Chapter 71: A Princess Invitation
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Author Note: Surprise and get flash banged. This is 3 moons later from the previous chapter. Enjoy the Chapter.
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Elia Martell
Until that afternoon, my day had been perfectly ordinary.
I had awakened, broken my fast, and spent most of the morning at the Water Gardens. Ellaria, Ashara, and I had played beside the pools before settling beneath the shade of an orange tree to gossip about court rumors and suitors, as girls our age often did.
Now we wandered through the markets of Sunspear. Five Martell guards followed close behind us, while three more kept their distance and watched from among the crowd.
The market was alive with noise and color. Merchants called to passing customers from beneath bright silk awnings, offering spices, jewelry, fine cloth, and strange goods brought across the Narrow Sea. The warm air carried the scents of freshly baked bread, salt from the nearby sea, and the blood oranges stacked high upon wooden stalls.
We had no particular destination. We simply moved from one stall to another, stopping whenever something caught our interest.
To pass the time, we had begun trading riddles.
It was Ellaria's turn.
"I learned this one this morning. It is exceptionally difficult. Neither of you will solve it," Ellaria declared, looking far too pleased with herself.
"You always say that," Ashara replied.
"And you always answer incorrectly," Ellaria countered.
"Then ask your impossible riddle," Ashara said, placing a hand over her heart as though deeply offended.
"What belongs to you, yet others use it more often than you do?" Ellaria asked with a smug smile.
"Your shoes," Ashara answered immediately.
"Why would other people use your shoes?" Ellaria asked, staring at her.
"Perhaps they stole them," Ashara suggested.
"That is not the answer," Ellaria replied.
"Your hairbrush?" Ashara guessed.
"No," Ellaria answered.
"Your horse?" Ashara tried again.
"No," Ellaria repeated with a sigh.
Ashara continued offering one ridiculous answer after another while I considered the riddle more carefully. I was certain the answer was something simple. Ellaria's riddles usually were once one looked beyond the misleading words.
Then a flash of gold caught my attention.
It appeared between two passing merchants before vanishing behind a hanging curtain of red silk.
I turned my head, though I did not know why.
For a moment, I saw nothing but strangers moving through the market. A woman carrying a basket of blood oranges passed in front of me. Two sailors argued beside a wine merchant, while several children chased one another through the crowd.
Then I saw it again.
Golden hair.
A man walked some distance ahead of us, his back turned in my direction. I could see little more than his hair and the dark traveling cloak resting across his broad shoulders.
Something about him seemed familiar.
I took a step closer.
"Elia, are you even listening?" Ellaria asked.
I barely heard her.
The stranger disappeared behind a spice stall. My eyes searched the crowd, but there were too many people between us.
It could not be him.
Two years had passed since I had last seen Galahad. There was no reason for him to be in Sunspear. He was likely still somewhere in the Westerlands, surrounded by his knights, merchants, and the people who served him.
I had probably imagined the resemblance because I thought of him far too often.
Then the man emerged on the other side of the stall.
This time, I saw the way he walked.
He moved calmly and without hurry, yet with a quiet confidence that caused others to make way for him without being asked. I remembered that walk. I had watched it as he approached me in the halls of Casterly Rock and again when he crossed the tourney grounds at Lannisport.
My heart began to beat faster.
No. It still could not be him.
As though answering my doubt, the man turned slightly to avoid a merchant's cart.
For a single heartbeat, I saw the side of his face.
The strong line of his jaw.
The familiar curve of his nose.
The same golden hair shining beneath the Dornish sun.
The market seemed to fall silent around me.
I knew that face.
It belonged to the man who had once brought me cake. The man who had sat beside me beneath the stars and listened as though nothing else in the world mattered. The man who had danced with me and made my heart flutter whenever he smiled.
The man who had remained in my thoughts for the past two years.
Galahad.
"Galahad," I whispered to myself.
He continued walking, unaware that I was there.
I stepped toward him.
Then I began to walk faster.
Within moments, I was pushing through the crowd at a hurried pace.
"Elia, where are you going?" Ashara called from behind me.
Galahad moved farther away, repeatedly vanishing and reappearing between passing merchants. I could not lose him. Not after waiting so long to see him again.
