FIC: Unbroken (Elia) for izzylike
Recipient: izzylike
Title: Unbroken
Author: murderershair
Rating: PG
Characters: Elia, Ashara, Rhaegar
Pairing: Elia/Rhaegar
Word Count: 2059
Summary: It was cold in King's Landing, and Rhaegar Targaryen was colder still.
Warning: None
It was cold in King's Landing, and Rhaegar Targaryen was colder still.
Oh, he was comely, Elia agreed, and talented with harp and sword and many things besides, but he was a joyless, melancholy man, and she could not be with him long without starting to shiver.
Like the true Dornishman that he was, in his very first letter Oberyn wanted to know if Rhaegar was keeping his sister happy between the sheets. After some hesitation, Elia wrote that he was.
It was a lie. Oh, he might go about the motions, but Elia could tell the difference between bedding as a duty and bedding with a passion. There was no passion in Rhaegar, at least, not for Elia. In fairness, they had only been wed two months, and there was still time for things to change, but she was horribly afraid that her mother had wed her to a cold northern fish masquerading as a dragon.
"It could be worse," Ashara Dayne reassured her. "At least he's not impotent."
Elia snorted. "Not impotent, but impassive, which is almost as bad."
"Do you think he actually thinks of the Seven Kingdoms to get it up?" her friend whispered conspiratorially.
Laughter erupted from Elia. "That's a terrible thing to say," she tried to reply solemnly, but burst into giggles again.
"It does you good to laugh," fussed Ashara. "Doran told me I should keep your spirits high as Oberyn did, for the sake of your health."
"Oh, of course, for the sake of my health," Elia said dryly. "You sound like Mace Tyrell."
Ashara's beautiful laugh filled the room. "Mace Tyrell! Scraping and bowing before the king, I should hope not!" She lightly swatted Elia. "Take it back, dear one. Never a Tyrell."
Ashara was Elia's dearest comfort- a bit of home in a city that had yet to embrace her. They confided in each other, and privately made fun of the ridiculous characters that filled King's Landing.
Not that Elia disliked all northerners-- at her wedding she had heard a Stark girl complaining loudly that the ceremony was too long, and was instantly charmed. Lyanna, as the woman was called, reminded her a bit of Oberyn.
"Do you think Rhaegar would ever let me go on tour with him?"
Ashara shook her head. "You would know his disposition better than I, princess. Although," she lowered her voice, "I think it would be quite dangerous. Who knows what fine men you might meet out in the northern wilderness?"
Now it was Elia's turn to swat at her friend. "You goose. Who do you think I would run off with, Edmure Tully?"
Ashara pretended to consider the idea for a moment, although Elia knew well she judged all Lannisters by the haughty behavior of Cersei Lannister, who always had a sour expression on her face when Elia was near. "Ah, but I hear Brandon Stark is rugged and handsome, and as strong in the tourneys as your husband."
"If anyone can report he's stronger in other arenas, I might consider it," Elia said dryly.
They can laugh about it, because Ashara knows very well that whatever games Elia might have played in her younger days, she would never take the risk of being found unfaithful to her husband.
----
It strikes Elia as funny, now, that she had been pleased by the idea of betrothal to Rhaegar, not because of his position, but because it was said that he wrote music and poetry, and she thought such a man would have to be intelligent and engaging, not like the stuttering boys who paid court to her at Sunspear.
And yes, there was no doubt that Rhaegar was intelligent-- but he kept most of his intelligence to himself, and Elia always had to hear third-hand from courtiers about this marvelous plan her husband had invented to fix a problem, or about poetry that he recited for other women.
In his way, Rhaegar was not much different from the boys that Oberyn had mocked in Dorne-- too afraid to show Elia anything of himself that might endear him to her. Still, he took his duties seriously enough to come to her each night, and there, Elia thought, they might make progress in their marriage.
"Perhaps, my lord," she suggested, as he stripped for bed. "We might try something a little different tonight?"
For a moment Elia thought she had made a mistake, as he looked at her with naked surprise. But then, his brow furrowed, and Rhaegar said, slowly, "What did you have in mind?"
She described several acts of pleasure that she knew well, not all of which were necessarily conducive to the creation of children. Rhaegar's eyes widened, and he murmured, "You would enjoy this?"
