First, let me address some reviews I couldn't privately:

To Guest My family doesn't celebrate Christmas, as such here it is now :)

To LynxSilvarum: Yes, Viserys is Aegon's heir. After the Dance of Dragons, Targaryens practice extreme male preference. Precedence is tricky after Viserys. For example, assuming legitimate claimants, would female Targaryens (ie. Rhaenys) come before males with Targaryen blood w/o the name (ie: the Baratheons)? I can't say. Jon, if even in line, is far at the back of it. Also, he is not a Blackfyre. Blackfyre is specific to Aegon IV's legitimized offspring and their descendants. He's a Waters because that's the generic name in the Crownlands. If legitimized, Jon might create his own name.

To Critique: Thanks for taking the time to read this story, complementing the characterizations and the plot, and leaving a critique. Firstly, tbh, I am wordy, but, I will try to work on it. Secondly, while I can understand your frustration with the lack of updates, because of real-life obligations I have very little writing time. I also don't like putting something up I don't find satisfying. Thirdly, while Elia is a principle character, because there are others and this is a multi-chapter work with multiple settings, not every character can be shown all the time. Lastly, as someone who has dropped enough fanfics for various reasons, if you no longer wish to continue reading Changed Circumstances, I understand completely and I hope you find works which suit your taste and/or are inspired to write the works you want to read.

Secondly, as always, thanks for the reads, reviews, follows, and favorites. I must also thank Sigrid Martell for always being supportive.

Lastly, the disclaimer: I own nothing. All things recognizable are property of G.R.R. Martin, David Benioff, D.B. Weiss, & company, & the asoiaf wiki.

Elia

"She is beautiful, Mother."

Rhaella looks up from staring at Daenerys to blink up at her. She gladly takes the seat Rhaella gestured towards when Rhaella does it with a smile. She feels more of the tension in her recede. It is a relief knowing those are the correct words to say.

Rhaella was enchanted with her newest daughter. She could hardly fault for Rhaella taking pride in bearing beautiful children. Daenerys is a pretty child. The name, though, gives her pause. Why that name? What was Rhaella was trying to tell her by choosing it?

Or perhaps she was putting too much thought in this. Best not put too much stock into names. Rhaella could name her daughter whatever she wished. What did the name matter? There is enough to do without sinking into madness worrying over insignificant things.

Gazing at her tiny good-sister, it reminds her of how small Rhaenys had been once.

She chokes down the bile threatening to rise.

"So, you have said before, daughter." Rhaella's eyes crinkle as she laughs.

'Daughter.' When they were rarely kept together before the war, she never felt as though she earned Rhaella's calling her that. She knows better now. She does not deserve it.

She pushes a question. "How are you?"

"Well enough. The same as yesterday." Rhaella laughs. "You do not have to ask after me every time you come to see me."

"I know." And yet she cannot bring herself to stop.

In the best of circumstances she could have never thought Rhaella would return on Stannis Baratheon's arm. She welcomed Rhaella back with a warm smile and she received Rhaella's kiss, but, the history of distinct pains and uncertainty hangs heavy between them.

She wants to know that Rhaella was as pleased as she could make her. By being who she was, she fails her good-mother enough.

Dismissing her ladies, Rhaella shakes her head. "No."

"What do you mean, Rhaella? I have yet to say anything."

Rhaella turns away from her gowns to take her hand. "I know what you are thinking of doing. No."

How could Rhaella know? Why would she refuse? "Why not? It should be you."

Rhaella looks at her sadly. "Haven't I done enough for the realm, child?"

That is not what she meant. "Of course, you have done-"

Rhaella grimaces. "Then, do not ask me to do any more."

She looks away. "You are far more-"

"I am old and worn out. I am done."

"Mother-"

"It is because you call me I tell you to not ask me. I cannot do this. I am unwilling. I had my chance and squandered it."

Disturbed, she starts, "You did-"

Rhaella shakes her head. "I understand you do not want the responsibility. No one with sense should. Your son has the crown. It is your duty to rule in his stead. I also need it less. If nothing else, remember that. You owe it to your children."

"And you? What do I owe you?" What does Rhaella think she is owed?

Rhaella laughs hollowly. "That you do what you have been."

Feeling the weight of the missive in her hand she wishes she could be. "No, I am not." She proffers the letter. "This is for you."

Rhaella's face lights up as she puts Daenerys down as she extends an all too eager hand. "From Viserys?"

She should be pleased Rhaella can still smile. Still too see Rhaella's eager, open joy at something simple hurts her heart.

She turns quickly to flee the room. "You are going?"

Even if this was a simple letter, it is a reminder of her shortcomings. She only turns her face back. Politeness demands, at least, that. "I should take your leave now; let you read in peace." She does not want to stay when she is the cause of this mess.

"Have you read what he wrote? Is it bad?" Rhaella's brows draw together in confusion and concern

She takes a breath. "I have not read it."

She does not read Rhaella's missives. Rhaella never gave her leave to and she does not have the right. With Rhaella's presence she is all too aware of the liberties she has already taken. Besides, if something was troubling she doubts a letter would be sent.

"Stay with me while I read it, then."

Rhaella's hopeful tone damns her. "I cannot."

"Is there some meeting?" Rhaella's doubt is as clear as it is warranted.

"No." She tries for firm and does not manage it. Her desire is not in denying Rhaella the companionship she seeks, yet, she ought to.

"Is someone expecting you?"

Something curdles in her.

Who would be expecting her? The children? Rhaenys skipped away from her at the Septa's side and she had been at the nursery when the missive came to her. The Kingsguard had their duties and the men of the Small Council were appropriately distant when their presence was not required. Most of the ladies she took to associating with at court were busy with the arrangements for the fete tonight and even the elder matrons of court prove tiresome of late.

