Can you write where elia escape with her kids through the secret passage of red keep she studied with oberyn as kids.
“Mama, it’s so dark. I can’t see anything.”
“I know, baby, just a bit longer.”
Truthfully, she doesn’t know how much farther they have to go. She and Oberyn had stumbled upon the passageway many, many years ago, but they’d been children and had only traveled a few minutes before they got nervous and turned back. She doesn’t even know where this goes exactly, but it will at least take them out of the Red Keep, and right now that’s all that concerns her. The image of those men climbing the walls of the Holdfast she’d always been told was impenetrable is seared in her mind.
Rhaenys grips her hand tightly, while Aegon is blessedly silent as he rests in the sling on her back. He hasn’t cried once since they entered the tunnel, like he knows their lives depend on staying unheard.
After what seems an eternity, a glimmer of light appears ahead, and Elia approaches warily, fearing that they could emerge only to find themselves in the midst of Lord Tywin’s men.
But instead, as she peers this way and that, the street is eerily empty. She can’t get her bearings at first, but then she spots the sign of a tavern whose name she vaguely recalls Ser Barristan mentioning once in passing as a place for drunks and malcontents. She supposes they must have joined the army in looting the city.
Just as well for her.
“Come on,” she urges Rhaenys. “Hurry, darling.”
Scarves cover their heads, a thin attempt to shield them from prying eyes, but she knows it would only help for passing glances. There aren’t many Dornishwomen in the capital, and none but her with two small children in tow. She hurries them along the cobbled streets and finally comes across one she knows. A brothel is no place for babes, but for this one Elia would make an exception.
She bangs on the door desperately, hearing the sounds of soldiers frighteningly near, and then finally a woman opens it a crack. “Who are you?”
“Is Melessa here?” she asks. It’s a vain hope; she knows her uncle’s paramour helps the girls as a midwife and caregiver now and again, but luck would have to be on her side.
As it happens, luck is not. “No. You a friend of Missy’s?”
“Yes, very much so,” says Elia. “Get Chataya, then. She knows me. I need shelter until I can safely get out of the city.”
“This is no inn.”
“Get her,” Elia demands.
The woman looks about to protest again, but then the door is pulled wide open, and Elia sighs in relief to see the madam standing there. “Come inside, quickly.”
“I pray I need not impose upon you for long,” says Elia. “I do not wish to put you in danger.”
“Never mind that,” says Chataya as she draws her into a warm embrace. “You are safe here, princess.”