"The league of extraordinary heirs," Lyanna jested, brushing a hand along the surface of the table in search for her cup. "Mayhap you should give it some more thought. I, for one, would not mind such an association." At least someone was willing to ward of the awkwardness. Rhaegar could only hope he would continue on such a path.

But then, he needn't have worried. Lyanna nodded to the rhythm of Elbert Arryn's chuckle, having finally found what she'd been searching for. "Begging your pardon, Your Grace, but I suspect His Grace would have a thing or two to say about our loitering in his keep. Heirs though we may be, I confess it does not much to lessen our various commitments."

"So I am given to understand," his young wife sighed. "If only there were a possibility of enjoying the benefits of the position without worrying over its obligations. Alas, such is our world that we must invariably apply our skills to these matters. Such impediments aside, though, I feel that I must ask, and in good conscience apologise for not having done so sooner; how fares Lord Arryn?"

"As well as can be expected," their guest shrugged. "One would not believe him to be a day over forty. And had I not known better, I would be tempted to say he'd bury us all. As I understood it, he planned to visit with Lord Stark."

"With father?" Lyanna grasped. "That is most unexpected."

"Why should that be?" Rhaegar finally intervened, mindlessly moving Lyanna's cup out of the way when her hand threatened to knock it over. "The two of them have, to my understanding, been on good terms for the longest time. It stands to reason." For all that, he was not unaware of Lyanna's fears. Still, there could be little done at this point, so he simply patted her arm gently and returned his attention to Elbert.

The rest of the meal was spent in companionable chatter, their subjects never straying too far from the acceptable topics of such as the spending of leisure time, the roads, the weather. All of them designed to put each and every single soul at ease. It felt rather like a contest. Which of them could keep their mask on longest. If he were a betting man; the thought took flight almost as soon as it formed. Wagers were truly not something he should concern himself with.

"Shall we be seeing you at Lord Whent's tourney?" he asked after the servants set about filling cups to the brim.

The young man had been equally busy downing the contents of the offering before he answered. "I would not miss it for the world, Your Grace. I seem to recall that you yourself are a skilled jouster. Might be I will have the good fortune of crossing lances with Your Grace."

"That is a distinct possibility," he acknowledged, wondering if he had seen Arryn joust before. If he had, he could not recall a thing. If he could not recall a thing, that meant no lasting impression had been made. Carefully, he ventures, "Have you a love for the sport?"

"Not as such." The knight offered a brief smile. "But 'tis a noble enough undertaking that I daren't thumb my nose too hard at it, though I might not enjoy it as much as my forefathers would wish."

"I am growing rather envious. Exponentially so by the minute," his wife laughed. "All this talk of jousting, and I have been relegated to the position of listener. Methinks, good sers, that I am de trop in this conversation."

"Never," Rhaegar hurried to assure her, enjoying the consternation on their guest's face. "And you are just as qualified to intervene as any of us. If not more so. Your see, my lady, when you wedded me, you gained beside a pretty title, a second advantage – that of always being right."

"Always right, am I?" Lyanna sighed softly, her lips curling in an impish smile. "I am glad that you can see such obvious truths." She did not exactly turn to Elbert before continuing, "This must not leave the four walls on this chamber, of course. It would simply be dreadful if anyone were to think he knows it, would it not?"

"Such care for your husband's reputation," the man offered, "can only be commended. Would that all men had the fortune of a wife your like." At least he no longer looked prepared to bolt. Progress indeed. "However did you find her, Your Grace?"

"He rather had to. I would not have been able to find him," came the dry response of his spouse, who was busily pressing her leg into his. "And, let us face the facts, he was truly fortunate. Not that I would ever point that out."

"Indeed, she would not." They laughed together at the theatrics. It was endearing, the manner in which she could fall right in line, while leading the conversation to wherever she willed it. "Now that we have elucidated this matter, I propose we return out attention to the jousts. Do not take it very hard, my love; I promise I shan't insist too much upon it. Will this be your first joust?"

"It happens to be my first, aye. Your Grace would be well advised that Ser Brandon joins the lists as well." Joyous news. Rhaegar would try to contain himself. "It seems to me your lady wife has an advantage."

"Hardly. Brandon is just as likely to crown his mare," Lyanna said nonplussed. "When Lord Bolton came acalling, I was most fortunate to her him describe that particular bond. It seems my brother would sooner be parted from his head than from his mare. I do not blame him though, for I am told she is a beauty."

"A gift from the Rills. And it is a magnificent beast. I swear I have never seen such an even-tempered horse. I would not blame my friend for bestowing a crown upon it in the least. As for Lord Bolton, Your Grace, I am much surprised he had anything good to say of your brother."

Historical enemies, as it were. That did not necessarily translate into a kindled hatred. "I am much surprised when anyone had a good thing to say of my good-brother, but I take it we have very different reasonings, you and I, ser."

"I find no fault with that either." Elbert followed their cue and rose.

