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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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( Elia Martell POV )
She had never been to King's Landing before, and Elia could honestly say that she would rather not have come. Not just because of the unpleasant smell or the squalor, but because her mother Lady, was sick in bed at home, perhaps ready to pass on even in the few weeks they spent away for this Tourney. Had it not been for the politics of the entire situation, she would have stayed with Oberyn in Dorne.
She glanced over at her brother, seated across the room from her, he placidly ate grapes from a bowl beside him, spitting the seeds into another, next to it. Doran's expression revealed little, but she knew he was just as displeased to be here as she was. Of all of them, he had the closest relationship with their mother.
'Politics' Elia sneered in her mind before returning to her book. It was a truth that brought them away from their mother's deathbed. For Doran, this tournament was a chance to introduce himself to the High Lords of the Realm and the King, before he became Prince of Dorne proper. It was no small matter, and Mother, in one of her more lucid moments, had insisted that Doran come. That was what really sealed it.
As for Elia, she came because of the specifics of Lord Tywin's invitation letter, and more importantly, so that Doran wouldn't be alone. Her brother was the type to take everything onto himself and say nothing to anyone, but she could see that the stress of being alone in a nest of vipers like King Aerys' court while his mother died a thousand miles away would be a terrible injury for him.
Better that She be here with him to share that burden.
The two of them and the small group of servants and household knights they'd brought with them had rented out a merchant's home on Rhaenys' hill for the duration of the tourney. It was relatively small, certainly compared to Sunspear or the Water Gardens, but it was nicely furnished and clean, and it kept them above the stinking bowels of the lower city where all the waste washed down from the three hills of King's Landing. Out the window was a view up the slopes to the colossal wreck of the Dragonpit, the ruined structure a perpetual minder of the devastation of the Dance of Dragons a century ago.
"Elia." Doran's voice broke her from her musing. "Are you going to go visit the Lannisters?"
She turned back around to look at her brother, not at all missing the instruction to do so hidden behind his question. "When I've settled in properly." She said. In truth, she wasn't exactly eager to see them again. It wasn't that she disliked any of them really. Even the prickly Lord Tywin hadn't been rude to her, but she just couldn't be happy with a betrothal to a child, even a clever one like Callum.
Doran sent her a look, an unimpressed look that said 'I know what you're thinking Elia'. It was a look he had inherited from their mother and one he had been using increasingly frequently of late. "And when will that be?"
"Doran!" Elia protested, "At least let me put on my makeup and tidy up before you push me out the door into the Lion's Den."
"That Lion's Den is the Tower of the Hand, and Casterly Rock as well," Doran said calmly. "It is a good thing to be welcome in both of those places."
"Good for Dorne maybe, and good for House Martell." Elia snapped. "Good for Mother's friendship with a dead woman. I will do my duty brother but don't ask me to be so eager." She frowned. "You would feel the same if you had to marry a woman half your age, I know." There might be some old men who enjoyed such things, but Elia did not think her brother was one of them.
"Mellario is seven years younger than I am." Doran stared right back at her, placid as ever. "Callum is ten younger than you. The Gulf between you will close as you grow older."
"And spend my youth changing his diapers!" Elia growled. She was exaggerating she knew. The rather intense and intelligent boy she had met at the Rock would not be that dependent upon her, but he also was nothing like what she wanted in a husband. "I will be your age before we will be close to equals Doran."
Her brother frowned but didn't correct her. Instead, he simply said "It's mother's wish, and breaking a betrothal with Lord Tywin's son would be dangerous. Every mummer in the Seven Kingdoms can sing of how that man pays his debts."
"I know! Doran I know! I've heard it all! I believe it even! But don't ask me to be happy! Don't ask me to be eager!" Elia was shouting now, her blood running hot, made worse by her brother's seemingly unshakeable calm.
"Elia…" Doran started tenderly, but a knock on the door distracted them.
"Prince Doran, Princess Elia." One of their servants, Vucco, called without opening the door. "Callum Lannister is at the front door."
Elia felt the wind drop out of her sails all at once. Robbed of her decision to delay the meeting by the arrival of her young betrothed. She could only sigh in defeat.
"Let-" Doran looked about to speak but she interrupted him.
"Give me a few minutes to get tidied up at least Doran." She asked, letting her discomfort bleed through her tone.
Doran blinked, but then nodded, standing up. "I will go meet him at the door then." Her brother gave her a sad smile and then walked down into the hall, the door swinging behind him.
Elia grimaced as she watched him go. She was still rather angry with her brother. Walking into her room, she immediately went over to the polished silver mirror on the wall and began to apply her cosmetics. It was a routine that had long been drilled into her these days, aided ironically by Doran's wife Mellario. The Norvosi woman had a very sharp eye indeed for this sort of work, which wasn't surprising. The Norvosi highborns were famed for their cosmetics, and their wigs as well. Since all the women shaved their heads in the city, wigs were commonplace accessories.
Once she felt she looked reasonably presentable, Elia fixed her dress and headed to the door, descending the plain but well-made wooden steps to the front parlor, where her future husband sat conversing with her brother.
"-actually wasn't a bad trip at all, we steered well clear of Shipbreaker Bay and had clear skies the whole way," Doran said cheerfully. "Was your trip from Lannisport unpleasant?"
"Not especially, though it rained the last few days to King's Landing," Callum replied, smiling softly. "It was-ah, Princess Elia." The blond boy hopped to his feet in greeting, giving her a bright and cheerful smile. "It's good to see you again."
"Callum." She glanced around, aside from a fearsome-looking knight in Lannister colors by the door he seemed to be alone. "I did not expect you to come so soon-that is, I expected to visit you in the Red Keep." She corrected herself quickly.
