"You are taking this far better than I had envisioned." Arthur's words, though uttered in that supercilious manner of his meant to engage one's ire, had the dubious distinction of acting as reminder that in spite of his father's clever ways, Rhaegar was even cleverer. "You do know that your presence here will be viewed as consent, do you not?"
"By and by you shall come to recognise the importance of preparing the stage for one's act," he answered, in his own manner, not at all put out by the thwarting glare aimed his way. He inspected his lance, his squires had done well, wondering briefly whether Lord Whent might be persuaded still to lengthen his supervision were he to press. "And I am consenting."
"You are doing it to," he paused, raising one eyebrow, "what, exactly? What have you to gain by accepting a madwoman, again?" Dayne pondered the stroke of ill fortune and his heart-rending, certainly-doomed union, oblivious to his own lack of care. "I vow I do not understand you at all."
"No need to be obtuse," he spoke after a small moment of silence. "Since it has come to this, it is either marriage or murder. Mother would frown should I decide for the latter." Arthur was frowning as well, as though he did not find his words even half-amusing. "Besides, Lord Stark's daughter is not a violent madwoman. She is merely, in the so eloquent words of my cousin, a simple girl singularly interested in her horse."
"I do beg your pardon if your cousin's words fail to inspire trust in me," Arthur replied tartly. He toyed idly with the end of a small fine chain. Something his sister had sent him, no doubt.
"One can depend on so very few things in this life. It pleases me to say Robert's knowledge of women is one of those few elusive few. It remains the case that if a young lady is involved, Robert shall have done his utmost best to have charmed her. If he says she hasn't much sense to her, I am inclined to believe him."
"Or it might be a case of too much sense. Has it occurred to you that not all women desire his attention?" Rhaegar trained his gaze upon his long-time friend and considered, truly, his words. It was not that he doubted the truth in them. Ashara Dayne had been doing just fine resisting Robert Baratheon's flirtations. But that did not mean she did not engage him and there had been a women or two to react negatively as well.
"Truly, Dayne, this marriage suits me just fine. I daresay a woman like Lord Stark's daughter shan't have much use for court life. She will, therefore, not be in my father's path, which is likely to ensure he will have forgotten her before the year is out."
"But you do not plan to forget." A nod was the only inch he was willing to give. "If it were any other lady, I would have commended you. But there is no sport to be had in kicking a helpless pup, is there?"
"On the contrary, I am going to take very good care of the poor mite. I plan to have her visiting that worthless father of hers at every opportunity. In fact, I might even persuade them to give me her youngest brother." Understanding dawned upon Arthur, though he looked no more pleased than before. "Of course, if it comes to it, I shall make use of her as well. Simple or not, she will have a coveted position and that I can spin to my advantage."
"It still does not sit well with me," his friend continued on his initial line of argument. "Say you turn the situation to your advantage, what is to happen to the poor thing after?"
"The poor thing is to mother the future heir to the Iron Throne. You needn't worry, Dayne. My father shan't bind my hands with this scheme of his." Nay; one supposed his own father would think the son had at least a modicum of moral fibre. But Rhaegar knew too well in the game he played there was no place for even the slightest weakness. "Abrar issi keskydoso isse se zobrie."
Arthur laughed. "Livi," he corrected after a moment of silent musing. "This one, I am afraid, will be much different. It just so happens she will depend entirely upon your mercy."
"Have I not made myself clear?" Arthur held one hand up, as to calm the flare of temper.
"There are some things a man may never take back." The warning grated upon his nerves. It was not like Arthur to be so insisted, or so completely invested he twisted his little chain into knots. "Do not give me that look. I am your friend. Your peace of mind concerns me."
"You need not take on such duties. Your role is to protect the King." Arthur did not wince. A lesser man might have at his tone of voice. Neither did he stand. Even so, Rhaegar felt a stirring of shame. Arthur was his oldest friend, after all. He quashed the uncomfortable feeling beneath his more pressing concerns. "I am not angling to harm her. She'll likely not understand much in any event."
A nod came from the other, though Rhaegar could tell it was more Arthur giving up than him agreeing. The fact was, his friend had a set of principles he did not stray from. "You will, nevertheless, allow my sister a position in your wife's retinue, will you not?"
"That goes without saying. She will likely need some guidance." Speaking of guidance, very few days remained until the tourney. Lord Whent had exerted himself with preparations. Another blow aimed at Rhaegar's pride, that. Well, it was not quite so bad, there were worse places to wed into. "I almost wish you'd gone after her, Arthur. At least I might have persuaded you to give me fair warning."
"I thought your cousin gave you plenty."
