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Love is Fire

and finger of Sun

- the last Song.

Part 02

„Thᥱ Dorᥒιshmᥲᥒ's ᥕιfᥱ ᥕᥲs ᥲs fᥲιr ᥲs thᥱ sᥙᥒ, ᥲᥒd hᥱr kιssᥱs ᥕᥱrᥱ ᥕᥲrmᥱr thᥲᥒ sρrιᥒg. Bᥙt thᥱ Dorᥒιshmᥲᥒ's bᥣᥲdᥱ ᥕᥲs mᥲdᥱ of bᥣᥲᥴk stᥱᥱᥣ, ᥲᥒd ιts kιss ᥕᥲs ᥲ tᥱrrιbᥣᥱ thιᥒg. Thᥱ Dorᥒιshmᥲᥒ's ᥕιfᥱ ᥕoᥙᥣd sιᥒg ᥲs shᥱ bᥲthᥱd, ιᥒ ᥲ voιᥴᥱ thᥲt ᥕᥲs sᥕᥱᥱt ᥲs ᥲ ρᥱᥲᥴh, Bᥙt thᥱ Dorᥒιshmᥲᥒ's bᥣᥲdᥱ hᥲd ᥲ soᥒg of ιts oᥕᥒ, ᥲᥒd ᥲ bιtᥱ shᥲrρ ᥲᥒd ᥴoᥣd ᥲs ᥲ ᥣᥱᥱᥴh. As hᥱ ᥣᥲყ oᥒ thᥱ groᥙᥒd ᥕιth thᥱ dᥲrkᥒᥱss ᥲroᥙᥒd, ᥲᥒd thᥱ tᥲstᥱ of hιs bᥣood oᥒ hιs toᥒgᥙᥱ, Hιs brothᥱrs kᥒᥱᥣt bყ hιm ᥲᥒd ρrᥲყᥱd hιm ᥲ ρrᥲყᥱr, ᥲᥒd hᥱ smιᥣᥱd ᥲᥒd hᥱ ᥣᥲᥙghᥱd ᥲᥒd hᥱ sᥙᥒg, "Brothᥱrs, oh brothᥱrs, mყ dᥲყs hᥱrᥱ ᥲrᥱ doᥒᥱ, thᥱ Dorᥒιshmᥲᥒ's tᥲkᥱᥒ mყ ᥣιfᥱ, Bᥙt ᥕhᥲt doᥱs ιt mᥲttᥱr, for ᥲᥣᥣ mᥱᥒ mᥙst dιᥱ, ᥲᥒd I'vᥱ tᥲstᥱd thᥱ Dorᥒιshmᥲᥒ's ᥕιfᥱ!"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fb9zEnIT93Y&index=72&list=PLdAi8KZrFoHkEstBWSNdeAD-e7fDvLY8B&t=0s

Longer and stronger waves beat the coast, they rattled against the sharp gravel, sounding like a warning sent directly from a rattlesnake to hiss jumping over boulders, from boulders to rocks, from rocks to sharp, individual stones; as if they were conquering the mighty towers of the castle; throwing himself blindly - tattered, as if to love, tearing out, with foamy lips on a dry bed, and dead exhausted, but behind them others fell, new ones rose, grew with an innumerable and screaming crowd of seaweed and algae.

Suddenly the wind hissed, swirled in the dust, and rushed like a young angry steed to cover the distant to the horizon the Old Town and King's Landing with pearl yarn, and thus the future of Elia of House Martell.

The sun, like an unnecessary actor in this melancholic scenery, hid behind a copper-colored cloud as if behind a curtain; the last rays tried to finish the act to the end, but it faded as if in slow dying, as if in a sinister warning and fortune-telling. A sullen shadow fell to the ground and covered the depths with a cloudy, dirty cloth in which the waters boiled more violently.

The roar of the water element grew more and more menacing, swelled like thunderous shouts and trumpets calling for battle; nevertheless, the sight and the sound, instead of frightening, aroused intoxication, like wine constantly poured, and sparkling in a cup, tumbling down with angry frenzy, with crimson hatred, that it is so objectively treated and poured from vessel to vessel - without reconsideration, that hit heads - and now the restless waters swayed in infinite beds, herds of huge waves licked from the depths, splashing into foamy splashes like arrowheads bristling ... a ray of glory - a female figure against whom the water tumult broke ...