There is another who might…No, best not think of him in front of Rhaella. She almost grimaces. She ought not to think of him at all. "No one waiting for me."

The pained look Rhaella gives almost makes her relent. Almost. For her to remain would not be right. She already insinuated herself in Rhaella's affairs too much.

Rhaella gives her a reproachful look. "Do you not want to know how Viserys fares?"

"It is enough that you know." She can barely get the words out.

Admonishment turns to hurt confusion. "Why? Do you not want to know for yourself?"

She flinches. "Because I gave him away! Mother, I gave your children away! I know that already. What more do I have to know?" She gave all of their children away.

As Rhaella grows ashen she starts to make her escape. A whipcord of a shout rings out, "Stay there."

She takes another step. "Elia! Stop."

She can feel Rhaella at her back now. The weight of a thin hand wrapped around her shoulders is heavy. Not turning around, she sighs as she leans her head on the door.

"Elia." Rhaella's voice is softer this time and no less damning.

She should not allow herself to be swayed by the tender pull of the light touch or the voice which is so much gentler than it ought to be. But, of course she does. Even when she knows better, she has done enough to Rhaella to start disobeying her now.

Seeing the same abundant solemnity which followed Rhaegar on Rhaella's face she shrinks back against the door. "'Gave him away?' What is all this nonsense, Elia? You did not give anyone away."

Were it not Rhaella before her she would have laughed herself sick. "I gave away your daughter before she was born. I allowed your boy to become a hostage. Of course I gave them away. Instead of hating me for it, you want me to sit with you. Why, Rhaella?"

The fury on Rhaella's face throws her. "I have already told you once to sit down."

Daenerys cries. When Rhaella steps away to soothe the child, she lets out a shuddering breath and makes to leave again.

"You claim to have respect and affection for me." Putting Daenerys down again, Rhaella's tone brooks no discussion. It also holds no doubt.

"I do." And she has done everything to disprove it.

"If you have any of either for me, Elia, you will stay."

The desire to obey equals the desire to do the opposite.

Because in some matters she had always been weak, Rhaella's scowl turning into a broken look makes the choice for her.

Rhaella glances at a vacant chair, clearly expecting she takes it. Reluctantly she settles herself at the edge of it. Rather than please her, Rhaella gives her a crestfallen look.

She recoils when Rhaella tries to take her hands. Looking pained, Rhaella draws her hands back abruptly. "It hurts, not having Viserys here."

"I-" This is precisely what she wanted to avoid.

Rhaella holds up a pale hand. This time there was no hard expression. The glistening eyes were much worse. "He is my eldest living child; one that was mostly mine even when he was not. I love him and miss him so. But, my dear, while you cannot be a mother to a corpse you can be one to a living hostage. As it is, my son needs a strong, stable hand. I was unable to provide it. If this the best method for ensuring it, I must allow it."

She almost vomits. What had she done to deserve kindness and understanding from Rhaella? She had done little to warrant it.

"Do not turn away from me, Elia. I do not have much family left."

Her breath catches. Even glistening with unshed tears there is hardness in Rhaella's eyes. She must be cursed to receive it. She should be cursed for causing it. "That most of my family are with me serves to soothe the ache in my heart when my son cannot be. You did what you needed to do."

She might have believed the words of a dragon if Rhaella not ended with a shudder. "Did I?"

"Why do you say that?" How could Rhaella say it? They both know Rhaella lies to her. Pride was one thing; this…

This time Rhaella looks away. "What are you guilty of that I am not?"

The admission shocks her. It horrifies her. She whispers "Guilty? You? I am guilty. Not you; never you."

Though Rhaella will not look at her she marvels at the conciliatory words. "In this, in many things, my guilt is in my agreement."

No! "No! It was my choice. Not yours. I took it from you."

Hands folding into fists at her sides, Rhaella nods. "Yes, this was your choice."

Now seeing the glint in those purple eyes she does not understand, she shudders. "Do you think I am not capable of understanding your reasons? Or were you expecting me to rage? To cry?"

She winces. "Not arguing is not the same as agreement and you want to do those things."

Purple eyes glow at her. "Yes, I do, but, why should I when it will do no good? And if I cannot, I will not have you waste your efforts when they could be better spent elsewhere."

She whispers, "Where should they be?"

Rhaella presses her lips together before huffing out a laugh. "It is unbecoming to ask questions when already knowing the answers."

haella's face falls. "Men are grasping on the best of days. If you failed to satisfy those men at our door, they would have taken more than what they were owed. It would have been more than what we could have borne. You acted for the best-"

She finds her voice again. "When you do not believe it how can you expect it of me?"

Rhaella draws a long breath. "I can only believe that my son is a ward and my daughter is betrothed it if you do."

"You should not have to believe it any more than I want to."

Rhaella ducks her head. "It is necessary for us both."

"How can you ask that of me, Mother?"

Rhaella looks up again, eyes glittering. "Elia, we did not bear children, we bore instruments of statecraft."

Rhaella laughs bitterly. "You cannot give something away which was not yours. We mothers tell ourselves lies and we wives of Targaryen husbands tell ourselves the prettiest ones. We birthed them, care for them, and love them above all, but, my dear, our children belong to the crown. We must preserve the one on Aegon's head by whatever means necessary. Even when it takes giving our children away we must do this. You will hear no complaint from me and I need no explanation from you or apology."

Before she can protest. Rhaella lifts her chin. "Dragonstone allowed me only the slightest respite from unfortunate realities. Both of us must bear the trappings of King's Landing, especially this."

She shudders again. Outside Sunspear and the Water Gardens, the promise and the sweet memories made of those first few years made Dragonstone her home. Knowing she will never have that again makes her wish for it all the more.

It is another thing she cannot have.

