambers, she noticed the decorated red and black walls, Rhaegar’s beloved harp, dragons on every surface, and yearned to tear it all apart.

“Leave me be.”

Reluctantly, her retinue left, and when the door shut, her resolve collapsed.

Traitorous tears pricked at her eyes and her hands shook violently suppressing a volatile rage. Frantically, she searched for something that might anchor and remind her of home – of her. She laughed bitterly when it dawned that she too – pregnant with his promised prince – was a belonging of Rhaegar Targaryen.

She grabbed the closest item to her, ironically, a vase of winter roses, and with all her strength heaved it at the window. It shattered on impact and splinters embedded into her palm. Staring down at the crystalline glass pieces smeared by blood, they almost appeared like rubies.

The crimson mess reminded her of the fateful prophetic dream which had led her to Rhaegar. Fantasies in which she accepted offerings of dripping rubies and winter roses. Elia cursed Nymeria’s gifts and the gods that had carved out a life of failed promises. A suffocating darkness swirled in the pit of her stomach, for she knew, as minor as Rhaegar’s actions were, they were the beginning of something far worse. She knew with vivid clarity that if he humiliated her once, he would do it again.

Still, she could not decide which pain was worse – the public embarrassment or the private heartbreak. She did not care so much if he thought the Stark girl more beautiful, or even wished to bed her, but their marriage was a political identity separated from such sundry as personal feelings. Elia was his lawfully wedded wife, his queen-to-be, and mother of his heirs and with that single act he had threatened her position.

Granted, their marriage had not been without its challenges, but not even the worst fights ever made her feel so violated, betrayed, and so completely debased.

Elia was bought out of her musings when she heard raised voices from beyond the door. She did not need to open it to know it was Rhaegar and Ashara.

“Is this not exactly what you wanted?!”

“Do you expect me to thank you for this-”

Elia opened the door, and both sets of purple eyes turned to her. She found it strange how despite being such similar shades, violet orbs filled her with life, and indigo ones, with vitriol.

“I just wanted to make sure you were…” Ashara divulged, noticing her bleeding hand.

Ashara turned sharply, but Arthur appeared suddenly, and grabbed her wrist before she could throw a fist. She struggled against him and only calmed when Elia’s voice sounded.

“Asha, I’m alright, you don’t need to lose your decency over this,” she answered, voice wavering.

Ashara gave her a once over, before searching her eyes for the truth.

Elia could not find it in herself to smile, no matter how pleased she was that Ashara had remained loyal despite everything she put her through.

The white cloak put her down, but his grip on her wrist did not falter.

“I do need you to do something for me, however…”

“Anything.”

“…call upon lady Lyanna.”

Ashara looked like everything in her wanted to protest but she simply nodded, and Elia closed the door to address her husband.

Before she could unleash hell-fire upon him, he pulled them together into a tight embrace. She felt overheated and suffocated in his arms rather than comforted, and she knew that was exactly what he attempted to do.

“Listen to me.” It came out hard, and Elia felt his words in her body.

Where her heart once skipped a beat at his meagre affection, now it repulsed her, and she forced herself from his grip.

“Elia, wife, I know what it looks like, but I couldn’t explain –”

“No. I deserve an explanation for this. Explain why you have insulted and humiliated me for all the realm to see! Where is the husband that rallied against his King and father in defence of his family, where is that man?”

Passing her for Lyanna was a public message that Elia was lacking in his eyes and validated the anti-Dornish sentiments of everyone who thought her unworthy of Rhaegar. Worse still, she knew his display damaged her place in their future court, because Rhaegar’s snub reinforced the insult Aerys dealt her at Rhaenys’ presentation. She wanted to know what was so worth besmirching her dignity.

“I am right here, except –” he implored, but she was firm in her resolve.

For so long, she had withered away in his shadow, hoping to secure their future. Yet, that was not who she was raised to be, and formerly-quelled Martell fire returned anew.

“I want to know why.” Her voice was steel made sound.

He gestured for her to come, but she would not, and resignedly he moved to her, hand reaching for her swollen belly, then for her injured hand. Again and again, she jerked away from his touch. Rhaegar had a history of adeptly slithering his way out of strife and into her heart and she refused to be disarmed by tender touches or conciliated by soft words.

Elia glared at him with chilly hostility, until her ice extinguished his fire, and he relented.

“I met her for the first time on the search for the Knight of the Laughing Tree. I thought I had found him, and when I unmasked the perpetrator, it was her…” he explained.

Rhaegar’s search last several days and now that Elia knew he was with her, she wondered just what had developed.

“... she surprised me. She is strong and wilful, even in the face of me and…”

Despite the situation, Elia could hear the warmth in his voice and her blood ran cold. It was one thing that he might wish Lyanna his mistress, it was another that he might wish her in his heart. Especially, when Elia had cut away pieces of herself so that she could fit in there.

“…she had noble reasons for entering the lists, and performed so valiantly I didn’t think it fair that she not be recognised somehow. I only wished to honour her.”

“By dishonouring me,” she concluded.

“That was never my intent.”

“And yet that was the result.”

She knew Rhaegar believed her naïve to the great lords of Westeros, but Elia could see greater than he, the precarious position they were in, and she saw the iron throne melting beneath them. That he could be so short-sighted vexed her.

“Your actions will not be received well by court, and we can probably kiss goodbye to any great council without Lord Stark or Robert, likely Jon Arryn too.” She commented.

“I can make amends,” he insisted adamantly.

Elia sighed deeply, and ran her hands through her hair, attempting to preserve the churning anger within. She was not satisfied with his answers, and she understood her husband well enough to know when he placated her with half-truths. Rhaegar was not dumb and yet he made an extremely ill-advised decision. He broke chivalric code and alienated two paramount families in one stroke, it was an insult to her and to the perceived honour of Lyanna. Despite all these considerations, Rhaegar still chose to do it. Elia wondered if Rhaegar’s actions were actually designed to appeal directly to Lyanna herself, and that painted everything in a new light.

“Do you love her?”

There was something about the mere mention of Lyanna which lit up his face in a way that nothing else ever did, and Elia knew the answer, even if he did not yet.

“I love our family,” he answered, moving closer.

There was no true love between them, and Elia was exhausted of pretending otherwise, to him, and to herself.

“That’s not what I asked… do you love Lyanna?”

Silver brows knotted in confusion and she simply observed, willing him to say the words.

“Why – so you can run back to Ashara?” He snapped.

Before she could stop herself, she slapped his face, causing him to double over. She knew it wrong to strike her husband, her future king, but that he even attempted to drag Ashara’s name into it enraged her. More than that, she wanted him to feel a fraction of the pain she had endured.

“I did everything you asked! I have given you everything, and yet again I am left with nothing but hurt!”

Her chest burned, searing flames of betrayal and shame engulfing her because she hated that it affected her so, because it meant that somehow, she still loved him, despite no longer wanting to.

“I know, I didn’t m–”

Elia was tired of giving to a man that took her for granted, and always loved something else more; and left her with nothing but measly scraps. However, she would not allow him to rob her of the last thing she had left, her voice.

“I sacrificed for the future of your family name because that’s what you needed. I abandoned my home, my traditions AND Ashara because that’s what you asked…”

She had done the impossible and pushed away the person she loved the most. For too long, she endured dragon-fire and now that she was nearly ash, her own inferno awakened.

“I did EVERYTHING. I gave up my body for you despite –”

Her voice faltered when old resentments surfaced.

“Despite what?”

“Despite the child that died in my body for me to mourn alone.”

He looked back at her with surprise and an expression akin to shame washed over him. His actions had broken the unbreakable and he did not even know it.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was a whisper.

For a moment, his indigo irises looked so haunted Elia almost felt remorse for informing him so callously.

She laughed hollowly, dark and filled with resentment.

“You know why.”

And he did. His silence told as much. She would have been cast aside for a mistress sooner.

He reached for her swollen stomach, and this time, she allowed the caress. Inside her, the babe kicked hard. So hard it made her wince. Rhaegar felt it on his hand, and maneuvered to his knees, resting his hands and head on her belly.

Elia looked away, resigned to the inevitable. She did not want him manipulating her into remembering feelings she would rather forget.

“I’m sorry Elia.”

What he was sorry for, Elia did not know, but she nodded and said nothing more.

She distanced herself, and when she met his pensive gaze, translucent eyes swirled with some realisation. His mouth opened and closed wordlessly, before syllables formed.

“This means – he could – he is th–”

“If you mention your damned prophecy right now, I swear by the gods I will scream bloody murder Rhaegar.”

Once she recovered from rehashed emotions, she found herself burned out. They stood on opposite ends of their chambers staring at each other like strangers.

Elia breathed hard, her eyes watery, and hands balled into fists. Rhaegar hung his head low in shame, looking guilty and afraid.

“Love, I can forgo, but I demand your respect, Rhaegar.”

“I would give you both. What can I do to mend us?” His tone was pleading.

However, Elia was well past giving him the benefit of the doubt. Rhaegar had broken her trust for the last time.

In that moment, Furiosa haunted her, making her remember her duty to Dorne.

‘You must ensure your husband sits that throne and that your children do after him… Do not let yourself be duped... And if something needs to be said, do not hesitate to speak for yourself.’

Elia was not so young as to forget the explicitly anti-Dornish Blackfyre rebellions, nor how a noble-mothered bastard could pose a threat to Dornish-blooded monarchs. Elia needed to hold onto Rhaegar no matter how much she despised him.

“If a mistress it what you so desire then seek whoever you wish, discreetly, but I beg you, not Lyanna... and not until you have fulfilled your bargains to me.”

Elia carried another child, despite her health, and pushed Ashara away as he had asked. Now it was his turn to make her a Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

Her gaze pierced into him and he shifted uncomfortably under it.

“Rhaegar.” She prompted.

His reluctance told her everything she needed to know. Rhaegar loved Lyanna. Yet, if she had sacrificed her heart for him, it was only fair that he do the same.

“Very well. Your wish is my command.”

[onthesandsofdreams]

A kidnapping in three viewpoints

Pairing: Ned/Rhaegar, Elia/Rhaegar Rating: T Summary: Rhaegar kidnaps Ned. Brandon teases, Elia faceplams and JonCon rages. Words: 1831  Notes: Prompt fill for the ValarMoreKinks Community. You can find the prompt in Round 16 Page 32. It was supposed to be humorous, but alas, it fell on the slightly serious side. 

Read @ AO3

Brandon is pacing furiously in his chamber, he knows that he should calm himself, but can’t. His wedding is in a few days and, so far, Ned has yet to arrive at Riverrun. Which is very, very much unlike Ned.

So that’s what tips Brandon over that something is wrong. Ned would never fail in his duty, he’s the dutiful son and brother, the one you relied on and knew that he would never disappoint. Until today, it seems. For there’s less than a week to go before he is wed, and Ned has not even had the grace to send a messenger from Harrenhal.

Ned had remained behind with Lyanna, promising that they would meet Brandon at Riverrun in time for his wedding, and he knew what Ned had meant: Making sure Lyanna didn’t went somewhere she shouldn’t.

But now? Brandon can’t quite help the worry that he feels, it’s there in the pit of his stomach. His whole being is screaming at him ‘something’s wrong’, but all that he can do is wait. He can’t leave Riverrun or it will be interpreted as running away from his marriage.

Brandon is still pacing when the knock on the door comes, he walks towards the door and opens it. Catelyn. “Yes, Catelyn?”

Catelyn hesitates and Brandon’s worry worsens. “Ah. Forgive me Brandon, but a messenger has come from Harrenhal and the Lady Lyanna has arrived.”

Part of Brandon’s worry lifts. At least his sister is safe, but his instincts are just as sharp as the direwolf of his sigil. “What of Ned, Catelyn?”

Catelyn bites her lips. “The messenger is about Ned, Brandon. You must come, he waits for you at my father’s solar.”

Brandon squares his shoulders and follows Catelyn. Torn between mindless worry and relief, at least now he’ll have an answer. If anything, Lyanna will speak. When they arrive at Lord Tully’s solar, Lyanna is not there and there’s an anxious looking man standing. “My lords,” Brandon says. “Ser. Tell me, what news you bring me? And what of my sister?”

Lord Hoster speaks first, “Your lady sister went to change, she was weary of travel and hungry, Lysa is seeing to her now. Rest easy.”

Brandon nods. “My thanks goodfather.” He turns to the man. “Go on then, whatever it is, it’s better to hear it now.”

The man looks everywhere but him. “Ah. There was an incident in Harrenhal. Shortly before Lord Eddard and Lady Lyanna were meant to come, Lord Eddard went riding with a man of Lord Whent. And… well…”

“Spit it out already!”

“Prince Rhaegar took Lord Eddard with him,” the man rushes. “And by that is, he took him at sword point.”

Brandon’s could swear that his brain has frozen. His eyes were wide, his heart beating so loud. Then, it happened, the absurdity of it all came crashing down and he did the only thing he could. He laughed.

Brandon laughed so hard, there were tears falling down his cheeks. He couldn’t help it, all the anger and worry vanished, replaced by a deep sense of irony and humor. Leave it to Ned to catch the Prince’s eye. Oh this was a true gift from the Gods. This was perfect teasing material.

**

Elia sighed, she was tired and still sore. Aegon’s birth had worn her down in a way Rhaenys’ birth had not. And she knew that this would be her last child, the maester had spoken to her and Rhaegar after Aegon’s birth, one more child and she risk dying in the birthing bed and taking the child with her. Rhaegar had accepted calmly, he’d even soothed her and promising that Rhaenys and Aegon were enough. She wished she could believe him, and a part of her felt like a failure.