What awaits me here?

Now that this land greets me so hostile, me who will become the queen of this land in the future. Queen ... The wife of a man who is a branch of sorrow and madness. I myself am crazy that I agreed to it! But what man does not do for the good of Essos and Westeros, the whole continent. Oh dio! No no; I have to be honest - I do it primarily for my own ambitions, because I want to! I am Elia, of the Martell family!

Unbowed,

Unbent,

Unbroken!

I come here to bring peace with power ... And to beat the old lion's nose! Ha, he wanted to see his daughter in the role of a princess, offering me a poor, crippled and clumsy baby - Tyrion as my future spouse. What a brilliant insult! Someone like me, who has an UNFRAVING attitude, does not forget the insults, but also the insults do not constitute wounds, do not affect their own self-esteem.

From the viper I will turn into a dragon! Who could be able to do this but a daughter of the family of the red sun? All near the viper to the dragon, both are reptiles, and who will bend them while they are UNBENDED?

And the letters .... Baelor's letters full of tenderness, longings and spells to hold back. No, I have to remain UNBENDED towards him, like Oberyn, who hasn't forgotten me for a week. Just like a baby! As if he could change his mind with pout. Well, yes ... My little brother thinks that even the heir to the throne is not worthy of me, and besides ... He is afraid for me. A fearless warrior, the famous Red Viper, one of the most dangerous man bears within him fear and fear, whose bodily vessel is me. Anxiety and fear. .. So inconsistent with our family motto. Do I feel fear? As a Dornish Princess? As a future duchess? Princess. How exactly did this happen?

Everything was happening outside of me. Targaryens are not denied; bene. And I am hoping for a better fortune for Dorne and all the Seven Kingdoms. I will shine like the sun in the firmament of a great family, a dynasty, creating governments and a country remembered in history, bene!

I cannot forget my plan.

❝Do your best to seduce and make Prince Rhaegar fall in love with you. Under the tender caress of your hand, he will be receptive to your commands - they said: my mother, Varys... ❝

Bene, catching my husband ━ is an art, keeping him by my side, hard work, but for someone from the Martell family, it's absolutely possible.

I have to think ... Rhaegar keeps sending me urgent letters! Sane ... madman?

His questions are only a mirror; only the man who asks them himself will give them to someone else.

Am I fearless or reckless? These are two sides of one vessel. To pour on one means to draw from the other.My envoy will leave with the royal merchant within a week. Both they cry at the thought of leaving paradise. But since you, Prince, cannot, or rather do not want to go out into the world, I'll send Dorne to you. On that day the sun will rise!

Who am I? I'm a girl a boy pulls his hair just to to get attention. You got what you wanted. What will the girl do?

My name is Mystey. My questions are as many as grains of sand. Only you, Dragon, don't know about it yet.

- Elia, time for us. We should be at King's Landing a long time ago.

We may not be on time, and any delay will be taken as an affront. Ashara's warm octave voice wrapped Elia's thoughts in a cheerful veil. The only human support a sunny princess could count on in a strange place. In King's Landing, the entourage of the future wife of Rhaegar was also to be joined by Ashara's brother - Ser Arthur Dayne, another familiar character with whom the young Dornishman had been emotionally connected since childhood, always treating him like a (impersonated) brother ... Although if things had turned out differently ... Elia still remembered the wonderful Sunspear tournament in which Arthur defeated all the other knights. To this day, she remembered Doran's words:

❝ The winner is the winner. Elia's hand is yours. ” No, ”her mother replied,” Ser Dayne, acting on behalf of her King and Prince. The sooner Elia agrees, the sooner we can meet Oberyn, who is in exile.

Arthur, the famous knight - the legendary Sword of the Morning!

Suddenly these two. If I am to survive there for years, I must build a strong party. It will not hinder, even seemingly win over Varys! Queen Rhaella ... It's my mother-in-law I fear more than Aerysa. The king is mad - it is well known and his unpredictability is certain, but the Queen ... Who will guess what blade is hidden by impeccable manners and an unwavering smile despite adversities? I will have to learn a lot from her; what to be or not to be. Rhaella is a shard of normality in the capital, who knows, maybe the only bastion of normality! May Rhaegar engage in it. It is one thing to be a mad father-in-law and another to be his wife! Oh dio; Rhaegar, get into your mother!