Rhaella sighs and shakes her head. "When it comes to our daughters, did you not arrange the marriage of yours too? Not only are such things necessary, you arranged Rhaenys' to the Starks. When you can do that what do you think I cannot live with? What do you think I have not lived with?"

Not wanting to look into that early aged face, she looks away. She does not want to see the understanding there. What does it matter if she had done the same? Does it make things right? "If you have love for me at all, please, let us not discuss it any further. You should not require it, but, if it is my absolution you desire, Elia, you have it. In the end no amount of holding on to your guilt will change a thing."

No matter how understanding or dutiful Rhaella could be, this is another mark against her. She will take it as such.

Rhaella attempts to take her hand again. A dare. This time, she is too worn to fight her the older woman about it. Rhaella arches a brow. "If you are still uncertain of me, perhaps we should discuss with me what you did with that blue vial. I was unable to find it."

Her hand in Rhaella's jerks. Her eyes fly towards Rhaella who held on to her hand while calmly smoothed down her gown with the other. When had Rhaella learned-Had she gone looking-Why? "Well? If you are going to hold onto your guilt, I would rather know about the deliberate acts you should feel guilty about."

At Rhaella's wry, twisted grin, she manages to find her voice. "There was no deliberate act."

Whatever strength Rhaella had seemed to vanish as she slumps back letting her hand go. "No? Elia? Truly?"

Rhaella's lips purse. "What did you do with it?"

"I-" She needs to explain. She must. She cannot leave it-She takes a deep breath and tries again. "I disposed of it."

"The vial or its contents?"

Oh gods, Rhaella was asking if -"Both."

Rhaella looked sad even when nodding. "That was wise. One ought not to have that sort of thing lying around."

She swallows and Rhaella sighs. "I envy you."

Horrified, she gapes, "What?"

Rhaella smiles brokenly. "I might have not been able to do it."

Rhaella laughs. "I was not able to do it. I am grateful you did."

If this was meant to be soothing, it fails spectacularly. Surely Rhaella does not-

She shakes her head wildly. "You misunderstand." She hadn't- She shudders.

Frowning, Rhaella leans forward. "Do I? Elia, what are you saying?"

She exhales as she glances back at the door furtively. "The vial's contents went unused."

Why is Rhaella astonished? "You left poison unused? Why?" Rhaella could not mean-

She blurts, "You wanted me to use it?"

Rhaella stares. "You intended to, yes?"

"I-"

She hesitates. At Rhaella's nod to continue she slumps. "Yes."

"What stopped you?"

Should it not be obvious? How could she explain not wanting to be a murderer to Rhaella? How could Rhaella ask this of her? "There was no reason to."

Rhaella's eyes narrow. "Do not lie to me."

What does Rhaella want her to admit? That she hated her good-father? Was there anyone who could not have guessed?

She takes an unsteady breath. "I mean I did not have to. By the time the opportunity-"

She winces and Rhaella gasps. It seems for all that she seemed intent on discovering if she killed Aerys, Rhaella was not fully prepared to hear what she had to say.

She is not offended. Making "arrangements" for children's fostering is one thing, killing a woman's husband and brother is something else.

"He was already dead."

Rhaella makes a noncommittal sound. Then, she adds, shrewdly, "You were prepared-"

She bites her lips.

"Well? Were you not?"

That night she had been so close to using poison. Perhaps it made her a coward and a wretch. Though she had been poised to use the one weapon she had at her disposal, her relief at not having to be the one to snuff out Aerys' life had been too great. "I was. I am glad I did not have to."

Obviously disbelieving, Rhaella lets out a small snort.

She tries to hold in her dismay. There is another burden she cannot hope Rhaella carry with her. She cannot admit to what she witnessed Ser Jaime do or what she helped him do.

"How long had you held on to the vial?"

Not quite understanding, she admits, "A few months."

She offers Rhaella the only thing she can. She owes Rhaella this much at least. Yet, her words only allows Rhaella to shock her further. "Had you always intended to use it for one purpose or another was there a different dragon who you intended its use for?"

Horrified, she looks up again. Rhaella looks expectant. Oh, gods. This is worse.

"I would never-I could-Things were-"

Though anger had never been a stranger to her when Rhaegar had been alive, she could have never killed him or allowed another to do it on her behalf. He had been her husband. His father had always been a greater danger to her. Was that what Rhaella wanted to know?

Rhaella smiles at her. It was far from a joyful one. "Well, I suppose that answers that."

She tries to explain, "Mother-"

Rhaella holds up a hand and she flinches back thinking Rhaella will strike her. Instead, Rhaella pats her hand. "Calm yourself, Elia."

Calm herself? She shakes. How could she calm herself? They speak of murder and Rhaella desires she be calm? "How can you take it so calmly?"

Instead of the anger she imagined and expected Rhaella frowns at her despondently. "I could do nothing about the dragon within my door. I should not have left it for anyone else to slay it. It was never your responsibility."

Not her responsibility? Then whose-

She gapes. Surely, Rhaella did not-There is nothing she could say and so she does not try.

Of course, Rhaella saw through her. "You said you disposed of it?"

Unsteadily, she nods As if by rote, she replies, "I spilled it into some Wildfire and shattered the bottle."

"I am glad you thought to do that."

The way Rhaella nods and pats her hands almost seems like approval. She nearly cringes now remembering how she thought at that time doing it had been terribly convenient. What did that make of her? What did that make of either of them?

Thankfully, the knock on Rhaella's door saves from having to answer or think that which ought not to ever be considered.

One of Rhaella's long-time companions, a fair-haired widow, peeks through announcing there is a letter for her, not Rhaella.

The matron announces, "It's from Lord Varys."

Her heart beats faster as she rises to take it. "Ah? Thank you, Lady Darke."

When they are alone again Rhaella observes. "You were expecting it."