But her children were precious. Elia knew that Aegon already favored his father in looks – at least no one would speak against him, like Aerys had done with Rhaenys – and was a healthy child. Little Rhaenys was a playful and happy girl, she knew that it was enough for her.

But now Rhaegar was gone. Elia frowned, she had no idea where the man was, he’d said nothing save going to somewhere in the Riverlands. He was not a bad husband, she supposed, he treated her kindly and with respect, he didn’t have paramours (though that could change at any moment), he loved Rhaenys and didn’t complain of her being a girl. But he was always distant.

Truth be told, there was a part of Rhaegar that she couldn’t reach. Elia knew that Rhaegar was nearly impossible to know, there was a deep sense of grief and doom that he didn’t share with her. Whatever thoughts or emotions that he might have, he didn’t spoke with her about them. But she knew that none save Arthur truly knew Rhaegar. It was a strange comfort.

Elia was drawn from her thoughts by a knock on her door, “Come,” she called. Ashara walked in, a nervous look to her face, putting Elia immediately on edge. “Has something happened?”

Ashara walked towards the bed, sat gently on one side and took Elia’s hand in hers. “Yes. But, it’s both slightly worrisome and not.”

Elia tilted her head, trying to guess what could have prompted such words. “Tell me.” Whatever it was, it was best to face it head on.

Ashara took a deep breath. “Rhaegar has taken someone for a lover.”

Elia froze. All those worries about being replaced bubbled up, her eyes widened in fear (not for her, but her children), her hands began to shake and her stomach clenched. “Who?” Her voice sounded shaky even to her ears.

“Eddard Stark.”

“What?!”

Ashara sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “Apparently, that husband of yours went and kidnapped Lord Eddard Stark from Harrenhal, there was a witness.”

Bad as this was, Elia couldn’t help but to feel a wave of relief wash over her. A man. That she could deal with, had it been another woman, that would have been dangerous waters, for that woman could give Rhaegar children. But an ambitious man could also have her replaced with kin, but Oberyn had spoken well enough of Lord Eddard when they had met at Harrenhal. “What happened?”

“Apparently, Lord Stark was riding around Harrenhal when Rhaegar, Arthur and Oswell came upon him, and he was asked at sword point to come with them. The poor squire that accompanied Lord Stark relied the news to Lord Whent, who sent the news.”

Elia took a deep breath, released the air and then took another. Trying to calm the emotions she felt. A strange mix of relief, anger and amusement. In the end, she bowed her head, placed her face between her hands and groaned. “Rhaegar, you bloody idiot.”

Ashara laughed.

**

Jon Connington loves Prince Rhaegar.

He doesn’t know when it happened, only that it did. Jon knows that it should be better if he were to forget the Prince, but a selfish and hopeful side of him clings to the desperate hope that one day, Prince Rhaegar would love him. The Prince was the finest man in the realm, a man that was easy to love.

Jon knows, however, that he can’t speak his love openly. Not unless the Prince does first, how could he? Prince Rhaegar is wed (to a woman who doesn’t deserve him) and a father besides. A man who is devoted to his marriage and thus far, no other woman (much less a man) has turned his head and make him stray from his vows. Ever the dutiful man.

Jon has spent many times in company of the Prince, he’s one of the lucky few who have. But he still feels like an outsider, like he’s looking at some far away object he can’t quite reach.

Jon, in one of his more romantic musings, has called the Prince his moon. Bright and beautiful and impossible to touch. So, he consoles himself with time spent in Prince Rhaegar’s company. Jealous of the closeness between Ser Arthur Dayne and the Prince. He wants that. It’s greedy and almost childish, but he doesn’t care, he wants and craves with an almost desperate need.

But he knows that it won’t be. At least not yet. So, Jon loves and longs for in silence. Ever hopeful.

It’s one month after the birth of Prince Aegon, that Jon decides to go to King’s Landing. He knows that Prince Rhaegar and Princess Elia must present the boy to the King, so he makes his way to court in the hope of seeing his silver prince.

And finds the whole court in a tizzy. Why? Because apparently, Prince Rhaegar has taken a paramour. And not just anyone, but none other than Lord Eddard Stark. According to the witness, the Prince and Sers Dayne and Whent kidnapped Lord Stark at sword point and now, have been missing for two weeks.

Jon wants to laugh, to laugh until he can’t laugh any more and deny this. This is absolute nonsense, the Prince would never. And there is his heart, that’s also breaking. The Prince, it seems, has chosen and it wasn’t him.

It’s only in the privacy of his chamber that Jon screams his rage. That destroys the small table and chair, that tosses a pitcher of wine against the wall and watches as it shatters into tiny pieces. His anger is bubbling, hot and demands satisfaction. So he makes his way to the training yard, beats others with a ruthlessness that surprises even him.

Jon can taste the vile in his mouth, the anger, no, the rage. He wants to cut Eddard Stark open, to make him pay, to make him suffer the same way he’s suffering now. To hurt him, for daring to touch his silver prince.

But there is nothing he can do. And Eddard Stark is untouchable for him, his friendship with Robert Baratheon would spell disaster for him, he’s a paramount’s son and foster and well loved to another. And now, the lover of Prince Rhaegar. And there’s nothing he can do.

**

Brandon smirks when he spots the bruise, “Nice bruise you have there, little brother.” His voice is full of laughter, how can he not? This is all terribly amusing. Ned and Prince Rhaegar were missing for two moon turns and now, they have decided to reappear.

“Not a bruise, a mosquito bite.” Ned says tersely.

“Is that how we’re calling Rhaegar now?”

The scowl that Ned gives is a memorable one, but he doesn’t say anything. So, throwing caution to the wind, Brandon sing songs, “Ned and Rhaegar, sitting on a tree…”

“If you finish that rhyme, you’ll explain to Lady Catelyn why you’re an eunuch.”

“Say brother mine, are you getting a title out of this? Or at least a position in court? Will you be a companion to Princess Elia?”

“Brandon?”

“Yes, brother mine?”

“Piss off.”

Brandon’s laughter echoes in the room.

[strangeratthewindow]

Arianne Week Day 7: Free Choice

Here’s my meager contribution for Arianne Week. It’s written in Arianne’s POV and is part of a story I have planned set in my American Civil War ISOT ‘verse, just after Robert’s Rebellion. It alludes to plot points and stories that have been written (or are still WIPs) but remain unpublished. And it also features quite a few OCs.

Since I know that it’s not everyone’s cup of tea, it’ll be left under the cut for those of you who are still curious.

It’s also a first draft, so I hope you’ll be merciful.

ARIANNE I

Arianne hated reading.

It was not that she failed to understand the importance of the activity as a whole. Rather, it was that she found the books that the maester had deemed important for her lessons to be unbearably dull. “The lessons in these ‘dusty old tomes’, as you so eloquently put it, will service you well once you inherit your father’s seat.” Maester Caleotte had said. But she could only tolerate the grim, unrelenting march of history for so long.

As far as she was concerned, it was the people who wrote the histories that were lacking. Daeron’s Conquest, the uprising of the first Vulture King, the court of Myriah, all histories that were chalk full to the brim with romance, adventure, intrigue, and passion. And yet, they were written as if they were no more exciting than a trip to the marketplace.

“Arianne, you must pay attention.” Maester Caleotte had scolded.

But her attention had drifted off back to the stories, only this time told through her imagination. Her mind produced images of Nymeria’s conquest of the Yronwood Royals, of Rhaenys and Meraxes burning a swath through Dorne until they fell in the skies above Hellholt, of Ser Duncan the Tall and his squire Prince Aegon’s adventures through her country.

She even fantasized about her auntie’s rescue from King’s Landing. She still remembered hearing the story from her father. How the American officer, Hal Celliers, had defied the orders of his commanders and the rebel lords and rescued her aunt Elia and her children, all as a promise to his love and Elia’s friend, the Lady Ashara Dayne. How after his chastisement from his superiors, he was berated and knighted by the Usurper himself and was finally suitable in status to ask for the hand of Lady Ashara. And how after their betrothal, he was appointed by Lord Alaric as the castellan of the new city he had founded beneath Starfall, Stillhaven, and thus was known throughout Dorne and all Westeros by the name his people had called him: the Azure Angel.

It was all terribly romantic and the thought of it managed to swell Arianne’s heart every time.

She cherished the book that the Major Celliers had given her for her last nameday. It was a collection of stories from his world translated into the Common Tongue, all about kings and queens and knights and princesses from his world. The Legends of King Arthur and His Knights of the Round Table, her book was called. It was as large as the histories she was forced to read, but endlessly more interesting.

This was the excitement that she craved from reading.

Arianne had found that the Americans were very generous in their stories. She knew that they would have to have some boring books as well. After all – every country seemed to have too much history. But in their stories, they seemed more wondrous than anything that was available in Westeros.

And when her parents had told her one day that they would be receiving ambassadors from that far-away land, she almost leapt from her seat in joy.

She wanted to know everything about these new people from the world beyond Rickard’s Gate.

When the maester announced that their lessons were finished, she all but rushed out the door, her two cousins laughing and trailing behind.

“Slow down, Ari!” Tyene called to her, her golden hair billowing as she ran.

“I can’t! The new guests are coming today!” She called back.

It was a miracle that she didn’t run into any of the servants as they went about their routines. Entering her room, she quickly washed her face, and put on the clothes that her mama had lain out for her. The red and orange silks felt cool against her skin, as she dressed herself. Looking in the mirror, she couldn’t help but frown at what she saw.

The redspots she had contracted last year had mostly gone away, but they left scarring on her skin that did little to flatter her appearance. She had never given much thought about her appearance until she had gotten the redspots. But ever since, it was like a veil was lifted and she was never comfortable with how she looked ever since. In the mirror, she saw a fat and ugly girl as opposed to the beauties that her cousins had been.

Of course, Obara, Nymeria, and Tyene never considered her as such, but she knew the truth. She would pray to the Seven each day and night to make her beautiful.

Would the Yankees think the same? She had thought, her excitement dwindling slightly.

“They would be foolish to think as such.” Her mother had told her when Arianne asked.

Her mama’s answer made her feel somewhat better, but she still held concerns. She knew that the Americans cared not about the difference between noble and commoner, but she didn’t know if the same held true for the beautiful and ugly.

The thought of such an end made her grateful that the clothes her mama had chosen for her had concealed her baby fat. The last thing she needed was for their new guests to think she was pudgy.

From her room in the Sun Tower, she could see the wheelhouse carrying their new guests approaching, accompanied by riders under two banners. One showing a golden spear piercing a red sun on an orange field, and the other – a roundel of white stars on a field of blue leading out to alternating red and white stripes. She could hear the cheers of the people from high atop in her rooms, each one praising her father and the Americans.

They’re here!

Tying up her hair, she walked out to the courtroom with her septa and made her way to the courtroom where the rest of the household had assembled. Seeing Tyene and Nymeria already there added some nerves to her excitement. They looked far more beautiful than she, but Arianne would not let her envy get to her. She was a Princess of Dorne and heir to the Sunspear.

I will not let them see me falter.

The last of the Threefold Gates were opened, the adulations of the people of the Shadow City echoing from outside, and in came the yellow-clad honor guard for her father’s men followed closely by the blue-coated honor guard of their new guests.

She stared in awe at the blue-coated soldiers. Everything about them seemed like they came out of the pages of a song. Their brass buttons and high boots along with their fabled magic staves seemed to hide a hundred wondrous stories from their world.

The doors of the wheelhouse opening, she saw her father step out followed closely by her mother. And from behind them, an old, balding man in a grey coat and a skirt? It was a queer choice, but she would not judge the man yet. He at least appeared to be somewhat nice, for he didn’t seem to stop smiling since he exited the wheelhouse. Although that could have been explained by who followed him.

From behind the man, he saw two young boys. They both seemed a little older than her and Tyene, perhaps closer to Nym’s age. The one in the straw hat seemed just as shocked as the older man, his eyes wide and his mouth in an O – shape. The other boy, with the woolen cap, seemed to be a bit sterner, his eyes no less curious though. And it was to be expected. She remembered her father telling her that there were no castles in America.

Guiding the three forward to their household, her father was greeted by her uncle, Ser Manfrey.

“My prince.” Her uncle greeted with a bow.

“Manfrey,” Her father acknowledged in return. “These are our guests, all the way from the United States.”

Stepping forward, her father introduced the three. “This is Minister Montgomery Munro, his son Michael, and nephew Concord.”

“It’s an honor, my lord.” Her uncle bowed. “Ser Manfrey Martell, I am the castellan of Sunspear.”

“Och, none of this ‘my lord’ nonsense, good ser.” He waived his response out with an air of casualness. “Just ‘Minister’ is enough. And might I say, ser, you’ve done a bloody good job at keeping this place together.”

“My thanks, Minister.” Her uncle nodded with a smile, as he shook the man’s hand.

“And this is my daughter, Arianne.” Her father introduced her.

“My aren’t you a pretty one.” He said in his strange, foreign accent. It was enough to make her blush. She didn’t often receive such complements from strangers. “Aye, the boys will definitely take to you.”

He turned to the two boys who were looking straight at her now. “Well, lads? Where’s ye’re manners? Aren’t ye gaun tae say hello?”

The one with the straw hat – Michael – stepped forward and grabbed her hand, placing a kiss on it. “Hello, my princess.”

His smile was something else, and she could feel herself grow more flushed as he looked at her. His eyes were a light blue, bluer than even Tyene’s, and his hair was a series of dark brown waves. To her mind, the boy was definitely pretty. He looked as if he held something of a mischievous streak.

