Grandmother had insisted that he come sit by her while his mother eased his newly-betrothed's nerves. While Rhaegar could not say he blamed her, one could expect she would show some deference to her means of salvation. A wife's manner of reward for his aid, she'd said; he found that hard to believe. "Do not look so put out," Shaera Targaryen chided, her dark eyes lit with humour. Presumably she found amusement at his predicament.

"Grandmamma, I assure you, I am the picture of contentment," he drawled, knowing full well she would not buy into it for a moment.

"Ungrateful brat," the woman said without fire. "You are very fortunate, don't you know?" He raised his eyebrow at her. "Very well, grandson; I shall draw the list for you. Although, between the two of us, all this should be very clear to you. Lady Lyanna comes from a respectable, old and powerful family, and her connection is to the main line," he nodded, "she has been educated according to her station an took well to it for I've heard her read," again, he could do naught but approve, "her mind is lively, her demeanour pleasant. The lady has three brothers, all of them surviving and in good health. Her mother did not die in childbed." That was no guarantee. One had to but look at the younger Duncan. "Your mother took her to the orphans and said she acquitted herself well, thus I must presume her manners are as charming as the rest of her." That was just as well. "And most importantly, she comes with a large dowry."

"Grandmamma!" That was positively obscene. He sighed and combed his fingers through his hair. "The poor girl thinks you are trying to help her, not fleece her."

"What fleecing?" she demanded, quick to chastise him for his outburst. "She's not a nitwit. Of course she knows we are not helping her for nothing. And it is a fair trade." Red-faced, the matronly figure of his grandmother wagged her finger at him. "Don't think you don't cost us good coin, boy, and we can't be expected to carry you your whole life." He flushed in indignation. But at the same time his grandmother's countenance softened. "Were my husband still alive, might be it would be different. But my son hasn't the head for it and your mother, may the Seven keep her, is a goodly, practical soul who hasn't the tongue for it, I fear. Do not mistake my nephew; he has both the mind and the tongue to cause you trouble."

"And Lyanna Stark can help with that?" Not to disparage the lady, but she did not seem the sort to pick foolish fights, which would be precisely the case were she to engage Duncan. Was that not why she sought to wed him in the first place?

Shaera tittered. "You young men spend too little time around proper ladies and too many hours in brothels." This time he blushed for something other than anger. "Someone like Lady Lyanna does not share herself with all men. That includes the good and the bad. Being your wife will give her courage she might otherwise lack. Just as being a wedded man will give you a reason to exercise restraint."

"Restraint," he echoed. "I was not aware my actions lacked restraint." Were he any more lacking in restraint he would have plunged a sword down Duncan the Younger's throat years ago.

"Come, boy. You aren't a green lad, and it is past time you wed. Lady Lyanna is the sort of woman I feel you could appreciate." He'd certainly seen other women to match her, he though; except for in rudeness, might be, and pride.

"Is there anything I ought to know about her?"

Grandmother gave him a sharp look. "If you mean whether my nephew or your father reached her; nay. Have no fear on that account. The girl is as pure as newly driven snow." Starks and snow. Rhaegar almost laughed. "Don't give me that look. You are not old enough that you might get away with it yet."

"I knew you were as spry as ever."

"I do beg of you, don't show me your cheek. You are not to divert me."

He shrugged. "Very well, grandmother. And when am I to take this lady to wife?"

"This evening. I have arranged with His Majesty; you need but call two of those friends of yours to witness, if you can manage it." He nodded dutifully.

The more he thought about it, the more it made sense to him. Both himself and the prospective bride had been caught, more or less, unawares. Naturally, she would be discomposed. She was young, and might be a tad naive. Not her fault and no reason to think ill of her. "I will endeavour to make this as easy as I possibly can for her."

"Good. She shall make you a good wife, grandson. If it were not so, do you think your mother and I would have suggested it?" Rhaegar shook his head. "If you but give her the chance, she will prove herself."

"I am not unwilling."

"And you must promise to be a good husband in return." Wide-eyed, he gaped at his grandmother. "Aye; you are doing her a favour by wedding her now, but she will pay it back with her dowry. The rest is for you to decide. You may live your lives as stalks thrown together, or you may build a life of your own. Do you understand what I am saying?"

"I understand." When his grandmother made up her mind, it was best to let her do as she would. Lady Lyanna was a good choice, his first reaction notwithstanding.

"Best you be off now and find those friends of yours before they drain the cellars."

Laughing at the slight pinch of annoyance in her voice, he drew to his feet and bent over her hand. "I'll make certain they're sober enough to stand up with me."

"You do that."