How could she say this without making things worse? "I made some inquiries about our Lyseni guests."

The look Rhaella gives her makes it plain her effort to be discreet began and ended in failure. "All three of them or one in particular?"

She swallows thickly. Of course, Rhaella knows. "I had to be sure."

Grimacing, Rhaella nods. "You were right to do so."

Once more Rhaella's agreement makes nothing easier for her. Because she does not elaborate, Rhaella prompts, "What does Varys have to say about Lord Vaelor of Lys?"

She closes her eyes. "He is who he says he is."

"Of course he is." Rhaella smiles sadly. To her chagrin, there was more despondency in Rhaella now than when they discussed killing her husband.

Unfortunately, she understands this all too much. What the presence of Lord Vaelor means is difficult to imagine. Why was he here? Why now? Surely, there was something to it than the announced reason of trade. What did he want?

Rhaella muses. "He is quite comely."

Rhaella comment unnerves her. What is her purpose? She fights down a blush. Lord Vaelor had not been particularly, discreet, but, surely- Rhaella adds, "He has a certain charm."

Was this an observation or a trap?

Even when Rhaegar had been lost to her long before he died and Lord Vaelor was, as Rhaella stated, undeniably comely and charming, she could not admit to any sort of desire for a man to her husband's mother. The trouble came from knowing she could see herself being entirely charmed by Vaelor of Lys.

Coming back to herself, she hedges, "That is so, but, enough about our Lyseni guests. We will see them all at the fete tonight. Besides, too many already talk about them. It gets tiresome."

"I can only imagine", is Rhaella's unsubtle reply.

"Quite."

After a few moments of silence, she gestures to the letter still clutched in Rhaella's hands. "What does Viserys say?"

Trying not to seem too relieved, she avidly listens when Rhaella begins reading.

If she shows too much interest and laughs far more heartily at her good-brother's prattle, she is grateful Rhaella is kind enough to pretend she had not noticed.

It is uncomfortable knowing that if Rhaella could pretend about one thing she might be able to do the same with another. It is even more so knowing that Rhaella expects it of her as well.

Oh, but, to be a minder of other's expectations is to be her life, isn't it?

Rhaella gasps from beside her. On her other side Lord Tywin growls low in his throat.

She dreads looking up. When she braves it, her gown bunches where her hand clenches.

Of course, the Lyseni trio cause a stir.

Laughter threatens spill from her throat. Not quite the trio. The two of middling age dressed in Lyseni finery were not the cause of her dining companions' unease or her own. The third man is.

The deliberate choice of fashion is meant to capture attention. As with most in the hall, this man fascinates her. And she curses herself for it as she curses the cape with a black dragon stitched on top of an orange flame. Vaelor Targaryen, a descendent Aerion Brightflame who had never before visited Westeros who decided to do so now.

This was a man who could have been king had Prince Maegor not been passed over. With his gleaming, silver hair and purple eyes which smiled whenever he saw her, she knows he will be directed to the seat on Rhaella's other side.

It is much too close to her especially because he seems eager to here. She longs to know why and dreads learning the truth in equal measure.

"Princess, thank you for inviting us."

All three men smiled as they bowed, but, it is Lord Vaelor who addresses her. The way he looks at her…She was well and truly cursed.

She forces herself to smile. "My lords, it is a pleasure."

With another practiced bow and a soft smile he takes his seat.

She is thankful when Lord Tywin abruptly demands her attention.

Her relief does not last. Those moments had been fleeting since before Vaelor Targaryen announced to all and sundry in Westeros of his existence. She doubts it ever will.

"Princess?"

She looks up to a jarring sight; two Targaryens staring at her; one with concern; the other with supplication.

"Yes?"

"I was disappointed to hear you would not be dancing tonight."

She can feel eyes upon the High Table. The crowd's whispers have not quite died down. They likely will not.

"How do you fare, Lady Olenna?"

"Quite well, Princess. I wanted to thank you for the invitation myself." Though she pretends otherwise, the smile directed at her is not genuine.

She pastes on one of her own. "It is a pleasure to have you as always."

"A requirement."

She tries to hold her smile even as she wants to curse this woman. Would she ever be free of tests? She tries for something approaching amiable. "One can be both a pleasure and a requirement."

One arched eyebrow later, Lady Olenna replies again. "Yes, my granddaughter is to be your good-daughter after all."

She nods. "It is our privilege." And a requirement.

"For both of our houses." The older woman leans in, smiling conspiratorially. "Did you know when I was slated to marry a Targaryen I refused?"

Would that she had the same sense when her mother mentioned the possibility. Affecting interest, she simpers, "Truly?"

Lady Olenna preens. "Oh, yes, old news, but, it all worked out in the end."

She forces herself to make agreeable noises. "That is all we can hope for."

She pretends she had not heard Ser Jaime cover a snort with a cough as he passes behind her.

With a broad glance around the room the Queen of Thorns notes, "Princess, you are hosting quite a motely group. All these people floating in from far reaches…"

She lets out a laugh as close to a titter as possible. "We have many houses here from the Reach." She adds with a smile she is certain is too sharp.

Finding who she searched for, Lady Olenna smirks, "Oh, but, I certainly was not expecting a full grown Dragon after so many years."

Her head starts to hurt. "Yes, it was most unexpected."

The woman smirks, "He looks-"

She tries to shrug as nonchalantly as possible. "They are of one family. It is to be expected."

The woman is quite a few years older than her good-mother, yet, remains unmistakably shrewd if the glance she receives is any indication. "It must be difficult for you and the Queen Dowager." What does she want? Surely it is not to tell her the obvious.

She shrugs. "Politeness to guests costs nothing."

Lady Olenna's lips tighten. She owes this old woman nothing. If she wants to wear herself by searching for what is not there all the better, she thinks.

