After quickly explaining what she saw and heard, Ashara began to view subtle changes about Elia.
It had been a split moment decision, borne of hearing what was transpiring around her, that Elia Targaryen began wandering outside in the dark. Just a few moments ago, Elia was dreaming about the pleasures of being Queen whereas now there were thoughts of heartbreak, anger, anguish, rage and what not.
It felt like each step she took was laboured and heavy, phantom remnants from her pregnancy being visible, but to those that knew her well and loved her dearly, they would have seen a certain strength and sense of purpose that had not been lacking precisely, but stifled since she had changed her title from Princess of Dorne to wife of the Crown Prince of the Iron Throne.
To the majority of the people in Harrenhal, they would have seen a walk that denoted nothing if not royalty.
At this late hour, the wind had picked up speed, stinging the cheeks of any caught unawares outside like slaps from a scorned lover, ever so representative of the turmoil her emotions were in right now.
There was too much salt in the air right now and none of the delicate aroma of the sand, spices and Dorne for it to remind Elia of home, if she couldn't enjoy the precious sun that her banners bore, she was ready to bask in the wind that reminded her of sandstorms from her childhood.
Oberyn would have scoffed at this. Doran would smile indulgently and the memory of those two caused her throat to constrict a little bit further. What would they do in the precarious situation she found herself in?
This is how her life falls apart, by the person whom she least expected to betray her. Not by war cries or the actions of an increasingly and bloodthirsty king, not the impulsive actions of a much beloved brother or the rash impulses and acid tainted words that she has to force herself to swallow time and again, but by the thoughtless stupidity of a husband that still remained dear to her heart, despite it all.
The ache in her chest refused to abate and her long lashes blinked away tears. Her hood had long fallen back and the wind chipped away at the wet tracks on her face, whipping a few loose tendrils of hers in whichever direction it fancied.
"Elia?"
Ashara started, Elia nearly tripped over her feet in her haste to turn towards where the voice came from.
"Are you okay?" asked Ashara
"I will be" Elia replied. It was time for her to remember and act like the house she was born from. It was time for her to remember she was Elia Martell first and it was time the Seven Kingdoms and their Mad Family remember it.
"Come to my chambers, now", Ashara led her inside, the faintest hint of worry present.
Inside Ashara's Chamber
"Please tell me your thoughts" asked Ashara, worry and concern etched on her face.
"Don't worry about me. Let's talk about you. How did it go? Is Brandon good to you?" asked Elia, diverting the topic, since she knows the crux of the issue and knows she won't be able to do anything about it for the time being.
"No. How can I? After what we saw...." replied Ashara, understanding that any ties between Dorne and the North likely to be difficult after what they just saw. They were both silent for sometime pondering about their future and the dilemma they just witnessed.
They both were beautiful, intelligent and deadly women to understand war is on the horizon and the reason for the war was something they could not stop even if they want to without harming themselves.
"Regardless of what may come, please tell me sincerely Ash. You are like my sister. Do you love him? Do you see a future with him?" asked Elia wanting the best for Ashara.
Ashara blushed, remembering their interactions, and pondered further whether what Elia suggested could be true. On thinking about the possibility and what the future may hold if she were to wed Brandon, she liked thinking about the possibilities which only excited her further.
On seeing Ashara turning beet-red, Elia had her answer. She swiftly stood up, well as swiftly as she could, she was now pregnant and the little dragon was troubling her from the onset. She only had one thought in mind throughout her motions.
"Let's go! We need Oberyn for this." and motioned for Ashara to snap out of her day dreams and follow her to meet the friendly slippery debaucher Oberyn Martell, the spear of Dorne.