AN:
Don't forget power stones.
...
"Oh nonsense, It's you who needs to eat more you skinny boy." her mother laughed, but the sound was raspy, and Elia saw through the fabric of her dress that her torso was as thin as her arms. Elia could feel her stomach doing somersaults in her chest as her mother approached.
"I… Mother I brought Callum to see you, Lady Joanna's son."
...
"Oh, Joanna is here?" her mother perked up slightly, looking back and forth wildly, before her eyes settled onto Callum beside Elia, standing there awkwardly. "Joanna, I nearly didn't recognize you, you're so small!" Callum paled as the Princess of Dorne slipped out of her son's grip, practically throwing herself onto the boy in a hug. Elia wasn't sure what to do as the boy seemed to freeze up in panic. Elia's gaze flicked to Doran, but he looked just as stunned as she felt.
"Er… Princess Ennella I'm Callum, remember? We met before at Casterly Rock."
"Oh, yes, I remember!" her mother said, and for a moment Elia had hoped they'd be able to resolve this quickly. "You've told me so much about the Rock Joanna! You used to say you'd spirit me away there one day, you sweet, sweet girl." the Princess of Dorne took the boy's face in her pale, thin hands. "You're still so lovely you know, when I look at you like this I remember when we used to…"
Elia blanched more and more as she heard the change in her mother's tone, and the wide-eyed terror on Callum's face made it clear he heard it too, especially as she leaned in towards him, nearly kissing him.
The seven had mercy though, and as she was barely brushing his skin, she stopped, suddenly sagging against him. For a moment, Elia's heart stopped too, until she heard the light, raspy sound of her mother's breaths.
"Elia… Prince Doran, would one of you please get your mother off of me?" Callum's voice was tight and high-pitched, his skin still pale as Mother's forehead pressed against his. "If I move. She will fall."
Doran, and thank the seven for her brother, quickly stepped forward and lifted her mother off of the boy, sho shuddered plainly, his eyes shut as he held his elbows tightly.
Elia wasn't feeling particularly well herself, she found the bench next to her in the entry hall, and promptly say down. She had nothing to say. There was nothing to say. Her mind felt like a mud pit.
Doran, once again, proved to be at least a little more put together, holding their sleeping mother in his arms, he turned towards Elia's betrothed. "Are you alright Callum?" he asked, though the boy plainly wasn't.
"I… well… I…" Callum stammered. "Maybe after a bath?" he asked more than told, after which, he promptly fell on the floor, blinking.
Elia could empathize.
That was a hell of a way to learn about their mothers.
...
( Doran Martell POV )
When Mother finally went, she did at least go easy.
Small mercies, Doran supposed.
There was no wailing and screaming, and no thrashing about. No, she simply went to sleep at night, two days after they'd returned from King's Landing, and in the morning she never woke up. Maester Rodric said that the Milk of Poppy had killed her, or rather that her body had wasted to the extent that she couldn't handle the drug anymore. Doran was glad enough for that because he couldn't imagine the torture she would have gone through without that lovely poison to comfort her last few days alive.
That had been a week ago.
Doran had seen the body in the early hours of the morning, wept at his mother's side, and been done with it.
Except he'd never really be done with it.
"Husband,"
Doran breathed out through his nose as he heard Mellario speak beside him, her hand curling around his in a gesture of comfort, but he had a hole in his heart now. A hole in his heart and his mother's crown settling uneasily onto his head. He grimaced at the thought.
"Husband, your wife is asking for your attention," Mellario murmured, unwilling to leave him to his thoughts, she tugged on his arm and he turned his head to face her.
Mellario was beautiful. The Norvosi woman had captured his heart years and years ago and held onto it quite well ever since, and now she was more beautiful than ever, carrying their child in her belly, quite far along now. He let himself smile, and the pain eased, just a bit, as she guided his hand onto that belly. "I suppose I ought to give her a bit of it then," Doran said quietly. "What troubles my lovely wife this morning, or my princess consort now, I suppose."