Unfortunately, the woman recovers quickly. "Naturally. How long are your guests going to remain?"

Feigning ignorance, she asks, "Which ones?"

She swallows her snort at the way Lady Olenna's attempt at stifling incredulity. "The Lyseni, of course."

Pouring boredom in her tone, she replies, "A month."

Lady Olenna leans in again. "All three Lyseni?"

Repressively, she answers, "I imagine so."

When Lady Olenna finally begs tiredness, she kisses the older woman's cheek and holds her smile until the crone disappears from view.

On the first night of his arrival, she could not have refused Lord Vaelor and did not. That had been a mistake she will not make tonight. To put herself in his company while in full view of this wide an audience again is nothing she needs. She had enough of the combination of pitying glances and barely concealed titters when Rhaegar had been alive.

Besides, she does not want to be near Lord Vaelor when he's dressed like that. She does not want to be near him at all.

She clenches her jaw. It is both the truth and a lie. It had been bad enough remembering the time before Vaelor Targaryen came to life the last time a man grown with the Targaryen name asked her dance it had been Rhaegar after that Tourney. But, Vaelor is not Rhaegar. Who can say if that is better or worse?

"My foot is rather sore."

Lord Vaelor dips his head as he bites lightly upon his lip in a manner all too enticing. "My dear princess, you have my deepest sympathies. Perhaps I should refrain as well to ensure you are properly attended."

Despite herself, her breath quickens when he looks up at her through thick lashes.

"That is most kind of you, my lord, but, you I could not ask that of you. I insist you enjoy yourself."

He lets out a moan of disappointment. "My dear princess is much too kind, yet, I do not think I could enjoy myself knowing you are indisposed."

Lord Tywin coughs. "Do not fear on that account, Lord Vaelor, our princess is no helpless maid."

"All the better for us all." He has a lovely smile, she thinks before stifling her thought.

"Perhaps when the princess recovers she might allow herself to permit me an indulgence."

She puts down her fork and turns again to the smiling man. She dares not look at Lord Tywin now. Yet, she almost winces looking at how Rhaella is blushing into her plate. "Yes, Lord Vaelor?"

"I was wondering if I might avail myself to one of your gardens."

From behind her a harsh breath rattles. She barely contains a groan. Arthur. Vaelor Targaryen seems to bring out the worst in him.

Alone in her company Arthur drops all pretense. "Princess, Lord Vaelor visited the nursery. He played with the children. He gave them all toys."

"Thank you for telling me. I will thank him when we dine."

Arthur glares freely. "Dine? With him?"

"Yes."

"Why?" Because like a fool she could not help herself.

She offers, "He is a guest.."

Arthur squints at her. "Is that all he is?"

It takes more effort than it be should to push aside the accusation. "The conspicuous are difficult to avoid."

Arthur's pale skin is replaced with a red-faced anger. "All the more reason to. Rhaegar-"

"Is not here."

He looks as though she struck him. "And Vaelor Targaryen is."

Closing her eyes, she breathes deep. Pursing her lips together, she prays for the gods to give her strength. She barely met the man and this already begun. "He will go soon enough." Gods willing he will go and never look back if only to save her strife.

"Swear it."

Rather than desire purple eyes can cause, Arthur's fill her with fury. "Ser, you forget yourself."

"It is you who has forgotten yourself, Princess. You are Rhaegar's wife.-"

That only makes her angry. No matter how he towers over her she will not allow him to continue to act as though he was a paramour she parted ways with after finding a new one. "No, Ser Arthur, I am not Rhaegar's wife. I am his widow. Aegon is not a man grown. I cannot afford to alienate whatever ally we come across."

Arthur hisses. "Vaelor Targaryen does not want to be an 'ally'."

"All should accept their disappointments with good grace."

"Why entertain him, at all?" She could not say if Arthur her last statement flew by him or he ignored it entirely.

"What are you accusing me of?"

Though she can feel the apology coming yet knowing this will not be the last of it, feeling the ash fill her mouth, she bites out, "Arthur, if you spent half the time with my children that you do questioning my motivations or my marriage prospects, they would love you more than any other living man. What can I do to assure you that having been Rhaegar's wife ruined me for marriage with anyone else? Tell me because I do not know."

One would think he would welcome her time and attention be occupied by Targaryens; alas Lord Vaelor is not Arthur's choice and she needs men of the Kingsguard to favor her. "You may avail yourself to whichever part of the grounds you wish, my Lord."

While he nods amiably she pretends not to see Rhaella's relief and Arthur's ill-concealed approval. "Perhaps I will tomorrow after I break my fast."

"I wish you a pleasant time."

When Rhaella mutters something about tiredness, she tries not to give into panic. Was she leaving? What was Rhaella trying to do? Surely, Rhaella would not want-

She nearly flinches when in Rhaella's absence, Lord Vaelor leans forward and his lingering purple eyes turn beseeching. "Would you care to join me? I imagine their beauty can only be enhanced by enjoying them with the pleasure of your arm."

Only Lord Tywin interjecting with an explanation of the Norvosi contingent arriving at court stops her from agreeing to it. She does not whether to thank him or snap at him for it.

Despite knowing better, it has been too long since someone wanted her company. There were many who wanted the attention of Elia, the princess, the king's mother, the daughter-in-law. There were very few wanted Elia, the woman's. Would it be so wrong-

The way Arthur was nearly glaring tells her it would be. Others would hold similar opinions. She almost sags in relief when Ser Jaime takes Rhaella's now vacant seat rather than Arthur.

"I am afraid I cannot oblige you."

"Oh?" Lord Vaelor looks distressed. Rhaegar would barely pull a frown when she could not join him when he made such a request. This one is diiferent.

She pulls away her gaze when Lord Tywin interjects curtly. "Forgive us, my lord, but, the responsibility of family cannot be taken lightly."