The one with the wool cap – Concord – followed close behind and did the same, only his expression was more nervous. “Greetings, my princess.”

His smile was subtle, but there. She couldn’t seem to read him, his face keeping that serious stern look that reminded her so often of her father. His eyes were an odd blue-gray that seemed almost supernatural in his presence, and his hair was a strong reddish-auburn color. But what caught her attention was the odd rash on his face. It seemed to cover most of his right eye, going down to his lower cheek. She would feel bad to admit as such, but it made her feel better about the scarring on her cheeks that the redspots had left.

Overall, she regarded both boys as quite attractive.

After the proper introductions were held, she asked her mother if she and her cousins could show the two young boys around the castle.

“Ari, I’m sure Michael and Concord will be quite tired from their journey and would like to take some time to recover.”

“My love, perhaps we should ask the boys what they want to do?” Her father had proffered.

“Oh, alright. Minister?” Her mother’s gaze shifted to the bald man who only turned to the boys.

“What say you, lads?”

“We wanna go! We wanna explore the castle! Right Concord?” He asked his cousin.

A simple nod, with a small smile was enough of a response from him to satisfy the grown-ups.

“Oh, alright then. You may show them the keep, but just remember to be back before dinner.”

Her face broke out into a huge smile as she turned to Tyene and Nym who held the same bright smiles on their faces. “Thank you! Thank you!”

And with out hesitation, she grabbed one of the boy’s hands, while her cousins each grabbed the other boy’s hands and sped off to show them Sunspear. She could only just hear the minister’s laugh at her and her cousins’ antics as they dragged the two boys off to show them around the keep.

Gods, what will we show them first? The Sandship? The Golden Arches? Maybe we can take them to the Sun Tower so they can see the thrones!

“Ari! Where are we going?” Tyene asked, still tugging Michael along.

“We’re going to show them the Twin Thrones!” She answered back, as they entered the stairwell that would lead them there.

The commotion they caused would’ve earned her a scolding from her septa, but she figured she could take the risk just this once. Besides, she was a Princess of Dorne. She was allowed certain liberties.

The trek up the Tower of the Sun, is filled with questions from the boys, rather one boy.

“How far up is it?”

“Why is it called the Sun Tower?”

“Who is Nymeria?”

“How come she left the Rhoyne?”

“Did she really conquer all of Dorne?”

Michael’s excitement was infectious. From the bottom of the stairs, up until they reached the door to the main hall, he asked endless questions about Dorne and its history. Arianne and her cousins were only happy to oblige. But the other boy, Concord, remained silent throughout their ascent. Right up until he asked, “Why did Nymeria burn all ten thousand of her ships?”

The suddenness of the question was enough to make Arianne pause. Didn’t I already tell him why?

“Because she wanted to send a message to the world that her people had found their new home.”

“I know that, but why did she burn all ten thousand of her ships?”

It was a strange question to ask, and one she didn’t entirely understand.

“What do you mean?”

“A ship is very useful but costs a lot of money.” He started, still staring up at the golden sun motifs. “If Nymeria was planning to help Mors Martell conquer the rest of Dorne, wouldn’t it have been more useful for her to keep some of those ships around?”

Arianne frowned at Concord’s question. Of course, she had heard the stories about the Rhoynar Exodus and how Nymeria brought the petty kings of Dorne to heel, but she never wondered about this. After all, who would care so much about ships?

“Oh, don’t mind him.” Michael interrupted. “Connie’s always asking about boats and ships and sailing. He wants to be a pirate when he’s all grown up.”

“I do not.” Concord shot back, scowling at his cousin’s teasing.

“Yeah, you do.” Michael said, crossing his arms in that way she would often see her uncle do. “On the trip here, you wouldn’t stop talking to the other sailors. You even wanted to climb up the lookout’s nest too.”

Nymeria and Tyene laughed freely as they watched the two cousins bickering, as if they hadn’t shared the same kind of arguments with her. It was only when Arianne realized that their eyes were on her rather than the American boys that she realized. Looking down, she noted that she was still holding Concord’s hand.

Thankfully neither boy had noticed the fact, nor did they see how flushed Arianne’s cheeks had become. Rolling her eyes at her cousins’ amused smiles, she pushed the doors open and led the group into the Hall of the Twin Thrones.

She watched in amusement as the two boys gawked at the high seats of Dorne. To the left, the Sun Throne, emblazoned with a copper edifice of the Rhoynar sun. And to the right, the Spear Throne, carved in gold with the emblem of the spear of Martell. Both were a sight to behold to any who visited Sunspear.

“Wow!” Michael exclaimed, as he ran ahead of the others. “I’ve never seen a throne before.”

“They’re beautiful.” Concord said, plainly.

Arianne couldn’t help but smile in victory. She was worried that the American boys wouldn’t be impressed with her family’s keep, but their words and awestruck faces soothed her concerns.

“Can we sit on them?” Michael asked.

Her smile turned into a smirk as she huffed and answered, “Not without my permission.”

“You would be wise to gain the favor of the princess before asking for such things.” Tyene supplied, giggling at her cousin’s answer. “She will rule Dorne one day.”

Before the boys could speak, she walked over to the Sun Throne with the same regal poise that she had seen her mother do, and promptly sat down. “You may sit down on the Spear Throne, Michael. That is if you agree to be my consort.”

“Consort? Is that like a prince?”

“In a way,” Nymeria answered, “but you would not rule Dorne. You would have to answer to Ari.”

“Never mind, then.” Michael replied, his disappointment clear. “I wanted to be a prince.”

Arianne’s unladylike huff brought out more laughter from her cousins, and whilst she knew that it was all just pretend and play, a part of her couldn’t help but feel angered that another boy wouldn’t want to have to answer to her.

“What about you Connie?” Tyene asked, using the newly revealed nickname. “Would you like to sit on the Spear Throne?”

“Or do you not want to submit to a girl?” Nymeria teased, her smirk prodding at the older boy.

“May I?” Concord asked, looking straight in Arianne’s eyes.

“If you do not object to only being consort.” She tested, a single brow arched and ready to deal with any defiance.

“I don’t mind. Besides, I’d rather not be a prince.” Concord answered plainly, stepping forward and sitting down on the throne.

Whatever answer she expected, it certainly wasn’t that. Her cousins also appeared to be of the same mind if their shocked expressions conveyed anything. Michael seemed unsurprised by his cousin’s answer, but then they seemed close enough as family where one could correctly guess the actions of the other.

“Strange.” She remarked as she looked over to him. “I had thought all boys would want nothing more than to be a dashing prince.”

“Not me,” He answered absently as he set his hands on the armrests. “I don’t think I’d like that kind of life.”

For a brief moment, she recalled something of interest that her father once told her. He had said that the Americans’ realm had no nobility of any kind, and that they choose their leaders from the people. She was curious and wanted to press him further but was hesitant. So, she chose instead to ask, “So, your cousin is correct? You’d rather be a pirate?”

“Not a pirate.”

“A sailor, then?” She ventured.

“No, I – ”

“Oh, don’t lie Connie.” Michael interrupted. “It’s not proper to do so to a princess.”

Concord only rolled his eyes at him, as Nymeria and Tyene ran up to her and asked her if they could show them the hidden chambers in the Sandship. Arianne conceded, the two grabbing Michael’s hand once more, and running back into the maze of halls. Looking back over to Concord, she noted how shy he had become, left alone in the throne room with no one but her.

His blushing face was a comfort to Arianne.

It gave her enough confidence to ask, “There are no kings in America, right? Or queens?”

“That’s right.”

“Or princes and princesses?”

By his crestfallen look, a stranger to their conversation would have assumed that he had said the insulting words and nor her.

“I’m not offended.” She explained with a giggle, “I just…”

“Just…?”

“I just wanted to know what it’s like living in a place like that.”

Concord paused for a moment as he scratched his red hair, himself looking quite unsure about the question.

“If I had to say, it’s for sure a lot less exciting than Dorne.”

Arianne gave a barking laugh, the kind of unladylike laugh that would’ve gotten her chastised by her mother and septa. She didn’t think much of the red headed boy at first, but she had to admit that he would certainly prove to be interesting. Sliding off the copper colored throne, she reached her hand out to Concord.

“Will you be my escort then, seeing as you’re my loyal consort?”

With a soft smile, he slid off the throne and bowed fancily, removing his hat in respect. “My princess, it would be an honor.”

“You can call me Ari, if you’d like.” She smiled, as he took her hand. “But only if I can call you Connie.”

“Oh, fine.” He muttered. “But only because you asked.”

“I did not ask. I commanded, as is my right as a Princess of Dorne.” Arianne replied. “But I will ask this: what were you going to say earlier before your cousin interrupted?��

“Oh?” He paused briefly, recalling the moment. “Oh! I was going to say that I didn’t want to be just a sailor. I want to be a captain of my own ship.”

Arianne couldn’t help but laugh at the boy’s nautical interests, not that she found them to be foolish. Rather, she was amused that he would rather be content to rule over a floating hunk of hammered wood than a whole kingdom.

“Well, then.” She started, looking up straight into his eyes. “We should make haste to the Sandship! Our cousins will already be there, and there is no better place in Dorne to learn the art of captaining.”

“Very well, my pri – …Ari.”

“You learn fast... Connie.”

Hand in hand, they ran off through the halls of the castle.

I guess he’s not so bad.

[nightingale-lark]

Sorrow

A series of drabbles about Arthur/Lyanna. Rhaegar wins AU. No one is particularly happy. 

Duty & Sorrow - Arthur’s POV

"I'm sorry." These two little words seemed woefully inadequate for all that she had suffered and all that she would suffer now in the Red Keep, but words were all he could offer. 

She did not turn to face him when she answered, her eyes remained on her infant son as he slept. "You did your duty Ser Arthur."

He couldn't help but flinch a little at the title. He was no longer simply “Arthur” for he no longer held her friendship or her trust. He delivered her to Rhaegar despite her pleas to be sent back North, to her remaining brothers. She would not take any sympathy or comfort from him now, not as she had in the Tower.

She was building a wall around herself with the shattered pieces of her heart.

Never again would she be so generous with her friendship or her love.

Sympathy & Love - Arthur’s POV

Relieved of his duties for the day, he took to a forgotten part of the keep's gardens. A place quiet and secluded, away from everyone. He had no doubt whispers of Ashara's death would fly swiftly through the court and he had no wish to hear them. He simply wished to mourn in peace.

He had not heard her approach. He grew conscious of her presence only as her hand touched upon his shoulder.

"I'm sorry about Ashara… I'm sorry for your loss." Her grey eyes reflected his deeply felt sorrow - knowing what it was to lose a beloved sibling. He had not expected her to seek him out. She had maintained her distance ever since they had arrived at the Red Keep. He had chosen duty when he answered the King's summons and brought her and Prince Jon to Kingslanding. She had understood his choice, but she had not forgiven him for it.

Her coming to him now was an undeserved kindness - a balm for his aching heart.

Rumors - Arthur’s POV

Whispers were always rife at court, but he never dreamt that he would be the subject of such wide and varied tales.

"You shall accompany Elia and Rhaenys to Dorne. They will be stopping at Starfall on their way to Sunspear. No doubt, a visit home would be welcome after so many years."

Arthur bowed in obeisance, "You are too generous, your Grace."

They both knew that it was not generosity that brought about this journey for Arthur, but rather fear of further scandal. Rhaegar could not have rumors of Arthur being Prince Aemon the Dragonknight to Lyanna's Queen Narys. He could not have the court questioning the legitimacy of any of his current or future children.

Arthur could see the unspoken questions in Rhaegar's sad eyes. How could you let it come to this? To allow the court to question her loyalty? Your loyalty? Jon's paternity?

Farewell - Arthur’s POV

He found her in the Godswood with Jon the next day. It was perhaps unwise to seek her out, but he could not leave without saying goodbye. Oswell retreated when he approached and Arthur nodded his thanks.

Jon toddled towards Arthur as soon as he spotted his favourite knight, dragging his wooden sword with him. Arthur scooped Jon up as he oft did and smoothed his soft dark curls. He was a happy little boy, quiet, curious and maybe just a little stubborn.  

"I hear you are going on a journey." Lyanna said as she stood from her seat beneath the heart tree to walk towards Arthur.

 "'Tis the King's command."

 "And his word is law" she said sadly as she ran her hand through her son's curls before letting it rest on Arthur's arm. "Jon will miss you" is what she said, but he understood what she meant. I will miss you.

He would miss her too.

He brought his free hand up to tuck an errant curl behind her ear as she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. It was as much as he would allow himself, though it was more than would be deemed proper.

Heartache - Rhaegar’s POV 

He had entered the Godswood in search of his young wife and son, wishing to spend a few moments with them. He had lost so much time with them already, his attention having been focused on re-building the realm. It had taken many long days and nights to bring stability to his reign after the rebellion. He scarcely saw them during their waking hours, only able to catch a glimpse of them as they slept at night.

His relationship with Lyanna had been strained since she received news of her father and brother. It worsened further when she learned of the prophecy and why he would not allow her to return North. Lyanna had been in Kingslanding for nearly a year now and they had yet to mend what was broken between them. And his son barely knew him.

He never thought he would fall in love, always having higher matters on his mind. He had taken Lyanna to the Tower of Joy for the sake of a prophecy but he had fallen in love with her, so quickly and so deeply that  a life without her now seemed inconceivable. But the Gods were cruel, for it was clear that she fell out of love with him almost as soon as he realized his love for her. His heart ached every time she drew away from his touch and addressed him as 'Your Grace', but he understood that it would take time to earn the trust and love he had lost.