Rhaegar did not wait to find Dayne. And indeed his companion had absconded with a servant girl at the end of the stables. The young woman yelped at the sight of him and drew up the linens to cover her bare chest, slapping a hand to Arthur's shoulder. His friend laughed and pushed her back into the bed of hay with a low curse. He left her in the half-shadows and followed to where the light shone.

"You have the worst timing," Arthur accused. "Unless you were looking for companionship. In which case, I don't think Rosy would mind. Would you, Rose?" The girl produced a half-strangled sound, which Arthur rewarded with a warm chuckle. "See; she's a sporting sort."

Rhaegar allowed his gaze to travel over the dishevelled servant. She beamed up at him, showing slightly crooked teeth. But otherwise, her countenance was pleasant enough, with freckled skin and dark blonde tresses. She allowed her chemise to drop some at his obvious attention. But he merely nodded at her before turning his eyes towards Arthur. "Daresay if I begin my marriage in the arms of another woman, my grandmother will take my head."

"Beg your pardon?" the knight choked. "Marriage?" Then he laughed as though Rhaegar had told him the best jest he'd ever heard. "Trying to pull my leg, old boy. It won't work."

"As it happens, I am not," Rhaegar assured him. "I will send a squire to retrieve you, but it'll be sometime after the supper meal, to my understanding. Be ready." He glanced towards the girl. "You," he addressed her, "do not let him outstay his welcome."

"Aye, Y'er Grace," she answered, nodding her head for emphasis.

But Arthur was apparently not pleased with the conclusion for he neglected to return to his woman. "You can't just tell a man you're getting married and then be off."

"I can't?"

"You know what I mean! Good gods, who is she? Do I know her?"

"If you knew her, I would not contemplate wedding her."

"Very amusing." Hands on his hips, Arthur demanded an explanation. "Do not think you are leaving until I am satisfied I understood what is going on."

"Father's beard; we'd be here until nightfall." Arthur remained unimpressed. "Very well then. I will explain." Drawing him closer, Rhaegar spoke low enough so as to not be overheard. "Apparently, my grandmother and my mother wish me to rescue a fair maiden from the attention of two surly dragons. One of which is my father."

"What?" His friend cursed. "You're not thinking of going along with it, are you?"

"I am." The other stared at him with no small amount of shock. "I'll have to wed sooner or later. Best take a wife they approve of and skip the embarrassment of squabbling like children."

"But who is she?" Arthur insisted.

"Lyanna Stark. I very much doubt you've had dealings with her."

Meantime, Rose had made herself decent enough to step out of the shadows. "Lady Lyanna?" she muttered, her face relaxing in a sort of pleased look. Arthur caught that and did not hesitate to question her reaction.

"Do you know her, Rosy?"

"Oh, aye. A lady from the savage North though she might be," the servant girl shrugged, "she is finer than many a court lady, if you ken my meaning, m'lord."

"How so, Rosy?" Rhaegar questioned, curious as to what someone like her might know of his betrothed. He sent an apologetic look to his friend, but Arthur was as curious as him.

"Hetty, m'sister, serves with the ladies, m'lords," she bragged with a wide smile, as though such an accomplishment was like to impress them, "and she sees all. I tell you this in the greatest of confidences." Her gaze dropped as uncertainty furrowed the lines of her brow.

"Never fear, Rosy, we shan't betray you. Speak freely."

"Hetty told me that one of the other girls, Gilly, had been sent to grab the linens for washing. The poor thing was so ill that day that she gave herself away, sickening all over one of m'lady's dress which her woman had left out. A pretty one too, Hetty said. M'lady, who had just then returned to her chamber, caught the moment. You can imagine the dread following." Despite the triviality of the information, Rhaegar found himself leaning in. "Something the like happened to another girl a few years back and she was whipped; hard. Gilly knew and expected as much. So she falls to her knees, ready to beg m'lady's leniency. But lo', no sooner than she understood the matter, m'lady called for her own woman and had her help Gilly in a chair. Poured her a cup of wine too. Arbour." Most servants rarely tasted such. "So she asks Gilly if she should call the maester for her. Gilly protests. It isn't the thing at all. But m'lady insists, so her woman suggests they get an acolyte. Said and done. And m'lady had the acolyte look at Gilly then and there and give her something for her stomach. She even paid from her own coin."

"Well, Rosy, I never heard you speak half so well about any other lady," Arthur cajoled. "You ought to beg His Grace to put in a good word for you to his lady."

"Don't jest," Rose protested, looking for all the world as though she would like naught better but to hit her lover again. "Not many of us are as lucky as Bailey. Why, if I could work for a mistress like the Northerner lady, I should happily scrub the floorboards."

