playιng: [exist for love] - [aurora]

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273 AC--DORNE

Elia Martell came of age during the winter months in Dorne. She had flowered the month before and it seems this had made her a solemn woman. After her first blood, her mom announced her intention to set up a marriage alliance for Elia. Oberyn was only a few months shy of his own adulthood, so the Princess thought it would be wise to look for a bride for him as well.

By this time, Oberyn had grown much taller, stronger, and more secure in himself. The travels to the Free Cities had favored him, though they did not change his spirit. He was still the same restless and inquisitive boy he was before he left, except now he had six links to show for his studies. He was a young and quick learner, is what most of his lecturers had told him.

Though he had returned a bit more haughty than usual, this much was noticed when he accompanied Elia to the student seminars and was bold enough to correct one of the students. This did not go over well with anyone in the room; not even his dear sister Elia who'd always side with him in their youth. The only exception was Jevan, who laughed loudly, planted an open palm on Oberyn's back and excused the young Prince.

"You see, in the Free Cities, it is commonplace to correct each other, to encourage the growth of knowledge in that way."

Before he could protest, Elia pulled her younger brother out of the hall. She whacked him upside the head and pointed a finger at him, "You must think before you speak, brother. You are a man, not a monkey."

Oberyn's tight jaw loosened just a twitch, he breathed through his nose and let his head droop, "forgive me, sister. I seem to have brought my monkey manners with me from abroad."

His tone was entirely serious, though she knew he was biting back his sarcasm. Instead of chastising him further she wrapped her arms around him and pressed the side of her face to his chest. "You have grown so much," came her muffled voice from under their embrace.

"And you've not grown an inch," he patted the top of her head. She reached and took his hand in both of hers, "please do not give Mother any trouble. We'll be traveling soon to-well you know I'm of age and will be marrying soon. And you've already a paramour and chi-"

He cut her off. "If it is my whoring that concerns our dear Mother, then she must know those are rumors. I am childless and intend to marry my beloved Ellaria within the year."

Elia sighed.

"I know Mother would wish I marry someone of higher birth, but I am too low in the line of succession for it to even matter. I can marry for love as Mother did. I will keep Ellaria as my paramour and never marry if it comes to that."

"Brother-" he interrupted her again.

"I respect her too much to keep her hidden as a mistress. Please understand, Elia."

She poked her cheek with her tongue, a new habit she'd recently picked up, though Oberyn wasn't aware of what it could mean yet. "I will support you, then. But at least try to seem interested in this. If not for Mother then for me, please."

He nodded his head and chuckled lightly.

"Very well," her face lit up. "Then you must tell me of your adventures and your studies, brother." She hooked her arm in his and they made their way to the throne room to meet their mother.

●•●•●•●

The girl who'd appointed herself to the Martell siblings was called Ashara Dayne. She was as serious as Elia at first, and this quite bothered Oberyn since very few words were exchanged among the three as they spent their hours together.

As the youngest of the trio, it was his self-declared duty to make this a much more lively situation, especially if he wanted his family to make a good impression on the Daynes. He could tell his sister didn't quite fancy Ashara's older brother, Arthur, who was even more stern than she was; he'd counted exactly twenty-one words exchanged between them. And although Ashara was beautiful, with the same violet eyes as her brother, she was also quite plain.

At least that's how she presented herself to them at first. In truth, Ashara had no intentions of marrying Oberyn Martell, despite the titles and advantages that came with the rulers of Dorne. She didn't have intentions of marrying at all, at least not yet. So she had decided no impression was better than any impression at all whether it was positive or negative.

At least that was Ashara's initial plan. But she couldn't help initiating conversation with the eldest of the Martells, the girl that was even more quiet than herself.

At first, she could play the quiet game quite well. She would only ask what would be deemed appropriate 'how old are you', 'have you been to the Free Cities', 'do you think this color suits me'. But eventually, the questions became more personal.

By Nymeria!

