The dawn brings a new day, not chilly and not warm. Rhaegar is an early riser, and as always, he takes to walking in the gardens. There is little to do in the absence of his friend, Arthur Dayne. Besides, Rhaegar wants a few moments of peace before the jousting begins. He wants time to think of Lyanna and her smile, to recall the feel of her hand in his. The Prince's lips curl at the memory. Today she'll bestow her favour upon him. Rhaegar wonders what she'll give to him. Anything really will do as far as he's concerned.
"I'd have though you abed still, Your Grace," a voice he's heard in his dreams speaks. Rhaegar knows it to belong to Lyanna Stark. He doesn't startle, but merely turns to look at her. "You wish for my favour even now?"
Always, he is tempted to say that there is no moment in which he doesn't. "I do," Rhaegar replies instead. She steps closer, clutching something to her chest. The material shimmers softly in her hands, the light gray drifting through her fingers like water.
"This is what I'll give you." Although she says that, Lyanna makes no move to part with the scrap of material. The Prince tentatively reaches out. The girl gives a look over her shoulder, and then she turns her head back around to smile at him. Lyanna ties the cloth to his arm.
"What worries you?" He questions when she looks again away from him. Suspicion shines in her eyes at the question and he can see her considering whether to answer or not. "My lady, I would know you at ease."
She murmurs something too softly for him to catch. Gray snaps to violet in a swift move. "I am glad it is you who asked for my favour." There is something she doesn't tell him and the dragon Prince will not push her for it. Lyanna's hands no longer hold onto his arm. "You'll win." Her certainty makes him grin like a boy. Only he is no boy, he's already a man.
"I'll do my very best." It's a promise of sorts, so he can't see why she puts a hand to her mouth in order to cover her mirth. "My lady?"
"Have I ever told you that you and my brother are much alike?" At those words Rhaegar thinks of Brandon. He can't see how they are alike and his confusion must have shown. "I am speaking of Eddard, Your Grace." He still doesn't know what to make of it, so Lyanna touches his arm softly. "You'll know when you meet him."
And with that she gives a bow and leaves him, standing in the gardens, to ponder the meaning of her statement. Eddard Stark is younger than him. Not by much. Yet they've not had a chance to know one another any better than he does Brandon, or the youngest one. He shakes his head and looks to the token she's tied around his arm. It's a sort of scarf, he reckons, and for some reason it looks familiar. Unable to place it, Rhaegar lifts his head at the sound of steps.
Arthur Dayne, in his white cloak, is approaching the Prince. He gives a stare to the material around his arm and grins in a manner that Rhaegar is sure to ignore the impertinence of. "I saw you dancing with the she-wolf last evening." His eyes fall on the scarf. "And now she's giving you her favour. There is something there."
If he seeks an explanation, Rhaegar will not give him one. "Are you telling me you've never received one yourself?" He jests, of course. Arthur Dayne is not a man women ignore even if he is sworn to celibacy. And yet he does not look at them. He never has.
"Oh, I have," the other boasts. "But never from a northern maiden such as yours." His fingers barely touch the cloth as Rhaegar pulls his arm away with a laugh. "There is definitely something there."
"But it is not something I will speak of." And that's that. When Rhaegar makes up his mind, other will not get it undone. Some things he cannot share with his friend yet. "I will explain, but not now." His father would have him keeping his involvement with Lyanna a secret for just a little while longer. Rhaegar will not refuse him that. Not when he's so close to attaining what he wants.
His friend nods once to show he understands. "Oberyn Martell will be coming," Arthur tells his Prince. "And he brings his sister Elia with him." Rhaegar thinks he sees something pass over Arthur's features at that, but it's too quick for him to decipher.
House Martell shares some ties with House Targaryen. The Dragons have not yet forgotten there had once been a Queen from Dorne. Whatever Arthur means by telling him that, Rhaegar cannot tell. In some ways his father's guard is as closed as him when it comes to those truths he would rather not have the world know. "That is joyous news," he settles on saying just that.
A moment of silence falls between them. Rhaegar relishes it. There need not always be words, the Prince thinks. Silence is infinitely more eloquent in such times. Arthur Dayne must be of the same mind with him for he speaks not one word to disrupt it. Truthfully, the only words Rhaegar would have right now come from lips too far from him. He wonders a moment about Lyanna's hesitation to share her fears with him. Arthur calls her a she-wolf, and perhaps she is one more than he can see. After all, Rhaegar hasn't known her long. His mind whispers that he'll have a lifetime to know her. He smiles at that thought without even realising. His lips curve on their own. Arthur makes a sound that could very well be a snort, or mayhap an expression of his amusement.
"The King would have us take every pain to make them comfortable," the knight states. Rhaegar does not need to ask what he speaks of.
"The King is right." Loathe as he is to admit it, his father requests the right thing. But to what end? Aerys is not sane, that much is true, yet he's not a stupid person. "Did he say anything else?"
"Nothing of notice." Arthur shifts his position slightly. Little of sense does leave the King's mouth. But Rhaegar would rather not say that out loud, and neither would the knight. The walls have ears. And whatever Aerys plans to do, wiser heads would see the damage made as less as possible.
Light has flooded every nook and cranny of Harrenhall by this time. "We should head back," Rhaegar decides. The first day of jousting is about to begin.