Whatever the truth of it, clearly the girl's opinion was to the positive. He considered her for a few silent moments during which all attention reverted to him. "I doubt my lady has any floors for you to scrub, but she will likely need more hands to help her. Where do you work?"

"The kitchens, Y'er Grace." Her face was positively radiant.

Rhaegar nodded. "Dayne, find Lonmouth and Mooton when you're done here."

"Both?"

"Aye; I daren't call one without the other."

With that, he turned on his heel and left, not before catching the beginning of a giggle. His pace hastened, lest he hear aught he did not want to. Best to be well away, he thought to himself.

Duncan Targaryen envied everyone everything. He envied his father the high position as Crown Prince and when his brother had been well, he'd envied the man his chance at power. He envied his cousin those sons of his. Miscarriage after stillbirth after miscarriage, and Aerys still managed to have two sons. Two more than Duncan. He envied others' monies and youth, their chance to climb up into the world when he'd been stuck in the same positions for decades.

At the moment though, what galled him beyond the power of words, was his inability to pin that little Northerner maiden down.

Acid burned low in his gut at the sight of his father and grandfather, heads bent in discreet conversation. He wanted to know what was said and what decisions were reached. More importantly, he wished he were the one making those decisions. Alas, both men seemed in their best of health. The only mercy was that his brother lied even at the moment at death's door and the maesters fully expected to receive news from Dragonstone.

He had little doubt their talk had turned to Lord Stark's daughter. Trying to place her in such a position that she'd be untouchable. For the moment he was content not to press the matter. Branda had been incensed, crying and screaming like a madwoman, calling the girl all manner of names to his ever increasing amusement. She'd made his promise he would leave her be. But at some point he would wish to see the matter to an end. And when he did, the proud little thing would find her consequence ground along with that unseemly contrarian element to her nature.

Grabbing hold of his dragon, he removed Aerys' elephant with a small smile, looking into his cousin's face, fully expecting to see frustration in full bloom. His cousin did not disappoint, however, there was something else there as well. A sort of muted triumph. "I draw near to your king yet again," he spoke nevertheless, keeping close watch over the man.

"Never you fear, cousin, I've skill enough to defend my king." Aerys' ivory catapult rid the board of the onyx dragon. "I take it you are still somewhat distracted, Duncan?" The soft tone of voice did not bode well. Duncan narrowed his eyes in an icy glare. "I don't blame you. Heard your Branda screaming fit to wake the dead myself. If you were a smart man, you'd cut out her tongue."

"Don't you ever long for some spice with your bland stew?" he questioned, shrugging at the satisfied look Aerys sported. Of course the man had his many amours to fall back on in times of need, should his wife bar him from her bed, and even if she did not. "I let her vent her spleen, so to better sweeten her after." Had she not been as barren as the Dornish deserts, he might have wedded her too. He removed Aerys' dragon with a trebuchet.

"I suppose that is a method." He was close to the King once more. Duncan considered his cousin as Aerys put a heavy horse as guard to the prize. His defence would not hold out for long, he knew. Still, his cousin carried himself with dignity in the face of his inevitable loss. Years ago when he'd first learned the game, and Aerys with him, he recalled the man flipping the board over when he lost to Tywin Lannister. "If I were you, though, I would turn my attention to siring sons. Unless, of course, you mean for Daella to inherit."

"Heavens forbid," he chuckled. Daella was a sweet girl and a good daughter, but if she sat the throne, the lords would squabble over who would next crawl into her bed. Besides, she was barren as well. If her short marriage was not proof enough, then her many indiscreet affairs certainly made up in that regard. "The realm would burn."

Had Daeron lived matters would have been much different. Daella's twin, the heir his father always wanted, snatched away by a chill of all things, had been a babe-in-arms at the time of his death. There was ever so rarely any guarantee with children. The hand of the Stranger lurked about, fingers splayed wide apart, searching for the next victim to snatch. How Betrys had wept for their son.

He supposed the mistake had been his. Though Betrys was a Hightower, a descendant of Garmund and Rhaena, she'd been one of seven children where only one had been a boy. But who could blame him? Shining with a sweet light all of her own, the young girl had been everything a young prince's wife ought to be, kind, considerate and graceful. The only accusation he might bring to her was that she never quite managed to give him another son after Daeron. She had gifted him daughters aplenty though. Daella, Mylisant, poor Ailith, who had died within a year of her birth, and, last but not least, Jenny. Theirs had been a passionate union until her death in childbed.

