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Chapter 4
At the soft, familiar knock, Elia smiles and puts away the parchment she was checking for errors in her script. She will send the letter off tomorrow. This was more important.
"You have done me a kindness in returning swiftly."
Rhaegar huffs. He removes his shirt and drapes it across her vanity. "Just as well. You have not been careful in my absence."
Tucked into her covers, she gestures around her boudoir. "How much care does a person require when in their own bed in the presence of only her husband?"
Rhaegar smirks as crookedly as he is capable. The expression is predictably fleeting, too easily replaced by careful concern. "You need not exert yourself so much."
"If you had not left I would not have had to."
Though he tries to mask it, she sees him wince. She feels no pity or a desire to take the words back. Perhaps paranoia has gripped her, but, the last time he left her presence for more than a few days, he eloped with another man's betrothed and a war followed.
As much duty she could and did adjust for, it is tiring. She should not have to try to keep his mood buoyant while trying to maintain hers.
"I would not have left if it had been unnecessary."
This conversation is achingly familiar. She knew what she had been getting when she agreed to stay. There was, however, a limit to how much she would tolerate. Where the limit was, she could not say. And yet, she feels that she is reaching it, if not already there.
Still, she says, "Neither one of us is made for idleness. Rest assured, I am doing my best to not overextend myself."
The brief relief in his eyes at her response is oddly comforting. She grimaces. A small, unconscious gesture like this should not be a cause for joy. She should not be content with 'enough'.
Rhaegar huffs. "I am not asking you to be idle. I am asking you to be sensible."
Was that not quite the joke? "I never claimed to be very sensible."
He retorts, "One of us ought to be."
She laughs. Even if it was for the wrong reasons, at least he can still make her do that. She stops laughing when Rhaegar asks, "Might I join you?"
An odd question; he is already nude and climbing into the bed. It was not an unwelcome question or unwelcome circumstance. No matter how much one can prepare for it, life at court is no easy chore and ruling…He was the king and she was the queen. A queen shared her king's burden, so they said. While she might shoulder it alone, she lacked the desire to prove she could.
When he is settled next to her, with a mien far more serious than she would have liked, he launches another volley. "The maester said you were following instructions-"
"Of course." She snorts. That old man loves to inform on her.
Barely containing his own laughter, he rebukes, "He means well."
She gives Rhaegar a doubtful expression. His returning it is telling. Pressing herself closer to Rhaegar, she acknowledges he is not completely wrong. She must trust Pycelle; not everyone can be a Grand Maester, after all. She does not have many other options. Still, she had been relieved that additional assistance had been summoned to counteract that curmudgeon.
He presses a kiss into her temple. "I almost lost you to my carelessness once. I won't lose you to your own."
Before, she longed to hear such words. Now, listening to them fills her with dread. Does she even believe that he does not want to lose her? No matter how she wishes it, she cannot bring herself to think he will not.
When he drapes an arm against her shoulders, she burrows further into his side. She gives in to the urge to kiss his cheek. "You have not."
He kisses her hair this time. Feeling the press of too many emotions she has no interest in naming, she brings herself to quip, "What have I done to warrant such tender attention?"
Rather than be calmed, he looks down at her, frowning. "Am I not allowed to kiss my wife?"
It's been some years and she can still hear the whispers following her as she left the tourney grounds at Harrenhal. Years ago, months ago, she never believed she would have heard him ask. Should she believe he wants to? Duty tells her she should. Experience tells her otherwise. "That is how this begun in the first place."
She feels him shift against her. Then, he shifts again. He says nothing. He means to speak and yet he does not. Before, when she carried Rhaenys there had never been this hesitancy. With Aegon, he had been determined. This time he is so hesitant. Why? Should she try to find meaning in behind it? Where would that lead?
She steels herself. She should know. "You wish to say something."
He whispers, "Are you truly well?"
"I am." Despite herself, the concern on his face makes her want to reassure him. "We have taken precautions."
He smiles at her softly. But, while there is some peace in the smile, there is little in his eyes and even less serenity in her.
There was a child growing in her; her third, the unexpected one. The fear in her is more potent than the other times. She hates that it is.
She turns away from her husband.
It is unfair. Instead of just being able to enjoy having a child with her husband she cannot stop thinking of possibly dying. It hurts to think of how much time had gone by and to think of how much longer she still might have…if she has time at all. And the future…if she lives…if she does not…Gods, the damnable future and the even more damnable uncertainty.