"You Westerosi and your titles." Mellario snorted but gave him a smile in turn. "I was thinking it would be good to retreat to the Water Gardens, for the next month or two, that is." She gave a quiet glance down at her belly. "They're much more comfortable than Sunspear…"
Doran nodded, it would be good to have Mellario give birth in the calmer, more pleasant of the two palaces of House Nymeros Martell, only… "I would not be able to accompany you," he said quietly. The duties of his new title, Prince of Dorne, he couldn't cast them aside so readily.
"I will not be able to leave until all of my vassals have renewed their oaths to me, and to house Martell." It was a critical matter whenever a High Lord died in the Seven Kingdoms, the first thing their heir needed to do was invite all of their vassals to renew their oaths, lest territory slip away, or else they demand some great price for their loyalty at a later date.
Mellario sighed, rolling her eyes. "I suppose my Husband loves me less than his kingdom." she pouted, though she still smiled. "Well, as long as you rush to my side at once upon the back of the fastest horse in Dorne once your task is done, I won't be too put out."
"I'll bring you a Rose when I do," Dorne promised, kissing her gently, before getting up. "Now though, it's time I get to running that kingdom of mine," he said, clambering out of bed and moving to freshen up at the basin on one side of the Crown Prince's chambers. That was another thing to do. He had to move to the proper royal rooms soon enough. "The day waits for no one."
Twenty minutes later and he was seated on the Spear Throne in the royal court of Dorne, waiting to take his breakfast while the servants went about preparing it. The glistening light of ten thousand glass panels covered the room in brilliant patterns as the morning sun rose up in the sky.
Long had he looked forward to this view as the heir of Dorne. Long had he thought that he would be a great ruler, continue his mother's work and bring prosperity to his people, and now sitting on the high seat and looking down over the hall, near enough a king in his own right, despite the claims of the Targaryens. It was a glorious thing, though he would rather not have paid the ever-heavy cost.
Doran's hand tightened on the handrail of his throne, even as the first of his family began to arrive for breakfast. "Good morning brother," Oberyn said cheerily, smiling despite the mourning Doran knew he was doing privately. His gregarious younger brother showed not a bit of it as he came to take his place at Doran's left hand. "I see you're up bright and early."
"Good morning Oberyn," Doran said, feeling a smile slip onto his own lips as well. In truth, despite the vast difference in age between them, he often felt that his younger brother was his best friend. "Alas, the affairs of state have little time for rest."
"Better they pester you than me then." Oberyn chuckled. "They seem to be waiting for breakfast though."
"Nonsense, I'm having a conversation with one of my trusted advisors as we speak." Doran grinned, nodding at one of the servants as the man signaled that the food was ready.
"Oh, a trusted advisor now am I? I thought I was a Prince!" Oberyn laughed.
"Be careful who you trust for advice Doran." The Prince of Dorne glanced up as their sister yelled from across the room, her voice echoing on the mosaic stone floor and walls as she walked over towards the throne and the high table that had been set up in front of it for breakfast. "If you rely on Oberyn too much then you'll only end up knowing which Lord's daughter has the largest breasts."
"Critical information for the affairs of state I'll have you know," Oberyn said mockingly as their sister came to join them at the table. Doran smiled at the interplay. He knew if it was just Elia and him they'd spend breakfast talking about serious things, politics or wages or health or the like.
Especially with all of them still mourning their mother, it'd be hard to find time to smile or be proper siblings. Oberyn had a way of drawing all of them into his rhythm, making them forget their responsibilities and solemn spirit in favor of ribbing each other relentlessly.
Doran chuckled. "Maybe I'll factor that into account when I determine your wedding prospects Oberyn. Find the one you consider least attractive."
"You wouldn't!" Oberyn said aghast. "Besides, why would I marry? My heart belongs to all the fair ladies of Dorne, at the very least." he tapped his chin. "Perhaps further, some of those reach and Westerlands girls looked fair enough."
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