#elia 001

[raviofthesun]

setting: dorne, after they depart the west back home, tensions are high with new valyria and the marches ; starter for @eliaofdxrne

context: the two siblings have never been particularly close, given elia's feel displaced for a while, and ravi having been in braavos, not very involved under mors' rule.

the second son of sunspear had not often rattled his thoughts aloud, for if he did now, it would likely fill novels and novels to be set upon a shelf. it were strategic, all that had occurred, from the moment that the arrow pierced the former queen of the seven kingdoms, to now, it had all been carefully planned. though in truth, none could truly plan for war. ravi knew the marcher lords would rise up further, but he wondered if their dragon king would come to their defense, given the tensions between the stormlords and valyrians.

he were set to depart for the marches again, to lead and fight alongside his fellow dornishmen. having been trained by the sword of the morning himself, ravi would not easily back down from a fight, and knew his hand was needed in things. eyes scanned the floor, light from stained glass windows casting rays of colors upon marbled halls. he only glanced up to see his sister walking in his direction, too.

ravi offered a small smile, placing his hands behind his back as he stopped, giving a nod of his head. "elia." he stated kindly, neutrally. in truth, he wasn't quite sure how to connect with his youngest sister. the years seemed to be taken from them in their youth, as they did not really grow around each other for long. now? now mors was dead, and ravi thought it important for them to reunite, but how? what was she like? what were her interests? "i'm sorry i've not gotten to speak to you much. i'm sure you understand things have taken my attention, but that is no excuse to not check in on my sister."

[visxionaries]

who: @eliaofdxrne when and where: the morning multiple courts are departing from the land of the west and casterly rock, cedric tyrell finds himself crossing paths with elia martell, something he has not done in over a year at this point in time. context: years ago, when cedric was prince of dorne and his older brother alaric was king, cedric found himself receiving a letter from sunspear - citing support for dorne to open up its borders, and for the reach to be the first of their alliances.

the morning sun cast long, golden fingers over the sprawling stone walls of casterly rock, gilding its austere grandeur with warmth as courts prepared to depart. banners fluttered in the gentle breeze, their colors vivid against the pale sky, signaling farewells and departures. cedric tyrell, king of the reach, stood at the edge of a bustling courtyard, his vivid blue eyes scanning the commotion with the detached amusement of a man used to chaos. banners rippled in the crisp breeze, and the clatter of hooves on cobblestones mingled with voices giving orders and farewells.

despite the crown that weighed heavily upon his curls, there was a lightness to his stance, a languid confidence in the way his hands rested at his sides, somewhat lost in thought as he spoke closely to the courtiers that surrounded him - deciding their final route back through the rolling hills of highgarden. then he saw her. princess elia martell moved through the crowd with a grace that seemed untouched by the clamor around her. her dusky skin caught the sun’s glow, and the bright colors of dorne’s fashion—rich gold—set her apart from the sea of muted tones. she hadn’t noticed him yet, which gave cedric a moment to study her.

it had been over a year since their paths last crossed, and yet, time seemed to have left her unchanged, save for an air of steel beneath her poise. with an easy smile curving his lips, cedric approached, weaving through courtiers and attendants with an almost feline grace. his voice, low and smooth, broke the distance between them. "princess elia," he began, his tone warm, as if addressing an old friend rather than a figure of foreign royalty, though he were careful to place emphasis upon her title. from what he could remember, she had always appreciated such a thing; an emphasis upon importance.

"it seems the sands of dorne have found their way to the lion’s den. or, is it the other way around?" he inclined his head, not a bow, but an acknowledgment—just enough deference to tease without being disrespectful. now he thought about it, he had little idea of just when and where the letters had stopped coming; which of them had ceased the quill first. it had started before the damage done to the alliance they had envisioned in ink first. "it is good to see you," he continued, his tone light, though his vivid hues watched her reaction carefully.

"after...what, a year? perhaps more?"