"You do not regret it."
He phrases it as a statement, yet, it is a question. Does she have regrets? Things are not mended between them. Will they ever be?
She turns back to him She is not without regrets. But, this, reconciling with Rhaegar and getting with his child again are not among them. "No."
"I am glad." For a moment, they smile at each other again. It is almost like how it was in the early days of their marriage, she thinks.
In the next instant, she remembers these are not those days. Had they been, Rhaegar would have never said, "You spoke to Lyanna" even as he pulls her against him more tightly.
She frowns. "Yes."
"She spoke to me again as well."
Curiosity growing fiercely, her heart beats faster. "What did she say?"
"She would like to go North until the birth."
An incomplete answer. Though she understood the urge to return to the familiarity of one's childhood home all too well, surely there was more. Even without the stiff way Rhaegar is beside her, she knows Rhaegar has not left it at that. "Until the birth?"
He sighs heavily. "Yes. Or so she says now." The harshness of his tone alarms her. She can feel how deep the tension in his body runs.
"You suspect she might not return?"
Had she somehow made things worse? But, damn it all, she had been too frustrated. How many tasks must she undertake? How much more does she have to do? And for what? Someone else's benefit at her expense?
When no answer comes forward, she presses, "Well?"
He threads his hand in hers, still stiff. Not good. She gives a squeeze. His grip slackens slightly. He rubs a little. That's better. Not good, but, better. He kisses her again, barely a brush. As soft as the kiss is, there is nothing soft about his words. "You are not to worry about it."
He demands the impossible. He can believe all will be well. She does not have the luxury. "How can I not?" She will not allow him to lull her into believing it. She made that mistake once.
Rhaegar shifts again, turning towards her. The arm that had been around her shoulder now props his head up. He reaches out with his free hand to take hers. "I promised Viserys I would ensure you would not tax yourself while in your condition. You promised as well."
Her brows furrow. She will not the children be his excuse. She will not excuse him. "That's all well and good-"
Rhaegar pushes himself closer to her. "Please, do not allow yourself to over-burdened; not for what I can manage."
She glares. "I am your wife, whatever you need to manage, I will do it with you. Your burdens are mine." Even if she wanted them not, they were hers. She will not let herself be taken unaware. Not again. She cannot afford it.
Still, when Rhaegar's eyes flash dark, she almost flinches.
As if he understood her fears. he tries to smile at her reassuringly. It fails to work. He sees it. He squeezes her hand. "Not this one."
He sidles closer and kisses her forehead again. "I let you carry the weight of enough of my decisions even as you carry this newest one. Leave Lyanna to me."
She shudders. Isn't that what she wanted? And now here Rhaegar was, saying exactly that. Oh, how sweet would it be? She shakes her head. It will never be that easy. "What of her am I to leave to you?"
What should she do? Her life already hangs in the balance and that of the babe. She cannot leave things to chance.
Rhaegar frowns at her again, but, what was a frown when she had already seen so much worse? "I do not discuss Lyanna with you much at your request."
Leave it to him, he says. He caused this! She had not caused this, but, she must suffer it? Trust him?
She sighs. "This is not a mundane matter."
Rhaegar nods, but, presses his earlier declaration. "I will call for her when it is time. She will be back."
"If she does not return?"
At first, Rhaegar scowls. Then, jaw clenched, he pronounces, "Then, she is not to."
He sounds so sure. "What?" But, he always sounds sure.
While his eyes take on a dulled sheen, there is something so resolute in his stare. She had seen it the same glint during that night of the comet. "I never begged anyone for anything before. I will not begin now."
A shiver runs through her at how unyielding he sounds. She does not know what brings her to remind him: "And you will just let her go when you risked everything for her once before?"
Rhaegar looks away. Neither of them speak. The sound of their breathing is unusually harsh. "If I must," he says, eventually.
"I thought of leaving once."
Rhaegar turns towards her again. "You thought of leaving and you stayed. If she needs time, I see no reason to grant it. There is a limit, though. I have already played enough games with our lives, Elia. I will not play this one. Whatever she chooses, I will hold her to it."