"Particularly if it pleased you also, my lord," Elia said firmly. "I want us to have many happy memories together."
Her husband cupped her cheek, and said, sincerely, "I have much underestimated you, Elia."
That was a good night, all things considered. Rhaegar was still not proficient, but he was truly there with her for the first time, and they slept in each others' arms for the first time. Later, Elia liked to think they might have conceived Rhaenys then.
But it could not last.
-----
As true as Rhaegar's joy seemed when she announced she was with child, he continued to spend time away from her. Worse, her physician forebade her from travelling, so Elia had to make do with her handmaidens and the Kingsguard for company.
Ashara was, as always, a great comfort. She invented silly combinations of Dornish and Targaryen names for Elia's unborn child ("Nymaegon! Dorangar!"), and arranged for meals from home to be send up to their quarters on days when Elia was too ill to eat with the rest of the castle.
"I always thought that when I was an adult, I would get better," Elia said, eyeing Ashara's glass of Dornish sour with envy. "Now it seems there are even less things that I can do."
Ashara's eyes softened. "You'll be a mother to this child. No one can take that from you."
----
The birth was even more difficult than the physicians had anticipated. For almost sixteen hours, Elia struggled, but refused to cry out in pain though she was much encouraged to do so. Bad enough that they all thought her a fragile foreign creature- they would not know how much she suffered.
By the end, she was only conscious enough to hear that she had birthed a girl. Arthur told her later (for Elia did not remember) that she laughed and said, "A water wyvern to play with Oberyn's little sand snakes, then" before losing consciousness.
What Elia did remember was that while she slipped in and out of waking, Rhaegar sat at her side, holding her hand tightly.
When she was finally strong enough to refuse milk of the poppy, they brought her daughter to her.
"She needed a name," Rhaegar said shyly, "and you were not awake, so we called her Rhaenys. I hope it's suitable."
Elia looked down at the brown little babe in her arms. Her daughter. Oberyn and Doran's niece. They would do their best to forget that here. She had her father's eyes-- her father's name.
She would make this concession, for the light in Rhaegar's eyes when he looked at the child they had made together. But Elia vowed then that she would oversee her education and upbringing to the letter.
"Is she sickly?"
Arthur shook his head. "Strong and healthy as can be, my lady."
Rhaenys yawned, and reached for her mother's long hair. Elia's heart swelled at the sight.
"It will do."
-----
They had arranged for a wet nurse, but Elia sent her off as soon as she could, declaring she would nurse her own child. The decision was met with ambivalence at court. Barristan Selmy explained to her that they were concerned that it would endanger the the health of little Rhaenys and weaken her mother. Elia didn't believe the explanation for a moment, though she thought Ser Barristan believed it, at least.
"They have never liked me, Ser," she said bitterly. "It is one more strange Dornish custom they have to hear about."
For his part, Rhaegar seemed to simultaneously marvel at his daughter and fear her. Though he had a little brother of his own that he had seen in infancy, and was no stranger to babes, he could often be found in her room, encouraging her to crawl and writing poetry about her yawn. It endeared Elia to her husband more than any of his ballads or feats at tourney.
And so it was good between them again, even if Rhaegar mysteriously disappeared whenever Rhaenys had a tantrum or was in a sulking mood.
Arthur was there for one of the worst, when Rhaenys threw all her toys out the window just before her second birthday, and screamed herself into exhaustion.
"There's that Targaryen blood," he said, bracingly, having tucked her the two year old princess into bed when she had exhausted herself and was sorry.
"It frightens me sometimes," Elia said honestly. "Not that my brother and I were particularly easy to raise, but we never dared yell at our mother. This blinding rage- I've only seen it before with..."
"The king," Arthur finished for her.
"I need Rhaegar at a time like this," Elia murmured, rubbing her temples. "She respects him more than me."
"That's not true," Arthur interrupted, but Elia held up her hand.
"She respects him more because she sees him less often. You can't deny he's a figure of awe to her."
"It should not be that way," he said darkly.
"But it is. And he's spoken of Viserys having a similar temper. I worry that she can see what her anger does to me."