She had the Princess of Dorne in her home. Of course she wasn't going to let this opportunity go to waste. She'd always dreamed of being a princess but after Prince Dorian returned betrothed those dreams were crushed.

'Did a Pentoshi sailor offended your honor', and, 'is it true your brother Doran was bewitched by a Red Priestess', were the type of questions she asked before she opened up more.

"I've always wanted a sister," she sighed as she reached for Elia's hair. It wasn't nearly as long as the summer before since she'd cut it after a Maester suggested it could help with her migraines.

It didn't.

The violet-eyed girl began sectioning the other's hair into three parts and began to braid it.

"So have I," Elia admitted. "Some things would be easier to share with someone my age. I don't think my brothers or parents would take too well over some of my thoughts."

"How is Oberyn?" Ashara asked, midway through the braid.

"How do you mean?"

Ashara tightened the braid and tied one of her ribbons to the end, "I mean in general. His personality. Is he a troublemaker? Is he serious? My brother seems to like him well enough, but-"

"But you do not," Elia offered, turning only slightly where they sat. "Well I can only describe him as a sister, he is kind, but impulsive and he has issues with authority yet he somehow never defies our Mother. He's smart, and hot-headed, and makes the best orange jam I've ever tried."

Ashara hummed as she tucked the Princess's loose hairs behind her ears. "The only way I could describe Arthur is that he is good with a sword. 'Too good' is what they say of him."

"I would wish for our families to unite, but it seems marriage is likely not the way for that," Ashara said with so much finality. She'd heard the rumors about Oberyn, how he'd already sired more bastards than one can keep count of. And it seemed Arthur was too rough for soft Elia.

"As friends, then," Elia suggested. "And perhaps one day our children could marry."

It didn't take much after that for Ashara's true personality to show. She was loud and could move an entire room with her presence alone. With the real Ashara even reserved Elia moved around more freely. She laughed with her head tossed back, unashamed if the missing molar she lost a few years back showed.

While the Daynes and Martells left with friendships formed, they did not leave with any marriage arrangements.

The same occurred in Arbor where the only candidates were old enough to be parents of either sibling. The two daughters of the lord of the house were divorced, each with adult children of their own. The only son was bedridden after he fell from his saddle and had remained unconscious for the better part of the year. No offers were promised but at least they had good sour bread.

Then they arrived in Old Town. The city was overwhelming and bloomed with shops and people.

What had caught Elia's attention as they rode to High Tower, were the shiny suncatchers that hung from several of the booths. The sunlight danced on the floor and on people's faces in colorful bursts and Elia smiled at the thought of hanging a few from her window.

"We should've just taken the Honeywine route," the Princess grumbled. "I never get seasick, but traveling by carriage always makes me ill," she grasped onto her husband's hand tightly.

"It would've been quicker too," Oberyn added.

The noble family there, the Hightowers, welcomed the Martells at the docks. There they boarded a sailboat and the family met them where the river lapped at the edges of Battle Isle.

"Welcome, Princess," the head of the house, Layton Hightower, dipped his chin, greeting her and her family next.

They'd met only once in passing during the dornish Princess's time as a Lady of the Queen.

They greeted him back. This batch of candidates was numerous and looked nothing alike. The Daynes had their violet eyes, the Redwynes were olden and stout, but the Hightowers didn't even resemble cousins.

It was known that lord Hightower had two wives before his current one, but even so, there was no similarities among the seven siblings.

After brief introductions, it was announced Layton intended to marry his eldest son to Elia.

The Princess took in the sight of Baelor Hightower as he stoked the half-burnt logs in the fire. He, of course, did this on purpose in hopes of impressing Princess Elia. This would certainly show her how chivalrous he was, to stoke the fire without being asked.

Oh, and he wondered if she'd noticed how he had poured wine for her mother, how he'd pulled back the chair for his stepmother and sisters.

In truth Elia hadn't noticed, she was too caught up in listening to her mother recount her youth in King's landing. But she noticed when he straightened her silverware when he'd cut his younger sister's steak into manageable pieces.

