elia martell (unbowedprincess) wrote in agos, @ 2008-05-28 22:22:00 |
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Entry tags: | aelon greyjoy, elia martell |
and who might turn up...
Who: Elia, whoever
When: Almost sunset, day 3
Where: The Red Keep, the southern walls
Rating: PG13
Status: Open to anyone
She should have gone hawking. She should have gone back to Daryon Uller's rooms and pinned him on the bed. For that matter, maybe she should be having a pillow fight with one of her female companions... Elia smiled, her gaze sweeping over Kingslanding and toward the south, and Dorne. She leaned against the ancient stones, warmed by the sun and smoothed by the ages of wind and rain, pitted in places from long ago assaults though the blood of them had long since washed away. The breeze tugged at her hair, loose for now and free of her hairsticks (the rings on her hands were enough protection for the moment really), and her skirts fluttered around her in a cloud of silk, shimmering with gold in the soft evening light.
There were footsteps somewhere nearby. Elia's smile faded- she was in no mood for sentries, and in less of a mood to be social. She just wanted a few minutes' peace before she tapped one of her sometime lovers for a tumble. Really, was it too much to ask? She kept her gaze resolutely turned to the landscape in front of her, but her fingers touched the ring on her right hand, loosening the catch that would set the needle free, just in case. She had seen the mood of many nobles last night- and the last few days. This was not a court in which to relax entirely-- it was most like to be a fatal error. Even the royal children seemed to be having trouble remaining healthy- and that was saying something. Probably something about how barbaric Northerners were- still killing children even after all these years. She had sent her own Maester, and at least he would be able to recognize poison if he saw it- Elia wondered what his diagnosis would be.