Game Of Thrones: The Dragon Targaryen

The capital had certainly changed in the time she'd been gone.

Flea Bottom was mostly gone, half of the once densely populated section of King's Landing nothing more than charred buildings and blackened streets. The smell of smoke and, more disturbingly, burned flesh still clung to the area like a fog of destruction. Bones, some being pulled from the rubble and others from a massive funeral pyre, were still being disposed of by teams of hard-hearted men, more than Elia Martell could count. The city, even this long after the Lannister attack, was disturbingly quiet for King's Landing, the normal hustle and bustle, while still present, much subdued.

"My Queen," came the soft but firm voice of the man in white armor beside her. "I don't like the idea of you being here."

Elia turned to face Arthur Dayne of the Kingsguard, Sword of the Morning. His sudden appearance at Dragonstone had thrown the Princess of Dorne for quite a loop, as did her old friend's insistence that she board the sleek, fast longboats out of his ancestral seat of Starfall. Ser Manfred had barked half of the Royal Navy into action before the shooting star of Dayne was sighted on the sail of the sleek sh.i.p.s the Daynes used to navigate the Torentine River, and even then he had ordered the galleys to the ready, despite the mere ten small sh.i.p.s approaching Dragonstone's eighty warsh.i.p.s.

Ser Arthur had greeted her at the gates of the Dragonmont, the greatsword Dawn, said to have been forged from a fallen star by Arthur's long dead ancestors, strapped across his back. For a fleeting moment upon seeing the silver hair of her handmaiden's brother Elia had believed Rhaegar had returned, but the white armor that immediately followed the silver locks into her vision put rest to that notion immediately. Ashara had nearly leapt into her brother's arms, the two almost unfairly attractive siblings having always been close, but Elia had hesitated. Arthur was Rhaegar's closest friend and confidant, having disappeared along with her husband shortly before the Stark girl had disappeared.

It didn't take a genius to connect the dots between those two occurrences. Elia had known Arthur had played a hand in Lyanna's disappearance for quite some time, and whatever their previous friendship, she hadn't been able to forget that. In truth, she wasn't sure she wanted to.

Apparently, Ser Manfred hadn't been able to forget it either; he had seemed to take a personal slight against Arthur Dayne on Elia's behalf. While the newest knight of the Kingsguard gave very few damns about very few things, he did seem to like the Princess of Dorne he had been ordered to protect, and to Manfred that seemed to mean giving the man who had played a part in her husband's folly absolute hell.

"I don't like the idea of a f.u.c.k.i.n.g knight giving the Queen orders," came the rough voice of Ser Manfred, glaring openly at the taller and much more handsome Dornishman. "It was one thing that she agreed to return to King's Landing, despite Aelor's letter saying to stay on the island. It's another for you to buggering order her around once she's here."

"The King's orders overrule the Hand's, Ser," the normally calm and subdued Dayne nearly spat out, having dealt with Manfred's nearly constant verbal barrage practically since he'd stepped off of the longboats at Dragonstone. A petty part of Elia found it highly amusing. "The King ordered me to escort the Queen and her children back to King's Landing."

"They were safer at Dragonstone."

"That is not your decision to make, Ser Manfred. You are a Kingsguard. You serve the King."

Manfred snorted. "I serve the royal family. All of them, from the babe to the Dowager Queen you let the Mad King ****."

Arthur whirled on Manfred, violet eyes like his sister's—like Aelor's, like Rhaegar's—blazing in fury. "I follow the King's orders, as will you. My duty is to protect and serve the King unquestioningly, something I have always done. It is now your duty as well."

Manfred's scowl was only deepening. "My buggering duty is to protect the entire f.u.c.k.i.n.g family, something I've been doing while you've been hiding who the f.u.c.k knows where with a girl you helped steal."

The rage on Arthur Dayne's attractive face prompted Elia to finally put a stop to the bickering. "Peace, Sers. You are brothers in arms now, no matter your thoughts on the matter." Arthur grudgingly turned to face her again, Manfred giving a snort of derision and contempt that had Elia barely concealing her smile. "As for your concerns, Arthur, this is my city as much as the King's. These people were mine as much as his."

"These people are dead," Manfred said bluntly. Manfred says everything bluntly. "Nothing can change that."

"You should address the Queen as Your Grace." Arthur put in, clearly having lost all patience with the vulgar but loyal boulder of a man.

"You should bugger the f.u.c.k off."

"I said peace, Manfred," Elia cut in. "Whatever your thoughts on Arthur or his on you, he is as concerned for my safety as you are." Elia sighed. "And he is partially correct. It is time to return to the Keep."

As they rode, her Kingsguard knights flanking her and a retinue of twenty men-at-arms spread behind them, Elia couldn't help but see the pain, weariness and oftentimes anger on the faces of the smallfolk as they watched the Targaryen banner floating in the air. Damage from the battle was still visible all around, from partially burnt buildings to the hard glint in the eyes of children who had seen too much too early. Elia felt a pressure building in her throat and sinuses, fighting off tears as she saw a boy no older than Viserys with a barely healing cut from a blade across his tiny face.