And she noticed him now as he tended to the fire, which clearly did not need tending to.

"Elia?" Her father's voice brought her attention back to the table.

She jumped back in her seat, her knee bumping the corner of the table and making her plates clatter. "Elia," her mother scolded her for her sudden behavior. Elia's cheeks felt hot at being made the center of attention at that moment. Though she very discreetly turned to see if Baelor hadn't been interrupted by her antics.

She hadn't intended to meet his stare, but she couldn't help the breathy chuckle that escaped her when she saw him staring with a crooked grin. He was clearly intrigued by the way this refined princess had seemed so ordinary at this moment.

He watched how she fixed the silverware he'd fixed moments before; how she passed her hands over her dress to flatten out any creases; and how she hooked a strand of loose hair behind her ear only for it to fall back over her cheek.

After this incident, Elia was more talkative engaging in side conversations with the ladies of his house. In truth, she was hoping to make it up for her unmannerly behavior earlier.

As they were finishing their meals, Oberyn engaged Malora in a conversation about poisons. He found the way she offered up cheap and effective solutions for dealing with foes to be rather stimulating.

When the conversation branched into mushrooms and spices, Elia offered her own knowledge. She gave exquisite details of a "rabbit-flavored" mushroom head. The extreme care that must be taken when cooking, for a second too cooked could result in a lethal dehydration and when consumed undercooked it was an instant death.

Malora crossed her arms over her chest, amused at learning that Elia herself had prepared the 'shroom head. "I say if at least one marriage doesn't come of this I shall marry the Princess myself."

At this, Elia simply looked at where her hands knotted together on her lap.

"That surely won't be necessary," Baelor announced as he took the back of a chair and dragged it close to the group, close to Elia. She looked at him for the first time and it was purposeful.

The pretty Princess fixed him with warm eyes and a sweet smile, "I do hope that is not the case."

Baelor sat straighter, palm resting on his knee. "Surely," he flashed her a bright crooked smile.

The four talked like this for a while, one talking about an experience, the other reacting with their own similar experience and laughter. There was lots of laughter.

By the time the firewood had consumed to embers, Elia was slapping her hand on Malora's shoulder, clapping her hands at one of her brother's jests, and holding a smile when the jokes were at Baelor's expense.

The conversation lead to books and literature, Elia impressed the group with her vast experience with literature from across the Known World. She promised Malora a her copy of a book of legends of the Summer Isles. Baelor could hardly contain his smile, his cheeks cherry-red from laughter and alcohol.

"I fear, brother, if you don't say what you want to say now, you'll burst," Malora said flatly.

"We should show our dear guests the family library," Baelor said, sinking a bit into his seat, swaying just the slightest.

"I'd love that!", "What is taking so long then?" Elia and Oberyn said at the same time.

Malora tapped the corner of the table as she stood up, "you should see my shelves," she offered Oberyn her hand. "I've been sneaking books from the Citadel for years now," she whispered loudly enough for only her tablemates to hear.

Once at the library the group split; Oberyn being dragged by Malora and Baelor following Elia as she scanned the book spines.

The shelves reached from ceiling to floor and ladders just as tall made reaching the highest books possible. Elia reached for one, ran her finger over the leather cover, and smiled. Baelor leaned against the bookcase on his side grinning like a fool down at Elia.

She turned on her heel and worked her way to one of the large tables lit up by melting candles. Belor followed, plucking a book and paging through it.

"What is it you like, Princess?" He asked.

Elia glanced up from her book, placed a thumb over the page, and said, "I like," she paused thinking of what she could say that might leave a good impression about herself.

"I like reading." Oh splendid, Elia! As if that wasn't already so obvious. She mentally scolded herself.

Baelor seemed to have found this humorous. "Yes, it appears so." He shifted in his feet to approach her, and as he pummeled to the ground, misfortune winked his way.

The sound that came from him hadn't registered immediately to Elia who moved to help Baelor up, but it did to Oberyn.

