Rhaegar looked around the room and sighed, he loved his father, truly he did, watching his slow decent into madness had been heart-breaking, watching how his father hurt his mother was worse. He studied his mother's silhouette as she stood by the window, a hand resting on her still flat stomach. She was pregnant again, but after so many miscarriages and still births she hardly dared to hope.

"Mother." He whispered quietly, drawing her from the window.

Rhaella turned to him and smiled, her eyes tinged with sorrow. "My sweet Rhae," she greeted him, "What a nice surprise." She walked over towards him and held his face in her hands. "You look troubled, come sit with your old mother."

"You are not so old." Rhaegar replied. He took her arm and led her towards a divan.

"I am a grandmother." Rhaella replied as she sat.

Mother and son had always had a close bond, and not just because she had named him after her, they were similar souls, they had sat on that same divan four years earlier when he had asked her how he could marry a woman he did not love? She had told him to love his children, which he did, yet Elia was sickly and could not give him another child.

He had married her believing that she was the only choice, if he was to fulfil the prophecy, then he had to marry a princess, and in Westeros only Dorne had princesses… or so he had believed at the time. But then he had arranged the Tournament at Harrenhal and met the She-Wolf, Lyanna Stark. He had turned to his books for council, as he often did, and to his great uncle Aemon who was a Maester at Castle Black. Aemon had suggested he take a closer look at the terms of King Torrhen Stark's surrender. He was lucky, it had only taken 6 months to find the original document… but then only few had access to such things… the terms had not been met.

He talked of these things with his mother, of how the North did not truly belong to the realm, of how he wished to put Elia aside and marry Lyanna… and of how Lyanna was to marry another against her will. Rhaella listened, as she always did… he almost hadn't come to her, but now he was glad he had. Her counsel was as wise as ever.

"Tell your father you wish to see the state of the Wall." Rhaella said softly. "Speak of your concerns for Elia's health and tell him you want to send her and your children to Dorne, the warmer climate will agree with them and she will get stronger. I will try and convince him to let her brother go with her. Tell Oberyn that if he loves his sister he needs to convince her to stay in Dorne."

Rhaegar nodded. "And then?"

"Send a raven to Lord Rickard Stark, tell him you are heading North to inspect the Wall, tell him that you make no demands on him, but his insight and his wisdom would be appreciated if he should choose to accompany you for any period of time. When you are on the road speak privately about what you have discovered, and that in your mind he is the King of the North… but you are not the one on the Iron Throne, do not speak of your intent towards Lyanna." She took his hand in hers, the rest did not need to be said.

"And what of you, mother? What of Viserys?"

Rhaella smiled and her hand rested on her stomach. "In a couple of months I will announce my pregnancy and use it as a reason to withdraw to Dragonstone, if the gods are kind maybe I will have a girl this time?"

"Mother?"

"He does not love me." Rhaella said sadly. "Nor I him, he will let me go. Your biggest concern will be Robert Baratheon. Once Elia is safe in Dorne annual your marriage, publicly announce it and challenge Robert to a duel for Lyanna's hand, but make sure you have her father on side first."

Rhaegar nodded sadly. "You know this will mean war?" He said quietly.

"War is already coming." Rhaella replied. "You're just re-arranging the sides. Give the North what they want and Jon Arryn loses them, defeat Robert, but spare his life, and he will be indebted to you."

"And if I lose?" Rhaegar asked.

"You die." Rhaella replied calmly. "You are clever, make sure you don't lose."

"And father?"

Rhaella scoffed. "The madman that sits on that chair, and occasionally stumbles to my bedchamber and rapes me, is not the brother I once knew. Aerys Targaryen is already dead."

~~/~~