I gathered my dress and began to run.
"Elia, wait!" Ellaria shouted after me.
I ignored her.
Galahad disappeared behind a large group of sailors. By the time I reached them, there was no sign of him on the other side.
Panic rose within me.
Had I imagined him after all?
I pushed between the sailors, murmuring hurried apologies as they protested. I searched every face beyond them, desperate for another glimpse of golden hair.
Then the hem of my dress caught on the corner of a merchant's cart.
The fabric pulled tight.
My foot slipped beneath me, and the ground rushed upward.
I closed my eyes and threw out my arms, bracing myself for the hard stone.
The impact never came.
An arm caught me around the waist. I was pulled backward before another hand steadied my shoulder and turned me against someone's chest.
For several moments, I could only breathe.
An arm rested around my lower back, holding me upright. Beneath my cheek, I felt the steady rise and fall of his chest.
I already knew who it was.
Even so, I was afraid to look.
Slowly, I raised my head.
Galahad was staring down at me.
He was even more handsome than I remembered.
He had grown taller since our last meeting, and his shoulders had become broader. His face had matured, losing some of its boyish softness without losing the warmth I remembered. He smelled faintly of leather, sea salt, and whatever pleasant oil he used upon his skin.
For one foolish moment, I wondered whether I had truly fallen or if the gods had simply answered a prayer I had been too embarrassed to speak aloud.
"You nearly fell, Elia. Are you all right?" Galahad asked, concern softening his voice.
Once he was certain I could stand, he removed his arm from my lower back.
My heart beat so violently that I feared he might hear it.
Dorne had always been hot, but the afternoon suddenly felt unbearable. Heat rushed into my cheeks, and every sensible thought abandoned me.
Instead of answering, I pressed my face back against his chest.
Galahad went completely still.
"Um…Princess Elia, what are you doing?" Galahad asked carefully.
I had no answer for him.
Two years spent thinking about this man had apparently destroyed all my good judgment.
"Unhand the princess this instant!" the captain of my guards commanded.
I reluctantly turned my head.
My five guards had forced their way through the crowd and now stood several paces away, their hands resting upon their swords.
Although they were only performing their duty, I could not help feeling annoyed. They were ruining the moment for which I had waited two years.
Besides, Galahad was no longer holding me. His hands were raised slightly at his sides.
I was the one clinging to him.
Before I could explain, three men stepped between us and the Martell guards. Their clothing bore the same sigil as Galahad's, and the speed with which they moved made it clear they were his men.
Their hands settled upon the hilts of their weapons.
"Take your hands from your swords. You stand before Lord Galahad," the nearest of Galahad's men warned.
"You stand in Sunspear. Step aside and release the princess," the captain of my guards answered.
Steel began to slide from several scabbards.
"Enough," Galahad commanded.
He did not shout, yet both sides stopped.
"Lower your hands. No one is drawing steel in the middle of Sunspear," Galahad ordered his men.
They obeyed immediately, though none of them took their eyes from the Martell guards.
"I mean no harm to Princess Elia. She lost her footing, and I caught her before she struck the ground," Galahad explained to my protectors.
Realizing that I should probably prevent bloodshed, and that I was still clinging to him, I reluctantly stepped away.
"He speaks the truth. I slipped, and Lord Galahad helped me. Nothing more happened," I assured my guards.
Their captain studied Galahad for another moment before finally removing his hand from his sword.
The other guards followed his example. Galahad's men did the same, though neither side appeared particularly pleased with the other.
"Elia!" Ashara cried as she and Ellaria came running through the crowd.
"Are you hurt?" Ashara asked, immediately looking me over.
"Why did you run away like that? You nearly frightened us to death," Ellaria demanded.
"I am fine. I merely slipped," I assured them.
Their eyes moved from me to Galahad.
I suddenly remembered my manners.
"Lord Galahad, these are my dear friends, Lady Ashara Dayne and Ellaria Sand," I said before turning toward the girls. "Ashara, Ellaria…this is Galahad Neméos."
Both of them stared at me.
Then recognition slowly appeared upon their faces.
Of course they knew who he was. I had spoken about him far too often for them not to know.
Ashara's eyebrows rose. Ellaria's lips curved into a knowing smile.
