"We have enough time to think about our next steps. But there is something more important I want to ask you. Would you care to tell me where you were yesterday?" Elia asked shifting the topic because she knew she needed good respite and she had wanted to hear about this from Ashara herself rather than asking the handmaidens to follow her daily.
"Actually, not where you were but whom you were with?" Elia continued.
A slow smile and a blush spread across Ashara's face. The smile full of feline contentment that made Elia's own lips twitch upwards. "I was enjoying what the North had to offer" said Ashara
"Poor Eddard Stark. You have damned him for life, you know." a ghost of a smile spreading across Elia's face.
"Poor Eddard Stark, indeed. He shall never know just what a wonderful time he has missed. Lord Brandon on the other hand...." Ashara's words trailed off as Elia suddenly leaned forward, humor gone and intense focus present instead. Elia could see Ashara licking her lips as her thoughts drifted far away from where they were conversing.
"You bedded Brandon Stark? Is this where you always were when you were taking a break from your duties at Harrenhal. Rather long breaks I must say. Getting longer the more time we stay at Harrenhal."
Ashara's blush deepened, yet she nodded her head, showing equal parts uncertainty and defiance.
"Do you like him? Because I know you wouldn't have bedded him if it was only because of his looks" Elia carried forward.
Another nod answered all she wanted to ask. Ashara's wish to be wed to Brandon, the heir of the north would certainly raise a lot of questions and cause a lot of problems, mainly his betrothal to the eldest daughter of Tully, the Paramount of Trident.
However, she had decided that she couldn't care less of any consequences that may arise from this.
"Come, let's meet the Wild Wolf" Elia asked Ashara while thinking 'and I need to get started on breaking a betrothal for you.'
Ashara smiled and led her towards where she would meet Brandon all the while thinking of her first night with Brandon.
---- Flashback to Ashara's Tryst with Brandon / Ashara POV ----
The night is alive, with banners rippling across the smoke stained sky as the amber burning sparks from a thousand campfires fly up into the circus of color and silk standards. Above that there are the stars, glimmering down from the gods, old and new. Watching us. Watching our sins, watching our desires and fears and the things we wish to hide in the dark. Stars follow me wherever I go. Falling stars, fluttering from the walls of our castle and from our cloaks, our horses, our tents. I am cursed to be followed by starlight for the rest of my days.
I stand alone in the tent, incense and the last flicker of a fire surrounding me with sweet, hot smoke, surrounded by the sounds of life, hiding from all of them. These moments are rare. When you are with Princess Ellia, when you are a Dayne of Starfall, a Dornish woman, a beauty, a prize, a sword pale and sharp and dangerous as the morning, you are always surrounded by life. Always watched.
Even now.
I treasure these moments, even when they're fleeting, even when all that separates me from the chaos is a wall of lilac silk and beyond that a haze of smoke. My boots are coated in the mud as I kick them off, churned up from the horses and the rain and the cold. I long for Dorne, for the mountains and the watergardens, the blazing warmth that the winters never touch. At first Kings Landing seemed like a nightmare, a stinking pit I would never escape. Tourney camps, apparently, are worse.
I lie in my tent, long for bursting ripe oranges and the feeling of hot marble underfoot, the long lazy afternoons with eyes trailing over my skin and stolen kisses, forbidden touches, desperate whispers.
My hands run over my skin, slow, teasing myself. I pull at my skirts, drag the dangerously thin fabric out of my way, run my hands over my body.
My finger trail over my thighs, light as a ghost I touch myself where I'm already wet, where I need to be touched. Fingers in me and on me and tortures me. My hips arch, skin shivers, I need this. Not this. I need something more. My body aches for one touch in particular. There's one I've been craving, craving and pushing away. Pushing and pulling and driving myself mad with the game of it. Wanting it and refusing to give in.
This is wild, and new. Something from the north that steals into my heart like the chill of winter yet sets me alight.