The image of his young, ancient appearance stayed in her mind until long after they had dismounted in the Red Keep. Ser Manfred and Ser Arthur followed her shoulder to shoulder throughout the halls of the keep. The hallway was barely wide enough to hold the massive expanse of Manfred Darke's shoulders on his own, much less beside another armored individual, but neither man would stand for letting the other follow the Queen any closer than they themselves were. When the trio neared the Queens chambers, Elia drew to a stop and faced them, both standing a bit straighter under her scrutiny. "Ser Manfred, I have to ask you to watch over Aegon for now. Ser Arthur and I have much to discuss." The big man's scowl deepened but he turned to obey. "Don't worry, Manfred," the Queen called after him. "You're still my favorite."

Elia knew by the flash of apprehension that crossed Arthur's face that the knight of the Kingsguard was fully aware that this wasn't going to be a pleasant conversation for him.

To his credit he attempted to lighten the mood as soon as they had entered the Queen's chambers, Elia striding to take a chair in her solar as he spoke while doing her best not to stare at the section of floor where she had been informed the butchered bodies of Tanara Vaith and Jonothor Darry had lain. "I don't see how you can tolerate—much less like—that brute of a knight."

Elia took a seat, smoothing her dress as she sank into the cushioned chair before turning her gaze on Arthur. She didn't offer the knight of the Kingsguard the chance to sit down, something that clearly wasn't lost on the Sword of the Morning. "That brute of a knight would give his life for me without a moment's hesitation. For me, not just the king. Manfred would die for me or Aelor, for Aegon or Rhaenys, for Rhaella or Viserys; and he doesn't even like Viserys. The man's loyalty is to the Royal Family, not just its head. To a bloodline, not one man."

Arthur looked to the ground with a sigh, clasping his hands behind his back as he prepared for the berating that was sure to come. "I know you are hurt, Elia. I do not blame you for being so."

Elia waited a heartbeat for him to continue but the Sword of the Morning's mouth remained closed, prompting a scoffing laugh to escape the Princess of Dorne's throat. "That's it? I suppose it's more than I got from your closest companion, His Grace Rhaegar Targaryen." Arthur said nothing in his King's defense, which suited Elia just fine considering she had plenty more to say on her own. "I know we were never in love, but our marriage was a happy one. Why did he throw it away? Why did he throw it away without at least a word of warning to his wife, or at least a bloody letter?"

Arthur did open his mouth to reply this time but Elia waved him away, knowing that nothing the Sword of the Morning could say would make much difference. He wasn't Rhaegar. Any excuses he had for the King of the Iron Throne, however reasonable they might be—though Elia doubted any answer could be reasonable in this situation—wouldn't matter to her. "Never mind. You are sworn to secrecy or honor bound to silence or some other chivalric excuse men use to lie to women. You are not Rhaegar, and you are not responsible for his actions; you are responsible for your own." Elia let her rising anger bleed into her glare. "And since you are responsible for your actions, you will answer this question honestly." Arthur looked up to meet her gaze, raising an eyebrow. "Did the Stark girl come willingly?"

The Sword of the Morning's lips quirked up in the lightest of smiles. "Of all the things you could ask, that is your question? Concern for Lyanna?"

"I wouldn't call it concern," Elia responded coldly, although it certainly could be called concern. It was one thing if Lyanna Stark had willingly eloped with Elia's husband. If Rhaegar had taken her against her will—a thought that would at one time have been inconceivable of her husband but in light of recent events seemed damn near likely—it was a completely different issue. "Consider it curiosity as to whether I should be furious at both the King and the girl or just one of them."

Arthur shook his head ever so slightly. "Do you really think Rhaegar capable of such an atrocity? Do you truly believe me capable of aiding him in it?"

Elia held his gaze. "I don't know what to think anymore, Arthur. Now answer me."

The Sword of the Morning stared for a moment longer before looking away with another sigh. "Yes, Lyanna came willingly. We did not abduct her as the Starks claim."

"Claimed. Half of the Starks are dead now, thanks to the chain of events you and my husband set off." Arthur grimaced, his gaze dropping to the ground again. At least he has the good graces to be ashamed of some of the things he has helped in. That is much more than Rhaegar ever offered.

The knowledge that Rhaegar wasn't holding Lyanna Stark captive lifted a weight the size of the Seven Kingdoms off of Elia's shoulders. While the hurt and anger was still very much there and in likelihood would be for the rest of her life, at least Rhaegar hadn't stooped so low as to hold an innocent young girl against her will. Whatever his reasons for the sudden betrayal, at least he hadn't taken complete leave of his once good character.