Arthur was silent for a moment. "Empathy is important for children. I know you hate to seem weak, but I don't believe that is what Rhaenys sees when you flinch."
"Then what?" Elia said bitterly.
"I believe she sees her mother, who cares about her, and is sad when she's sad. I don't see her thinking any less of you for caring about her well being."
Carefully- dealing with her daughter had sapped her energy- Elia gripped the arms of her chair, and rose to kiss Arthur on the cheek. "Thank you. I don't know what I would do without you and Ashara by my side."
Elia could only truly rely on Rhaegar to appear in the evenings. After hesitance and awkwardness the first few years, he had begun to take to his marital duties with some enthusiasm. Their love would never shatter worlds, but there was some passion now, and it did make his failings easier to endure.
"Please," she said softly afterwards, her head resting on his chest, "spend more time with Rhaenys. She worships you."
Rhaegar kissed her softly. "I'm afraid I'll disappoint her."
"You're her father, and she's not yet three- you couldn't possibly." This was not entirely true, but Elia had learnt that sometimes talking Rhaegar into doing a thing required a little ego stroking.
"What does she like?"
Elia considered for a moment. "She doesn't have anyone her age to play with. She'd love a pet."
"What kind?"
Elia smiled. "I don't suppose you could find a kitten?"
Some days later, Rhaegar came to his daughter's chambers with a squirming ball of ball fur. Rhaenys squealed in delight, and came running.
"What do we say?" Elia reminded her daughter.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" The kitten flew out of Rhaenys' arms, and scampered under the table, where it watched the proceedings with yellow eyes. Rhaenys giggled, and kneeled on the floor to stare at it. "I'll name you... Balerion! The Black Dread!"
Rhaegar looked at Elia curiously. She shrugged. "It's her favorite story. You shouldn't have named her after one of Aerys the Conquerer's sister-wives if you didn't want her to become obsessed."
Rhaenys, listening attentively, pouted. "You will bring me a real dragon when I grow up, won't you father?"
Elia expected him to dash her hopes, but to her surprise, Rhaegar replied, "I have absolute faith that one will come to you."
Rhaenys cheered and crawled under the table after her new kitten.
Title: Unbroken
Author: murderershair
Rating: PG
Characters: Elia, Ashara, Rhaegar
Pairing: Elia/Rhaegar
Word Count: 2059
Summary: It was cold in King's Landing, and Rhaegar Targaryen was colder still.
Warning: None
It was cold in King's Landing, and Rhaegar Targaryen was colder still.
Oh, he was comely, Elia agreed, and talented with harp and sword and many things besides, but he was a joyless, melancholy man, and she could not be with him long without starting to shiver.
Like the true Dornishman that he was, in his very first letter Oberyn wanted to know if Rhaegar was keeping his sister happy between the sheets. After some hesitation, Elia wrote that he was.
It was a lie. Oh, he might go about the motions, but Elia could tell the difference between bedding as a duty and bedding with a passion. There was no passion in Rhaegar, at least, not for Elia. In fairness, they had only been wed two months, and there was still time for things to change, but she was horribly afraid that her mother had wed her to a cold northern fish masquerading as a dragon.
"It could be worse," Ashara Dayne reassured her. "At least he's not impotent."
Elia snorted. "Not impotent, but impassive, which is almost as bad."
"Do you think he actually thinks of the Seven Kingdoms to get it up?" her friend whispered conspiratorially.
Laughter erupted from Elia. "That's a terrible thing to say," she tried to reply solemnly, but burst into giggles again.
"It does you good to laugh," fussed Ashara. "Doran told me I should keep your spirits high as Oberyn did, for the sake of your health."
"Oh, of course, for the sake of my health," Elia said dryly. "You sound like Mace Tyrell."
Ashara's beautiful laugh filled the room. "Mace Tyrell! Scraping and bowing before the king, I should hope not!" She lightly swatted Elia. "Take it back, dear one. Never a Tyrell."
Ashara was Elia's dearest comfort- a bit of home in a city that had yet to embrace her. They confided in each other, and privately made fun of the ridiculous characters that filled King's Landing.