I pull off my cloak, drop it to the silk rug covered floor along with my boots. Pacing. Burning. I light a candle and sit before a beaten silver mirror, pulling at the pins in my hair, casting the silver, diamond stars and twinkling amethysts to the side and letting my hair drop down my back. Ripping dark as the stranger, falling loose over my shoulders.
The dress I wore tonight clings to me, wisps of red and orange, a crimson vision to make them blush blush, to put on a show. I saw the looks the court women gave when they saw me. They don't understand the power a woman can possess, don't understand the way every eye in the hall follows me. I do. I know the power I possess as I dance across the candlelit floor in the arms of some gallant night, leaving him wanting me, twist him around my finger like molten, red hot metal ready to forge. I've never had much patience for gallantry.
I look into my reflection and violet eyes stare back, sparkling in the dying light.
They say these eyes are those of the gods, not the seven, the real gods, the gods of Valyria. Of the Targeryan kings before they went mad, the ones who rode dragons and conquered continents. Of Queen Rhaenyra as she fought for her brother for her throne. Visenya wielding her great valyrian sword. They had power. They had fire in their veins.
Maybe I do too.
In the reflection there are other eyes on me. Feral eyes, silver eyes. Burning like wildfire, with the hunger of a wolf. A satisfied smirk on that cruel, handsome face in the closed doorway to my tent. I wonder how he got past the guards, I wonder how long he's been there, I don't need to wonder how much he's seen.
Because of course he's seen. It's just for him. It's all for him.
"Stark." I smile at him over my shoulder, as though I'm so pleasantly surprised to find him here as the rest of the court dances and drinks and sings themselves hoarse in the great ruined hall of Harrenhall. The stories surround them as they revel in the fire twisted spires. Wicked in my insincerity.
"Oh gods, Ashara." His voice when he speaks is anything but cold. The look on his face has melted into blatant desire, the deep voice rippling with a want that instantly flares again in me. I've had those eyes on me all night, following me like a shadow.
He's sat across the hall with his family and hangers on and the girl he's meant to marry. All the while wanting me, unable to keep his eyes from me.
And fuck I've wanted him too.
This is the game we play, dancing a tightrope in denying our hearts. I'd say I've been caught in his web but in truth I've spun it for myself, teasing him and denying him and only making this trap as much for me as it is for him. Now the two of us stand tied together with an invisible need neither of us can control. We are, in truth, entirely out of control. Running in the wild, leaving our fates in the hand of crueler gods than us.
I move and he moves, across the room and crashing together like thunder and lightning splitting across the indigo sky. I ignite where he touches me, where he bites down hard on my neck and turns me to pull me back against him. As I press my body to his and grind my hips into him, feel him.
Tonight there is no time for long drawn out touches and caresses. We are fast, needy. We are brutal, a brutal kind of love. He picks me up, wraps my legs around his waist, groans as he pushes into me. I see stars as I feel him in me, my breath stopping as he moves, as we move together. He knows how I like it, knows as he wraps a hand tight around my throat and stares into my eyes, silver and amethyst reflections of lust and desperation and something too dangerous to say out loud. On borrowed time, stolen from fleeting moments in dark corners and empty tents. Stolen from a future that he has promised to someone else. Jealousy courses through me like poison and I drag his mouth to mine, kiss him, cling to him tighter.
There's sounds, just outside the tent, the back of my mind warns me as I lazily moan his name and then again say "Brandon, we're going to get caught.". It only makes him fuck me harder, that same wicked danger that flows in me matched in him. We live off the danger. We need it like water, like air, like we need each other.
He reaches between my thighs, touches me as he starts to lose control, pulling me towards the edge with him, as we fall into the darkness together. Breath mixing, his name on my lips, his lips on mine. Making whispered promises that only the stars and the old gods will hold us to.