They retreated to another chamber, the two of them to speak, while Lyanna moved away, nearer to the hearth and was listening to Dacey. He left her to it and transferred his attention to the man who'd lost some of the ease which they'd cultivated at the supper table.

"I take it then that my good-brother has shared with you his desire to win the joust." The words lingered between them, benign, but not entirely without an edge. "And what might he be planning?"

"The idea of winning brings him much joy, I cannot deny. As for how he plans to go about it, that is anyone's guess. And indeed, Brandon is not so thick as to have spread the word. Why, doers Your Grace fear losing?"

"To Brandon Stark?" He would have laughed if that were an appropriate response. "I suppose he is a fine rider. But talent alone is not entirely sufficient. We shall see which of us the gods favour. There is little need to contemplate the matter too greatly."

Conversation returned to blander topic, settling for aught which raised neither interest nor eyebrows. Thankfully, it also meant much expenditure was not required on Rhaegar's part in order to keep up with the flow of it. Much to his delight, he found that he could also half-hear whatever it was Dacey read.

When finally came time for the guest to be released to his own privacy and left to devices best known to him, Lyanna simply left her seat and crossed the length of the chamber, a more or less subtle approach given she also uttered, "Loathe as I am to cut into this scintillating conversation, I dare do so on account of my perpetual correctness, as it were. My husband would keep us all here until sunrise, if he could, but I am more merciful and, dare I say, rightly so."

"Someday soon, you yourself will have a wife, ser," Rhaegar contributed with just a hint of speculation to his gaze, "and you will find out, in short order, that once a decision is made, which invariably shall be hears, it will be followed through with an assurance. This goes for all matters, even those mundane ones. As you can see, my wife is tired, therefore I must be tired as well. Therefore you see are."

"Far be it from me to naysay the lady of the house. And in truth, I feel as though I could sleep for a thousand years." And that was that.

Led away by a helpful servant, Elbert Arryn abandoned in his wake the couple. As did Lyanna's companion at the dismissive wave of her hand. "I expect there is some explanation for this intrusion upon our peace," she murmured after a short silence, leaning against his slightly. "Why would he not simply say it, though?"

"Sometimes, the truth is more complicated than that. Whatever the subject he means to broach, it is clearly aught he is not sure how to approach." They sat back down by the fire together.

"That might well be; but he wastes his time and ours as well." How very like her to think it wasted. Rhaegar chuckled. "Are you laughing at me, husband?"

"Do you truly feel as though we have wasted even a moment? I, for one, was only too pleased to the prospect of having my good fortune so thoroughly displayed." He wound an arm around her shoulders and coaxed her closer. "And I've found out your brother is plotting my defeat. Indeed, it seems to me time well-spent."

"Sometimes I wonder if I shall ever regret not giving Brandon a well-deserved set down. Although I suppose he would feel obliged to give the crown if he won, no matter the charms of his mare. I am conflicted, husband."

"I suppose it would have been too much to ask for unconditional support. Very well; I will take what scraps I can get." To that she replied with a snort. "Trying to wheedle your way out of it, wife?"

"You have my unwavering support. Just know that if Brandon happens to win, and I am not saying I wish he would, he shall have my support as well. Besides, it is all the same to me, who wins and who does not; I am already in possession of the only title I shall ever need."

"Crown Princess?" he questioned innocently.

"Your wife."

"Is it morning?" That question was the single reminder that while good things were thoroughly enjoyable, they tended not to last. Rhaegar smothered a yawn in the palm of his hand and cracked one eye open to, as it were, gauge the time. Lyanna, who was perfectly content to burrow deeper into him, made a point of hiding her face in his shoulder, just in case.

"Not that I can see," he said, gathering her closer. One of her knees came dangerously close to robbing both of them of future pleasure as her whole frame jerked with movement. "Try to contain yourself, my love."

She chuckled and brought her elbow down against his chest in a mock-slam. "You are the worst. Could you please let go?" By then she was squirming in his grasp, rather as if her struggle were a real tactic. And he supposed it had to be. A very pertinent point was made when she pressed against his shoulder. "I mean it."

"I will never let go. I mean it too." Nevertheless, he allowed her escape, closing his eyes as he felt her weight move from his side. There was the sound if footfalls against flagstone and then it muffled against the carpets.

"Did you move the carafe?" Lyanna called out.

Opening his eyes once more, Rhaegar scrutinised the darkness for his wife's form. He found her somewhere near the wall, feeling along the stones. The table she was searching for was a few steps away. The carafe, however, was not in its customary place. Had he moved it? Rhaegar did not recall. He departed his comfortable position with a grunt. One of his arms experienced the existence of a pincushion as thousands of small needles pierced the skin, reminding him, beyond the shadows of a doubt, that actually allowing blood to flow through his limb was a good idea.

"I'll find it. Just grab a cup." He saw her nod, or suspected it was a nod. At any rate, she had moved and he took that for assent. Then began his hunt for the carafe of wine. Which was no easy feat given there was little light to go by and the ever present danger of knocking something over in the process.