Not that Elia disliked all northerners-- at her wedding she had heard a Stark girl complaining loudly that the ceremony was too long, and was instantly charmed. Lyanna, as the woman was called, reminded her a bit of Oberyn.
"Do you think Rhaegar would ever let me go on tour with him?"
Ashara shook her head. "You would know his disposition better than I, princess. Although," she lowered her voice, "I think it would be quite dangerous. Who knows what fine men you might meet out in the northern wilderness?"
Now it was Elia's turn to swat at her friend. "You goose. Who do you think I would run off with, Edmure Tully?"
Ashara pretended to consider the idea for a moment, although Elia knew well she judged all Lannisters by the haughty behavior of Cersei Lannister, who always had a sour expression on her face when Elia was near. "Ah, but I hear Brandon Stark is rugged and handsome, and as strong in the tourneys as your husband."
"If anyone can report he's stronger in other arenas, I might consider it," Elia said dryly.
They can laugh about it, because Ashara knows very well that whatever games Elia might have played in her younger days, she would never take the risk of being found unfaithful to her husband.
----
It strikes Elia as funny, now, that she had been pleased by the idea of betrothal to Rhaegar, not because of his position, but because it was said that he wrote music and poetry, and she thought such a man would have to be intelligent and engaging, not like the stuttering boys who paid court to her at Sunspear.
And yes, there was no doubt that Rhaegar was intelligent-- but he kept most of his intelligence to himself, and Elia always had to hear third-hand from courtiers about this marvelous plan her husband had invented to fix a problem, or about poetry that he recited for other women.
In his way, Rhaegar was not much different from the boys that Oberyn had mocked in Dorne-- too afraid to show Elia anything of himself that might endear him to her. Still, he took his duties seriously enough to come to her each night, and there, Elia thought, they might make progress in their marriage.
"Perhaps, my lord," she suggested, as he stripped for bed. "We might try something a little different tonight?"
For a moment Elia thought she had made a mistake, as he looked at her with naked surprise. But then, his brow furrowed, and Rhaegar said, slowly, "What did you have in mind?"
She described several acts of pleasure that she knew well, not all of which were necessarily conducive to the creation of children. Rhaegar's eyes widened, and he murmured, "You would enjoy this?"
"Particularly if it pleased you also, my lord," Elia said firmly. "I want us to have many happy memories together."
Her husband cupped her cheek, and said, sincerely, "I have much underestimated you, Elia."
That was a good night, all things considered. Rhaegar was still not proficient, but he was truly there with her for the first time, and they slept in each others' arms for the first time. Later, Elia liked to think they might have conceived Rhaenys then.
But it could not last.
-----
As true as Rhaegar's joy seemed when she announced she was with child, he continued to spend time away from her. Worse, her physician forebade her from travelling, so Elia had to make do with her handmaidens and the Kingsguard for company.
Ashara was, as always, a great comfort. She invented silly combinations of Dornish and Targaryen names for Elia's unborn child ("Nymaegon! Dorangar!"), and arranged for meals from home to be send up to their quarters on days when Elia was too ill to eat with the rest of the castle.
"I always thought that when I was an adult, I would get better," Elia said, eyeing Ashara's glass of Dornish sour with envy. "Now it seems there are even less things that I can do."
Ashara's eyes softened. "You'll be a mother to this child. No one can take that from you."
----
The birth was even more difficult than the physicians had anticipated. For almost sixteen hours, Elia struggled, but refused to cry out in pain though she was much encouraged to do so. Bad enough that they all thought her a fragile foreign creature- they would not know how much she suffered.
By the end, she was only conscious enough to hear that she had birthed a girl. Arthur told her later (for Elia did not remember) that she laughed and said, "A water wyvern to play with Oberyn's little sand snakes, then" before losing consciousness.
What Elia did remember was that while she slipped in and out of waking, Rhaegar sat at her side, holding her hand tightly.
When she was finally strong enough to refuse milk of the poppy, they brought her daughter to her.
"She needed a name," Rhaegar said shyly, "and you were not awake, so we called her Rhaenys. I hope it's suitable."
Elia looked down at the brown little babe in her arms. Her daughter. Oberyn and Doran's niece. They would do their best to forget that here. She had her father's eyes-- her father's name.