"On the contrary, if he cannot fuck them he pays them no mind. I daresay the day Robert Baratheon sits more than a moment in the company of a respectable woman it shall be before a septon." He sighed, carding his fingers through his hair. "He said she looks like a Stark, whatever that means, and that she favours her mother."
"I believe the current lord and lady are cousins," his companion offered.
"I should at least like to know if there are any deformities I must brace myself for."
"Do you not fear any child of hers should inherit her peculiar behaviour, rather?"
"Any child of ours could go either way. That has always been the way of my house. And truly, what manner of man would I be if I held it against her when there is a long list, some might say spectacularly so, of ancestors who has been known to do much worse than hold conversations with their steed?"
"Normally your good humour is heartening," the knight sighed. "If your course is set and there is naught I can do to dissuade you," at which he paused long enough for Rhaegar to shake his head, "then there is little for it but to wish you happy."
A decent man would not contemplate aligning himself with a poor creature who was unlike to understand the demands made upon her. That was as much as he was willing to read in the light censorious note he felt in his friend's voice. Were he at liberty to choose, Rhaegar would have turned his attentions to a more suitable partner as well, but the fact of the matter was, he was obliged to play to the tune his father produced. For the time being.
It would be a lie to claim he felt absolutely no remorse regarding Lord Stark's daughter and what must come next. The poor girl was the only innocent in the whole scheme. Which was why he meant to be kind in his dealings with her. That, however, had to be the end of it.
"I do not doubt I shall feel accomplished by the end of it," he answered. A knock on the door cut off the rest of what he had a mind to say. "Enter," he replied simply to the unspoken query.
Not too much surprised, he turned his eyes upon Arthur's sister. "Lady Shella has it from her husband that the Starks will arrive soon," she reported, a smile curling her lips ever so slightly, "and I confess to much curiosity about this wife of yours. I was wondering if my brother could be allowed to see me to the courtyard."
"Daresay you are not the only curious soul," Arthur answered, standing. "Your Grace, will you join us?"
"Of course, one cannot keep one's future kin waiting. Nor one's own curiosity unsatisfied," he added lightly, eliciting a small amused sound from Ashara.
"The poor girl; if only she knew your manner, Your Grace, she'd be running for the hills." And if he knew hers, he'd ride of a cliff. If he recalled, more than one husband had adopted such drastic measures.
"You wound me," he answered Ashara easily nonetheless. "I do wonder why you and your brother have such a low opinion of me." The words were said without much feeling, but he was surprised to find Ashara's reaction a tad more serious than he had expected.
"I am a woman, Your Grace. Would you expect sheep to have a high opinion of wolves?" She did not wait for his answer. "Then why would you expect a woman to have a high opinion of men?" He'd always appreciated her honesty. As reward, he met her answer with a warm chuckle. Ashara offered a grin not unworthy of a mischievous lass set upon making trouble.
Their arrival to the frankly much too large courtyard was not in vain. Lady Shella Whent hurried towards them, holding up the hem of her voluminous skirts. "Your Grace, we were just about to send a squire." She took hold of his proffered arm. "My Walter assured me you would not have wished to miss Lady Lyanna's arrival."
"Indeed, I would not." The woman had a smile for his response, which Rhaegar supposed was pleasant. Lady Shella had a warm smile. "You would not happen to know who brings the bride."
"It just so happens that I do know. Lord Stark is close enough to Lord Tully that they have shared between them plans for this tourney. Lord Tully wrote that Lady Lyanna is joined by her brothers and her father."
"Not her lady mother?" He would be unable to corroborate Robert's words then. A pity.
"Lady Lyarra shall be present for her son's wedding. That is, Brandon's. He is wedding Catelyn Tully; Minisa's daughter." Minisa Whent, of course. Oswell had grown with her and as far as Rhaegar heard, her marriage to Lord Tully prompted her kin's decision to join the Kingsguard. A sadder story had never been heard. Rhaegar inclined his head in understanding. "Poor Minisa, she should have loved to see her daughters wed."
"A heavy loss for the girls as well, I do not doubt." He allowed Lady Whent to drag him along towards the approaching party. The riders at the front looked similar enough that he was in no doubt of their identity.
Lord Stark dismounted first. His sons followed. Although the one he deemed the youngest, instead of joining his father, took a few steps back towards the wheelhouse following in their wake. Rhaegar's gaze trained upon the boy, but before he could make sense of his intentions, Lord Stark spoke.
"I see we are running somewhat late." He inspected the man before him. Rhaegar had wondered what fool would place his daughter in harm's way with so little thought. "Your Grace, we did not expect to be thus greeted."
