Author's Note: This chapter was the most difficult for me to write so far. Not much is known about Elia, so it was difficult to wrap my head around her character. I did a lot of research into the different theories about her personality and her reaction to Rhaegar's interaction with Lyanna. I went with a direction that seemed somewhat unpopular but made the most sense to me when you take into consideration the personalities of the people involved.

Elia

"My lady, you do not seem yourself tonight. Is something wrong?"

Elia rubbed her hands together nervously under the table as her lady-in-waiting and closest companion Ashara Dayne, removed her amethyst necklace, her smooth hands brushing lightly against Elia's neck.

"I am tired, that's all," said Elia, smiling at her friend. "I bet you are, as well. Each night you are dancing so much I don't think your feet ever stand still."

Ashara laughed. "It's true. Oh, but I do love it. I feel like I'm flying, although some of my partners are more charming than others."

"Oh?"

Ashara blushed. Elia felt a twinge of jealousy that she buried deep in her chest. She knew there was something going on between Ashara and Brandon Stark. She had watched them all night. His eyes followed her as she danced, and when they danced together Ashara's delight shown like a beacon. Still, she worried for her friend. Ashara had not been the only woman Brandon watched.

At that moment, Rhaegar entered, dressed in the velvet black tunic he had worn to that night's feast.

"Your grace," he nodded toward Elia. "My lady," he said as he gave a slight nod in the direction of Ashara.

"Ashara, you may go," said Elia quietly. "Thank you for your help."

"Yes, my lady." Ashara made a small curtsy to the royal couple and left the bedchamber. Rhaegar began helping Elia let down her hair.

"How are you feeling," he asked as he kissed the top of her head.

"Better today." She paused, considering. "I'm cloaked in the Mother's Blessing."

"Truly?"

"My moon's blood was a fortnight ago today. My womb is ripe for your seed, your grace."

Rhaegar sighed. "We don't have to do this, Elia."

She glared at him, her frustration and fear welling up inside of her. "Rhaegar, you need a son. As it stands, Rhaella cannot inherit the throne. Would you leave the realm to the cruel whims of Viserys? You know as well as I do that boy will be as bad as Aerys, if not worse."

Rhaegar sighed and began to kiss her neck softly. Elia would have told him that it wasn't necessary, that his kisses, however sweet and intimate, only made it worse, but she kept her thoughts to herself. Men were sensitive things when it came to the bedchamber. Her throat gagged as his rough hands fondled her breasts. As he carried her to the bed, tears began to form in her eyes. He was kind and avoided looking at her face. When he entered her she couldn't stop the tears and they flowed silently from her closed eyes. He made it quick, fulfilling his duty with a low moan. After, he immediately left for the privy, graciously giving Elia a few minutes alone to compose herself. She wiped away her tears, praying the Mother would bless her with a son. She turned her back to the door, her eyes tearing up again as he crawled in bed beside her. Eventually her tears dried and she drifted off to sleep to dream of violet eyes…and dark hair.