Neither needed to say a word. Their expressions told me that they understood everything.
"It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Galahad," Ashara greeted him.
"Yes, we have heard quite a bit about you," Ellaria added, placing far too much emphasis upon the word quite.
My face grew hotter.
Galahad either failed to notice the meaning behind her words or politely chose to ignore it.
"The pleasure is mine," Galahad replied with a courteous bow.
I gathered what remained of my courage.
"Galahad, if I may ask, what brings you to Dorne?" I asked.
"I am leading a small merchant fleet to Essos, three ships in total. We stopped at Sunspear to restock our supplies and give the men a few days of rest before continuing east," Galahad explained.
"How long will you remain here?" I asked.
"Only a few days, Princess," Galahad answered.
His answer filled me with immediate disappointment.
I had waited two years to see him again. A few days did not feel like nearly enough time.
Before I could stop myself, the words escaped me.
"Please stay longer!" I blurted out.
Galahad looked surprised.
So did Ashara and Ellaria.
Even my guards turned toward me.
I cleared my throat and attempted to recover what little dignity I had left.
"What I meant was…there is no need for you to hurry away. You and your men are welcome to remain in Sunspear for as long as necessary. If you have not yet found suitable lodging, you may stay at the Old Palace," I explained, forcing myself to speak more calmly.
Galahad studied me, his expression becoming more serious.
"And what would your mother and the rest of your family think of that? Would they mind you inviting me into their home?" Galahad asked.
The sharpness of his gaze made my confidence waver. I drew in a slow breath and lifted my chin.
"My mother thinks well of you. She still remembers you fondly from our visit to the Westerlands. I am certain she would welcome you," I assured him.
Galahad remained silent for several moments.
Then a grin spread across his face.
"Very well. I will take your word for it," Galahad agreed.
Relief rushed through me.
He stepped closer and gently took my right hand.
"It is good to see you again, Elia," Galahad said.
He lowered his head and pressed a soft kiss against the back of my hand.
My heart nearly stopped.
"I have business to attend to first. Once it is finished, I will make my way to the Old Palace," Galahad promised as he released me.
"I will be waiting for you," I replied.
Galahad offered me one final smile before turning away. His three men followed as he continued toward his original destination.
I watched him until the crowd swallowed him from sight.
Only then did I lower my gaze to the place where his lips had touched my hand.
Smiling, I brushed my fingertips over it before pressing them lightly against my lips.
"How sweet. She is trying to keep his kiss from fading," Ellaria teased from beside me.
"At this rate, she may never wash that hand again," Ashara added with a laugh.
I quickly lowered my hand and turned toward them. They stood side by side, covering their mouths as they struggled, and failed, to contain their laughter.
"I was doing no such thing," I protested, though the heat spreading across my cheeks betrayed me.
"No?" Ellaria asked, her face filled with false innocence. "Then why were you staring at your hand as though Galahad had left a priceless jewel upon it?"
"She may need to wrap it in silk to preserve the memory," Ashara added sweetly.
"Perhaps we should carry her back to the Old Palace," Ellaria suggested. "She might accidentally touch something and ruin it."
"I will do no such thing," I insisted, narrowing my eyes at them.
My irritation only made them laugh harder.
"That is truly him, then?" Ellaria asked once she had regained enough breath to speak. "The man you have been thinking about all this time?"
"The man from the Westerlands?" Ashara asked excitedly.
"The one who brought you cake?" Ellaria continued.
"The one who danced with you?" Ashara added.
"The knight who won the tourney at Lannisport?" Ellaria asked.
"The only man you have ever kissed?" Ashara finished, a delighted grin spreading across her face.
Their questions came so quickly that I had no chance to answer any of them.
I could only stand there with my face burning as they surrounded me and demanded every detail of what had just happened.
They had finally met the man I had told them so much about. The man who had captured my heart more than a year ago in Lannisport and Casterly Rock.
Galahad was here. He was here in Dorne. He had promised to come to the Old Palace. And the thought of that was bringing me immense pleasure through my mind, heart, and body.
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Chapter 72 Coming soon…
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Author Note: I don't think Elia is going to be content with the previous friendzoning that Richard tried to create.