Older and a little wiser when his sight landed upon Metylda Mullendore, he had been relieved to find she had two older brothers and an older sister, all of whom had sons of their own. Tylda, may the Mother grant her mercy, had been as plain of face as she was mischievous of heart. And the gods knew her face had been very plain. But one conversation, quite by chance, was all it took to reveal to him a lively mind behind her unexceptional visage. In other words, Tylda had been everything sweet Betrys had not, though he rarely admitted that to himself. With her he'd found another kind of passion; they spoke long into the night, their love of the arts leading to more than one heated debate.

Tylda had given him but three children. The first had been Valerion whose life had been as short as that of his namesake. Then had come Aelor, a boy whose nature was as mischievous as his mother's and ended with him somehow falling out of his cradle, hitting his head on the edge of a dais. The maesters could not save him. But that was after his mother's death. Tylda's last child was Ascelina, who'd survived both brothers and her mother. The last birth had weakened poor Tylda and she died within the moon turn of her daughter's birth, of a chill.

"Then you had best produce an heir." As his cousin spoke, Duncan had the heavy horse removed by his other dragon.

The trouble was that while he was not incapable of marital congress, the idea of taking another wife sat ill with him. Tylda had shown him that love could come again if he allowed it, yet to install another mistress in chambers that had been hers, to see another woman in her bed and long for the conversation they'd held well into the night. Duncan did not consider himself a sentimental fool. In all other respects, he had removed any and all traces of his first two wives.

"Might be you've the right of it." But then his cousin would not make such a suggestion out of the goodness of his heart. "Don't tell me, though, you mean to offer me someone." Aerys moved the rabble to the side. His king was open to attacks. "I do not think I could bear it." He conquered the ivory monarch, finishing the game.

"I daresay, you know better than I what you need in a woman, Duncan. However, if you are inclined to listen to advice, my suggestion is to seek a young, healthy bride. A Frey might be. Think of all the little children."

"A broodmare." He was not entirely opposed to it. "I'll consider the matter, cousin. But for now, I am more than pleased in my current state." Aegon might still survive, drat him. There had been so many of these false alarms as of late. It would not be seemly to rush into marriage. "Speaking of fine, young ladies; where is the Lady Lyanna? I thought your wife had her keeping her company."

Amusement flickered upon his cousin's face. "Being interrogated over a hand of cards, as I understand. Mother is adamant that the girl share with her all about the North. As though she cares one whit about the savage lands beyond the Neck."

"Is there any chance we'll see her in the great hall, do you think?"

"I would not count on it. They're on to our game, after all."

"A pox upon it. A man can no longer wench in peace for interference of his kin."

Aerys laughed. "I'll see if I can convince Rhaella to bring the girl down. She can't stay locked in those chambers forever; now, can she?"

Duncan did fear that the minds of women were addled, though; particularly the minds of women in his family. The Seven knew what they could do if they took to a task. He flashed a wide smile to his cousin before standing. "If you don't mind, I'm for the dragon pit."

"Pleasant ride."

A little exercise would work well to excise his pent up dissatisfaction.

She had brushed her hair for the seventh time. Lyanna put down her comb and fiddled with a bit of string escaping an embroidered flower before she could catch herself and deposit her hands in her lap. The Princess had been gracious and allowed her to remain within her chambers with her servant girl. Lyanna did not precisely know how she would repay the woman, especially considering she'd also been responsible for all the good fortune come her way. The only way she could think was to promise to her as well that she would be a good wife to her son.

"M'lady, you should eat a little," Bailey encouraged. "Your look is as pale as death, 'pon my word." She held the tray up for Lyanna to inspect. "At least a bit of bread and cheese, m'lady. You don't want to be getting sick." That was certainly true. She forced herself to take a small piece of cheese and nibble on it. The taste hardly mattered. It was as tough she chewed on ashes. "Don't be thinking so hard, m'lady. It can't do too much good."

Bailey had the right of it. Lyanna knew it did not help matters, but the only other option was to run about screaming. She was going to wed a man she'd never met before this day, share a bed with him and the gods knew what else. If it were only a matter of her keeping company with him, she might not have taken it so. But then she reminded herself he might have laughed at her plight and sent her tumbling into the awaiting arms of hardly kind men. He could not be all bad. And if he were the reprobate, as the heir apparent, then surely she would have heard.

"Tell me, Bailey, how long have you served here?"

"A good number of years, m'lady. Started out washing linens." She looked upon her then. Bailey was not in the first flush of youth, but she was not all that old either, by Lyanna's reckoning. "It must be two scores of years by now, lady." Kind eyes encouraged her without words.

"Do you know, then, the measure of my betrothed?" Her stomach squeezed. She just wanted someone to tell her she was not making a mistake.

