AN :
In the Game of Stones, you either win or you wait. The more Power Stones you offer, the faster the chapters come.
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( Doran Martell POV )
Doran Martell was not enjoying King's Landing very much. His mother was 800 miles away dying of some sickness the Maesters couldn't identify, the king was actively hostile and insulting to House Martell, and now Elia had gone and done something incredibly foolish, jeopardizing the only solid alliance House Martell was building outside of Dorne. Sitting across from him on a cushion, she looked contrite, but where was that last night?
"You had to have known how foolish it was," Doran said, his frown evident. "By the Seven Elia, Tywin Lannister was right there! Sitting next to me! He looked like he wanted to strangle you!"
"I didn't think…" Elia said, looking down. "I didn't do anything improper with Prince Rhaegar…" she said, sniffling slightly, but Doran wasn't having it. He loved his sister dearly, but this foolishness could have cost them so much, far too much for him to take her apologies and move on.
"I know that! You know that! but rumors will spread anyway because you spent the entire feast staring deeply into each other's eyes!" Doran was venting mostly, but that was only right.
"I had to glue myself to your side for the rest of the feast just so that we have a clear alibi, but even that won't stop the rumors. Do you know how Tywin Lannister Reacts when he's insulted? Do you know what he does to his enemies? Ask any Mummer in the Seven Kingdoms, they all know his damn song!" Doran rested his face on his hand, shaking his head. "This is a mess."
"Yes… it is a mess." Elia curled up into herself on the chair. "I'm sorry, Doran… I don't know what else to say. In the moment it just felt so right. Rhaegar is… I've never seen a man prettier than him, and he's charming and well-spoken and…" Doran watched as Elia pulled into herself further. "And he's not a child, you know?"
"Is that what this was about Elia?" Doran asked, slumping into a chair of his own. "That you want a man? You could have picked a less obvious one at least." Doran said, sighing, "And not at a feast in the Red Keep of all places."
"NO!" Elia yelled, shaking her head as she looked up at Doran desperately, causing a pang of guilt to form for the way he was laying into her. "No, it's not just- I'm not some woman who'll jump on the cock of the first man I see Doran!" tears formed in her eyes.
"It's just- he's everything! Everything I would have wanted, can't you see! He's a man yes, and the heir of the Seven Kingdoms! He's charming and handsome and martial and brave! It's not just- he's perfect Doran, I could not imagine a man more desirable." Elia said, sobbing by the end of it. "Can you blame me for desiring the jewel placed before my face brother? Can you tell me not to want the fairest apple on the tree?" she wiped her sleeve across her eyes, looking back up at him.
"I don't- I have nothing against House Lannister, and I did not mean to dishonor them, least of all Callum, but their honor was not what filled my mind! No, it was the pit in my heart that I wished to fill, the sweet poison dream Prince Rhaegar offers is to make me whole and damn the rest!" Elia petered off, her voice losing its tempo. "I… Doran, I know it's selfish, I know that the betrothal is better for our house, better for Mother, but I cannot help but dream of what is better for me. House Lannister's gold may fill our pockets, but a child could never fill my heart."
Doran sighed, he could hear the pain in his sister's voice, the longing that she felt was real, he had no doubt, as was the pain. Perhaps it would have been better if she had never agreed to be betrothed to Callum Lannister when she visited the Rock with Oberyn and Mother, but that ship had long since passed now.
The betrothal was a fact of reality, and whatever there might be to gain by breaking it could never be worth the wrath that Tywin Lannister would pay back upon them tenfold. That man was the most dangerous in the Seven Kingdoms, and though House Martell was as old and storied as the Lannisters, there was a great gulf between the average Lannister and the Lion that now sat on the Seven Kingdoms at large.
"I… understand how you feel." Doran lied, he doubted that he could ever understand quite the situation Elia was in, but he pressed on anyway. The truth was, she had no choice. He would lock her up in her room for the rest of the tourney and then take her back to Dorne if he had to. There was too much at stake to allow her lonely heart to run wild.
"But, I want you to promise me you will act no more on this longing of yours, that you will avoid speaking to, interacting with, or even looking at Prince Rhaegar from this moment forward." Doran pressed his fingers against his nose. "It will be hard enough, paving this over with Lord Tywin, any further sign of impropriety and I doubt he'll believe you mean to be faithful to his son." 'He might already be impossible to convince.' Doran kept to himself.
"I… yes, I know, Doran I know, the consequences have been clear to me since we left the feast last night," Elia said, rubbing at her eyes. "It was only in the moment that I was overcome by my heart, the mind is riding it now." The woman looked down. "I… I hope that Callum did not notice, or that he did not understand. I don't want him to hate me. I don't hate him you know?" She said quietly. "I hate that I am to marry him."
