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She watched from the section of the Red Keeps gardens that had been allocated to House Martell. She watched as the Roses, Lions, the Fingers, the Spiders and the countless others maneuver around the Psychotic Pretender. His new Golden Flower's influence apparent with the move of his afternoon court to the vast gardens at the Lady in question request. She sipped her Dornish Red, waiting and watching for her query to stir up her afternoon boredom.
Ellaria had never been one to wait for what she wanted, but then she had never wanted for anything here in King's Landing. She had wanted in Dorne, in Pentos, the Free Cities, the Summer Isles and knew it was only a matter of coin, talking or taking to aquire it. Here she could only rely on waiting and talking, and she despised it. So, she planned instead. She had to have someone do her talking for her, high born bastard heir she might be, but this was not Dorne. Oberyn would talk for her indeed, he just had to believe it was his idea to do so, at least to start.
As she waits she remembers the first time they attended 'Garden Court'. From the Martell veranda they could clearly watch all of the Courts simppering service to the Waters King and his Grasping Flower. See, but not hear. Ellaria herself was grateful for the distance, she wasn't one for pandering, her own or others. But Oberyn, knowing the space had been picked as an insult when the Crown believed Dorian would be attending the wedding and taking up the council seat, had been enraged. Oberyn knew his brother, Dorian would not have let himself enjoy the comfort of the veranda while Court engaged itself just out of earshot. He would have spent his afternoons painfully confined to his wheelchair for the opportunity to twist his words politically, to further his plans for his people and Dorne. Ellaria had to sway Oberyn to think the planned slight now gave them an advantage, that by using the Courts expectations of the Dornish and themselves they could hide their plans easier. Let them think the Red Viper and the Bastard of Helholt cared for nothing but their own pleasure and petty Dornish revenge.
Oberyn spent an a night pouting over this logic before declaring it was his best idea yet. Ellaria almost rolled her eyes until reading gratefulness and apology in his own gaze. He realized the boon she gave him, and she smiled back instead. They played their parts well after that, acting as if they read nothing into their placement, leaning into the Lazy Second Son and Dornish Whore they were believed to be. Again watching and waiting for the moment to strike back for their Fallen Princesses and Prince.
That was until Oberyn decided if he was to be stuck outside at the height of the day, he would rather be sweaty and training than at court. Rearranging his schedule left Ellaria alone for the first time at Garden Court. Allowing her to observe fully without Oberyns distraction and need for attention. And what a revelation that was, Ellaria thought.
Sansa Stark, for Ellaria refused to name her Lannister, for Elia was never a Targaryen, only a Martell. Unfortunately the similarities didn't end there for the women, so Ellaria wouldn't diminish Sansa further by lumping her in with her jailers, would be rapists, and kin slayers. Now she just needed Oberyn to think the same way.
Sansa never attended court unless required to, so Ellaria was surprised when she saw the Lady entering the Gardens, alone but for her Lannister guards. With her head high but chin down in perfect deference to the court, she entered the mass of people milling in the entrance courtyard. Even without being able to hear anything, conversations visibly stalled as the Lady Stark walked passed, but obviously resumed as gossip mongering as she left earshot. She never flinched or paused at the whispering, keeping her courtesies and polite chit-chat as she slowly made her way for a rarely used walkway, marked for the God's Wood.
Ellaria watched Sansa, it started as simple as that. Curiosity wouldn't let her stop that first day. Watched as Sansa deftly work through the crowd, through the pandering, Ellaria realized with a jolt. Using the courtesies taught to Ladies as armor, as a defense against the Court itself had Ellaria paying more attention. The young Lady was now close enough to be overheard by the Martell contingent when one the Lesser Flower cousins began fishing for information.
"How goes your new marriage my Lady?" The bold weed questions, hoping no doubt to make the newly married Lady blush and feel shamed. Sansa doesn't bat an eye to sing the Pretenders praises.
"The King's mercy, wisdom, and generosity to allow such a match for me is why I head for the God's Wood now my Lady. To ensure my heathen God's know of my affection and thankfulness for our King's thoughtful forgiveness of my traitor blood. I clearly have much to pray for of course, please excuse me my lady."
Sansa doesn't wait for a dismissal, she quickly slips down the secluded path, leaving her guards to stop at the entrance for privacy, as court rules dictate.
Ellaria stares after the redhead, impressed, and saddened for the last Stark. Sansa's twisting of the Courts own rules to grant her a reprieve and some much needed privacy was masterful. Genius even for someone of Oberyn's years, yet for someone so young to have developed such a skill fills Ellaria with a such seething rage, she has to bite her tongue. Again the similarities between a Lannister and Targaryen Court are too close for comfort. It seems as a pawn in either court, you learned quickly or died the same way, quickly.
Garden Court was dismissed to make ready for the evening meal, and Sansa had yet to return from her Holy trees. Ellaria leaves for her rooms, her thoughts still on the Northerner, until a bathing Oberyn proves he is the best kind of distraction.
The next Garden Court session brings more surprises. Once again alone, Ellaria watches Sansa repeat her performance and path for solitude. Turns out this is a daily adventure for the lonely Lady. So Ellaria watches again, and again and again. She watches for a whole week as the Lion's gloat over her, the Flowers prick at her, the Spider's attempts to ply and spy on her. But worst of all Ellaria watches as the Finger waits for it's opportunity to grasp her.
The day Ellaria catches Little Finger watching Sansa, is the day she starts to plan in earnest. His face again was pleasant as always, but it was just one moment that his eyes gave himself away. Ellaria knew that look, she last saw that look while on a slave merchant's face in the Free Cities. Bile twisted in her belly at how she will have to be delicate at informing Oberyn of this. Dorne, Ellaria nor Sansa could afford Oberyn serving Little Finger the same fate as the Slaver, at least not yet.
Ellaria got to work quickly after that, even leaving Oberyn to his own devices for the rest of the day to start making arrangements for what she needed. And what she needed was information.
Dornish spys and well placed whores were the best, only after the Spider's own of course. She had to be careful, Sansa Stark was a key after all. An extremely powerful key to more than half the continent. The North and Riverlands deliverable in one young womb. An untouched womb, Ellaria was relieved to learn. Tyrion Lannister hadn't touched his young bride, probably thought to be merciful. Instead he left the couple vulnerable with this act of kindness. Ellaria had to act quickly before an 'accident ' left the Imp dead and Sansa at the mercy of a less altruistic Lannister or Little Finger.
Ellaria was is her solar, thinking of different ways to persuade Oberyn, not that she thought it would take much, when a knock pulled her focus. She called to enter when her heart rate studdered at just who's messenger was at the door. Ellaria cursed herself quietly, she hadn't been careful enough.