Distress turning into confusion Lord Vaelor turns to her. "Family?"

She does not want to put a reason to why she offers an explanation. "One of the Norvosi is kinsman to my good-sister."

Lord Vaelor's palpable disappointment cause a twinge of guilt. There is more than a twinge when Lord Vaelor is quick to reassure her. "There is nothing to forgive. Your adherence to duty and family is a credit."

She forces herself to make a noncommittal noise.

Her presence is not required to welcome the Norvosi. Yet, inciting incite an argument with the Hand or contradicting him in public is more trouble than it's worth. She needs his ire less than she does Lord Stannis' increased displeasure.

"That works out well, Lord Vaelor."

Bright purple eyes reluctantly drag themselves away from her face. "How do you mean, Ser Jaime?"

Jaime smiles. There's danger in that, she thinks briefly. "I have been meaning to ask you if you would care for a spar."

The Lyseni Targaryen flicks his eyes to her before retraining them on Ser Jaime. "Yes?"

Jaime nods. "It is not very often I get to spar against someone new."

Leaning forward, Lord Vaelor grins. "Why me?"

"Princess Rhaenys was quite taken with that toy you gave her. I do not like having competition."

She frowns. What was Jaime doing?

Vaelor laughs. "Then, do not compete."

Jaime shakes his head. "I usually do not for my princess' favors. If I must, I will. I should."

She holds her fork more tightly. She should not be noticing how bright Lord Vaelor's laugh is or how his eyes glow in excitement.

"And if I bested you, would the princess' attention be mine?"

Air catches in her throat when Jaime smile turns sharp. "You will not."

Purple eyes narrow. "Oh?"

"You will not win Lord Vaelor."

Jaime shakes his head again, grinning that shark-like grin again. "There is only room enough for one defender of princesses and, my lord, I take my responsibilities seriously."

Though Ser Jaime's expression brings to mind his house's sigil, Lord Vaelor smirks uncowed. "We will have to see, will we not?"

Jaime sneers and she hopes no one can see her flush.

When Lord Vaelor's attention is pulled away by one of his associates, Jaime smiles at her reassuringly. Though she returns once, she does not feel grateful.

Yet, Ser Jaime was right to distract Lord Vaelor.

Though feeling sharp pangs at the lost opportunity, Arthur's barely concealed distaste or how when Lord Tywin removes himself his saunter gives off an aura of accomplishment forces her to try and convince herself it is for the best.

Nothing could or should come of this. Aegon is a child yet. She cannot afford alienating allies she does have for a newly arrived unknown in the shape of a Targaryen with a potentially better claim to the crown her son had been convenient enough to warrant.

She almost laughs. She can tell herself that only for too long.

To entertain thoughts of being with Vaelor Targaryen would be foolish even if she allows herself to want it. To see herself giving in to this man who smiles at her, cooed at her children, and pleas with her to spend time with him would be too easy and too welcome. It would be a sweet farce.

She cannot gamble what she has now for a man like him. Even when he seems to want her, does and says the right things, bears the family name, worst of all, he wears her dead husband's face.

"You are upset with me."

In front of her Jaime Lannister sprawls out in the chair with characteristic careless grace; the sort of grace she knew he practiced. She thinks about the statement posed as question and tries to not let her irritation show.

"Not at all."

Jaime looks grim. "You like him."

Had she truly been that careless? Cross with herself, she admits she had been. Besides, playing the fool is not an option; not with this one. "I like what little I know."

Lannister leans forward. "You know enough to accept his invitations."

Flatly, she warns, "Nothing will come of it."

"Because you will not let it." Thank the gods he does not sound smug. She does not know how she would have reacted if he had.

Jaime frowns. "The prospect does not entice you?"

She grimaces. Of course it does; it entices too much. "Which prospect?"

The knight glances at her incredulously. "Do you not think about it?"

Dread begins filling her. "I think of many things."

"He looks so much like the prince."

She only bites back a comment about annoyingly reiterated facts because of how uncertain the knight seems. That never bodes well. She is proven correct when he asks, "Do you not think this could be your second chance?"

Something unpleasantly heavy fills her stomach. "Second chance at what?"

"A second chance at love? Prince Rhaegar is gone after all."

Despite whatever passes for their association, she almost flings her chalice in his face. "A second chance usually requires a first."

"Are you saying that Prince Rhaegar was not your-"

She starts to think allowing Jaime Lannister this much insight into her is a mistake. Alas, he already knew too much. She permits, "He might have been."

While seeing the knight shrink back on himself in embarrassment should please her, it only tires. "He was not?"

While Rhaegar should have been her great love, he never will be. It is easy to fall out of love is when the object of your affection never returned it. When faced with what could be- "What do you think?"

Appearing to think the matter over, he falls silent. But, of course, Ser Jaime opens his mouth again. "Why would you not want to pursue Lord Vaelor then?"

Breathing deeply, she closes her eyes. Where to begin? What could she reveal? She settles on the obvious. "I do not trust his motives."

Jaime's face hardens. "You think he has more sinister designs."

"I would be a fool to discount their existence." Lord Vaelor might be genuine or he might use her to get what might have been his. Both possibilities are unpleasant.

"And you are not a fool?"

She lets out a humorless laugh. "I try not to be."

Even as she sickens up, laughter bubbles.

There are too many reasons why she will not let herself become Vaelor Targaryen's fool. He was Lyseni when any husband she might be allowed to have needed to be Westerosi. Because she already been a Targaryen bride once and had no desire to be one again. Because Vaelor resembles Rhaegar too closely. Because she would always find it all too tempting to compare them. Because he makes it no secret he wants her. She owes Rhaella too much to subject her to that. Because she has been alone for long enough to want to subject herself to another lord and master. Because she could see herself falling in love with him if she lets herself.