"Know him? Aye, how could I not?" The servant woman put the tray upon the stool. "He spent almost all his years here, m'lady, before he began aiding His Grace the Crown Prince in running the other seat." He ran Dragonstone? So that was why the thing didn't fall in a heap of rubble around its master's ears. "And a good hand he is at it too. When Her Grace went there she took me with." Lyanna nodded.

"And the servants? How does he treat the lower orders?" A small smile twitched to life upon the woman's lips.

"You are not to be part of the lower orders, m'lady. Begging your pardon for speaking out of turn." She curtsied.

Before Lyanna could put another question in, the door opened to admit Princess Rhaella, who busied herself with shooing her women away. "Just do as I said," she spoke over their soft words. Then, turning towards Lyanna, she tsked. "I knew I should have stayed behind. My poor dearling, you've hardly eaten a bite. Bailey did I not say to feed her?"

"Your Grace, the fault lies with me," Lyanna quickly interjected. "I simply cannot swallow another morsel." The cheese would have to tie her over.

"Well, well," the Princess allowed, moving past the servant woman and bending to press a soft kiss to Lyanna's cheek. "You cannot blame a mother for worrying. And do not be too shocked. I have decided that a good-daughter is no different from a daughter. After all, I am to guide you through this, my sweet, as there is no one else to do it properly."

Bailey left them at the nod of the Princess. Lyanna was not entirely surprised to be uprooted from her seat and placed upon the edge of the bed. The Princess sat down next to her. "My dear child, you must be honest with me; have you ever known a man?"

Instinctively she knew the meaning was not as innocent as it might seem. "Known a man?"

"Have you lain with a man is what I'm asking."

Her face exploded in a rush of crimson she did not doubt. "I am a maiden," she managed past the thickening of her own tongue. She considered explaining that her aunt's actions had naught to do with her and bore no special meaning as to the climate she'd been raised in. "I would not dare..."

"Pray do not be cross with me," the older woman spoke sweetly. "I had to know, you see, for I must explain to you what goes on between a man and woman if you do not know."

"I know that whatever goes on between man and wife yield in children," she said. That was the extent to which the maester had explained the matter to her, promising that one day she would have her fill of knowledge upon the subject with a rather wicked wink.

"You are correct, of course." She breathed out in relief. "But there are some parts to it which may seems strange to you." Lyanna simply nodded her accord to proceed. "You see, when a man and woman come together, he will put that part of him which is different within that part of her which has been created to receive it." That, at least, she'd guessed from catching the barnyard beasts. It did not look comfortable. "You will lie on your back for this." Her eyebrow rose. "I expect you've seen the mating of beasts once or twice. Unlike them, for us it is more comfortable if we lie back."

"I see." She did not.

"The first time there is some pain, but you mustn't mind it. 'Tis only this one time, for your maidenhead will be broken. My advice is to take a fortifying cup of wine." The Princess smiled. "But even if you shouldn't, the act can be quite pleasant when your partner shows enough consideration."

How would she know if he did? "What a look you have about you, child. You truly need not be afraid. If your own mother were here with you she would tell you the same. Do you believe your lord father would knowingly harm his lady wife?"

"Nay." She felt her face heat up yet again.

"Might be 'tis better I tell you. A mother should never wish to imagine her daughter in such a position," the Princess mussed. "Well, beyond that, it has been my observation that men have a fondness for breasts." Was it too much to ask the earth to swallow her up, Lyanna wondered. "If he should be desirous to touch you there, leave him be. It hurts nothing and could even prove pleasing. Other forms of petting might be involved, for men are such that they need the constant touching."

Swallowing her nervousness, she somehow managed to ask, "Am I expected to," she trailed off, licking her lips hesitantly, "return the attention?"

"Heavens; I daresay he'll be in raptures if you do. Most men are." The trouble was she hadn't the faintest if she was brave enough to even look at him, knowing what she knew. Touch her breasts indeed, she scoffed. The Princess laughed and stroked her hair. "But if you do not feel comfortable, I don't doubt he will understand. It saddens me that you were not given the chance to know one another better; if I could provide, have no doubt that I would."

"Your Grace is most kind." Positively killing her by being so accommodating.

"Is there anything else you wish to ask me?"

Lyanna considered asking for a horse and a few men to return her to her father. Just as quickly she slammed the lid over that thought, locking it away in a dark corner. "I do believe I have all the knowledge I need."

"Very well then. Let us garb the bride then and we shall go to His Majesty."

The idea the King knew tonight she would be losing her maidenhead brought a wave of nausea over Lyanna. She choked back hysterical laughter and stood to her feet. Time to pay the piper.