The thought of Rhaegar's shadowy motives brought up a whole other question, one Elia hadn't asked yet due to Ser Manfred's nearly constant company. While she was very thankful for and touched by the short giant's protectiveness, his presence tended to make Arthur keep answers and explanations to himself for the sake of the King he served. "Why are we really back in King's Landing, Arthur?"

"The King commanded it."

Elia scoffed again. "Yes, I realize Rhaegar commanded it. I'm asking why. And, maybe more pressing to my mind, I'm asking why he commanded it while letting Aelor believe we were to remain at Dragonstone."

Arthur still hadn't looked at her again. "How do you know Aelor isn't aware of the King's plans?"

"Because Aelor wrote me saying we were to remain at Dragonstone for the remainder of the war. And then, low and behold, you show up a few days later with another letter—nay, a mere note,one that wasn't even addressed to me—from Rhaegar ordering my children and I to the capital. Aelor doesn't keep secrets from me, and since he didn't mention returning to King's Landing in his first letter after the attack or the ones since, it means he doesn't know."

Arthur raised an eyebrow knowingly as he finally met her eyes again. "You still keep a close correspondence with your husband's brother I see."

Elia's response had quite a bit more bite to it than normal, mainly thanks to the odd way Arthur's offhand comment made her stomach flutter. "Do not change the subject, Arthur Dayne."

The Sword of the Morning shrugged nonchalantly, though his face flashed no small amount of uncertainty. "I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I mean I don't know. I don't know how the King knew where you would be, I don't know why he was so adamant that I return you here, and I don't know why he's keeping Aelor in the dark about it all. Rhaegar refused to give me a reason either. He just abruptly ordered me to take longboats and escort you to King's Landing from Dragonstone."

Elia furrowed her brow in confusion. "Were you already at Starfall? Is that where you're holding the Stark girl?"

Arthur's disconcerted expression increased. "No. She's in Dorne, true enough, but not near my childhood home."

"It would have taken you weeks to sail from the Elbow to Dragonstone." Elia's confusion and discomfort grew as another comment of Arthur's sank in. "Wait a minute. If Rhaegar was still with you, if he gave you the orders himself, how did he know we would be…It was Aelor, not the King,who arranged our evacuation in case the city were attacked, he and Varys and Ser Manfred. How did Rhaegar have any idea…"

Arthur's eyes, normally so completely confident in himself and trusting in Rhaegar Targaryen, held the same confusion and disquiet that Elia knew was reflected in her own. "I don't know, Elia. I was sailing from Dorne when the attack on King's Landing even transpired. Truth be told I was as shocked to find you on Dragonstone as you were to find me."

Elia slumped back into her chair, a certainly unqueenly thing to do but one she felt was more than warranted at the moment. Her mind raced at this new influx of—impossible—information. "That makes no sense, Arthur."

The knight of the Kingsguard nodded. "I know, Your Grace. I am as disconcerted as you."

Elia rose to her feet suddenly. "No, Arthur, this is impossible. There is now way for Rhaegar to have known where we were or how we got there when he gave you your orders."

Arthur shrugged. "But he did. You were there, just as he said you would be." Arthur took a few steps towards her, leaning in and lowering his voice although they both knew that would do no good in the Red Keep were someone motivated enough to eavesdrop on their conversation. "We both know of Rhaegar's past…insights."

Elia matched his tone, any lingering resentment towards the Sword of the Morning for his role in Rhaegar's a.d.u.l.tery temporarily forgotten. "I know, but this…this is inconceivable. Targaryen's have a history of visions, yes, but they are supposedly no more than dreams, vague images that can be interpreted a thousand different ways. They aren't premonitions of occurrences weeks before they take place."

Arthur Dayne shrugged again. "We've always known Rhaegar has an otherworldly aspect to him at times, and we've always known he's rarely ever forthcoming with whatever 'apparitions' he does receive." The Sword of the Morning leaned back slightly, violet orbs as concerned as her own black ones. "I'm not saying that was the case, Elia; but nothing else makes any sense to me."

Elia took a long, calming breath. "Did he mention anything else? Are there any other orders?"

Arthur hesitated slightly. "No. He asked me to bring you, Aegon and Rhaenys to King's Landing. He made no mention of Queen Rhaella or Prince Viserys, which is why I was willing to let them stay on Dragonstone under the protection of your uncle and the remaining fleet." Arthur hesitated again, fighting a battle with himself that he lost in short order. "Actually, he did mention one thing. He told me to protect you."

"That is your duty as it is, Arthur."

"No Your Grace; he asked me to protect you. You in particular."

Elia felt fear blossom in the pit of her stomach, and the impossibilities of the situation coupled with Rhaegar's cryptic orders stoked it even more. "Why?"

The Sword of the Morning shook his head slowly, not even attempting to mask the grave concern and worry in his violet eyes. "I don't know, Your Grace. I truly don't know."