"I daresay it is my duty." His boundless curiosity would have to be kept under wraps. Rhaegar looked over the man's shoulder.
The youngest son had indeed gone to the wheelhouse's entrance and from within helped down what could only be his sister. The girl had to be shy of her fifteenth year, if he had the information right. Her brother leaned in to whisper something in her ear and she looked up, seemingly startled. Her face turned toward him. Wide-eyes pinned him to his current place, something about her gaze cutting. Before long though, as if drawing shutters to block out anything, her eyes became dull.
Ever so slowly, leaning against her brother, she approached the rest of her family. There was something almost sweet about the child-like admiration with which she gazed upon her father, her mask slipping for but a brief moment. Lord Stark drew his daughter nearer and spoke somewhat loudly. "You no doubt know your duty, daughter. Greet His Grace."
Doing as her father bade, the maiden gave a half-hearted greeting. There was neither a smile nor a frown upon her face, but simply a blank expression. Had she appeared thusly before his cousin, it was little wonder Robert took one look at her before promptly declaring her unfit company. She blinked prettily, the utterly empty gaze she favoured him with executed with such a convincing quality he was tempted to believe. But then he did have the advantage of age over her and he'd seen many a convincing performance. No matter how good; she had already slipped. His only concern was the extent to which he could make use of her peculiar nature.
"The journey has been a long one," the eldest-looking of the sons interrupted. Apparently manners were of little concern in the North. His brother gave him a sharp look but did no more and the father had a nod of agreement.
"Of course," he gave way. The lord allowed his children to file before him and be passed into the care of the lady of the house. "You too, my lord, have been thus affected by the journey?"
"They are young. I hope Your Grace shan't hold youth's folly against them." Nay; indeed, he would not. A grown man's folly, however, he was more than prepared to take advantage of.
"I was hoping we might have word, my lord." Rickard Stark accepted the silent invitation and though no outward sign gave away his opinion Rhaegar had the distinct impression the man was not best pleased.
As though determined to aid him, Ashara dragged her brother away, whispering something in an obvious enough manner that had Lord Whent going along. All the better for their conversation. It would not be private, but it would endorse the illusion well enough. They walked off together.
"There are a few questions I have regarding your daughter?" Without paying much mind to his companion, Rhaegar noted the tension accumulate; it would be highly improbable that he wouldn't this close. Might be he wasn't quite as stupid as he'd thought. "No need to look quite so put out. You must know the situation is highly irregular."
"Highly irregular is not the way I'd term it, Your Grace." They neared the line of trees. One could walk on foot until one reached the heart tree. A path had even been cleared. Presumably men of the North were bound by their words if spoken beneath the white branches of a weirwood. Drivel, but if it got him what he wanted. "You have seen my daughter. Might be if you spoke to His Majesty."
"Out of the question, my lord. It just so happens that I am in agreement with His Majesty. It is time that I wed and who better than the daughter of such an illustrious lineage." A few branches hung low, having not been trimmed accordingly. They were swiftly removed. "If you are concerned, you can only imagine my own thoughts."
"You mistake my intent, Your Grace. 'Tis only that Lyanna is young." So much for the father protecting his daughter. Rhaegar smothered a smile. "And Your Grace, I understand, had great plans."
"Plans which can well accommodate your daughter, I assure you. There is something I must know, though. Her affliction, was she born with it?" They were nearing the weirwood. Rhaegar looked ahead, barely able to discern the three among many others. Even its striking colouring had to bow to the density of the woods.
He turned to look at the man. The Northerner lord looked stricken. "Well, my lord? Was she?" A small muscle twitched in his jaw as though he was doing battle with himself. Rhaegar had never seen anything half as entertaining and if at all possible he should have enjoyed perusing the tale for few hours. Alas, he could not be long out of sight, lest his father sent for his knights and have him dragged back. He cocked his head to the side, indicating his impatience through means of a look.
"Aye; she has always been this way," his companion said in the end. "Lyanna is a fragile little thing and were it not for His Majesty's express wishes in this, I should have never consented." Lord Rickard refused to meet his gaze. "Your Grace is not like to understand." Indeed, he could not; but guilt was not beyond him. He'd had his fair share of moments where guilt sunk its claws into him.
"So you say, my lord. I happen to disagree, however, and as such the King is not likely to change his mind, we had best reach some manner of understanding. For your daughter's sake, of course. It would do me much good to know how I am to deal with her."
"Deal with her," the lady's father repeated softly. "Pay her as little mind as possible, leave her to her horses and she is not like to bother you either."
It occurred to him that he may have mistaken in his assertion of the man's character. It could just be his future good-father was not as foolish as he had first envisioned. "I see. You do understand it shan't be entirely possible."