She reveals none of this to Jaime Lannister. "It would not work."

"Why not?"

She almost laughs. Of course, he does not see. "You were in love with someone lost to you, were you not?"

The knight's face darkens. "I am."

She takes a deep breath and forces herself to sneer. "What would you do if a stranger becomes known to you and they share their face and is very little like them. When you could have them, knowing you will never have what you lost, would you give in?"

He looks as though he would sick up. She hoped that would be the end of it, but, he smirks. "Perhaps it is well that I ruined your chances of ever finding a husband, no matter who it is."

Sighing, she decides to wait him out. He will get to whatever his point is eventually. Besides, she could use any sort of distraction. This breech in propriety is worth that at least. "How could you have managed that?"

He grins widely. "It disturbs my father how my uncle failed to inspire much warmth in you."

Already regretting her previous thought, she sighs. "Lord Gerion shows more interest in my good-mother."

She bites back a smile when Lannister chokes on wine. "She provides such insight into Targaryen lore."

She laughs at his affronted look. "We both knew the match would amount to nothing."

Jaime salutes her with his goblet. It is hardly a concession when he adds, "Simple facts do not daunt my father."

Now moved beyond annoyance, she rolls her eyes. "What of it?"

He looks away. Surely, all that bravery has not left him? When he remains quiet, she prompts, "Well? What have you done to be responsible for my being unwed for the rest of my days?"

He shifts. He almost looks guilty. "Remember our time in the crypt."

She frowns. Why does he- Her eyes fly wide open. That damned fool! "Tell me you did n-"

He nods solemnly. "I did."

She hisses. "Do you have any idea what sort of damage-"

"There is none." He laughs, grimly and amends, "Not for you." He smiles shyly as if as if undermining her to his father is nothing.

Her face burns from embarrassment and fury. "What do you think-"

Then, he starts to grin. Blithely, he adds, "He was rather angry."

Settling for horrified, her hands fly to cover her face. "I ought to have you flogged."

The impulse to have it done strengthens when she hears snickering.

"What possessed you to-" Of all the things, must she deal with a furious Tywin Lannister as well? She truly was cursed.

Jaime replies silkily. "He is angry at himself."

He says the last two words with so much relish. Taken aback, she drops her hands and stares.

"My father is not fond of losing."

He practically glows with pride. One might have taken his enthusiasm for a naturally jovial personality. She knew better. He is an absolute menace who means to ruin her.

Irritation flaring again, she snaps, "Meaning?"

He laughs loudly. "A man of that sort will not allow anyone else to win a prize-"

Incensed, she rises abruptly. She growls. "I am not a prize to be won."

Arms wide in a gesture which is supposed to show openness, he explains, "You, my princess, are a hard won prize he lost without realizing it."

Jaime smiles again; softly, this time. It makes her want to slap him.

Barely stifling the urge to do that, suspicion blooms in her. "Bringing your father misery delights you."

Jaime's face hardens. "Perhaps it does."

Disturbed, she asks, "Why?"

"He gave away what I wanted most."

Bitterness passes across his face and her breath quickens, she poses.

"From what I can tell, she is happy with her new life."

Oh, yes, the mysterious woman. And what did he mean his father-Perhaps she was the daughter of a bannerman?

She shakes her head. What does it matter? What does that have to do with her? "You do not want the woman you claimed to love to be happy?" And that means he must play games with his father? That he must cause her ruin?

He whispers, "I do."

She flinches at the intensity of his expression. "But, not your father?"

"No."

She glares. "Why do you involve me in your games?"

He gives her half a smile. "'You do not want to marry.' Your words."

She bares her teeth. "My memory is not faulty."

He smiles that shark-like grin. "Father angers you of late."

She breathes deeply. "One is not always of a like mind."

He sneers. "Quite pitiful, truly."

Why does she let him goad her? Furious again, she bites out, "What is?"

She could almost see the energy in him come to a fever pitch. "How the Hand attempts to guard your virtue because he cannot avail himself of it." Nearly bouncing in his seat she starts to liken him to a child pleased at having caused trouble for all around him.

Her face sours to join her already dark mood. "You find it amusing!" And to think she was stuck with this absolute fiend for the rest of her life!

He throws his head back and laughs. Becoming more irritated, she presses, "Well? What does that have to with me?"

"You, too, should find it amusing."

Astonishing! "Why would I?"

His shoulders rock with laughter. "You and I are alike."

Annoyed, she shakes her head. "We are nothing alike!"

Jaime insists, "We are. After all, we do not feel guilt for what we ought to."

Remembering Rhaella, she dares him, "What should I feel guilty about?"

His lips curl upwards. "You were there that night of my darkest act. You helped instead of turning me in."

Her hands clench at her sides. "An act is only dark if one feels guilt for it. You do not. You revel in it. I do not revel-"

No, her missteps haunt her still. Any mistake she might make in the future will haunt her. But, what of this does Jaime Lannister know? He seems to think nothing of involving her in some vendetta against his father!

He steps closer to her. "Of late, I have discovered that I am not a good man, princess."

She sneers. "Of late?"

He says only, "You are not very good either."

Unconcerned with her growing rage, he smiles. "That offends you?"

She snaps, "Did you think it would not?"

"You use me."

She flinches because it brings her short. Perhaps she does use him. She has used him as a confidant, as a crutch, to keep undesired suitors at bay, and even as an instrument of displeasure she cannot display herself. "You are not mute. If you had objections, rather than involving me in some vendetta against your father, you should have spoken up."

He laughs low in his throat. "But, my princess, I do not object."

Fury edges to make room for confusion. "Then, why bother voicing it?"

He beams. "It is of the utmost importance you understand something."

Equally angry and wary, she queries, "Understand what?"