It infuriates her. Not his words, no. It's the certainty. As if there were not still cracks visible. Viserys is still terribly sullen at times. Rhaenys had not known what to make of Rhaegar, Lyanna, or Jon. To Aegon, Rhaegar had nearly been a stranger. She had taken Jon into her hands so many months after his birth. Daenerys was still a babe. Now with the other child…
And who knows what Lyanna might do? Perhaps Lyanna makes her escape to let her suffer the consequences. Or perhaps Lyanna might decide she wants the life she now leads and returns happily. After all, there might be a pack of motherless children and a husband would value the only wife he might have left. Wouldn't that be convenient?
And Rhaegar, perhaps he will relent. He swore words to her before, in front of all of King's Landing and their shared gods. He broke his vows to her. The result, the other wife and the other male heir, are down the hall. If she did not press and she would risk another Daemon. Press too much and she will risk another Daemon. Her children's futures are at stake! Their lives perhaps!
Has she not been through enough? No matter how much Aegon the Unworthy tried, the one thing he never did was make Daena Nerys' equal, for all that she was a Targaryen born. Rhaegar forced her to share her place with Lyanna. To the Seven Hells with them both! "Do I have your word, Rhaegar?"
His eyes glow fiercely. "You do. I swear it. Do you trust me?"
She is his wife. A wife should trust her husband. He betrayed her trust before. She has little recourse than to remain tangled with him, not if she would throw away her future and that of her children. But, trust him? If she was to be wise, she would not. She should not. Does she even have it in her to try again?
He pulls her close, her lack of an answer had been one. "You have my word. If she intends to remain away permanently, then, it is her prerogative."
His eyes so brightly she shivers. So sure. Damn it all! But, oh, she does not trust him. He is clever, her husband. He has a sharp mind and sweet words. And look what she wrought by letting him drip honey into his ear.
He asks, "Are you cold?"
It's a flimsy change of subject. Still, she grasps at it willingly. Why should she have to think and think and think. Is she never to have peace?
"A bit."
He asks, "Shall I stoke the fire?"
"Leave it."
"Leave it?"
She grabs a shoulder. "Yes. Just stay put." For once, just stay put. Is that too much to ask of her own husband?
"As you wish, wife."
Laughter threatens to bubble. Somehow, she manages to hold it in. Is it that easy or is it a recent development. Is it just him being conciliatory? "I do wish it." Whatever the cause of this, she will take it. She stayed, hadn't she?
"What else would you have of me?"
What else would she have of him? Why does he only ask now? Perhaps, it is only because the child. They both knew his father had been unkind to his mother and Rhaella fell into arms of the Stranger. She almost died the last time, too.
"Tell me of your journey."
Rhaegar's little trip obviously went well enough. Had there been a calamity she would have heard of it already. Still, she would discuss something else, anything else. She already borrowed more than her share of trouble. Death is out of her hands. As to the other matter… short of locking the Lyanna in the Maidenvault or pushing her out the gates herself, there is little she can do and either would be detrimental to her own self.
Rhaegar lays back, his face brightens. "Summerhall? It was silent, pleasantly so." An expected answer from him she could never hope to replicate. That ruin which calls to him never drew her interest in the same way.
"I meant Storm's End."
This time, Rhaegar groans, dragging his free hand across his face. "I do not wish to speak of that."
Pulling from what amusement she can, she jests, "You would deny a queen from speaking of a part of the realm?"
"I would hope my wife refrain from thinking about that when we finally have time to ourselves."
He laughs. She feels a jolt at the gratefulness in his eyes. The elation dies swiftly. Once, such words from him would have been sweet. They should have been. No longer.
Rhaegar brushes his free hand against the side of her face and down her body before returning to rest on her neck. It's a simple gesture, but, there is something different in Rhaegar's touch. She cannot explain it. That she does not know the cause nearly made her weep.
"What would you have me think of?"
Rhaegar's smile is as bright as his eyes. Though she tells herself not to be taken in, when he presses himself closer, her breath quickens. "I think you know."
She tries to tell herself she relents only because she remembers Viserys' dread and her own fears, but, she leans into Rhaegar's touch too easily. She always had. Was it not her duty? She chose to remain behind. Either she was here, or she was not.
The gods may damn her yet for this. They should damn her for it, fool that she is. She forces hardness into her tone. "I do not."
For a moment, there was a flash of pain. She cannot say how it feels knowing she can cause him that.