He had not given much credence to the whispers at court. He knew that Lyanna had struggled to adjust to life in the Red Keep and was glad that Arthur was able to bring her some measure of comfort. But when he looked upon them now - the quiet intimacy they shared - he felt unease slowly bubble up inside him.

[malmiele]

/rolls in/ What if Steffon and Casanna’s third child had been a girl?

(a cleaned up fic I found on my computer. inspired by this post.)

Even as a boy, Renly had loved bright colors and rich fabrics, and he had loved his games as well. “Look at me!” he would shout as he ran laughing through the halls of Storm’s End. “Look at me, I’m a dragon,” or “Look at me, I’m a wizard,” or “Look at me, look at me, I’m the rain god.” The bold little boy with wild black hair and laughing eyes was a man grown now, one-and-twenty, and still he played his games. Look at me, I’m a king, Cressen thought sadly.

From the day she was born, Cyrenna Baratheon’s fate had been set in stone.

Just weeks before her birth, the king had spoken to Lord Steffon about it. About how his son needed a wife of proper Valyrian blood, and how it was a pity the children of his cousin and good friend were all sons. He had requested Lord Steffon to go and find a suitable bride of old Valyrian lineage from the Free Cities, and Lord Steffon had asked if he could at least wait till his wife gave birth, which the king agreed to readily.  

The maesters had predicted it would be a boy, and all were surprised when a girl was born instead. The girl that the Targaryens had been waiting for. King Aerys sent his congratulations, and also formally proposed that instead of voyaging to the Free Cities, a match be made between his son and Lord Steffon’s daughter.

And so little Renna grew up, comfortably assured with her destiny. She loved to play dress up, swathing herself in bright colours and rich fabrics, prancing along the hallways of Storm’s End. Some days she pretended to be a dragon. Other days she pretended to be Elenei, the daughter of the god of the sea.

One day Renna had gotten hold of some red and black brocade. Draping it around her, she paraded up and down the hallway, head held high and a serious look on her face. Amused at the sight, Cressen asked, “So Renna, what are you today?”

“I’m the queen,” she answered.

Her brother Robert had taken a squire – a Tyrell from the Reach. His name was Loras, and he was just a boy, Renna thought – but it was fun to have someone younger around for a change, and Loras became the best friend she would ever have. They’d do boyish things like climb trees and race each other through the woods, but Loras was perfectly happy with watching Renna sew, and letting Renna braid his hair.

That hair. Loras’ hair was gorgeous; warm brown and in waves as soft as silk. Renna loved doing his hair more than her own.

Their fun did not last for long. When Renna flowered, she knew her wedding would be near. The whole family travelled to King’s Landing – Loras, too – and immediately on arrival she heard whispers about being Prince Rhaegar’s child bride.

She was no child, Renna huffed to herself. She was a maiden flowered, four-and-ten.

But she would not deny that the royal court intimidated her a little. It wasn’t as shiny and colourful as she had imagined. It was definitely luxurious, but the air had a weight to it that seemed to hang over everyone and make the whole place grey.

The prince that was to be her husband towered over her, face having the beauty and warmth of chiselled marble. He greeted her courteously nevertheless, and she responded with a curtsey and a smile.

Smiles always came easily for Renna. She loved to smile, to jest, to laugh. She loved having fun. This place, and especially the prince, did not seem fun. She thought his seriousness would be like that of Stannis, but somehow, something was different. She couldn’t put her finger on it.

Fortunately for her, not everyone at court was as solemn as Prince Rhaegar. There were his younger siblings, Viserys who was a year older than her, and little Daenerys whose difficult birth had killed her mother.

Viserys was everything Rhaegar was not, and Renna did not like it. Renna had wondered at first why she hadn’t been promised to Viserys instead since they were closer in age, but after a while she was glad she wasn’t. Everyone said he resembled his father too much.

There was also Lady Elia, who had been a princess of Dorne but gave the title up when she was wed to Jaime Lannister, the eldest son of the Hand of the King and heir to Casterly Rock. Lady Elia was a woman of frail health, and heavily pregnant to boot, but she was always kind to her when she felt well enough to venture outside. Ser Jaime, unlike his father, had a lighthearted, cheerful personality, and no inclination for politics. According to Stannis, both their mothers had been ladies-in-waiting for the now-deceased Queen Rhaella. Renna often saw them making snarky comments and smirking about it, and Renna wished her husband-to-be would allow that, but he probably wouldn’t. Robert told her not to worry – Lady Elia and Ser Jaime had nearly ten years separating them and they still got along well – but Renna knew that Robert was just coming up with reasons to make her feel better.  

Another woman at court was the stunningly beautiful Lady Ashara, sister to Ser Arthur of the Kingsguard and best friend of Lady Elia. She had dark hair and violet eyes, and Renna wondered if it would be possible for Rhaegar and her to have a daughter that pretty. Her heart fluttered every time she saw Lady Ashara grace the halls, but otherwise Renna never really got the chance to talk to her.

The wedding was lavish and pompous – Renna did not have much say, but she would not accept anything less. Her gown was made of patterned white brocade, and from her neck hung topaz and onyx framed in filigreed gold. She smiled as brightly as she could when the black cape with the red dragon was clasped around her shoulders, and waved as the crowd of smallfolk cheered for their little princess.

She laughed and made conversation with the other nobles during the feast and the dance, more so than her husband. Loras’ whole family had come to attend, and Renna was introduced to his dearest siblings: Willas, the oldest who had turned to books after an injury stopped him from being able to fight; Garlan, a boy her age training to become a warrior, and Margaery, a pretty girl who was just a year younger than Loras.

The night wore on and the younger guests had to leave before the bedding ceremony. Before he left, Loras pressed a medallion of rose gold into her palm, wishing her good luck.

There were no kisses, embraces, or words of assurance. Rhaegar simply, cooly, did what was required of him, and then turned to fall asleep, back facing her, leaving her aching and alone in the dark, her eyes refusing to stay closed.

Lord Steffon passed away in his sleep a week after the wedding. Renna knew that their father had already been sickly beforehand, but King Aerys was convinced that his Hand had poisoned him, because he intended to replace Lord Tywin with their father after becoming in-laws with the royal family.

Lady Elia gave birth to a son, named Gerion after an uncle of Jaime’s who had presumably died while making an expedition into Old Valyria. She almost died in labour, and was bedridden for half a year. The maesters said her body would not be able to cope with another pregnancy, but Ser Jaime told her not to feel too upset about it, and that having her and Gerion was enough.

Amazingly, a daughter had been conceived on Renna’s wedding night. The maesters worried a girl her age would have difficultly giving birth, but both mother and daughter were healthy. Rhaegar named her Rhaenys, and she looked every bit a Targaryen. Rhaegar said she resembled his mother greatly. And although he held no love for his wife, he coddled Rhaenys with affection.

Despite the protection of her parents, Rhaenys had nevertheless been born into a court ruled by an increasingly erratic king. He had a growing obsession with fire, and set prisoners ablaze. Rhaegar had been discussing with his supporters about an opportune time to remove King Aerys before he did the realm more destruction.

One night, Ser Jaime came to Rhaegar, saying he had heard the king talk to his pyromancer about wanting to set fire to the whole of King’s Landing. Ser Jaime had killed them both to stop them, and guards were sent to uncover the wildfire. They found some; not all, but it was enough as evidence, and Ser Jaime was heralded a national hero for saving King’s Landing. King Aerys went down in history as the Mad King.

At their coronation Renna smiled the smiles she always gave, distributed alms to the poor, and kissed the foreheads of babies as they paraded through the streets with great fanfare, a train of Myrish lace billowing out behind her. She had initially ordered a dress made for the occasion, in her favourite shade of green and trimmed generously with frothy ruffles, but her mother reminded her ever so gently that a safer bet would be the traditional house colours. But Renna would never want to look dull, and so her gown was a red “as bright as the sun”, the seamstress had assured her.

As a reward, Renna suggested betrothing their Rhaenys to Gerion, but Rhaegar refused, saying Rhaenys had to marry her brother.

Not long after becoming queen Renna found herself with child again, and the girl was named Visenya. Visenya was beautiful. Renna thought her just like Lady Ashara – dark hair, violet eyes. Even as a baby, people were already saying she would grow up to be one of the greatest beauties in the Seven Kingdoms.

Rhaegar was convinced their next child would be a son. He already had a name for him – Aegon.

But she lost their third child during the pregnancy, and their fourth was a stillborn girl. First she was upset, next angry at Rhaegar for he had not bothered to comfort her or ask after her wellbeing even once, then despondent because of the fate life had dealt her.

Renna did not ask for the love Robert gave his Lady Lyanna, who had died of a fever before they could be wed, leaving her brother heartbroken and eternally pining. That was a love Renna could not obtain, unless she could find a lady willing to warm her bed.

Was friendship that hard?

Words could not express her happiness when Loras came to King’s Landing, now seven-and-ten and a head taller than her, and pledged his services as Kingsguard. His sister Margaery and his sister-in-law Leonette were both to become her ladies-in-waiting.

He tells her about how life had been back home at Storm’s End; how pretty Robert’s newest paramour was (although he would add that she was nowhere as pretty as her; Loras was always such a sweet talker, bless his soul), and how cute her niece Shireen was becoming.

Margaery has grown into a beautiful young maiden, and as she works with her as her handmaid, Renna finds herself inexplicably drawn to the Tyrell girl’s charms. At this point, Rhaegar and her barely shared a room anymore, so for the most part she decided to take Margaery as her bedmate. They stay up late into the wee hours of the morning, Renna pouring out all her thoughts and fears to the younger lady. Margaery admits she is in a pressurising position as well, as her father is determined for her to get only the best.

When Renna confesses her attraction, Margaery does not reject her. All she does is smile coyly, and Renna takes it as a positive answer.

In those dull days of her life, she tried to look at everything positively.

And it helps for a while; Renna’s nights are now warm and filled with love and affection. She had a beautiful lover and her best friend with her. This would be the best life at court she would ever get.

Even when Margaery goes missing for hours after every dinner, Renna just assumes she was busy with something she didn’t need to bother about.

And when she asks to leave court entirely and return to Highgarden because she was feeling sick, Renna never thinks more of it and wishes that she would quickly get well.

So when Margaery returned to court with a silvery-haired, lilac-eyed babe – a baby boy Rhaegar acknowledges as his own son and called him Aegon – Renna’s world collapses there and then.

Her nights are cold and sleepless. Was this Margaery’s plan all along? Did she ever love her, or was that just a means to an end?

When Loras comes looking for her, Renna almost wants to chase him away.

But she was already hurt enough, so she decides to hear what he has to say.

His expression was conflicted and apologetic. “I never knew this would have happened,” he starts. “But I did know that Father always wanted Marge to become queen.”

“Did he put her up to this?”

“I don’t know,” Loras admitted. “Although the plan could not work with just Father’s wishful thinking alone.”

It was true. Rhaegar had always been talking about his prophecies, his dragons. Something about a prince that was promised, something about a saviour, something about a three-headed dragon.

Perhaps he had concluded he would not be able to father his promised prince on Renna, and so he had turned to look for other options.

An anger bubbles up inside her chest. He had never cared about her. All he needed were the children for his prophecy.

“Loras, this will be hard on you, but can you do me a favour?”

It was a move completely out of spite. She probably had not thought it through well enough. But in her anger Renna had resolved to give birth to a son.

In a few months, her womb did begin to swell. It was obvious the king knew the child was not his, but he never said anything about it or accused her of anything. On one hand, Renna was grateful for this, because the recent events had all been so hard on Loras and she would hate to give him anymore trouble, but on the other hand her husband’s complete ambivalence infuriates her further.

When the child is born a girl, Renna thinks the fates must be mocking her. If the child had been a boy, Rhaegar would have a legitimate son in the eyes of the law that was not biologically his – Renna wished she could see Rhaegar’s expression if that happened.

Instead, he nods coldly as if he had already seen this coming, and tells Renna that she could name her third daughter.

Jaehaera Targaryen might be her name, but as she grows it is obvious she is not one. Her hair is the same silky warm brown as Loras’, and her eyes are blue as day. Renna loves her dearly; she takes the rose gold medallion Loras had given to her years ago and had it melded and engraved to form a hairpin, which she gives to Jaehaera. The little girl protected it with her life.

Her older daughters were blossoming into fine young maidens as well; Rhaenys was a solemn, stern girl, tall but frail and had the habit of not eating. Visenya was as beautiful as the realm had predicted her to be, with a jovial demeanour that put others at ease. But she still paled in comparison to her younger sister.

Margaery had might as well be a second queen at this point. She spent much more time with Rhaegar, although she bore him no more children, and the Tyrells enjoyed much status at court. Sometimes Renna would wonder how her brothers were doing, but the gap in age between her and them was so large, she realised she never really understood them.

Rhaegar dies at Summerhall while Aegon was away travelling in Essos. No one knew what exactly he had been doing, but it seemed to be some form of twisted magic. Renna found it ironic, how he had left the same way he came.

For a while Viserys and Daenerys move back to King’s Landing from Dragonstone with their children, but soon it is discovered that Rhaegar had indeed legitimised his son and willed the Iron Throne to him. The already unhinged Viserys flies into a rage, and Margaery, as the next king’s mother, orders him imprisoned.

Aegon VI is five-and-ten when he is coronated, and the Iron Throne seems to accept him well. He takes the lovely Visenya as his bride, while Rhaenys marries a Velaryon lord. And Jaehaera…Renna brings her youngest girl back to Storm’s End, where she finally gets the reunion with her brothers that she never knew she so greatly needed. 