The desired object had somehow found its way upon a low stool and made no protest at being hoisted up without much of a care. "Found it," he announced for Lyanna's benefit before turning around. His wife, ever more diligent in her pursuits, was already sitting upon the bed, cup in her lap, waiting for him with what looked to be a small smile. "I do not think I have ever met someone with whom I worked so well."

He strode towards the bed and instructed her to hold the goblet up. "Do not move an inch." The sound of liquid pouring forth from one recipient into another filled the otherwise quiet chamber. Might be if he were to listen carefully enough he would hear breathing as well.

A small yelp from Lyanna let him know that the chalice had been filled to refuse. "That is more than enough, I should think. Now I truly cannot move an inch." Aught in her voice carried the teasing of reproach. But when spoken so sweetly, he could not take umbrage. Thus, his one intent to save her from further encounters with wine spilling over brims, Rhaegar leaned in and gulped down a mouthful of the contents.

"Never let it be said that I shirk my duty as a knight of the realm." He climbed back into bed and drew the furs over them both. Lyanna was sipping on her wine, humming low in her throat. "This is so sweet." He licked his lips, mildly bothered by the taste.

"Duty accomplished exceedingly well. I will ask for something less sweet next time, if you want. But this was something the master suggested I take." She continued to drink the reminder of the contents, to the last, before placing the cup in his hands, ignoring his question in the process.

"The maester?" She placed the cup in his hands without a word. Rather than get out of bed a second time, he simply chose to lean over the edge and place the cup upon the floors, continuing the conversation. "You never said a thing. Are you unwell?"

"I am well." Yet she had still visited with the master. Rhaegar was not entirely certain what to make of it. He regarded her with suspicion. "Do you truly think that if I were ill the maester would keep it from you? You know better than that."

Did he indeed? "I know that I married a stubborn woman who was bitten by a snake and had the audacity to claim it was nothing. I know I married a woman capable to talking fear beasts into calm serenity–"

"Sixpence was not a wild beast," Lyanna cut in.

"I was not talking about the dog. And I also happen to know relying on others is not to your liking. Correct me if I am wrong, but given the circumstances, I should think my worry natural." At that she crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head vehemently.

"I will not deny any of your claims. Knowing you, that would only breed trouble. While I do find relying on others an annoyance, I am not so daft as to think I am invulnerable. And if I were ill, you would be the first to know. That I promise you." Satisfying as it was to know she would not hide such matters for him, the question still remained. Why had she seen the master then?

Since no answer upon that was forthcoming, he saw the need to prod. "Then tell me what you went to see the master about." Her teeth scraped against the lower lip. With enough force she could break the skin. "If you are not ill, then surely there is naught to fear."

Before he could offer any further assurance that whatever was the reason of her seeing the maester, it made little matter in light of the fact that she was hale, his wife let out a whine-like sound seeming to deflate before his eyes. "Nay. I cannot say it. I truly cannot." He blinked slowly, confusion suffusing his expression. "You will laugh."

"I will not laugh." That failed to coax a confession from her. "I solemnly swear not to laugh. Upon my honour." She remained silent. "Upon the Seven-Pointed Star."

"Your honour is good enough for me," Lyanna murmured after much deliberation. "Just remember that you promised not to laugh. " He nodded. "Mina said that her mother had her first child within the first year of her marriage."

"Indeed. And how is that our concern?" It might have to do with it being the wee hours, or the fact that sleep was not far off, but he failed to see what difference House Tyrell made in the whole matter regarding her own actions. Especially given the distressed he sensed just beneath the words.

"I knew you would not see it," came the sigh from his side. "My problem is that I am finding myself not experiencing the same glad tidings. There, are you pleased now that you've made me say it?"

Not necessarily. What he was though was even more confused than before. "Are you saying you went to the master because you are not with child?" He waited for her reply. And waited. And waited. "Lyanna." It seemed there was nothing for it but to drag the answer from her. "Did you see the master because you are not carrying?"

A mutinous little nod finally surfaced. He tried not to be astonished. Truly, he made a great effort of not allowing it to seep into his every pore. He did not find it amusing precisely, but he could conceive of how she would think the matter laughable in his eyes. What he did find it though was frightening. "That is a relief." Clearly, she did not agree by the gasp she produced.

"It does not trouble you now, but what if I never manage it? You act as though you will never need an heir. On second thought, laughter would have been preferable to this." Flopping onto her side, she faced away from him.

"That was not my meaning." He touched a hand to her should but she simply pulled away. "We have years and years to fill up the nursery. My being glad is from a concern for you. Mother was about your age when she gave birth to me. Look what it cost her."

"That was the curse," Lyanna offered grudgingly.

He sighed. "Curse or not, I am pleased you are without danger's reach. And if the Seven never see fit to bless us with children, I have brothers aplenty."

"But the prophecy–"

"Will be if it is meant to be. We need not rush anything. To be clear, lady wife, you are second to none and nothing in my eyes; least of all a prophecy. Am I clear?"