"I would have you think of better things," he says.
"About the child growing in side of me?" Just the child and nothing else when there is so much for both of them to think many times over? If only things were that simple.
Now, Rhaegar's smile is soft. "I have not stopped thinking of they grow in you since you told me that we are to have another. But, here with you, I do not wish to think only of our child."
It is terrible, how the touch of the softest silk would feel coarse in comparison to Rhaegar's smooth tones. She should know better. She does know better. Still, unlike his, her words, on the come out unsteady. "What should I think about? You?"
As if in answer, Rhaegar grins before pressing a kiss to her neck. "If you like." The feel of his lips against her ear tease at the hint of a wicked smile she rarely experienced. This time her shiver has little to do with hesitance or fear.
Even then, she cannot help the question she asks. "Could you be happy with me?" Only me. That is the way it should have been, just one another's alone. They could have had that. And now, no matter what happens, that is something she will never have.
Her eyes burn. She looks away.
There is a hand in her hair. He tucks a strand behind her ear. "I've not always been good to you."
She glances up. His face speaks of pained realization. And the words are true, but, not the answer to her question. Before she could speak, he continues, ruefully, "If I had been good to you, you would know the answer to the question you posed."
Damn him!
She makes to move. She is stopped when he curls into her further, dropping his head into the crook of her neck. "I mean to rectify what I can. Will you let me?"
Will she? Yes. Should she? She cannot say.
She trusted him once. He betrayed her.
She should push him off and away. But, she does not. He was her husband. Push him away now and what will she get in the end? Nothing but her own hurt and humiliation. She got that before when she had not pushed him. What more would she suffer if she pushed?
She does not push him away. When his lips brush against hers, they are soft. His lips are too soft to have been touched by something else, someone else. She ought to dread finding happiness in the small things. So why does the thought of his untouched lips thrill her?
She does not know how long their kiss was. It's a heady thing to be able to forget everything else. When they part for breath, he rests his forehead against hers. The feel of his lips on hers lingers, the scent of him, the heat of his body, still pressed close, warms her.
She breathes deeply. "What are you asking of me?"
What does he want from her? He wants everything she can give him. Then he'll want more and it will still not be enough. How much more of her will he take? What will he give her in return? She suffered because he takes. She shouldn't forget.
He leans over her. Those beautiful eyes are locked on hers. For a moment if feels like his world shrunk to her and her alone. He says, "Will you let yourself think of us together?"
Her breath quickens. Oh, would that not be glorious? But, it's a lie. It will never be just about them, will it? She does not know if she wants to laugh or cry. "I have before." Look what that got her!
"I mean now."
He looks so earnest. She lifts her chin. "Do I not carry your child in my belly?"
He presses himself against her. "That you do."
His hand cups her cheek. "Will you forgive me?"
Of all things, he has asked for and demanded of her, forgiveness had never been one.
"What would you have me forgive?"
She wants him to say it, how he wronged her, how he wrongs her still. If she must forgive him, then, she needs him to say it. More than that, she needs to believe him!
His arm snakes around her back, holding her firmly against him. She lets him. She feels his smile against her lips. Damn him, she thinks and damn her with him. "Just think of us, here and now."
"That is not good enough."
He looks dismayed. She cannot afford to pity him. Perhaps now, he can feel how it was for her to be found lacking, and to be told how she had lacking. He should be grateful she allows him the dignity of privacy. He had not allowed her that much at Harrenhal!
The honest pain flashing in his eyes sends a thrill through her. "I betrayed our vows. I forsook our friendship. I used you. For that I am sorry."
"You hurt me so much." She can tell herself she forgives him; she will never forget. Perhaps it is a flaw in her; but, at least is one she can claim, not one that others push upon her.
His head is pressed against hers once again. "I am so very sorry." He pecks a light kiss at her lips. The gesture is nice, but, not so nice that it clouds her judgement.
"Are you?"
A lock of his silver hair slides across her cheek. One of his hands rubs at a shoulder, the other trails against a thigh as he presses himself closer to her. "I am. I swear it! I am so sorry."
His eyes are so damned earnest, but, she has seen that before. She heard the words before. She grasps at his hair and pulls. She revels in his choked gasp. "You think I should believe you?"