"My role in your life."

Eyes narrow, she hisses, "How so?"

His lips curl; scorn. Who it is for, she cannot say. "I do not like to share."

Uncertain where this is leading, she retorts, "What of it?"

He grins wryly even when his eyes are hard. "You not some courtier's. You are not Lord Vaelor's. You are certainly not my father's."

She sneers. "All this talk and you have not answered my question."

She forces herself to remain still when Jaime leans into her. "You are correct. It is more important to discuss whose you are."

She snarls. "Tell me, knight, whose am I?"

He shrugs and says only one simple word. "Mine."

She slaps him.

Though he staggers back, he smiles as he cups his jaw. "Quite a hit. It is a good thing you do not have that knife on you. " He almost sounds proud.

Unable to take joy in his reddening cheek, with her breath coming in pants, she hisses, "I will go get it since you seem to desire a taste."

She growls when he holds his hands up in a mockery of apology. "There's no need. Besides, I am not lying. You, and your children, are mine."

Remembering too well Rhaella's words she corrects, "We are no ones."

"You are wrong."

She moves to slap him again. He catches her wrist. The knight shakes his head slowly though he loosens his grip. "You are mine, Elia. You are mine to serve, mine to protect, mine to care for. I will not have anyone interfere with that; no matter who it is."

He does not release her hand. Fear starts to settle in her. Has he gone mad? "What in the name of the gods are you talking about?"

His laughter rings out, loud and furious. "As you say I revel, I revel in being yours."

Disgusted, she spits, "Do you?"

Stern faced, Jaime shrugs. "As I said, I am not a kind man. You let me not have to be. How can I not want it to continue? Why should I not want to be yours?"

Glaring, she wrenches her arm free. In disgust, she waves "Why would I want this?"

His lips curl into a twisted smile. "Why would you not? You helped me. It is only right I would help you. We already keep each other's secrets, don't we?"

Still tense, she drawls, "Not helping Aerys is not helping you." She raises her chin. "Seeing as you told your father about what I told you in confidence that is not encouraging."

He laughs hollowly. "I did not do it to break your confidence."

"Why did you do it?"

"I want him to realize his failings."

She jeers. "And you want me to trust you?"

"Of course, I am yours after all."

She shivers at how empty those words sound in the face of his dark grin. "Why?"

He steps back and folds his hands behind his back bowing his head slightly. When she scoffs at this show of intended supplication his lips twitch. "If you can use me, why should I not be able to use you? I can only do that if I serve."

She swallows. "Why do you want that?"

A dark shadow falls across his face. "That is what I can have. That is what we both can have."

He smiles thinly. "After all, we only have one another. There will not be anyone else."

We only have one another.

Her entire body trembles and her mouth fills with ash.

Her husband was never hers. Her family is too far and she cannot be seen to rely on them. Her dead husband's mother thought her a murderess. The loyalty of those around her is conditional. She sits on a throne because she has a borrowed name. Not even her children are her own.

Bile rises in her throat. Such ugly words. Such true words.

Too tired to fight a war she suspects already lost, she replies, "If you are done with your histrionics, I should like to be done with this. I have to be elsewhere."

He steps back baring his teeth slightly. "Elsewhere?"

She would have liked to reply that she was going anywhere away from him, only, that would be a fool's errand. She was stuck here. No matter who came and went, she would never be free of Jaime Lannister. That much is true.

Yet, it is a comforting thought. If she is not to be free, then at least, she will not be alone. If this is what she is allowed, she will take it. "That is an order from your princess and your princess needs to leave. You have taken enough of my time today."

Is it a victory when instead of growing angry, he glances at her curiously? "Where are you going?"

"The nursery."

He nods, bowing at the waist. But, of course, he will not leave her be. "Will you let me accompany you?"

When he holds out his arm she grimaces.

"My princess?" Was that a plea or a demand?

There are so many battles she might be required to fight. This one might not be worth it. Or was it? Sighing deeply, she says, "I will if you do one thing for me."

Smiling slightly, hand extended, he asks, "What would you have me do?"

If she ignores what she bore witness to a few minutes ago she might fooled herself into thinking him reverent and deferential. She knows better.

"To start, make certain you trounce those who oppose you when acting in the name of my children and myself."

"If I do not?"

His smile burns brighter as though he was proud she was finally beginning to understand what madness he was spewing. It makes it easy to taunt him. "All that bravery and confidence is for show, then?"

Jaime smirks. "Not at all." Of course, this one would be unintimidated.

"Why would you ask, then?"

"Can a man not sate his curiosity?"

She sneers. "If you fail I will make good on my promise to have you flogged." The urge to have it done now is strong. She thinks no one would blame her.

Ha! They would. She blames herself for having allowed this.

"You would not."

She forces herself to smirk. "Your father might do it for me."

He laughs even as he insists, "You would not enjoy seeing me injured."

We only have one another.

She only admits, "I suppose you are correct."

He laughs. "You suppose?"

"You are the most troublesome man I have come across." More than Rhaegar, more than Aerys, more than Arthur, more than Vaelor and she will never be free of him.

His smirk grows wider. "Yet?"

"You are a weapon. Only a fool should like their own weapons damaged."

She weaves her arm into his and his delight shows.

He grins. "You would put me to use, then?"

We only have one another.

There is no question about it nor is there any need to pretend. The realization is almost freeing. He accuses her of using him and she admits to herself she does. If he does not mind it, why should she not continue? Thinking of his dark admissions, it would only be right. "You are mine, aren't you?"

He squeezes her hand and she lets him.

He says he wants to be of use. He might be a weapon much too sharp, but, at the very least, he does not seem to be aimed at her. It is one more task she must be mindful of, but, she does not find it too taxing. As she told Arthur, there is no reason for her to throw away a willing ally, is there?