May 22: Elia and Jaers talk Who: Jaehaerys, Elia When: May 22, late in the evening Where: The King's chambers Rating: PG-13 Status: Closed log.
Jaehaerys lounged in the chair watching the fire devour another piece of parchment. So many spies, so many fires. He smiled and poured himself a glass of wine: it was a beautiful evening to be indoors. The sound of rain beating at the window grew even louder but it was drowned out by the knock at his door. He turned to see his manservant enter and bow. “The Princess Elia is here, your Majesty.”
“Show her in,” Jaehaerys directed. “Oh, and bring another glass.”
A moment later the door opened again, this time revealing Elia. Her pink gown was one of Iris’ creations and hid none of her curves and little of her breasts, with a neckline so low it was off her shoulders and was held up mostly by the tight-laced bodice. Even the skirt was in strips that swirled as she walked, reavealing glimpses of her legs without actually baring anything. It probably qualified more as a feat of engineering than a garment, but she had needed something outrageous to cleanse her thoughts after the encounter with Aeria. Elia smiled and sank into a curtsey that was provocatively low. “Good evening, Majesty.”
“It is infinitely better now, I must say.” Her breasts were damnably distracting when she did that. He put out his hand to help her rise. “You should wear that… is it a dress? I can’t quite bring myself to call it that. I’m not sure there’s enough material to qualify.”
“Don’t you like it?” Elia feigned worry and turned to give him a better look. “It’s new.”
Jaehaerys laughed. “Wear it to court. I want to see the old harpies fall off their nests in shock.”
“If you wish,” she said demurely enough, but she smiled as she stepped closer to him. “You look tired, Jaers.”
He shrugged and drew her into a tight embrace. “It’s tiresome having to entertain both Selester and Cedric Baratheon.” Jaehaerys kissed her hair. She smelled like amber and myrrh and faintly of oranges: so very Dornish. And she’d never set foot there again. “I heard you spoke with mother.”
Elia relaxed against him, her head resing on his shoulder. “Spoke? That’s a creative version of it. She’s… “ Her voice caught and she buried her face in his shoulder and wrapped her arms around him. “I have no dowry, no rights in Dorne- I’m all but disowned.”
“Shh, don’t worry.” He tensed as her arm brushed his side but relaxed quickly as he had moved. He placed another kiss on her temple and smoothed her hair. “A good thing I don’t need your dowry, or a kingdom, isn’t it?” He smiled. “She’ll calm down someday.”
“On her death bed?” Elia’s shoulders shook as tears threatened. “Are you certain, Jaers? About… all of it? You should be wedding Aeny.” She pushed away to look up at him.
Elia was so beautiful, even with her eyes full of tears. He smiled again and touched her cheek. How strangely the gods worked- if the melee had gone differently, she might never have agreed. She would have married a Tully… “Aeny is needed elsewhere- but I can’t lose you both.” He lowered his lips to hers and kissed her. “I need a queen I can trust in, who knows what we go against. I need you, ‘Lia.”
She returned his kiss, pressing close to him. “I’d have been bored to death in Riverrun,” she said at last and smiled. She loved his eyes, the warmth in his arms, the stregth of him. She kissed his cheek. “Have you thought of having another queen? Your father didn’t but… with so few… if might be useful…”
Jaehaerys raised a brow and stepped away from Elia to pour them both a glass of wine. “Who would you have?” He held a glass out to her. “Toria Lannister?”
Elia accepted the glass and turned it absently in her hand. Her thoughts were on the subject of queens rather than spirits. “She would do well, and you know her father…”
“Wasn’t Myrwin wearing her favor?” Jaehaerys shook his head. “That might be a better match.”
“It might have been. But... my brother’s gone. Better a live king than a ghost.” The words were bitter in her mouth and she drank deeply of the wine. “There’s always the Arryn brood too,” she went on quickly.
Jaehaerys watched her drink and pursed his lips. What if Myrwin wasn’t gone, he wondered. The prince might yet wake up as he had been- but it was only a chance, and too slight to speak of. He didn’t want to see Elia crushed by false hopes- better none at all than to be that cruel. “You would poison Vianna within a week of the wedding,” he said with a chuckle. “Maybe a Baratheon? Or Selester’s granddaughter- she’s Genna Stark’s age or closes to it. Wouldn’t that horrify Lord Tyrell?” He took a drink, imagining Selester’s face at that wedding.
Elia sighed. “Elixabet Stark. If you aren’t planning on beheading her father.”
“I am not one of the Baratheon Bastards.” Jaehaerys snorted and sipped his wine. “I’d rather play nursemaid to Selester’s whelp in any case. Sharing a bed with that frozen wolf might chill even a dragon… and she’d be no fun for you, ‘Lia.”
“You never know,” she replied, laughing. She took the seat next to his and curled up, her gaze settling on the fire. “Aeria called us children. Said we were playing a game.” “We are, sweetling. It’s the game of thrones.” Jaehaerys sat as well, and blew out a long breath. “And everyone’s a child in this game.”
Elia frowned at that. “Maybe we need a new game. Do you ever miss being just a sellsword?”
“At times.” He turned his gaze to the rain-streaked window and thought of it again: some other world, Elia and Aenyris with him, sailing a ship in search of Valyrian treasures or other nonsense. A lovely dream, but dragons hated ocean voyages. Jaehaerys laughed. “But this is much more fun.”