She would make this concession, for the light in Rhaegar's eyes when he looked at the child they had made together. But Elia vowed then that she would oversee her education and upbringing to the letter.
"Is she sickly?"
Arthur shook his head. "Strong and healthy as can be, my lady."
Rhaenys yawned, and reached for her mother's long hair. Elia's heart swelled at the sight.
"It will do."
-----
They had arranged for a wet nurse, but Elia sent her off as soon as she could, declaring she would nurse her own child. The decision was met with ambivalence at court. Barristan Selmy explained to her that they were concerned that it would endanger the the health of little Rhaenys and weaken her mother. Elia didn't believe the explanation for a moment, though she thought Ser Barristan believed it, at least.
"They have never liked me, Ser," she said bitterly. "It is one more strange Dornish custom they have to hear about."
For his part, Rhaegar seemed to simultaneously marvel at his daughter and fear her. Though he had a little brother of his own that he had seen in infancy, and was no stranger to babes, he could often be found in her room, encouraging her to crawl and writing poetry about her yawn. It endeared Elia to her husband more than any of his ballads or feats at tourney.
And so it was good between them again, even if Rhaegar mysteriously disappeared whenever Rhaenys had a tantrum or was in a sulking mood.
Arthur was there for one of the worst, when Rhaenys threw all her toys out the window just before her second birthday, and screamed herself into exhaustion.
"There's that Targaryen blood," he said, bracingly, having tucked her the two year old princess into bed when she had exhausted herself and was sorry.
"It frightens me sometimes," Elia said honestly. "Not that my brother and I were particularly easy to raise, but we never dared yell at our mother. This blinding rage- I've only seen it before with..."
"The king," Arthur finished for her.
"I need Rhaegar at a time like this," Elia murmured, rubbing her temples. "She respects him more than me."
"That's not true," Arthur interrupted, but Elia held up her hand.
"She respects him more because she sees him less often. You can't deny he's a figure of awe to her."
"It should not be that way," he said darkly.
"But it is. And he's spoken of Viserys having a similar temper. I worry that she can see what her anger does to me."
Arthur was silent for a moment. "Empathy is important for children. I know you hate to seem weak, but I don't believe that is what Rhaenys sees when you flinch."
"Then what?" Elia said bitterly.
"I believe she sees her mother, who cares about her, and is sad when she's sad. I don't see her thinking any less of you for caring about her well being."
Carefully- dealing with her daughter had sapped her energy- Elia gripped the arms of her chair, and rose to kiss Arthur on the cheek. "Thank you. I don't know what I would do without you and Ashara by my side."
Elia could only truly rely on Rhaegar to appear in the evenings. After hesitance and awkwardness the first few years, he had begun to take to his marital duties with some enthusiasm. Their love would never shatter worlds, but there was some passion now, and it did make his failings easier to endure.
"Please," she said softly afterwards, her head resting on his chest, "spend more time with Rhaenys. She worships you."
Rhaegar kissed her softly. "I'm afraid I'll disappoint her."
"You're her father, and she's not yet three- you couldn't possibly." This was not entirely true, but Elia had learnt that sometimes talking Rhaegar into doing a thing required a little ego stroking.
"What does she like?"
Elia considered for a moment. "She doesn't have anyone her age to play with. She'd love a pet."
"What kind?"
Elia smiled. "I don't suppose you could find a kitten?"
Some days later, Rhaegar came to his daughter's chambers with a squirming ball of ball fur. Rhaenys squealed in delight, and came running.
"What do we say?" Elia reminded her daughter.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" The kitten flew out of Rhaenys' arms, and scampered under the table, where it watched the proceedings with yellow eyes. Rhaenys giggled, and kneeled on the floor to stare at it. "I'll name you... Balerion! The Black Dread!"
Rhaegar looked at Elia curiously. She shrugged. "It's her favorite story. You shouldn't have named her after one of Aerys the Conquerer's sister-wives if you didn't want her to become obsessed."
Rhaenys, listening attentively, pouted. "You will bring me a real dragon when I grow up, won't you father?"
Elia expected him to dash her hopes, but to her surprise, Rhaegar replied, "I have absolute faith that one will come to you."
Rhaenys cheered and crawled under the table after her new kitten.