He is pressed so close to her now. "Let me prove it to you! Please?" For a man who claims not to beg he does it prettily. But, he'd always been pretty.
She pushes him back and his eyes dim. Though it is beneath her, knowing that she caused him to feel anything is as sweet as Dorne's finest vintage. "Why should I? You will betray me again."
She asked that, but, she stayed, hadn't she? She made her choice already, but, she does not have to make it easy for him. She should not. She will not.
"I won't! I swear."
She shifts up and wraps her arms about his neck. She bites a kiss into his lips.
He gives her a pleased groan. The next kiss, this one softer than the last, is only the merest brush. Sweet, she thinks, as she licks her lips. But, sweet is not enough. She demands, "Do you promise? I want your word. If she does not come back after the birth, she will not at all."
She drops her hand to grasp at his length. She's delighted at the sounds he makes, the sounds she causes. He slides his left hand around the back of her head, cradling it, pulling her closer to him again. She nibbles at an ear as she moves her hand across his skin. The sounds she pulls from him are intoxicating. "And you have it. I promise. Please? Please Elia?"
Each part of her skin he touches heats in the most marvelous way and he touches everywhere. His mouth still on her, she lets herself think of nothing else; not duty, not anyone else except her husband and how he is making her feel. She cannot find it in her to be resilient. She does not experience this enough to want to throw that away. Despite herself, her concerns drip away with each caress.
He pushes against her more deeply. Her skin is on fire. The press of his body warms her. His words are sweet in her ears.
It is all too easy to let herself be taken in by the warmth of Rhaegar's body against hers and the heat of Rhaegar's gaze being focused solely at her. She tries not to. Oh, how she always tries, but, since the day she married him she wished for this. To have it now…
She should not allow this. She had too much to lose. She shouldn't and yet, here she was letting him fool her.
And for what?
Because feels so good? Is it be so horrible if she lets herself put that aside for his hands, for his mouth? Why not? Why should she allow herself to be miserable in her own marriage bed?
She is lying to herself. That is not it completely. She has too much to lose if she does not.
She had hopes for her marriage. She said the words to the gods and for herself, her family, and her people. Her children are here. Her life is here with this man who is her husband, the father of her children, and her king. What can she gain by fighting him? She chose to be here. She cannot go back. Go back and what? Perhaps he might not let her back. Does she want to test that? She does not trust him to want her back.
No, she does not trust him. But, at least she can trust him to make her feel good. But, what about after that?
She truly is the grandest fool.
She wakes up alone as if she went to sleep that way. She tells herself to stifle her discontentment. Yearning for fleeting satisfaction from Rhaegar is foolish. Rhaegar is not worth it; not when the last thing she may do is bring another child into the world. She has too much to do before then.
She prepares for the day quickly. She will not allow herself to be distracted. Intent on spending as much time with the children she can, she heads to the nursery. The apologetic Lord Commander greets her there. She would take have to take the mornings audiences. The king was discussing some grave business with his other queen; the Hand of the King was occupied elsewhere. He insists on accompanying her.
"Of course," she says, with a smile. He returns it not realizing hers was practiced. If she has her way, he will never learn it.
Before she follows him out the doors, she looks to the occupied cots. She can still have time with her son even if she must dispense the King's justice. She also thought to take Rhaenys with her as well today, after all, if she was in Sunspear no one would have looked twice at Arianne sitting with Doran, but, for King's Landing, this would be daring enough. Even if he remains mute, Ser Gerold's face says as much.
And, true enough, there are whispers when she moves to sit on Rhaegar's throne with Aegon in her lap. Still, to sit on the Iron throne in Rhaegar's absence it is her right. More importantly, it is her son's. When the last supplicant leaves, she allows herself a smile. She did not prick herself and her son had not cried or fussed. The whispers had not lasted for long.
At the midday meal in the Great Hall, she sits between the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and the returned Hand of the King. She engages them about the audiences and their opinions on her judgements. She wants to know how she fared and if they found fault in her actions. She is buoyed when she can find none.
Even when the meal ends Rhaegar and Lyanna remain unseen. She does not let herself wonder at it. She is a queen, she had other things do occupy her time with; far more needful things.