[forme-iwrite]

Elia Martell: Ladies in waiting

part 1/2: Dorne

Because house Martell is the ruling house in Dorne Elia had more freedom in choosing the dornish ladies in her company because she did not have to worry if they would be loyal to her.  She also had the advantage of probably knowing these women and knew they would be good company on her journey to king’s landing. They most likely belonged to prominent houses in Dorne, to show Elias and Dornes strength. Besides having to belong to prominent houses Elia was probably able to choose who she wanted and would not have to worry about choosing someone for political gain.

Besides planning a pre-asoiaf fic I wanted to flesh out these characters and that is why I added personal headcanons for each of them.

Personal headcanon: When Elia was called to Aerys court after the Brandon Stark incident, Elia sent all of them back to Dorne before she left to King’s landing. They tried to refuse but Elia would not allow them to follow her, sensing the turmoil that was about to happen.

Ashara Dayne

Red mountains/Torentine: Starfall

In her Wikipedia page Ashara’s birth is placed around 260 and 269 A.C. I personally place her around 260 A.C. There is many hints in the books that Ashara had a baby and placing her birth in 269 would make her 13/14 years old during her pregnancy which is just a no for me. I also want her to be closer of age to Elia and 260 would give them only a three year difference.

Ashara Dayne is the only known lady in Elias’ company. The Daynes are a prominent house in Dorne, they are some of the lords who have fought marcher lords. During the betrothal trip the Martells took, Starfall was the only house in Dorne that they considered. Ashara’s brother was a kingsguard to king Aerys, Arthur was also the sword of the morning, making him a prominent figure. Though I believe Ashara was probably chosen because she was a close friend to Elia.

Personal headcanon: The first time she meets Elia is when she is five, her and her brothers go to the water gardens during a hot summer. The next time they meet is when Ashara is eight and she comes to Sunspear as a cupbearer to the Princess of Dorne. During that time she becomes Elias closest friend. She is very headstrong and it is hard for her to keep her feelings at bay. Ashara likes to say what's on her mind even though it might get her in trouble. She is very proud of her house and because of it she and Leyla Hightower always bicker with each other. Elia was afraid Aerys would find out about the parentage of Ashara’s child, so she sent her back to Dorne along with the rest of the ladies. She had always looked up to her brother Arthur but when she finds out where he was/who he was with she feels betrayed.

Myria Jordayne

Sea of Dorne/Scourge: Tor

I place Myria being born around 256 A.C. Not much is known about her besides her house and that she was one of Oberyn's companions in king’s landing. Since her age nor her father's age have been stated we can make her any age that would make her old enough to be able to represent her house by herself. Elia would have probably choose a couple of companions around her age.

Myria is the heir to House Jordayne a prominent house in Dorne. She was one of Oberyn's companions when he went to king's landing to claim Doran’s seat on the small council but most importantly get justice for Elia and her children. She could have gone with him because she also sought justice for her friend.

Personal headcanon: She loves the sea but prefers pleasure boats over swimming, though she does teach some of the other girls how to swim when they move the court to Dragonstone.Her father was a close friend to Elias’ mother and as a result her and Elia grew up together. She is Elias oldest friend along with Ryon Allyrion. She was fostered at HellHolt when she was eleven. She divided her time between the Tor and HellHolt and even though her and Elia wrote each other letters they were no longer as close as before. She is also great at poetry but she keeps it a secret from everyone but Elia and Ryon because she thinks it’s too much of a cliche due to her house words being “Let it be written”.

Larra Blackmont

Red mountains/Torentine: Blackmont

Larra has two children Jynessa and Perros. Perros is a squire and we can assume he is around ten or older. Jynessa is Larras’ heir so we know she is older than Perros. The latest Larra could have been born is around is 276 if Jynessa is only a year older than her brother because Larra would of had to be at least 13 to give birth. To not make Larra a teenage mother and to have her closer in age with Elia I will place her birth around 255 A.C.

House Blackmont is a main noble house in Dorne. She along with her kids were a part of Oberyn's’ retinue. They went to King's landing to see that the Martells got justice for Elia. She could have also been a friend of Elias. At the time of Elias engagement Larra was either the heir or the ruling lady of Blackmont. House Blackmont is also one of the main houses  who has fought the marcher lords which would represent Elia bringing house strength in her retinue.

Personal headcanon: She has freckles all over and chestnut hair. Unlike Myria and Ashara, Larra was not friends with Elia until she became her lady, though they had met before in balls and tourneys held in Dorne. She is betrothed to the second son of Lord Ashford though she had a brief relationship with a Manwoody knight in Elia’s service. Her betrothal is one of the many Elia had planned to help increase Dorne’s influence in the seven kingdoms. Larra loves wearing bright colored silks and wears them even in the winter. She loves spending time with Shyra because they both love working on their stitching. She is very good at politics being ruler of her house and helps Elia choose some of her northern ladies.

Nymella Tolland

Sea of Dorne/Broken Arm: Ghost Hill

We know Nymella has two daughters placing her birth before 287 A.C. Her daughters ages were also not stated but they help greet Arianne and her party meaning they are probably not too young. We can make Nymella any age significantly older than 13  since it is not stated. To fit my headcanon I will place her around 248 A.C.

House Tolland are a one of the principal bannerman to house Martell. Doran entrusted Lady Nymella to delay Balon Swann’s arrival. Nymella was alive during the time of Elia’s marriage and could have been chosen as one of her ladies. Ghost Hill is located near the broken arm, allowing them easy access to trade/information in Essos.

Personal headcanon: Nymella is the same age as Doran only a couple months younger than him. Doran and her used to have a relationship but it ended when Nymella told him she had decided to keep her own title as ruling lady of Ghost Hill. She wanted to rule in her own right and if she married Doran she would have to give up Ghost Hill even if it meant being the wife of the ruling Prince of Dorne. Sort of like Arianne preferring to rule just Dorne instead of being the queen of the seven kingdoms. Elia is fostered with Nymella during an extremely cold winter that lasted three years. Ghost Hill is the closest to the broken arm so they were able to get supplies from Essos before anyone else. Nymella likes to throw tourneys and balls and always tries to outdo every other house in Dorne. Elia has a great relationship with Nymella and she sees her as an older sister. “Melisa” Whent jokingly calls her mother when Nymella bosses her around because they both share red hair. She brings her two daughters to court with her and they become playmates with Shyra Errol’s son Sebastian.

These are ladies that could have existed during the time and could have been eligible to be Elia’s companions but are not actually characters in asoiaf. As of now no one from House Wyl is named and we know that there are other Martells besides the main branch because one of them serves as Dorans castellan in Sunspear.

“Wylla” Wyl

Sea of Dorne: Boneway: Wyl

To vary the ages of Elias ladies I placed “Wylla” around 242 A.C.

House Wyl is one of the main bannerman to house Martell. They are loyal to the Martells if Doran entrust them to delay Balon Swann from arriving at Sunspear. They are also a well known house in Westeros, being the ones to have killed King Daeron, imprisoned Aemon, and nearly killed Baelor during the Conquest of Dorne. Also during the first Dornish war  they defeated Orys and cut of his sword hand along with the rest of his men. They have also been fighting the lords of the dornish marches. Their history would be a reminder of the strength Dorne has even against the dragon lords. If “Wylla” is the ruling lady of Wyl bringing her to court would show the power Elia brings to her marriage with Rhaegar.

Person headcanon: “Wylla” loves to go hawking and owns a great collection of birds. She is named after the warrior maid who fought at the battle of the bloody pool. When she was small “Wylla” loved exploring the tunnels beneath her castle. She is still very curious and when she would get bored she would try to find the hidden passages in the Red keep, Dragonstone, and the winding walls in Sunspear. “Wylla” and Nymella are close friends even though they are six years apart. She has an immediate dislike for Tywin Lannister but does not deny his effectiveness as hand of the King.

“Deria” Martell

Southeastern coast/Broken Arm: Sunspear

Because of my personal headcanon I think “Deria” was born in 255 A.C. Also whoever her parents are they would have been born before or during the time of Elias mother, making “Deria” at least older than Arianne. Also if her brother is Manfrey, he is old enough to be left as castellan of Sunspear.

“Deria” belongs to the ruling house in Dorne. The  castellan at Sunspear is ser Manfrey Martell who is a cousin to the main Martells. It's possible he is a son to one of Elia’s great uncles/aunts because as far as we know Prince Lewyn had no children and no other siblings besides Elias mother. “Deria” could be Manfreys sister and a cousin to Elia. Like Myrcella, Elia could have brought a cousin that was around her age and had similar features as a safety precaution. Myrcella had her cousin as a precaution against Stanis and Elia could have had “Deria” as a precaution against the Kingswood brotherhood a group known for attacking highborns at the time.

Personal headcanon: “Deria” is the only dornish lady Elia did not choose. Elia though never truly close to her cousin was excited to find out “Deria” was going to be one of her ladies until she found out the reason why. When Elia found out her mother had chosen “Deria” to be her decoy Elia refused to have her as a companion until her mother demanded it and they came to a compromise. Elia would bring “Deria” if she would be allowed to choose the rest of her companions without interference from her mother, and even after her mother passed away Elia kept her promise. “Deria’s” mother is one of the orphans of the Greenblood and when she learns Doran is going on a trip to Essos she begs until she able to go with him because she wants to see the river Rhoyne. It was actually her that Ulmer of the brotherhood kissed.

[valaenarhaegarovna]

Melt me away: Chapter 18

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Notes: Another chapter so soon? Yeah, another one. This will be the last chapter for a while, this story is on hiatus from now on. It will not be very long, only enough time for me to finish some stuff in real life. I will be back in September. The hiatus is the only reason I am posting this chapter right now. I just finished it and I thought that leaving you guys without knowing what happened to Cersei would be cruel. Anyway, enjoy.

“If you are Rhaegar’s squire, why are you following me?” Jaime snapped at the Stark boy.

“He is with the Princess.” Benjen Stark seemed unaffected by Jaime’s foul mood. “And he told me to keep an eye on you.” He shrugged. “To make sure that you are alright.”

“I am fine!” Jaime growled. “It’s not like it was my babe.”

Oh, how Jaime wished that poor Rhaenys had been his.  

If she had been his, maybe she wouldn’t have been born with scales and a tail. She wouldn’t have been born dead. If only Cersei wasn’t so adamant on not cheating on her silver husband...

Jaime had searched for his sister many times when he knew Rhaegar was busy, but the lioness would always roar at him to leave, saying that she needed no one but Rhaegar. Jaime was left with a broken heart and with anger. He had only allowed her to find him a place on the Kingsguard because of her promise that they would always be together, yet she paid him no mind now. Jaime felt cheated.

Maybe he could just say that he had changed his mind, or that he thought he wasn’t good enough to protect the King. Then he would marry Lysa Tully like his father wanted him to. Oh, that would surely enrage his sister. Upsetting her was something that he hated to do before, but now it was tempting like the best dornish red.  

“Are you even listening to what I am saying, Ser Jaime?” Benjen’s thick northern accent interrupted his thoughts.  

“Why don’t you just go and try to find Ser Arthur?” The lion knight growled. “I am sure he would like your company more than I do.”

Stark’s face soured, his dark eyes glinting with such raw emotion that Jaime was sure Benjen would attack him. Yet, the wolf just turned away and growled that Jaime could be worse than his sister when angry.

Oh, there was Lyanna Stark too. Cersei would hate her even more than she would hate Lysa. Northern savages, she had called the Starks when Benjen first came to court. She would rip off all her golden hair if Jaime were to wed Lyanna Stark. Oh, that ought to be funny.  

He heard giggles as he approached Dragonstone’s garden, knowing it was probably Cersei’s flock of dull ladies. How fucking annoying they were, throwing themselves all over him even if he never demonstrated any interest. One of them was holding a jar of Arbor Gold that was probably from Cersei’s stock; she loathed Dornish Red, Rhaegar’s favorite wine.  

Curious about what those girls were laughing so much about, he slowly worked his way around the bushes and trees, staying hidden from their eyes. They were all there except for Ashara, but that was no surprise for Jaime. He knew that the dornishwoman had no love for Cersei’s other friend – or even Cersei herself – and his sister was angry that she couldn’t send Arthur’s sister away.  

“She got what she deserves if you ask me!” Jaime didn’t care enough to know their names, so he called them ‘birds’. That was bird three. “She acts like she owns us.”  

“She is not even the Queen yet.” Bird one giggled. “Now I doubt she will become one.” Her voice was heavy with mockery. “She talked so much about how useless Elize was, and now look at her.” She pulled the jar from the other girl’s hand. “King Aerys will annul her marriage, just wait for it!”

It seemed like the universe had decided to enrage him that day. He was angry at Cersei, sure, but he still didn’t appreciate seeing all those sheep saying shit about their lion overlords. His father always says that the lion shouldn’t care about the fucking sheep, but even Tywin cared. He wouldn’t be mad if Jaime exposed those lying sluts.  

You are supposed to be angry at Cersei, remember?

He left the birds alone, way to frustrated with the whole situation to give them a piece of his mind. He would tell his father about the girls; if he told Cersei, she would think they were in good terms. And they weren’t.  

The funniest part of all that was that Ashara, the lady Cersei hated the most, would be the only one to stay. Life and its cruel jests.

Jaime went to the library, – there would be paper and ink for him to use in one of the tables  – he needed to write to his father. Besides Rhaegar and the maester, Jaime knew of no one who liked to go to the library, and both of them were busy with Cersei. The lion knight would be alone, hopefully.  

He wouldn’t. Lady Ashara was there.  

She was sitting at the only table, writing something. Her delicate fingers tapping on the table as she thought on the words she should use.  

