misereres (misereres) wrote in usurper, @ 2012-02-12 22:44:00 |
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There were ways and means to maneuver within the complex formalities of court, and after her years in the Red Keep Elia was well-versed: an invitation was sent to Ellaria Sand as no secret, but in trusted hands; the time chosen early on a Saturday, when most of the court would be sleeping off the excesses of a heavy evening and thus less inclined to attempt to eavesdrop upon the meeting than might otherwise be the case; her uncle’s presence requested in lieu of palace guards or gold cloaks.
And the morning, three days after Ellaria’s arrival, dawned bright, with only the slightest chill to the air which would soon be overcome as the sun rose in the sky. The princess’ smile was also bright -- in response to her brother’s return and perhaps more of Dorne in the capital than there had been since her wedding, it was hard to hide joy (especially on such a morning).
“Lady Ellaria -- well met!”
Elia’s invitation was met with excitement - and such was tempered with caution, for Elia’s place within Oberyn’s affections meant that she wished for affection between them - as Ellaria dressed and tucked a small parcel beneath her arm. The courtyard chosen for their meeting was open and bright, fragrant with the nightblooming jasmine which only began to curl back in on itself and the sound of falling water.
Ellaria’s pace was tempered by the selfish desire to study the face that was so similar and so beloved by Oberyn. She saw shades of little Nymeria, even traces of Arianne, within Elia. House Martell left its mark upon those of its blood. And my child shall share in the same.
“Princess,” she replied, syllables lengthened from her time in Lys, effecting a deep curtsey. “I have longed for the day to meet you properly.”
Ellaria’s approach was likewise observed, a woman much described by her brother but never properly met; Elia found a sound judge in herself (in most matters), and decided that even had her brother not held her so high in his esteem and love, there was much to like in Ellaria Sand at first gaze. Grace of movement, a sense of clarity and purpose, and a kindness of face were all perceived and set aside for later contemplation.
“As have I; distance can be so frustrating.” With three quick steps she was at the other woman’s side, pressing a light kiss against the plane of her cheek before moving half a step back. “Congratulations are in order, I believe. I am very happy for you, Ellaria, truly.”
She gestured, then, towards an archway that led to a secluded coastal path -- “Shall we walk?”
“If I could but travel by folding a map -- or convincing Oberyn before now -- this would have happened more swiftly. But such as it is --” As she rose, the kiss was returned with a brief beat of her fingertips upon Elia’s shoulders. “I suppose he has told you. Very well, it is his to tell.” She smiled, gesturing toward the princess’s own curving belly. “Perhaps our two shall be the best of friends and cohorts.”
The princess’s arm was conspiratorially tucked within the bend of her free arm.
“Let us.”
“The size of Westeros is curse and blessing both.” With a smile for her uncle, Elia trod the familiar path, the scent of rosemary bushes soon chasing away the delicate perfume of the jasmine that had filled the courtyard. “Perhaps this is best way to meet, however.” The shade of the Water Gardens being somewhat beyond my means, now.
“It is yours as much as his to tell, certainly, but do not be put out; I long for news, and have longed particularly for news of Oberyn of late.” The lightness of her tone belied the seriousness of the separation, but Elia would not shy away from it altogether with this woman; she would know at least a little of what had passed. “And I hope that our children are very good friends indeed; I dare say Rhaenys will adore you and any future cousin she may have. It is not so easy here as at home, but children have a way of seeing through things.”
“Your separation went hard for both of you,” was her light and musing reply, a toe in the door should Elia desire to plumb further their months apart. She found herself apace with the princess, smiling to find the comfort between the two of them. We match.
“I have never had a child, Princess. But I must say that you are brave, raising your little ones here. You have the Prince, of course. And your uncle. Your brother now, too.” Her smile brightened. “I have seen your little beauty at court. Does she sail ships or ride dragons?”
“She rides dragons to journey with her cousins’ ships, or did last week.” Elia laughed, gently. “And brave? I wouldn’t call it brave.” Foolish, perhaps, but foolishness borne of necessity. Dragonstone would be no better. “The Prince is a doting father, and her uncles much beloved, but perhaps one day there will be more young company; it is hard on her, I think, such an environment. The Water Gardens are much sweeter, for children.” A beat. “But you must meet her properly, soon.”