The younger boy could hardly contain himself. He wheezed as he helped the Hightower heir to his feet. "B-Baelor Breakbones is what they call you?" He shrieked. "Breakwind seems more fitting! Baelor the Breakwind."

Then it registered and Elia realized the sound that came from Baelor had been a fart. She covered her mouth to suppress her laughter, but her brother's taunting didn't help much. Poor Baelor simply stood between the siblings, looking at them as they laughed their heads off at his expense. He joined their laughter as it had been a rather funny occasion.

But to his ignorance, any affection that Elia might've had for him was replaced with humor. Since the Princess had been already half in love with him, but the mere sight of him caused her to break out in uncontrollable laughter. So the siblings left Hightower with only a potential match between Oberyn and Melora.

Crakehall and Casterly Rock had been the last stops. Casterly Rock appeared to be the most promising, given that Lady Joanna had been friends with the Princess of Dorne in their youth at King's Landing. Over the years and through correspondences they had brokered a marriage plan to unite their families.

Though the Lannister twins were much younger than the Martells, and Lady Joanna had died during childbirth, the Princess insisted they go. "She was my dear friend, something will surely come of that."

But nothing did.

Tywin was a welcoming man as he fed the Martells and even offered them to stay in his home, but as the Princess began speaking of marriage, her words fell on deaf ears. "You can marry your daughter to my son, the little one," he said through the rim of his cup, trembling with a chortle.

The Princess did not take lightly to this, to being laughed at when her intentions were sincere. She took it as an even higher offense when what was offered to her was a newborn, disfigured little thing, or so she'd heard.

The Lannister girl, Cersei, spent most of the evening going on about how ugly her little brother was, how "the little monster" had taken her mother as it clawed out of her, ripping anything it could on its way out.

The twins snuck the Martells into the room where the baby was in a cradle, "and what is his name?" Elia asked.

"Tyrion," Jamie, the other twin, a boy of hair as golden as the Lion on their house sigil, answered. "Mother named him before-" he paused. Even the memory of his mother still haunted him.

The four crept over the cradle and saw a pink baby wiggling around the white blankets. Oberyn and Elia could not mask their disappointment.

"I thought you said he was ugly," Oberyn held a finger out for the baby to grasp.

"He's so tiny and lovely," Elia cooed brushing the baby's hair to one side, then the other. "You said he had a tail and fangs, but this is just a baby."

Cersei's face twisted into a scowl, she tore the blankets from the baby and pointed between his legs, "see?"

The Martells giggled and exchanged a look, "that is not a tail," Elia said.

Soon Jamie was laughing too, though a look from Cersei made him stop almost instantly.

●•●•●•●

279 AC━DORNE

Elia was twenty and two when a letter with her name was delivered by a man with a gold cloak.

It was from the King himself with a marriage offer. Elia had only ever met the Targaryen King once when she was thirteen and he'd announced he would make Dorne bloom with underwater canals.

That hadn't come to fruition yet, and Elia suspected it never would. Dorne wasn't so easy to transform or adapt in that way. Its people had adapted to the land since before the arrival of her ancestor, Nymeria, and it would continue to do so. The land deserved that respect, regardless of the promises of mad kings.

The Princess didn't believe this at first and had the Gold Cloak arrested and interrogated, sending a letter to King's Landing to verify this letter. The response that came was signed by Rhaella, the queen, and another friend of her youth. "For as long as doves have wings and the sun rises," was the last line. And the Princess knew it was authentic; the King had offered to marry his son to Elia and make her the Princess she already was.

By the end of January, Elia Martell and Rhaegar Targaryen were betrothed, and soon the thawing of Winter would follow.

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A/N: YAALLLL!!! I'm so sorry it took so long to update so much went on during the gap but here's the update lol. ik not much is going on and it's more of a filler but oh well. I also want to thank everyone who's been reading so far and for the votes thank you sm!!! <3 (ps I write on my PC so if the formatting is weird on the app I'm so sorry)