“Will you just stare, or are you here for something important?” Her sudden question made him jump, and the fact that she had noticed him staring would have made him blush if Jaime was a green boy.  

“What are you doing?”

“Writing a letter.”  

“To whom?”

“Are you always this noisy?” She looked up to face him, a bit of distrust shinning in her eyes. “You don’t know her, alright?”

“No need to be aggressive.” He growled back. “I was just curious, it happens when you are bored.”

“You could go and train with my brother.”

“He gave me the day off.”

“Oh, of course.” Fuck. There it was. “I am sorry for what happened to Cersei.”

He almost groaned. Why was everyone so worried about him? It was just his sister’s stillborn child; it wasn’t even his, it was fucking Rhaegar’s. He thanked her anyway, leaning against the table to take a look at what she was reading. She seemed to notice it, for she covered the paper with her arm, but Jaime managed to see a name.

“Elia.” He said slowly. “The Dornish Princess?”

Ashara murmured a curse at him before nodding.

“I heard that she married Lord Stark’s second son.” He tried to start a conversation again after they stayed silent for at least five minutes.

“She did.”

“Eddard, right?”

“Yes.”

Jaime groaned.

“Can’t you see I am trying to have a talk, woman?” The lion knight roared.

“Can’t you see I am trying to write a letter, boy?” Ashara taunted him, her violet eyes shining with malice.

His face grew hot.  

“I am not a boy.” He growled at her. “I am nearly a man grown.”

“Nearly.” She repeated. “Not a man yet.”

By the Seven, she was infuriating.  

“Well, I am not going to talk to you again.” Jaime turned to walk away, but Ashara called him.

“I am sorry, Ser Jaime.” She sighed. “I am just stressed by everything that is happening.” She waited for him to return to his place by the table. “I don’t know what to tell Elia.”

“What did her letter say?”

“She gave birth to twin girls at Sunspear.” She tapped her fingers against the wood again.  

“That is great.” Jaime had a faint memory of Elia Martell from when she and her brother visited Casterly Rock many years before.  

“Yes.” Ashara agreed. “I don’t know what to answer, nothing good has happened with the royal family and my life is not the most exciting one.” She suddenly looked down. “And I am a bit envious as well.”

Jaime was confused. ��Why?”

“I want to get married too.” By her low voice, Jaime could tell that she was embarrassed. “I read about how happy she is and my first reaction is feeling jealous, not happy for her.”  

“Well, it’s normal.” Jaime wasn’t familiar with envy, but he could see why she felt that way. Kind of.

“You are not helping.”

“I have never felt jealous.”  

“Not even once?”

He tried not to think of Rhaegar spending a night with Cersei, it was enough to make him boil with envy, but he would never admit it.

“Not even once.”

“Then, you can’t possibly understand.” Ashara’s voice was soft as she took her things and moved to leave. “I will try some other time.”

Jaime held the urge to ask her to stay. Ashara was the only one who didn’t act like a lying bitch. Cersei didn’t like her, sure, but only because the dornishwoman didn’t treat the lioness as the Mother reborn. Cersei didn’t like Ashara, but she was the only one who wasn’t talking shit behind her back.

The irony.

Jaime sat by the table and picked a random piece of paper. He would just say what he needed, no pleasant words.  

“Father, Cersei’s ladies wish her ill.”

It couldn’t be just that, it would include Ashara.

“Father, Cersei’s ladies wish her ill. Lady Ashara is the only one who doesn’t.”

That was good enough. Simple and short, straight to the point. Just like his Lord Father liked. He thought of Cersei, and his hand itched. He wrote another sentence.

“Find me a wife.”

Would he really give his father the permission to find a random broodmare for him? Just because he was angry at Cersei? He could still become a Kingsguard and asked to be sent to King’s Landing. He wouldn’t need to look at Cersei until Rhaegar became King. After that, he could request to be Queen Rhaella’s sworn shield; or even Viserys’s when he traveled south to become some Dornish Princess’ consort. Jaime didn’t need to stay at his sister’s side for all eternity.  

He used the candle to burn the would-be letter, giving up. He would tell Rhaegar and be done with it.

Jaime left to his chambers. Deciding to retire for the rest of the day. It was still early, but ir wasn’t like he had anything else to do. Arthur wouldn’t train him and Cersei didn’t want him anymore. The best thing he had to do was sleeping. He took off his clothes and threw them on the floor near his bed. Jaime pulled of the sheets and laid down, determinate to sleep and forget his shitty situation.

His rest didn’t last long.  

He woke up feeling the bed shift with added weight. He jerked up – adrenaline clouding his senses – and grabbed the intruder by the necking, receiving a soft gasp in response.  

“Cersei?”

“Jaime...” She whispered when he let go of her.  

“What are you doing here?”

“I am here for you.” The moonlight exposed her naked body to him, her golden hair shining in a supernatural way, making her look like the Maiden herself, who had arrived to reward a knight for his undying courage. “Didn’t you miss me?”

He had. By the Gods, he had missed her. Still, a voice whispered in his head asking what caused such change. I don’t want to know. But he did want to know. Cersei had been so distant for the past moons and suddenly she decided that she wanted to see him again.  

I need to ask.

She kissed him, laying on top of his body.

I will ask her in the morning.

He didn’t.

Next Chapter

[swordknown]

Arthur and Ashara Dayne. One a legendary swordsman, the other a legendary beauty. House Dayne’s twinkling stars. Their maester joked that when Ashara first came rushing out of the womb, Arthur had thrown himself headlong after her. A right pain for their mother, as twins were hard enough to birth, but such stubborn, speedy twins gave no respite on the birthing bed. Mother assured them she was simply grateful it was over fast. 

When he wins his first tourney, he names her Queen of Love and Beauty (and she teases him that he was simply too shy to give it to Princess Elia, his blush is well hidden by his dark skin, but her laughter lets him know she sees it anyway.) 

When they call him the Sword of the Morning, he jokingly names his sister the Smile of the Morning (and she has a beautiful smile, so why shouldn’t they have matching titles in some form?) 

When he’s named to the Kingsguard, he searches her out gaze out in the crowd, and the confidence and pride written clear across her face is all he needs to calm his nerves (and when she later joins him in court as Elia’s lady, he wraps her in his arms and spins her round and round, so very glad to have her back by his side.) 

When he stumbles into Starfall, physically battered and mentally bruised after the Tower, he still pulls her into his arms and holds her tight as she sobs for her child that never got to live (and if he’s crying too, he can’t say whether it’s because of all he’s lost or all she’s lost, perhaps it’s for both.)

[samwpmarleau]

I loved the Arthur Dayne/Elia fic where Elia slaps him for betraying her. It honestly made me so happy. May I make a little request that you continue it please? It just so good and I want more!

Verse

“Surely this cannot be all.” It’s her third read-through of this grievance, and she’s still having a difficult time trusting her own eyes. “You’re squabbling over one chicken?”

She tosses the page aside and rubs her tired eyes. She hadn’t been able to sleep and so wanted to make some progress on the never-ending list of complaints that the people of King’s Landing find worthy to cross her table, and now she is sorely regretting that decision. As she stretches, she realizes too that her mother may have been right about maintaining proper posture; her neck aches something fierce from being bent over for so long. She’d have to see the maester for it in the morning.

She jumps when there comes a soft knock at the door. Who could possibly be disturbing her this late? She considers reaching for the paperweight, and then she recognizes the visitor.

“Arthur,” she exhales. “You startled me.”

“I saw the light,” he says. “Are you well?”

He must have had a restless night too, for she notices he’s bereft of a weapon and his hair is an utter mess. “Yes, well enough. I’m trying to sort through these grievances.” She brandishes the paper she’d been looking at, to gain some validation. “I am queen regent of the Seven Kingdoms and I am asked to make a judgment on this.”

Arthur’s frown deepens the further he reads, and then he flips the paper over as if hoping there’s more. “Just…just give one of them coin enough to buy another chicken, I guess.”

Elia had come to the same decision, but warns, “If they return to complain about who got the coin from the treasury, I’m sending you to deal with them. The smallfolk love you, surely they’d–” She curses as a muscle in her neck spasms, about at her wits’ end.

“What is it?” Arthur asks, concerned.

“It’s a crick, nothing more,” she answers. “The maester will see to it in a few hours.”

He starts to move around the side of her desk, and she flinches away. “What are you doing?”

“I only want–can’t you pretend for a moment that you don’t hate me? I’m trying to help.”

She watches warily as he walks behind her, and stiffens when she feels his hands settle on her shoulders. Hearing no objection, he starts easing the knots out of her muscles, smoothing the pains out of her neck, and she has to bite her lip against a very much involuntary moan.

“It’s about time I repaid the favor,” he explains.

“You’ve got a long way to go before that’s repaid.”

She used to do this for him, for Oberyn, for several of the boys back when they were young, after sparring sessions that left them especially tense. A shred of a memory comes back to her, a day when they couldn’t have been more than three-and-ten and he’d told her she should make this her trade. They’d both dissolved in laughter afterwards at the face her mother would have made if she heard such a thing.

She thought she’d forgotten that.

Swallowing her pride, she says, “I’m sorry. This does help, thank you.”

“Did I mishear?” he asks. “Was that an apology?”

She throws a glare over her shoulder. “Treasure it. You won’t get another.” The silence that follows is oddly comfortable, given everything that had happened. She lets herself relax into his touch, allowing them both this one reprieve. “My ire won’t last forever,” she says quietly. His motions stutter for a moment before resuming. “Mayhaps–mayhaps some of it comes from not being able to yell at a dead man the way I wish I could, so you’re the next best target. And I do know you’re trying to repent. The High Septon tells me you spend time at the sept.”

“He has a loose tongue,” Arthur grumbles. “Your ire is warranted. Forgiveness would be more than I deserve, Elia. Your Grace, I mean.”

“Elia will suffice,” she says, “when not at court. There are so few people who say my name these days, I’ve begun to forget what it is.”

“Elia, then.” Her name is almost…reverent on his lips, and it sends through her an unexpected shiver. His fingertips brush her jaw so faintly she can’t tell whether he’d meant to do it. “You’ll be a good queen. You already are.”

“It doesn’t feel like it,” she says. “The courtiers like me even less as a queen than they did as a princess. I can sense their disdain, no matter how flawless they think they are at concealing it. I wish I had my mother’s courage.”

“You sold yourself short when we were children, too. It’s a vice in you.”

“Yes, well. It’s difficult to hold myself in high esteem when no one else does. I am not so confident as Ashara, nor you.”

“Me?” he asks. “Hardly. Until the Smiling Knight was done with, I felt I would never oust the Brotherhood. Even afterwards, I was afraid I’d die from the wound I took, that my greatest victory would be overshadowed by a fool’s death.”

“It wouldn’t have been foolish.”

She remembers with all-too-perfect clarity the injury Simon Toyne had dealt him, a blade to the thigh that had come within a breath of slicing through an artery, which even the maester had had his doubts of survival. He’d spent a week in a haze of milk of the poppy. But he had recovered, with what Ashara tells her is an ugly scar that will never fade. She supposes many ladies would find it quite dashing, though, and abruptly wonders whether any had seen it.

She still hasn’t decided whether to fully give him back his position on the Kingsguard–but she hasn’t given it away, either–and so strictly speaking his vows are suspended, too. If he so chose, he could bed any maiden he wished. The notion is discomfiting, but why she doesn’t know. What does it matter if he beds anyone, or whom?

It’s just been a long time, she convinces herself, and almost all of the men of the court are old, wed, or far from handsome. He is merely a change of scenery.

“You think very loudly,” he comments. “Care to share?”

“No,” she says instantly. He starts to move further down her back, but it’s too much. It reminds her that regardless of his skill with working out the knots in her muscles, she is still irate with him and she does still resent the part he’d played in the war. “Don’t.”

Arthur removes his hands. The action takes with it the warmth and relief she’d enjoyed. “I meant no distress.”

She stands and faces him, crossing her arms over her chest in a flimsy measure of defense. “I appreciate your assistance and your counsel, but I think it’s past time for you to leave,” she says. “It’s…too soon.”

“As you wish.”

He gives her a respectful bow and obeys her request, but–very much against her will–her hand darts out and grasps his wrist. “I don’t hate you, Arthur. I’m not sure I ever could. We…we’ve been through much, you and I.”

“Aye, we have.” He brings her hand to his lips and presses a kiss to it. “I hope sleep will no longer elude you.”

She manages a flicker of a smile, but as soon as he closes the door behind him, she thinks, No, sleep will not come this night.

Next

[astormofsilk]

~

@neithergodsnormen for Arthur and Loreza

“I hope you don’t mind riding with me for the first half of this jounery.” Loreza had returned to Dorne to pick up the Daynes and her own daughter and bring them to court. Ashara and Elia were riding in a separate carriage at the moment and while she figured he would’ve preferred riding with his sister she had asked Arthur to ride in her carriage with her until their first stop. The knight was going to become a Kingsguard and there was a very important conversation she wanted to have.

Closing the carriage window against the sun she smiled at him gently and sighed. “There are more dangers at Kings Landing than I would ever want to bring my daughter or your sister into, but this is the way the world works.” She started, turning one of her rings around her finger as she watched Arthur at his seat across from hers. “I cannot keep my eyes on both of them at all times, so I will need your help.” She was a proud woman but there was no shame is asking for him to help protect her daughter.

“The Kingsguard must protect the king yes, but also the King’s family. My daughter will be the next king’s wife and I want her protection.” She knew what happened to her friend at the moment, how the guards listened but did not step in. Many offers to kill the king’s ability to hurt her fell on deaf ears, Rhaella suffering in silence when Loreza felt she could save her.