I hold him in the dark, our hearts racing with matched beats, breaths fighting to keep up. This temporary bliss we find together can't last, but I would stay here forever if I could. A heaven in hiding, I'm lost in his arms and his touch and the inevitable broken heart that awaits me if we continue with this dangerous game.
---- Back to the Present at Harrenhal 281 AC / Ashara POV ----
"Lord Brandon" Elia began, presenting her arm just in front of her for Brandon.
"Ashara! Your Grace! How may I be of your assistance?" asked Brandon, euphoric at meeting me again after what we did yet confused at Elia's presence, all the while kissing both me and Ashara as etiquette demanded.
"I am hearing things about you, Lord Brandon. Many rumors are floating around. Regarding my handmaiden and yourself." Elia began mysteriously.
Brandon was nervous. A line had been crossed. He knew he should not have done this with Ashara. Barbery Ryswell knew and accepted she would never be able to marry him since his duties lay elsewhere. Nor had the girls he had been with minded much. Maege preferred to keep their kids with them and not informing nor caring if the father wanted it. The She-Bears of Bear Island were fierce and allowed to battle for a reason. Their existence could not be denied or offended for fear of breaking a few bones.
But this was different. This was the South, not the North. He knew he had made a mistake. But for the first time in his life, he wanted a relationship to work. He wanted her. He knew what would happen soon.
"Your Grace! I can explain...." began Brandon trying to think of a way to get out of this.
"I don't need your explanation my Lord. For I believe, this was mutual. Why, Ashara cannot get any more red than she is now, am I right?" Elia started teasing me here.
I simply could not keep up with the conversation.
'Oh, how wrong I was' thought Ashara 'Maybe something good can come from this conversation.'
Brandon was stumped. Not knowing how to proceed further. It was written on his face.
"I just want to ask this Lord Stark, how can we proceed from here? Was it just a dalliance or is it something more?" Elia asked, regaining her seriousness.
A Stark son he is, so he knows when honor trumps duty and where duty demands loyalty. Still the balance he has to maintain is a precarious one, and the threats against him might just cause him to topple. Unless a hand reaches out to save him.
"Your Grace! I have been thinking about this. I really love Ashara. But I need to know if this meant more to her as well. Does she want us to remain together and endure the hardships that may come along with this?" asked Brandon, understanding this was his one and only chance.
I was too stunned to speak. I looked into Brandon's eyes to understand if he was serious and I found his black eyes staring at me, longing to know my response, with a drive to keep it faithful. It was the first time I had seen it in his face.
It was then I decided. I want him. And while I know that there would be issues. Getting an alliance with the Daynes and with it Dorne would probably assuage Rickard Stark, the Stark Lord to concede to this match. Of course, having the Crown Princess speak up about me would definitely help.
And so, without further ado, I turned to Elia and gave her a firm nod, motioning I was ready. Brandon was ecstatic. He immediately pounced at me for lack of a better word and then his lips were on mine. And I simply forgot everything roaming my hands around him, clutching at his back, looking to continue further if we had not heard a cough from Elia.
Elia gave a pointed look to the both of us and then asked us, "Well, shall we take word of this to Lord Stark?"
Brandon stiffened in my arms. I could easily pick up his hesitance. I looked to him worryingly. "Oh! We can send a raven but I'd rather we marry within the moon rather than wait for a longer time. This will avoid the Tully family as they are pressing for the betrothal and Lord Stark will very soon agree."
Elia "Wait! The betrothal has not been finalized?"
Brandon "No, the rumors started floating as soon as the offer reached us though. My father was reluctant to accept it but is being pushed to accept it from Maester Walys and a few other advisors since then. Lord Hoster is adding pressure and instigating that we spread the rumors is not helping Lord Stark."
'My my' thought Ashara 'Just when I confirmed my feelings, I already can see the long political battle ahead of us.'
Elia "Come! We have much work to do. Let's start by doing this. Ashara and Brandon, please escort me to where Oberyn is while you both fetch the remaining Starks."