"The Red Keep isn't worth visiting. The tower of the Hand is overcrowded as it is and the castle is an unpleasant maze of secret passages and spikey decorations that catch on your clothes." Callum said quite quickly, and Elia was left blinking in surprise.
"Surely it's not that bad." She said after a moment. It certainly looked imposing from a distance. "Perhaps you're just too used to Casterly Rock." She teased gently, and the boy smiled again.
"No Castle needs a thousand secret passages. The Red Keep was made by men who feared everything, while Casterly Rock was made by men who, perhaps unwisely, feared nothing." Callum smirked, the expression almost comical on his girlish face. "Casterly Rock has ten thousand passages, but they're not secret, we've just forgotten about many of them."
"I'm not entirely sure there's a difference," Doran replied, raising an eyebrow and chuckling slightly, while Elia could only sit down across from the two of them and rub her forehead. "On to different matters though, Who do you think will do well in the Tourney?" Doran asked the boy and Callum's eyes lit up.
"Hmm, I don't know about the King's Tourney, but I'm sure my brother will win the Prince's tourney. The melee at least." Callum smiled broadly. "I don't think Jaime will lose to anyone." He turned his green eyes towards Elia. "Princess Elia, I know you're fond of knights and tourneys, who do you think will win?"
Elia blinked, then tilted her head. "Well, There's quite a few famous knights participating." She said after a moment, going through her thoughts on the matter. She understood there was quite the roster already, with more arriving every day. "I expect Ser Arthur Dayne to do quite well, and for your Uncle, Lord Tygett to do well also," Elia said diplomatically.
She wasn't actually convinced that Tygett Lannister had a good chance to win, not against so many spectacular knights, but Lord Tygett was no slouch and he would still likely place in the top five. "Ser Barristan Selmy, Ser Jon Connington, and even Prince Rhaegar will also likely do well." she continued, going down a list in her mind of some of the fiercest knights in the realm. "I expect we'll see some younger faces also. It would not surprise me if Lord Steffon's heir… Robert, I believe, did well in the melee. Supposedly he's come south with Elbert Arryn and one of the Starks. This will likely be his first Tourney."
"It's quite a lot of heirs to high lords this year, I believe young Mace Tyrell will be in the squire's tournament also," Doran confirmed. "Your father's letters must have convinced a great many houses to come and participate. Only the Tullys and Greyjoys are wholly absent." her brother stretched. "I have no arm for jousting or the melee myself, and I think my lady wife would kill me if I tried it anyway," he said rather self-deprecatingly. "If he were here, Oberyn would join I know."
"Prince Oberyn seemed very skilled." Callum nodded. "I was impressed with him during your visit, he has a keen mind as well."
Doran grinned at the compliment to his brother. "I've heard good things from him about your siblings as well." He gave Elia a wicked glance, and she knew that there was no way she could stop what her elder brother was about to say. "Elia informed me that both of them look good in a dress, is that true?"
Elia felt her cheeks flush red as the Lannister boy spit out some of the mint tea he'd been sipping on, the little boy making a choking sound as he caught his breath, his own cheeks much the same color as hers. Something she knew Doran took pleasure in, as her brother was clearly barely holding back laughter.
"I… well… I couldn't speak to it." Elia said quickly trying to come up with a plausible cover story. "I mean, I only thought that Young Jaime and Cersei looked very, very similar."
"Really, that's not what I heard-" Doran was silenced by the death glare Elia sent him, but she found her own tongue dumbfounded when Callum started laughing uproariously.
"No-no… hahaha- no it's fine. I only- hehe… You of all people caught them in their cross-dressing Princess Elia?" Callum gave her a big grin. "Was that before or after you told me you'd prefer to be betrothed to Jaime?"
Elia found herself stammering, why did she think Callum wouldn't know about that? He was their brother, he probably knew them better than anyone. "I-I didn't quite say-" Elia stopped herself and took a breath, resigning herself to her embarrassment. "It… it was before." she sighed. "On the day before we brought the terms of the betrothal to your father."
The boy grinned. "So you like men who wear dresses?" the young boy's tone was teasing, and Elia found herself dearly wishing she could pick him up and throw him out the window without causing a great scandal. Especially when he turned toward Doran, who seemed just as eager to drive her insane. "I'll have to start wearing them then, do you think I'll look good in one?" Callum asked her brother, pretending to be serious.
"Hmm, you do have a girlish face, I think you could look fine enough, but you'd need makeup to truly sell the look." Doran tapped his chin, clearly having far too much fun with the boy. "Maybe something that was tight around your waist as well, to give the impression of curvature?"
"How should I do my hair? Like this?" Callum pulled his golden locks back behind his ears. "Or perhaps in a ponytail? Tell me Prince Doran, what do you know of your sister's preferences?"
"Oh I thought I knew quite a bit, but this is news to me, perhaps we should ask your older brother?" he continued the Rapport, as Elia threw herself back into her chair in exasperation, placing her face in her hands, even if she couldn't fight the small smile that tugged at her lips, barely hiding her own giggles. Oh, they would pay for this, both of them.
She simply needed to figure out how.
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Chronicle of the Targaryen Dynasty in the Seven Kingdoms
Maester Willem
276 AC- Sixth Moon, one week until the Longest day of the year.
Great Lords gather in King's Landing, with representatives from House Stark, Arryn, Lannister, Martell, Tyrell, and Baratheon all in attendance.
The Tourney is set to take place in seven days. King Aerys announces that he will begin it with a great feast for all the Lords and Ladies who traveled so far to join the Tourney. A large choir of Mummers is hired to perform at the feast and sing praises to House Targaryen and the Dragon Lords of old.
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