Rhaella, Varys, Ashara, Arthur ... Oberyn saw me with him ... Who knows ... If I had feelings about Arthur other than sisterhood? It's not time to think about it! I might as well have a similar view of a young lion. That's it, Ser Jaimie. It would be worth gaining his favor by delicately referring to the old days. However ... Each of them individually and combined together are not able to replace Doran and Oberyn. Common sense of the former and the courage, sometimes even the bravado of the younger brother, his tenacity, and the brotherly warm love of both of them are the only sources of happiness and security, apart from the great approval of his subjects. But it was in Dorne - a country fed with the colors of happiness and spontaneity; as if life itself began to sweat in its fullness; where my countrymen smelled of jasmine rain; and men, young people, throwers in the arcane of struggle and love prayed for as long as possible, so that in the colorful lampshade of life they could show a mosaic of temperament equal to that of elephant steeds carrying the heat of the midday sun ... , into the dust of spices, heat, sand ... But ... But ... Those are the long gone days, passed with the wind, moments of the sun have passed beyond the horizon. Now it's gone ...

- Elia, we're eagerly awaited. This is what you are waiting for ... Your Grace .- gently urged Lady Starfall's friend

- Awaited, that's it! We should drag this state of affairs in time for carrsim. What is expected is later more dear to us and closer to our heart, do you understand me, Ashara? Of course, it was a rhetorical question, I know perfectly well that you understand me - the princess laughed sharply.

- But now I would like a horse. I have to dispel some thoughts at a canter, the other at a canter. - she added with her signature sweet, gentle smile that beamed all over her face and her eyes the color of amber mocha.

The black mare scared off, jumping somewhere to the side, and suddenly a singing forest roared above the princess's head, just beyond the shaggy ferns, along a narrow path, the "wall" of virgin wilderness began; the forest, the garment of greenery and twigs of trees, so unlike cypresses and palms, citrus and olive groves, struck Elia with a velvet cap, not with the silk sari known to her from her native lands; he slapped his cheeks and shoulders. Various shades of green robes presented to Elia in their delicious craftsmanship; delighted with diversity and texture. Princessa absorbed these afterimages in order to build a reserve of strength from them, commemorating their majesty.

But now, while she could, while she still could, she wanted to lose herself in beauty. She spun the mare and, gently nudging her on both sides, gave the animal a signal to continue its gallop. A snowstorm rose from under the hoofs, so deceptively like sparks, the kind that smacks of a new idea, and those that can often turn out to be the source of conflict. The gold dust of the road rose around Elia. Gold dust ... The glory that will fall on the first gust of wind ...

Such a reflection did not occur to Elia, however. Her hot, southern nature, even made to love freedom - took over again this time. Regardless of the risks, she raced through her rather carelessly, like an unbridled element - even the element of sea waves, which she watched so much.

Presto! Presto! She did not pull the reins, she let herself be carried away by the crazy steed of the Martell stud, whose blood seemed as hot and rebellious as the blood of the princess who was riding her. The rush, the rustle of the wind above her head, tinnitus, and a smile of triumph on her lips - here she, the daughter of the principessa of Dorne, takes possession of the vast forest land she has been told so much about. Castello ... the majesty of nature. The peak suddenly stood in front of a dense, dense wall of greenery, as if in front of a wall of a fortified castle, and, wandering a moment across the vast clearing, turned back onto the path alone.

- Tired? Si. Tired… - Elia replied, stroking her damp, darkened neck, talking to the mare tenderly, actually being tired herself. The poor health made itself felt this time, during Martell's favorite horse rides; dark spots danced, whirling mockingly and fiercely in front of her eyes, her breathing becoming more and more torn and nervous ...

- Back to the highway, carissima. Elia said softly, as if with some resignation in her voice.

The mare shook its head defiantly, but there was only one path, barely visible in the forest thicket; She was returning, then, along the same path that had led her mistress, deep into the forest, and the would-be amazon was already returning to herself for good.