As for the other thread of conversation, easy enough with Ellaria despite the weight of feeling behind it: “It did; such things happen when two people love, and think themselves right and the other wrong. He came to you hurt -- I am sorry for it.”
“I will do what I can to see that she does not lack for companions,” was said with a crooked smile. The depth of the game that Elia played was only guessed at by Ellaria, whose experience with dragons was limited to Oberyn’s hatred and distrust.
“Such apologies -- please, no. You had the right of it. He would have created a great deal of trouble and now, with a clear head, he can serve in place of provoking some to wrath. I hope to shield him from any further so that he can be what he wants to be for you.”
“It is the hurt and not the action that I apologise for; the court is a delicate balance, as I am sure you already know. The slightest shift --” She shrugged, plucking a flower from a tall bush as they passed and twirling it in slender fingers. “I am glad that he will have you.” I would not have him change, but if he must then it must be with as full a happiness as it is possible to have. A lightening, then... “Save wrath for polo, when the child has come and I can beat him once more.”
“Your children will always be welcome at court,” she smiled. Not at my court, not yet, for it sometimes seemed that even the trees told tales, but it was nevertheless phrased thus in her thoughts. “Perhaps they will have the best of both worlds, time with cousins here and at home.”
“When the new baby is born, bend Rhaegar to your will. Make a visit to Dorne and let your children play in the Water Gardens.” One day, Ellaria hoped, Rhaegar and Elia’s court would be different. If they could outlast the poison slowly vining its pallid hands around every neck in the kingdom.
She paused beneath the shade of a birch, pressing the parcel in her opposite arm into Elia’s hands. “A book of Rhoynish poetry. I stole it -- don’t tell your brother -- because I hope you will recognize it. I hope that it will make you feel like you have some bit of home always with you.”
“I shall do my utmost; they deserve that pleasure.” She stood silent a moment with parcel in hands before easing away the bindings to reveal Ellaria’s gift, fingers ghosting across the leather of the cover, the pattern winding embossed around its edges. Her smile was a slow thing, almost private, as she opened the book, tips of her fingers delicate against the vellum pages. “I do... I do know this.”
“Ellaria, you do not know your own kindness. Thank you.” You bring my home to me, in more than one way. Returning the volume carefully to its wrappings (a feeling not easy to define tight within her chest -- affection and sadness and such hope, all together), she took the other woman’s arm once more. “As for Oberyn, he will not hear a word of it from me. I do think I might be well placed to tell you some stories, though. Then, when we are all in one room, we can merely share a glance and a smile and he will be both terribly curious and terribly frustrated.”
“Curiosity and frustration are two of my most favoured currencies, Princess.” With her palm covered the fingertips tucked inside her arm, Ellaria continued to walk, slowing her pace to take in the well-tended foliage around them. There is not a living thing in King’s Landing permitted natural growth.
“You shall have to tell me something truly delicious.”
“There is plenty to share with you in good time, but my particular favourite -- an evening when three lovers happened to meet in a corridor in Sunspear, which ended, of course, with a fight and a drenching in what those of the Arbor consider a very fine vintage indeed. Quite a sight to behold, that.” Her smile became wicked. “We are also rather terrible drunks when gripped by bad ideas, but to tell you any of that I will embarrass myself equally and perhaps that should be his amusement.” A beat. “And you must call me Elia, if we are friends.”
“And though I wonder after the names of the lovers, I suppose its good of me to not ask, for it will make the shared look between us (when the Arbor gold shall indubitably be served) even more hard for him to bear.” A smirk before her lips softened into a smile; “I should like very much to be friends, Elia. I would be delighted to call you such.”
She raised a brow. “You are probably right, and I will find it all terribly hilarious. Until his return volley, of course, but that will be deserved.”
With her own smile gentled from the slight sharpness of her humour, Elia closed her eyes for a moment as the foliage above lessened and the sun’s warmth fell dappled upon her face. “And I am glad of it, Ellaria. Anyone my brother loves has a place in my heart also, though I may be less free with public affection at times.” A sensible precaution, in the court, though something that Elia feared she had not come to a full understanding of quite soon enough.
“I am certain that public affection - in whichever form it chooses to take - will soon become second nature to these cold northern creatures. The gasps in the hall when I appeared on your brother’s arm were not altogether deafening …” a soft laugh as she paused beneath the sparse shade that a slender birch provided. Her voice pitched low.