She would not have the same happen to her daughter.

“If he ever raises so much as a finger to strike her I want to know. You do not need to do anything Arthur, I would not ask you to break a vow.” Her eyes hardened and she raised her chin to stare him down. “But I will not have my daughter live in fear of a man I married her to. In these moments I want you to see her as another sister to protect alongside your own.”

[agentrouka-blog]

Hi me again I was wondering what you think rhaegar relationship with elia was like too

Hi there!

Hmm. Let’s say, I suspect she and Lysa Tully could have formed a support group.

Viserys, was her first thought the next time she paused, but a second glance told her otherwise. The man had her brother's hair, but he was taller, and his eyes were a dark indigo rather than lilac. "Aegon," he said to a woman nursing a newborn babe in a great wooden bed. "What better name for a king?"

"Will you make a song for him?" the woman asked.

"He has a song," the man replied. "He is the prince that was promised, and his is the song of ice and fire." He looked up when he said it and his eyes met Dany's, and it seemed as if he saw her standing there beyond the door. "There must be one more," he said, though whether he was speaking to her or the woman in the bed she could not say. "The dragon has three heads." He went to the window seat, picked up a harp, and ran his fingers lightly over its silvery strings. Sweet sadness filled the room as man and wife and babe faded like the morning mist, only the music lingering behind to speed her on her way. (ACOK, Daenerys IV)

Elia almost died delivering Aegon, she asks him a question that connects his personal talent with his role as a father -  and Rhaegar has THAT to say? Cold.

"But that was the tourney when he crowned Lyanna Stark as queen of love and beauty!" said Dany. "Princess Elia was there, his wife, and yet my brother gave the crown to the Stark girl, and later stole her away from her betrothed. How could he do that? Did the Dornish woman treat him so ill?"

"It is not for such as me to say what might have been in your brother's heart, Your Grace. The Princess Elia was a good and gracious lady, though her health was ever delicate."

Dany pulled the lion pelt tighter about her shoulders. "Viserys said once that it was my fault, for being born too late." She had denied it hotly, she remembered, going so far as to tell Viserys that it was his fault for not being born a girl. He beat her cruelly for that insolence. "If I had been born more timely, he said, Rhaegar would have married me instead of Elia, and it would all have come out different. If Rhaegar had been happy in his wife, he would not have needed the Stark girl."

"Perhaps so, Your Grace." Whitebeard paused a moment. "But I am not certain it was in Rhaegar to be happy." (ASOS, Daenerys IV)

Barristan Selmy is just.. ugh. He doesn’t even bother trying not to blame Elia and defend her. “Perhaps so”. Really?

"Her duty." The word felt cold upon her tongue. "You saw my brother Rhaegar wed. Tell me, did he wed for love or duty?"

The old knight hesitated. "Princess Elia was a good woman, Your Grace. She was kind and clever, with a gentle heart and a sweet wit. I know the prince was very fond of her."

Fond, thought Dany. The word spoke volumes. I could become fond of Hizdahr zo Loraq, in time. Perhaps. (ADWD, Daenerys IV)

A theme emerges.

A bride for our bright prince. Jon Connington remembered Prince Rhaegar's wedding all too well. Elia was never worthy of him. She was frail and sickly from the first, and childbirth only left her weaker. After the birth of Princess Rhaenys, her mother had been bedridden for half a year, and Prince Aegon's birth had almost been the death of her. She would bear no more children, the maesters told Prince Rhaegar afterward.     (ADWD, The Griffin reborn)

And yet I point to Rhaegar’s reaction after his birth. Relief? Guilt? Gratitude? Nope. “There must be one more.”

However:

Prince Rhaegar's support came from the younger men at court, including Lord Jon Connington, Ser Myles Mooton of Maidenpool, and Ser Richard Lonmouth. The Dornishmen who had come to court with the Princess Elia were in the prince's confidence as well, particularly Prince Lewyn Martell, Elia's uncle and a Sworn Brother of the Kingsguard. But the most formidable of all Rhaegar's friends and allies in King's Landing was surely Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning.    

(The World of Ice and Fire - The Fall of the Dragons: The Year of the False Spring)

The relationship was quite obviously more dutiful than passionate, and sadly for Elia, he probably was only a more genial version of his father’s Targ-centric, selfish disregard.

Basically, she lived with an egocentric, prophecy-obsessed Targaryen poster boy who could not care one jot about her well-being beyond being a vessel for his magic dragon sperm, and all his household were busy low-key blaming her for being “weak”. To top it off, her husband didn’t really care for the babies once they were born, not beyond their role in whatever fantasy filled his head. Sounds awesome.

He probably treated her “kindly”, but the fact that he endangered her life so carelessly with the quick succession of pregnancies, the fact that Barristan and Jon Connington both find it easy to dismiss Elia’s importance to Rhaegar and his eventual humiliation and the abandonment of both her and their children... it makes me fairly certain that Rhaegar was as incapable of true empathy as Dany with much less of an excuse.

Someone as bright and warm as Elia would have felt that keenly.

The only thing that surprises me is how much support he got from Dornish men, like Elia’s own uncle and Arthur Dayne. The latter even ended up aiding in Lyanna’s imprisonment, which makes me suspect that Rhaegar managed to form quite a cult of personality (like Dany), especially to those he entrusted with his prophecy talk.

Elia was invited into that trusted circle but the text gives us nothing on how she actually felt about it. Not that she had a choice either way... Maybe there was quite a sexist divide. The men liked the grandeur of prophecy, while the women viewed Elia’s situation with trepidation.  It would doubly explain Arthur Dayne’s sister Ashara’s involvement in guarding Aegon, if she is, in fact, Septa Lemore. Loyalty to Elia and knowledge of that prophecy stuff her brother was privy to. We cannot know. Their thoughts and voices are not shared in the text by GRRM. Yet.

I imagine Elia was not exactly happy and tried to make the best of the situation by focusing on her children and her many female companions.

[onthesandsofdreams]

To Find a Bride

Fandom: ASoIaF Pairing: Fem!Ned x Rhaegar (Main), Male!Elia x Ashara, Fem!Jaime x Male!Lyanna (Side) Rating: T Summary: Rhaegar Targaryen is in need of a bride, what better place to find her than in the Tourney of Harrenhal. And as it happens, a certain Wolf-maid catches his eye and the more he knows her, the more he wants her. Words: 2435 Notes: Written for the @asoiafrarepairs‘s ‘A dream of Spring’ event. Day 7: Free Day | Fill a Prompt: Female!Ned Stark X Rhaegar Targaryen, Female!Jaime Lannister X Male!Lyanna Stark, Male!Elia Martell X Ashara Dayne. Tourney of Harrenhall, where Rhaegar has to decide who shall be his future Queen.

Read @ AO3

Rhaegar is tired. Exhausted really. But his father has given the order, and he must comply. He needs to decide who will be his bride. It’s not a decision he takes lightly, and it’s one that he must measure well.

“Brooding again, Rhaegar?”

Arthur. Rhaegar turns, “Wouldn’t you, if you were in my place?”

Arthur grins, “No, I can think of worst things to do, then choose a woman to wed.”

“Of course you would find this amusing.”

“Marry my sister then,” Arthur shrugs. “She would make a good wife, better Queen.”

At that, Rhaegar allows himself a tiny smile. “Have you missed the fact that Prince Elio Martell courts your sister already?”

“No,” Arthur sighs, dejected. “But it was just a suggestion. I know both Lannister ladies are not a good idea, unless you want to antagonize the King. And one of the Starks, it seems that Lady Cerelle has caught the eye of the second son of Lord Stark. But then again, nothing is set on stone as of yet.”

Rhaegar nods, it had not escaped his notice. After all, he needed to know about the possible ladies as much as possible. “Indeed. But I doubt Lord Tywin would approve, he’s either hoping that I or Viserys weds either daughter. And as you say, nothing is set in stone. I can only hope for the best.”

“Speaking of Starks… My sister speaks highly of Lady Eddara. Perhaps you could get to know her?”

Rhaegar frowns, somehow, Lady Stark has managed to somewhat slip out of his mind. A mistake that he needs to fix, apparently. “Perhaps that would be a good idea,” he agrees. “I have not seen her much.”

“She’s on the shy and quiet side of things, I’m told.” Arthur gives him a pointed look. “Perhaps an invitation is in order?”

“Yes, I could speak with Lady Stark.”

“Then, I shall arrange it, but as a forewarning, she does have three brothers. And her older brother, Lord Brandon is on the protective side.”

“My thanks Arthur, and I will heed your warning.”

“Good.”

*****

Rhaegar meets Lady Eddara Stark after they have broken their fasts. Arthur and Ashara trail behind, as escorts, for which he is grateful. They follow at a respectful distance, not too far so they will be out of sight, but not close enough to eavesdrop on the conversation. And it seemed to be like Arthur was not wrong about her brothers, the three of them had been polite, but there was an edge to their words that spoke of retribution should anything happen upon their sister.

Rhaegar had no intention of hurting Lady Eddara, much less allow any harm to come to her. Eddara curtseys, greets him with a small smile, one he returns. Her eyes are deep grey, like smoke from a pyre. She’s tall, taller than other women, her hair falls mostly freely from her hair, only some pieces hold it away from her face. And her face is solemn, large and solemn. And he sees a part of himself reflected on her face.

“Have you ever visited the Riverlands before, my Lady?” Rhaegar asks. It’s a good way to start a conversation.

“I have,” Eddara replies. “I visited with Lord Hoster Tully, I wanted to meet Lady Catelyn, so my father arranged it.”

“Ah, yes, Lady Tully is promised to your brother, is that correct?”

“Aye my Prince, she is to marry Brandon soon. We will depart Harrenhal for Riverrun, in fact. We are looking forward to the wedding.”

“Then I shall endeavour to wish your lord brother good wishes on his upcoming marriage. But, tell me about yourself Lady Stark. I confess that I know little of the North, and whatever little I know, I know because of my uncle Aemon.”

Eddara smiles at him. “It shall please both Brandon and Catelyn, I think.” She dims a little. “I am not very interesting my Prince. Life in the North is not as full as excitement as I imagine life in King’s Landing is. But if you insist, then I shall tell you.”

“I do insist, my curiosity has been sparkled.”

“I read my Prince, I manage Winterfell. Have done so since my mother passed, take care of our people and my brothers. Help my father as best I can. I play the violin, I can’t sing, I’m sorry to say that I’m not a good dancer either.”

Rhaegar’s curiosity grows as he watches her talk, her serious face lights up when speaking about her life and her family. “What books do you enjoy, my Lady? I myself am quite the reader.” He frowns. “Though some dislike it.”

“It’s better to be a well read King than not, my Prince,” Eddara���s voice is quiet, barely above a whisper. “And I enjoy poems, history and legends.”

Rhaegar’s head snaps towards her after her first words. That is a dangerous thing to say, he knows. “Perhaps so,” he matches her tone. “Poetry is a noble pursuit,” this time his voice returns to a normal tone. “And history must be learned, I do admit to liking the legends myself.”

Eddara gives him a tiny smile. “I have always thought that legends must have a smidge of truth, do you not think so, my Prince? Else, how could they come to be?”

Intriguing, Eddara Stark is intriguing. “Indeed.”

*****

Rhaegar himself is not much of a dancer, he dances because he must. So he walks towards Lady Ashara and requests a dance, she curtseys and obliques, but he does not miss the baleful glare both Martell princes send his way. Elio and Oberyn are twins in all but birthwater, it would do ill to antagonize them, but, he must on this occasion.

Lady Ashara is sweet and kind, regales him with tales of Dorne and of her and Arthur’s childhood, she praises his singing and he thanks her. They continue to speak while they dance, and when the music stops he bows and returns her towards her table.

Rhaegar also dances with Lady Cerelle Lannister, earning a glare from Lyan Stark. Cerelle continues to look back, almost as if she were looking for her sister. Lady Cersei’s face is smiling, but it does not reach her eyes.

Then, Rhaegar dances with Lady Cersei and she preens. He pretends not to notice, Lady Cersei sings his praises, carries herself with pride, but he dislikes the edge of smugness that hides in her voice. The song ends and he returns her to her table, Lady Cersei is almost reluctant to let go.

Lastly, Rhaegar requests a dance from Lady Eddara, she bows and takes his offered hand. “I must warn you my Prince,” Eddara says. “I am not the best dancer, so I beg your forgiveness in advance should I step on you.”

Rhaegar shakes his head. “Forgiveness is not necessary, my Lady. Accidents happen, but I am told I am a good dancer, perhaps I could teach you.”

“Then, I’d be honored to have such an excellent tutor.”

The music starts again and Rhaegar begins to lead, “Tell me my lady, what was it like to grow with brothers?”

Eddara’s face lightens and her eyes sparkle. “They were terrors my Prince. Absolute terrors, but I love them dearly, I can’t imagine my life without them. Once they decided to band against me, I was pelted with snowballs. Fortunately, some of our men got in and helped me to pay them back in turn.”

At the end of Eddara’s tale, there is laughter in her voice and Rhaegar finds that he likes the sound. He wishes he could hear her laugh out loud. “That seems hardly fair, three against one.”

“It wasn’t,” Eddara replies, laughter making her eyes sparkle. “But the reprimand that they got from our father was worth the cold.”

“Then I am glad. And see my Lady, you are dancing quite well.”

Eddara blushes. “Perhaps because my Prince leads so well.”

At the end of the song, Rhaegar finds himself reluctant to let her go.

But sees Lady Cerelle dancing with Lord Lyan Stark. And Ashara Dayne has not parted with Prince Elio. Things were interesting now.