The Master of Coin is her next quarry. From him, she requests some Golden Dragons. The motherhouse and orphanage she is patron to need some more funds. A touch unsure, he says, he cannot give the amount she wants. The condition of the roads and rebuilding the fleet must take precedent. She assures him she understands, and she does. However, surely, he must remember that uncharitable courts are badly remembered ones? She needs his assistance in erasing the taint of the former king's reign. She worries now because in a few months, she will be forced to remain abed to avoid unnecessary risks. A handful of Golden Dragons given today is goodwill one can rely on tomorrow.
Before leaving her, he gives her belly a meaningful look. When he returns, he hands her a bag of Golden Dragons and bows. It is a smaller amount than she asked for, but not so small she cannot use it.
When he shuffles of, she decides to take a slow stroll through the gardens with a few of her ladies and one of the children's nurses. The Maester demanded she not exert herself, but, she will not hide herself away in the Red Keep yet. For now, she is content to settle with her ladies on blankets when she becomes winded.
There is magic in the sun's warmth on her face, in the crispness of the air. Listening to Lady Mariya Darry's latest gossip and the sounds of Lady Darlessa's lute is so much better than sitting in her rooms, alone, waiting for her husband. Tossing words back and forth with Lady Alyse, a Ladybright and the lone Dornishwoman in her company now that Larra has taken up her duty as Lady Blackmont, is a much more satisfying use of her energy.
More than that she just enjoys being with the children. Daenerys is still much too young to take the risk of allowing her outside and Jon is not hers to take, but, she beams at the way Viserys, pretending to be the Black Dread, chases after a delighted Rhaenys and her prized cat while Aegon toddles behind them as fast as his legs can carry him.
After a while because Aegon tire she settles him in her lap. Viserys, too, decides to take a break, diving for the sweetmeats she and the ladies brought with them. Rhaenys takes her turn at being a 'dragon' with Balerion as her prey. She cheers her daughter on as she brushes her fingers through Viserys' hair. She laughs outright at Viserys' sullenness becomes an embarrassed pout and delights in Aegon giving her a sweet kiss.
While the nurse cuts up some fruit for the children, she begins to imagine what it would be like for this newest child comes into the world; would it be a boy or a girl, who would the child favor in temperament and in looks, would it be a healthy child? Would she do right by this child? She wonders if she will live to see it.
It is the heels on that thought, Viserys pushes a plate of fruit at her, with a face that brooks no dissent. She offers none, charmed as she is by him. It's sweet that he's trying. Her ladies find it just as sweet. While he finds that somewhat embarrassing, that is nothing compared to shriek of 'Indignity' he lets out when she brushes at a smudge of dirt on Viserys cheek.
"Indignity, hmm?", she asks, handing Aegon to the nurse.
He nods emphatically, windswept hair becoming more askew. "You cannot wipe at my face!" Ser Barristan who had been on duty politely coughs while her ladies hide their laughter behind their hands.
"Dear one, wiping away dirt is no indignity." She knows what true indignity is. She lives with it every day.
Scandalized, he squeaks, lowly. "It's embarrassing!"
In the future, would Aegon say such things to her? Would she live long enough to be able to embarrass her children? "It was necessary."
"It is not." He crosses his arms across his chest. Aegon valiantly tries to mirror Viserys' attempt at fierceness. It was difficult holding in her own laughter at that. Balerion was much better at glaring than either of them.
"If you think that was bad, I can always have you dunked into the Blackwater."
His eyes go wide. "You can't do that!"
"Why not?"
"I am too big for you to carry," he says haughtily. Despite herself she is relieved. She was thinking he would say 'Because I am not your son'. Still, the daring on the boy!
She looks at her ladies before turning back to Viserys. "Well, then, I suppose I have only one recourse." She tickles him in the stomach with both hands.
"Elia!" He tries to bat her hands away in between his wheezing laughter. "Stop!"
She only does when Aegon asks "Mama, me!" For her part, Rhaenys presses herself into her side, giggling and with cat in hand.
She feels lighter because she lets herself have this.
When it is time to corral the cheerful children back to the nursery and Viserys to his lessons, she still is gloriously content. But, at the nursery a smiling Lyanna was waiting for her. "Elia, there you are. Can we talk?"
If she had known she would have lived to see this, she might have thought to kill Lyanna before she became her husband's other queen. It is not in her to be that cruel and it's too late for that. As it is, only someone stupid might try it. Any attempt on Lyanna's life and she would be the first one accused. Of all the things she has been accused of: not pretty enough, not healthy enough, not worthy enough, no one ever accused her of stupidity.