[myriamas]

who: @eliaofdxrne when and where: a feast celebrating the return of the dornish court back to sunspear, the two ladies come across one another for the first time since myriam remarried; the last time they properly spoke was at the cremation of prince mors martell, myriam's former husband and elia's oldest brother.

myriam leaned against zahra’s shoulder, her laughter low and honeyed as she lifted her goblet of rum to her lips. the emerald silk of her gown shimmered in the flickering candlelight, its intricate gold embroidery catching every movement. she had felt the stares all evening, the whispers too—her remarriage had been the topic of the season at one point, after all—but myriam bore it all with an ease honed over years of courtly scrutiny. and then they went to war, and people had other things to deal with. her eyes scanned the room lazily until they caught sight of a familiar figure in a gown of deep orange and crimson.

elia martell.

myriam let out a soft hum, her lips curving faintly as she passed the goblet to zahra. “and there she is,” she murmured in zahra's ear, her voice rich with amusement and a trace of taunting before she even opened her mouth to speak, “the little princess.” she began to disentangled herself from wrapped around the frame of her closest companion, smoothing her skirts before crossing the room as the two women's gazes met from across the heat of the candles and the swirl of the music. she had no issue with anything in her appearance or her manner as she wandered directly up to her former sister in law; there was nothing in her appearance that made it appear as though they were once kin, or that she was once a martell.

a complete fracture was obvious by the way she had presented herself this night; isn't that what she had always wanted anyway?

“well elia,” myriam said, her voice warm enough to be polite, though the sharp edge beneath it was unmistakable. it always was these days, for it had been years since they were able to ask the distaste for one another. she knew not exactly when her image of the woman became disillusioned, but somewhere along the years, the close proximity had resulted in growing tension rather than familiarity. “it has been too long. for a moment i was wondering if you had forgotten you have a niece.” for a large amount of time it had been the two of them bringing youth to the halls of sunspear; considering ravi had been away in starfall for so many a year. he was back now, at least.

"how is the family?" she asked, her question half in earnest - for years, she had been the dutiful daughter in law she had always been prepped to be when the wedding bangles turned to handcuffs, attending to her father in laws meetings with maesters and gurus regarding his health. listening dutifully to her mother in laws advice regarding child rearing, or keeping the family together. being open, being homely...remembering that despite it all, her role was to provide comfort and relief. and yet, there was also a part which asked to see elia's reaction.

[fishermansknight]

setting: highgarden, the verdant concord. walys thinks he's found devani, and ends up running into aprincess of dorne ; starter for @eliaofdxrne

the sun poured through the arched windows of highgarden’s lesser hall, painting long golden stripes across the mosaic floor and the flower-carved columns. poets and philosophers mingled like bees drunk on their own cleverness, the air thick with lavender, ink, and pride. it was the verdant concord in full swing, an ever-churning feast of art, thought, and declarations made far too loudly for their actual brilliance.

walys had no business, or rather, interest, in being here. but there’d been wine, and a bet, and now he was standing beneath a mural of the maiden looking faintly embarrassed to be in such company, scanning the crowd for a familiar shape. and there, thank the gods or the wine, was devani. at least, he was sure it was. same dark hair. same dornish silks. sitting alone at a table with one elbow propped and her chin tilted like she was suffering through a lecture on the spiritual symbolism of cabbages.

walys strolled over, smirking like a man about to commit a small crime. “i swear by the crone’s crooked toes,” he said, voice low and grinning, “if that old goat up there compares the rhythms of river trade to the cycles of love one more time, i’m standin’ up and telling him he’s never been in love or on a boat.”

he dropped into the seat beside her with a dramatic sigh, already halfway through his next quip. “and you, sit—”

she turned, and it wasn’t devani. it was the dornish princess.

walys blinked. then sat back with a slow, dawning sort of horror that had no place in a face like his. “ah,” he said, clearly scrambling, “well. you’re not devani.” the knight cleared his throat, thinking of a way to quickly backtrack should a dornish guard standing nearby that he only just noticed, gut him where he sat.. “lovely silks, though. threw me off. might be a compliment. might be my imminent death. hard to say.” he gave a lopsided grin. “should i go, or have i earned a pardon for bein’ a fool in a room full of fools?”