Westeros. Her mistress looked around. Thus were these lands, hitherto unknown to her; at every step they seemed to be proud of their majesty and power. But the deputies spoke not only of the humming, impenetrable forests and numerous settlements. They praised the magnificent castellas of the nobles towering over the emerald meadows, spoke of as beautiful as the castles of the Dornish rulers - the former royal seat on Dragonstone, they praised the rose gardens of Highgarden and the cleverness of the fortress in the far, frosty and aurora of mysteries - North, assuring that Winterfell, the seat of mysteries of the Stark family, although it is only a building, it seems to be a living organism, responsible for itself. She remembered how Varys, putting on her finger a wedding ring with a large coat of arms depicting the emblems of the Targaryen and Martells, all gold, encrusted with rubies, obsidian and amethysts, had not concealed that she was being married to one of the most hopeful kings, distinguished in history from his own ancestors and the history of all seven kingdoms. Whether the hopes placed on him were to prove illusory - this Elia was yet to find out. It is not difficult to speak well of someone who is far away. And the love of subjects can be a successful theatrical hoax under terror.

At present, however, things were different. Here are now columns of green trees in various shades parting before her, as recently, before embarking on a long journey, crowds parted in the streets of the Sunspear and Water Gardens, shouting: "Evviva la principessa Elia", "Bellissima principessa Elia ! Sun! Our Sun, the Sun of Dorne. "

This was the case with the solemn re-parties (where the prince was not present, and the ceremony was to be repeated in the capital), but she remembers how before her mother walked with her the entire castle with three-story towers, decorated with the Martells' coats of arms - a red sun pierced by a spear, on an orange background.

For Elia, ever since she could remember, it always seemed that this sun was eternally suffering from something, or maybe someone ... Combined with the ancestral motto of her family: „Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken” - the sun that the Martells legitimized - seemed to suffer honorably in the name of a higher idea.

Immediately, she remembered her strange moments in life ... After all, everyone called her the Sun of Dorne, which warmed the heart, but there were moments when Elia shuddered at this nickname more than once, just like now - after all, the star of the morning is pierced with a spear, and she herself was called the sun, in turn the images of memories, bizarre experiences suddenly became alive and in no way can they be driven away from this persistent thought, which took root for good and seemed to mockingly confirm that the fate itself would strike her with a "spear". Bad flashbacks once again faced her alive.

The first reminiscence ...

Let's start from the beginning. In order to begin this reminiscence, we must go on the journey of my life, or rather its seeds, and to a country that seemed to be a sandstone lace - to Dorne. The air smelled of spices and sea breezes, and each dawn was a dowry of the beauty of the eternal sun. As soon as it emerged from sleep, life appeared on the horizon with the East. The birds were singing their songs, the Dornish people were able to enjoy life like no other.

The sky was flooded with the blood of the setting sun, just as blood flooded the snow-white marble floors of the palace. Labor started too early. Nobody knew what was causing it. My mother's nervousness, the bothersome heat, or my curiosity about the world, which in later years brought with it such and not other effects. Before the sun went to sleep, I was born prematurely. The Maesters did not expect me or my mother to survive.

- You have a daughter, Lord.

- Daughter?

- Yes. The girl is very weak.

- And the mother? Will she live?

- The gods know. The health of your spouse after childbirth is in a critical condition. For a moment we even wondered who to save - the child or the mother.

- Of course my mother! Who needs a girl. If it were another son.

Already then my life was decided. The Lord Father himself decided that I could be dead. Fate, however, is a cruel toy in the hands of the gods, because I have lived long enough to know the different tastes and colors of life. I would curse the day of my coming into the world if it weren't for the Lady Mother saying that women give life. They are the key to the dynasty. Thanks to them, alliances and families are formed. As on the chessboard, the queen is the queen - she plays a significant role. What was my fault that turned my role in life into a drama, a tragedy? Or maybe just like the sun was supposed to wake up from Dusk till Dawn? Whatever it was, my life was still indifferent to the Lord Father

- Maybe she'll live for a few years. He can also live to adulthood. Little Elia's fate is unknown, unfamiliar.