"I am certain Your Grace is capable of it. You need only put your mind to it." They reached the weirwood. The grotesque face carved in the pristine bark engulfed them in its angry gaze, presumably at their daring to intrude upon its solitude. Rhaegar would have been properly touched were it not for the small fact the man was lying through his teeth.
Might be the daughter would be more accommodating. "My father has certain expectations of this union. If they are not met, I fear his ire would fall not so much upon me, but upon others. That is his way, after all." The meaningful look which followed his statement must have put fright of the King in the man's heart for Lord Stark scrambled for words. "You understand, of course, there are some things beyond my power. Might be we could reach some sort of arrangement nonetheless."
"What does Your Grace have in mind?" His gaze slid over to the weirwood.
"Lady Lyanna is bound to be taken aback by the change in circumstances. It could be her transition would be easier if she had a familiar face beside her." Understanding crept upon the other man's expression. "You have a son and he is not yet engaged to squire for any knight."
Pale-faced, the Northerner raised his gaze to the gently swaying branches of the weirwood as though beseeching the tree for answers. "A man can only sacrifice so much. What shall I be asked for next, Your Grace?"
"Your blood, might be. The truth is, my lord, the throne takes its due. It might just be easier to submit willingly." Lord Stark nodded his head solemnly. What else was there to do? "I am much obliged for your understanding."
"One day Your Grace, you too shall be a father. If ever you find yourself in a position similar to mine, I expect there will be understanding between us."
"What is there until that moment comes?"
"You do not need an answer to that." That he didn't.
"We have an understanding?"
"So we do. You have my word." His son would serve nicely. And with the daughter, they were bound to rock the boat some. Might be enough to distract his father from various nefarious plans.
His business concluded, Rhaegar allowed Lord Stark to see to his own duties for the time being and he would see to his own. With that in mind, he departed the weirwood with its strangely carved face and made his way back to the courtyard where awaited him more than a curious soul, hoping to find out some morsel of information about his bride beyond the very few broad strokes in which Robert Baratheon had painted the girl.
Rhaegar, however, declined all requests. He was not in the mood to entertain any of his acquaintances. He evaded their well-placed snared and disappeared into the safety of the keep, half-inclined to order thee little she-wolf to his chambers so he may better study her. Fairly certain such an order would result in much fainting to be had, he decided there would be time enough after the septon wedded them.
Speaking of, he was the least bit surprised when his cousin came barrelling down the hallway. "Your bride has arrived, do you know?"
"I have eyes, Robert," he answered. "And do address her properly, won't you?"
"Do you even know her name, I wonder," Robert japed.
"Of course I do."
"Not that it would matter to her. I daresay you may give her whichever name suits your fancy."
"You are entirely too cavalier about the matter." He brushed past Robert who was left more or less to his own devices. For himself, his chamber held a few of those answers he was interested in having.
Arthur and Ashara were in the middle of an engrossing game of cards upon his entrance. Neither as much as looked away from their hand. "Well then, care to tell me what you two are so concentrated on?"
"What is the fun in that?" answered Ashara, slapping a card against the table. "There you go, brother dearest." Her crowing was met with a smirk from Arthur who ever so slowly turned his own card to face her. Ashara's lips pursed.
"Never count yours winning before the result is certain." He filched whatever it was she had used for their wager.
"Entertaining as the two of you are, there are other chambers you may use."
"But yours is ever so comfortable. And if you must know, I managed to speak to the girl." He sat down at the table, picking up the cards. "You'll cut?"
"What did you speak of?" He did as she asked, splitting the cards between the three of them.
"Win this game and might be I shall tell you." She leaned back in her seat, staring expectantly over her cards. "Will you take the wager?"
"Sometimes I do think you were allowed to run much too free." Ashara shrugged. "Very well, lady, and what will happen if I lose?" he asked.
"That remains to be seen." Ashara gave her brother a telling look. Rhaegar placed down one of his cards. "Aren't you feeling fortunate, Your Grace?"
"We shall see whom the fortune favours."
Arthur made a thoughtful sound, "I do believe you ought to have insisted upon knowing the price you'd pay if you lost." He relinquished one of his own cards, albeit reluctantly.
"I do not plan on losing," he answered evenly. Ashara was a fair hand, but like in all other endeavours she showed a decided lack of discipline. He gave her an innocent smile when she scowled. Neither did she, by the looks of it.
"So they all say." Her scowl turned into a smile. He dropped his for good measure. Time to see how far she was willing to take the game. "Well, Your Grace, shall we play in earnest?" She deposited a card face-down upon the table.