"I am quite sure he noticed," Doran responded grimly. "Whether he could understand I cannot say, but everyone noticed, even young Mace Tyrell I think. You would know if you'd looked away from Rhaegar once or twice."
"...I see," Elia said. "I will… I won't look at Rhaegar again, Doran," she said, and Doran felt a weight slip off his shoulders, thanking the seven that his sister saw reason in the end. "I do not think I could face Mother if I ruined a betrothal she signed. To Lady Joanna's son no less. I don't want to bring her such news in these days."
"Whatever motivates you to avoid further impropriety, I don't really care," Doran said, though he softened his tone as he continued. "But thank you, Elia, I know your heart aches with this."
"It does…" she nodded quietly. "It does…"
"Well." Doran said, "We're late to the Prince's Tourney, if you still want to attend, there ought to be a few rounds left." He knew that his sister did in fact love Tourneys, she was always in the stands when any were held in Sunspear, or even by neighboring houses. It was perhaps her favorite way to spend a day out.
"I… yes, I suppose I'd like to." Elia didn't seem much cheered up. "But… what if Rhaegar is there?"
"Then don't look at him, look at the field, it's a tourney," Doran said, shaking his head. "Get over him, silence your heart, and think of Mother if you must."
"Alright." Elia nodded, standing up. "I'll keep to my word brother." she gave him a stiff nod and Doran smiled, there was the Elia he was looking for, the one that was second in line to the throne of Dorne, behind only him. Her back was straight, and her face determined. She looked just like Mother.
"Good." Doran nodded. "Let's go."
One short ride later they found their way to House Martell's box in the tourney stands, each of the Great Lordly houses in attendance, except the Lannisters, who were in the Hand's box, had rented out one of the upper viewing platforms to watch the Tourney, and while not all were in attendance for the Prince's tourney, there was now at least one or two people in each box.
Across the stands, Doran saw Lord Tywin's eyes snap to glare at him, and all Doran could do was frown and give the man a short nod, making clear that he understood just how thin the ice they were walking on was now.
Lord Tywin continued his glare for a moment, and Doran felt sweat trickle down his back, but the Lord of the Westerlands eventually nodded, ever so slightly, and Doran sighed in relief. They had not yet made an enemy of House Lannister. The situation was still salvageable. He glanced down towards the field instead, pulling his hair back. "Oh," he smiled. "Is that Jaime Lannister down there?" Doran had thought he was a bit young to be in the Prince's Tourney, but from the way he was currently fighting two boys larger than himself and winning, that was not a worry for him, or for his family.
"Yes," Elia said behind him, her eyes fixed downward and pointedly not at anyone in the stands. "He's doing quite well," she murmured, and Doran couldn't help but agree, as the boy next to the Lannister heir went charging in towards him like a wild bull, trying to tackle him over the fence of the tourney field and out of bounds. The Young Jaime, seemingly effortlessly maneuvered around the larger boy, before tripping him with the tip of his padded sword, sending him sliding under the fence and out of bounds himself as he hit the ground.
The action drew a large cheer from the crowd, and it was obvious that the young Lannister was one of the favorites to win, along with Mace Tyrell on the other side of the arena, who was busy stomping his way through the competition in a far more conventional manner, almost casually batting aside the padded sword of the squire he was fighting- actually on closer inspection that was Anders Yronwood he was smacking about.
Doran hoped the young man didn't get hurt too badly by the Tyrell heir. He didn't want to play damage control between Lord Yronwood and House Tyrell should the old man become overprotective of his son.
With the sound of a trumpet, the field suddenly grew still, a rather battered-looking Anders Yronwood miraculously still standing despite Mace's sustained and solid hits. He saw that the young Tyrell walked up and smacked him on the back, laughing, and Anders was laughing too, that was good, no diplomatic incident there.
Ser Barristan Selmy, who seemed to be playing the role of supervisor for the Prince's tourney, announced that they were down to the last 20 squires, and now would be taking an intermission for lunch before the final melee. The remaining boys would be allowed to rest until the sun was down a bit from its apex, and then they would be set against each other to determine the ultimate winner of this tourney.
Glancing around, Doran could only be thankful that Prince Rhaegar seemed to have sat this one out, mercifully saving him from any further drama on that front. He smiled, turning to Elia, only to find her eyes fixed across the stadium.
He felt panic shoot up his spine, tracing her gaze with his eyes, but sagged in relief as it was the Hand's box she was staring at, not the silver-haired prince, but rather her actual betrothed, the distant golden-haired figure peaking over the railing was either Callum or Cersei Lannister, but probably Callum, and that meant the boy had probably understood what Elia had done at the feast last night after all. He was staring at her sharply from all the way across the field.
'Oh well.' Doran shrugged, deciding that part wasn't his job. Doran could deal with Lord Tywin, probably, but Elia was going to have to explain herself to her betrothed without his help.
Some things, it just wasn't his place to get in the way of.
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