- You say the strangers? Therefore, would it not be better to give the girls to the Silent Sisters? Even if he lives, it doesn't look like he'll do anything significant. Who would she be? Do you imagine her as a princess or a queen? Anyway, suppose she grows into beauty, her health prevents her from fulfilling the duties of a wife. Wouldn't it be better to spare her suffering? She is so tiny. She will remember neither her parents nor Dorne. She won't know herself.

When I lived to be three years old by my name, and the rainy season came on Dorne, a ghostly specter appeared among the rain and gray. Above my crib there was an ugly figure, unknown and fearful. In fact, it was none other than the Silent Sister. Since I did not know her and she was a stranger to me, I cried out with a scream as great as my child's lungs could hold. The woman spoke gently and reassuringly that ... her name was probably Melisandre and something about the fact that she once had a daughter herself. She spoke very emotionally about the fact that she is afraid of cold and prefers firepower. Despite my protests, she lifted me up, apparently wanting to take me somewhere. I know for sure that by chance - whether it was my child's hand that pulled her hood out of curiosity, or it fell by itself - I saw her face, strangely shaped like a heart. Unless it was a fantasy of such a young mind, her hair looked like rust, ruby. They say - that whoever looks in the face of the Silent Sister, a bad fate awaits him, and that he has come true, to the letter. But are you sure for sure? The incident with the Silent Sister was the first of such bizarre events in my life. I don't know what happened to her and the guards who took me from her hands. I have never met or seen them afterwards.

Another rertospection

When I reached the 7th day of my name, while playing with my siblings, I noticed a man I didn't know. Though he looked like one of the Dornishman merchants, he wasn't. His long hair and an equally long beard melted into one with the linen garments. His face was tree bark as pale as ivory. The mysterious wanderer nodded at me, and I ran to him, with a child's innate curiosity.

- Hello grateful sunshine, Sun of Dorne.

- Who you are?

- Nobody. Nothing for many, someone for the few. The Faceless Man.

Later, he showed me a mysterious oil lamp, on which, with skill and taste, there was a script that I did not know, resembling loops and loops. Białowłosy claimed that the lamp was inhabited by a being who lived there, fulfilling our wishes, and its power was unlimited. I couldn't believe it, and the lamp seemed quite ordinary to me.

- It is quite ordinary, how can someone with unlimited power fit in an ordinary oil lamp, and also live in it? -the girl asked

- Smart girl! This lamp is just like you, girl, seemingly ordinary, but only seemingly. You are like a creature trapped in it - you are imprisoned by the crust of your earthly, mortal body. I have a fairy tale prepared for you today, a legend that seems to suit you ... There used to be two moons in the sky, but one of them wandered too close to the sun and burst from the heat. A thousand, thousands of dragons flowed out of it and drank the sun's fire. That's why dragons breathe fire. One day the second moon will also kiss the sun, and then it will break and the dragons will return.

- I wish that when I grow up my master husband would love me with the power of a thousand suns. I wish I was the sun for him. And he could be my moon. Dragons should exist only in the ornament of the Sun.

- A bold sentence for a seven-year-old - the storyteller noted approvingly. - However ... Be careful what you wish for, Princess, because it will come true! The Martell's hallmark is a sun pierced by a spear. So maybe the sun turns into a heart pierced by a love arrow? Would you have to sacrifice so much?

- Sacrifice is the highest form of heroic deeds, though nobody says it aloud.

- You amaze me with a pesky ray. Therefore, I am reminded of another story, please listen to it, because someday winter will come to these lands. (...) "One hundred days and a hundred nights he worked on the third blade until the weapon glowed white in the holy fire. Then he called his wife. He said to her, "Nissa Nissa", for that was her name, "bare your breast and know that I love you most of all things in the world." She did, I don't know why, and Azor Ahai pierced her beating heart with a smoking sword. It is said that her cry of sorrow and ecstasy left a crack in the face of the moon. But her blood, her soul, and all her strength, all turned to steel. This is the story of the forging of the Lightbringer, the Red Sword of Heroes.

- You can see Nissa Nissa really loved. She is a heroine and I think that in the future I would be ready to sacrifice myself also for my relatives.

-Would you like this? - the old man asked enigmatically, knowing well what he was doing.

- Be careful what you wish for, was the warning. He looked at the princess sharply, apparently already seeing Nissa Nissa's successor in her.

- Why not?

-Just blood and fire - he replied.

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