*****

Rhaegar’s curiosity about Eddara Stark has only grown. He sees glimpses of an iron hidden underneath a calm exterior, she might lack her brothers fire, but her intellect more than makes up for it. And he knows because he has been able to speak with her more, he will admit to go out of his way to do so. He has no regrets. And at her insistence, he calls her Eddara. Ned doesn’t suit her much, even if she insists she doesn’t mind.

Once, full of curiosity, Rhaegar asked, “What would you do, Lady Eddara if two of your bannermen were arguing and wanted your judgement?”

Eddara looks at him, then blink surprised. She doesn’t answer immediately, instead she thinks for a moment. Rhaegar doesn’t rush her. “Well,” Eddara starts. “I might travel to the lords, but I would take a pair of servants with me.”

“And why is that?”

“Lords can twist words, say something that is not true. But servants talk to each other, and the Lords tend to ignore them, so I would have my servants listen and talk, hear what has been said on both sides of the issue and then make my judgement.”

Rhaegar is impressed. “Cleverly thought, Eddara.”

“Thank you my Prince.” Eddara blushes. “I try to learn from my lord father. He has taught us all, even me.”

“Then Lord Stark is a better man than most.”

*****

“Tell me about your Godswoods Eddara, I have never seen one as grand as Winterfell’s sound to be.”

“It’s quite big, my Prince.” No matter how hard Rhaegar has tried, he has not managed to make her call him Rhaegar. It’s her manners, he knows. But it’s vexing. “The Heart Tree is large, unlike any other here in the South, it’s face carved and almost sorrowful, the red sap gives it a gnarly air, but I like it. The woods are dark and there is a pond near the Tree, there’s a certain something there I can’t quite place. It almost feels like magic, truly it’s… magnificent.”

The ends of Rhaegar’s lips curl upwards. It’s always quite pleasant hearing Eddara speak of Winterfell, the North and her family. She truly comes alive during those particular topics. “Lord Brandon said it was grand, but you make me want to see it.”

“Perhaps one day my Prince will visit Winterfell, I shall endeavour to show the Godswoods to you.”

“Perhaps one day, Eddara, perhaps one day.”

*****

“Have you made up your mind?” Arthur asks one eve, after they have retired. “Because you seem quite taken with Lady Stark.”

“She’s different.”

“Different good?”

“Quite.” Rhaegar answers easily. “She’s quite… something. I like her.”

“I know,” Arthur says, a smug look to his face. “And people have noticed. Yes, you have danced and spoken to several ladies, and yet, you seek Lady Stark outside of formal obligations.” 

“She’s head and shoulder above all others.”

“Then it sounds like you’ve made up your mind Rhaegar. Oh Lord Tywin will be displeased. And so will Lady Cersei.”

Rhaegar’s mouth twitches. “They will indeed. But it seems that Lady Cerella is quite taken with Lord Lyan.”

“Indeed. They seem inseparable.”

“Lord Tywin will be most displeased.”

Rhaegar resists the urge to laugh. 

******

Rhaegar dons his armor for the joust. Prize in mind, he squares his shoulders and readies himself. He’s got a lot of competition to win if he’s to crown Eddara.

One by one, his opponents fall. Each one drawing him closer to victory. Until only Brandon Stark and Ser Barristan are left. Brandon falls easily enough, Ser Barristan is harder to beat, but in the end, he triumphs. Waves to the cheering crowd and takes the crown of blue roses. 

Rhaegar can almost hear everyone hold their breaths.

And Rhaegar looks for Eddara, finds her sitting next to Brandon and Lyan, close enough to the arena that should not be a problem for him to give her the crown. He spurs his horse forward until he’s standing in front of Eddara. “My Lady,” he says as he offers the crown. “For you.”

Eddara blushes fiercely, but takes the crown. “You honor me, my Prince.”

Rhaegar ignores the glares he’s getting from both Brandon and Lyan, and simply smiles at Eddara, “Not half of what you deserve.”

*****

“With respect, your Grace,” Brandon’s voice is cold. “What exactly do you intend with my sister?”

Rhaegar should be offended, but he isn’t. He’s been expecting this. “To ask your Lord father for her hand in marriage.”

Brandon is left speechless. His eyes widen and his mouth falls open. Moves his lips but no words come forward. “I - well.”

Rhaegar bites down a smile. It’s almost hard to believe how easy smiles come to him now, especially when it comes to Eddara. “I mean that Lord Stark. The King has graciously granted me the leave to pick my bride. And I have chosen your sister. I sent a raven to your father two days ago.”

“If that’s the case,” Brandon pulls himself up to his full height. “Then, allow me to be an elder brother and say this: If you hurt her, you deal with me.”

“Then, rest assured that I will not do so.”

“I’ll hold you to that, your Grace.”

“I expect nothing less.”

*****

Rhaegar hears from Arthur that Elio is formally courting Ashara now. And he knows that Lyan has written to his father about Cerelle’s hand. He wishes both couples luck, to Elio and Ashara to their faces. To Lyan and Cerelle in his head.

*****

Before they have to part ways, Rhaegar makes sure to speak with Eddara once more. “I have already sent a letter to your lord father, and the King. If they agree, our betrothal will be announced soon.”

Eddara, nods solemn. “Then I hope all goes well.”

Rhaegar squeezes her hand, “Do not fear, Eddara, I doubt my father would have an objection. And I would think that Lord Stark would at least consider it.”

*****

Three weeks after Brandon and Catelyn’s wedding, Eddara is summoned to King’s Landing. Rhaegar goes and receives her, drawing her into his arms. Around them, the commons whisper, he finds that he does not care.

Lady Eddara Stark is received with all the honors she deserves. And the night of her arrival, during the feast, King Aerys announces their betrothal. Rhaegar kisses his bride-to-be softly, and smiles at her blush.

Around them, people cheer.

[onthesandsofdreams]

To Catch A Dragon’s Eye

Fandom: ASoIaF Pairing: Ned x Rhaegar (Main), Elia x Rhaegar, Elia x Ashara (both background) Rating: T Summary:  He wondered if this was what Elia felt for Ashara. If this is what Jon felt for him. He didn’t know. But one thing was perfectly clear to him, a Quiet Wolf had caught his eye. Words: 1571 Notes: A prompt fill for @asoiafrarepairs: The Quiet Wolf catches the eye of the dragon prince.

Read @ AO3

It was unprincely to sulk, Rhaegar knew.

But with his father attending Lord Whent’s tourney, his hands were tied. So he just braced himself for whatever it may come and hope that the Lords of the Realm would see his father’s state and come to him.

He heard giggles behind him, he turned and found that it was Elia and Lady Ashara. His lady wife and her companion were lovers he knew, but he didn’t care. They did not love one another, he was fond of Elia and wished for the best and knew that when the time came, she would make a fine queen. But there was no passion between then, no grand love, so who he was to deny her companionship? Lady Ashara was a good choice for lover, discreet, funny, smart and loyal, he could hardly fault Elia for choosing her.

He himself had no lover, not for the lack of want. There were many, both men and women who would take the chance to share his bed should he allow it. But, something held him back. Like there was something out there he was meant to find.

He sighed and hoped that at least the tourney would provide a distraction, if only momentarily.

*****

It was on the third day of the royal retinue’s arrival when he noticed it. His cousin, Robert, was pretty much dragging another man around. A friendly arm tossed about the man’s shoulder and they both seemed to be getting along just fine.

The man was tall, not as tall as Robert and much leaner. Dark hair and long of face, he couldn’t distinguish the man’s eyes from the distance, but the man dressed in several shades of grays and white, there was a pin on his shoulder that he couldn’t quite make. He shrugged, Robert was always good at making friends.

*****

On the third day, Arthur had accompanied him for a walk around Harrenhall, when he crossed paths with Robert, “Cousin!” Robert was all exuberance. “Look who it is, Ned! None other than my cousin.”

The second man bowed, “Your Grace,” he addressed him quite formally. “Eddard Stark, at your service.”

Ah, so that it was who Robert was dragging about yesterday. He was taller up close, and his eyes were smoke gray and solemn. “Well met Lord Stark,” he returned the greeting. “I did not know you had met my cousin already.”

“We fostered in the Eyre together, your Grace.” Ned replied easily.

Well now that made sense. He knew that his cousin Steffon had sent Robert to foster, but he had not remembered that Lord Stark had also done so. “He’s been a good foster brother, I hope?”

Robert took a few steps forward and smacked his arm, “Aye, cousin, I have. Ned over here is my brother in all but blood. Honestly, I get along with him better than with Stannis.”

No surprise there. “Well then, I am glad to hear of it cousin, Lord Stark, if you excuse me.” He continued with his walk, leaving the two men behind.

*****

“…I can’t believe what you did Lyanna, tossing wine on Benjen in front of the King, Prince Rhaegar and Princess Elia, alongside the whole court!”

Rhaegar paid attention now, it surprised him hearing Lord Stark speak, he could clearly hear the anger in his voice.

“Oh come now, Ned, don’t be like that, it wasn’t so bad!”

“No?” Ned hissed and Rhaegar had to do his best to keep listening, even when he knew he should not be. “Your behavior reflects not only you, but father, the North and House Stark. Not to mention, your betrothal to Robert, do you want them to say that you can’t behave in society?”

Silence.

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be. Do not make me write to father.”

It was then, when he decided to keep his eyes on Eddard Stark

*****

“Your eyes continue to wander to the table where the Starks sit,” Elia’s dulcet tone brought him back to reality. “Should I be worried?”

“Not at all,” he turned and faced his wife. “You have nothing to fear from the Lady Stark, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Elia nodded sagely, “Good. Then, if that is the case, you may continue to observe. Ashara speaks well of Lord Eddard,” her voice turned mischievous then. “Poor man, his elder brother had to ask Ashara for a dance on his behalf.”

He smiled, “Ah yes, he seems quite… quiet. Unlike Robert, they fostered together I believe. I wouldn’t have expected they’d get along, but… they do.”

“Ashara says his siblings call him the Quiet Wolf,” Elia turned and looked at the Stark table. “I think it suits him, a wolf is no less a wolf because he’s quiet. In fact, I’d be worried more about him than his siblings.”

He could see the wisdom on her words. He observed Eddard once more, he was talking with Robert, Eddard’s face had lost the seriousness and was quite animated, lips were curled upwards in a faint smile. “The Quiet Wolf indeed,” he said.

“You should court him, I think he could be good for you. At least he doesn’t seem to dislike me as Lord Connington does.” Elia had drawn near and whispered those words in his ears, then she gave his cheek a quick kiss. “You have my permission to misbehave.”

He snorted, bless Elia Martell.

*****

The following day, he found himself quite unexpectedly in company of Eddard. He had been reading in Lord Whent’s library, when Eddard had walked in, stopped when he had seen him and made the motion to walk out, “Forgive me your Grace,” Eddard bowed. “I did not know you were reading, I will leave you to your peace.”

“There is no need to leave Lord Stark,” he stopped him from leaving. “If you are here to read, I would welcome the company.”

“My thanks your Grace.” Eddard began to look through the shelves before selecting a tome and sitting near the fire to read.

Curiosity got the better of him, “I must confess Lord Stark, I didn’t take you for a reader.”

Eddard looked surprised. “It’s a pleasant way to spend time, it drives Robert crazy in the Eyre. Brandon and Lyanna can’t stand still long enough, only Benjen sits still for the stories.” Eddard’s face had softened a small bit speaking of Robert and his siblings. “But I quite enjoy it.”

He nodded, “I understand, I enjoy reading myself, much to the worry of certain people.”

“If I may be bold, your Grace,” at his nod, Eddard continued. “Better a learned king than not.”

He blinked surprised, that was unexpected. Many men would scoff at his interest in books, he still recalled how many had said that he was Baelor the Blessed come again, and the relief that washed over them once he took up the sword. Interesting. “Perhaps so, not many would agree.”

Eddard frowned, “Then, they don’t know anything. A king should care for his people, how can one do that in times of peace, if he doesn’t know or understand anything other than battle?”

Well, now, this was an interesting turn of events. His curiosity, already spiked grew. He arched an eyebrow, “True enough, Lord Stark.”

“Ned, if it pleases your Grace.”

He nodded, “Ned, then you may call me Rhaegar.” He hesitated, then asked. “Would you tell me of the North and Winterfell, Ned? I am afraid I have not had the chance to see it. All I know is what I have read and what my uncle Aemon writes from the Wall. I would hear it from one of its people.”

“Winterfell is home, Rhaegar…” Ned began and he watched as the serious man began to lighten up, his usually solemn face seemed younger as he spoke of his home, his father and sibling. Of the Godswoods and the Weirdwood tree, of the Wolfwood where they have hunted, of the summer snows and the blue roses, of the hot water springs underneath Winterfell and the hot water that flows like blood between its walls.

It was an astounding transformation and he felt himself being pulled in. He felt lost in both Ned’s eyes and his words. Winterfell and the North came alive, and it seemed so had Ned and a part of him that had been dormant, awoke.

And for once in his life, he craved.

*****

He wondered if this was what Elia felt for Ashara. If this is what Jon felt for him. He didn’t know. But one thing was perfectly clear to him, a Quiet Wolf had caught his eye. Elia had given her blessing and wished him well. He was thankful for that, he could only hope that Ned would like him too.

And maybe, if he allowed himself to hope and be greedy, maybe they could know love.

*****

In the tourney of Harrenhall, in the year of the false spring, Rhaegar Targaryen crowned Princess Elia Martell as Queen of Love and Beauty. And when his retinue made its way towards Dragonstone, it had a new member: Eddard Stark.