She waves away her companions before leading Lyanna to her Solar. She cannot ignore Lyanna, yet, she would rather have the conversation in private. Besides, she does not trust Lyanna's pleasantness. Before the tourney, Lyanna had been pleasant at Harrenhal and now she was her husband's other wife. The histories say Alicent Hightower had been pleasant, too; look where that got Rhaenyra!
"You wanted to talk?"
"I am going to Winterfell within a fortnight," Lyanna says, cheerfully.
She raises a brow. Rather sudden and yet, she will not question it. She would rather devote her attention to the practical matters surrounding Lyanna's visit. "How many companions are you taking with you?"
"Lady Jeyne, of course," Lyanna says.
She nods. Lady Flint was one of the few ladies Lyanna cared to have about her. She vaguely remembers She thinks one of Lyanna's grandmother had been a Flint. Naturally, if Lyanna was going back North, Lady Jayne would also want to see her kin once more. Still, only one attendant?
Lyanna shrugs. "Too large a party would only slow us down. If I could take Jon it would be different."
Take Jon? To Winterfell? Rhaegar did not mention that at all! To mask her surprise, she says, "Quite so. Jon is much too young to travel."
Lyanna sigh, "I know. I hoped, but, Rhaegar said it would be unwise."
She wonders at the reason for Rhaegar's reluctance. Was it the fatherly urge to keep his son near or keep his son so that his other wife has a reason to return? Whatever the reason, Eddard Stark will not be able to take much umbrage on his sister's behalf!
Lyanna brightens. "Maybe you can talk to him." About what? Lyanna continues, "Rhaegar told me once you took Rhaenys to Dorne."
She balks at the very idea of interceding. Just what else has been Rhaegar telling Lyanna? She holds in her sneer. Probably everything besides what he promised he would tell her! "My mother was dying. She wanted to see Rhaenys before she faded completely."
Lyanna will only get the official explanation from her. She will not reveal how Rhaegar only offered her this as a half-hearted apology for Harrenhal. Even then, it was only after Rhaella's intercession and revealing she was with child, with Aegon, that Aerys allowed her to go.
Blushingly, Lyanna only says, "Maybe I can send for Jon later?"
She would have to be blind to miss the hopefulness on Lyanna's face. Well, being forced to practice pretending certainly had its uses. She lets a teasing edge drip into her voice. "Just how long do you intend on staying at Winterfell?"
Let Lyanna take the boy and who knows when they come back. When the boy is full grown, perhaps? Both may return with more numbers they left King's Landing with. For every Brynden Rivers there was an Aegor. Unlike Daemon, Jon has his father's name. She will certainly not take unnecessary risks.
When Lyanna does not answer the question, she asks another one: "Who else will accompany you?"
"Ser Oswell is coming with me and his squire; some household knights."
She holds in a snort. Ser Oswell Whent. Her husband is distressingly predictable. Well, at least it's only one of them this time. Blandly, she replies, "It is wise to have care at the beginning."
Lyanna turns wistful. "I just wish I could be there already." Then, Lyanna gives her a guilty look.
Now, she does not bother to hold in a sound of disbelief. "Even if it is the place of your birth, Winterfell is quite a distance from here, you see. And you are not just anyone." She smiles at Lyanna, again it is a practiced one. As with the Hand, the true nature behind the gesture isn't guessed at, merely accepted.
"If you need assistance in preparing, please let me know."
She hopes Lyanna take the hint to leave. Thankfully, Lyanna does. She goes back to the nursery.
It's not been so long since she saw her children and yet Rhaenys greets her with a tight embrace she returns. Aegon attaches himself to her leg. Jon smiles at her, mostly gums and some tiny teeth. Daenerys waves a thin pale hand, opening and closing it like a starfish. She laughs.
Rhaenys hands her a small book. Her daughter is eager to read to her. She sits intently as Rhaenys reads along, stumbling over larger words. Aegon tries to copy his sister, but, at his age, it's more babbling than truly reading. And yet, she is absurdly proud of her children.
Before she leaves, she has a discreet word with the chief matron of the nursery. She reminds herself to have another one with the Lord Commander.
Care at the beginning, she said to Lyanna. Care in the middle will have to suit.