“Elia, forgive me if I am too forward. But I assume -- you have plans.” Plans to make this festering sore of a royal family whole again. “I have a certain set of skills that could be useful to you. So, please. Tell me what you need at any time and I shall do my utmost to see it done.”
“Oh, they do love a little hint of scandal, especially the Tyrells, who make such lovely outraged expressions.” Her voice dropped likewise low, a glance around despite the trust that she placed in her uncle. “Let them underestimate you as they do Oberyn, Ellaria, if you do not find such advice an offense.”
“Forwardness is a luxury that I enjoy indulging in, and so I would not criticise you for it but rather thank you. It is time for waiting now --” for the king’s shadow to be removed, for the perfect moment ‘-- but I will indeed have need of such help; I mean to craft something worthy of a new age here (I must), and such things cannot be accomplished alone.”
“I have been long underestimated and find no offense in such strategies.” Curling her arm closer to Elia, she leaned forward to brush a kiss against the other woman’s cheek. “I can think of no other who possesses the craft to birth such an age, Elia. It is my pleasure to wait upon you. Upon the right time.”
“You are kind, Ellaria. I know a few who might well surpass me, but for all their qualities they have a desire for power which goes beyond even love of it, and I think that you will believe me when I say that I do not.” The kiss was returned with gravity and affection both. “Let us hope that there is time enough to adequately prepare, but that it is not too long in the coming.” The further we descend, the harder to draw ourselves back.
“I am not kind. Not in the slightest. I simply tell the truth as I see it. Your characteristics make you a desirable ruler.” Her hand slid to the other woman’s shoulder as, with a nod, she pursed her lips and bowed her head. What of your husband?
“Are there others worthy of your trust?”
Elia smiled then, fleeting but true. “The volume of poetry in my hands says otherwise. As for trust, the lady Ashara Dayne and a number of those sworn to Martell colours. Oberyn, of course, and our uncle. There are others I think worthy of trust, but I will not trust them yet; the wider a circle, the greater the danger. And the Prince, who would see a brighter day for his House, though our spheres will be quite different.” And this trust was true, although -- as Rhaegar had once so beautifully written -- a truth without complexity.
“Wisely spoken.” And Elia’s conception of Rhaegar thus tested (for all she knew of dragons was Oberyn’s talk with the measure of such taken by the rumours which swirled), she took a step back and gestured toward the arch of Elia’s belly.
“Oberyn says the baby will come in two moons. Maybe less.”
“Indeed. What more can one ask but a healthy baby born in good time?” Her lips quirked, slightly. “Were I devout I would be praying for a brief time in childbed, but I daresay it will make little difference; I am in the safest of hands.”
As for Ellaria’s own child -- “And how far along are you, do you think?”
All that Ellaria would say as to the fragility of Elia’s health and Oberyn’s oversight of her -- “I am glad for it.” Then, she dropped her hands to her own still slight waist and smiled.
“Three, perhaps. Not enough yet to show, though I do think it will be soon. I have been lucky. Everything has been easy for me. Though the sensitivities and the heightened senses -- if I had known, I’d have consented to pregnancy long before now.”
Elia’s laugh was a clear and bright sound. “Yes, there are indeed some benefits aside from bringing forth a child, and what pleasures are offered certainly should be taken; I had a delightful few weeks some time ago, but on the whole... a little less so. Both my children appear to like oranges as much as I do, however, which I take for a very good sign.” A grin. “Demand that Oberyn indulge you, Ellaria, it is your right.”
“Oberyn is all too happy to indulge each and every one of my appetites.”
But -- A little less so. Ellaria wondered (and would later consider the implications of it) if Oberyn’s fears were born in these mild statements. “I know that there have been orange groves planted for your enjoyment since your marriage -- if the sun is not too taxing, perhaps there are a few hours to steal beneath the boughs.”
“Just as it should be.”
The orange groves were a joy -- the climate was not quite right, not truly, but the attentive nature of those who saw to the plants had proved worthwhile, for the trees grew ever more fruitful. It was a place few but those of Elia’s close circle with an interest frequented, and all the more peaceful because of that. “I think that is a marvellous idea; there are players who might entertain us, and I am sure there are many stories to tell.”