Arthur's mare gallops at breakneck speed into the yard. It takes a hard yank and more than a few good seconds to get her to settle back. His hand tried to soothe her instinctively, but his mind is nowhere near. In fact all his thoughts are of bloody sheets and pain filled screams. His heart lurches, then beats agonizingly in his chest as if to tear itself out.

Climbing down on weak legs he tries not to stagger. His companions are only now entering the yard, the wheelhouse dragging along in their wake. Arthur looks around. The gods seem to have taken pity on him for the Queen comes across the yard to him, little Alysanna Targaryen following her shyly.

Lyanna gives him a soft look. "My Lord Dayne, you are finally come." He is tired and dusty and in no way fit to stand before her, but she takes his hand in hers anyway. "I am glad."

"Your Majesty," he replies, his eyes drifting from mother to daughter, "Princess," he greets the child too. Alysanna half steps behind her mother, but there is a small smile on her lips.

The Queen turns her eyes to the Princess too. "You are going to be late for your lessons," she chides in a kind manner. "You'd best be off now, my little dear." Only then does Arthur see the she-wolf standing a few feet away. Lyanna laughs gently. "Do not concern yourself with Claw. She means no harm. I think you must be tired, my lord. Come."

He is weary. The Queen greets those other noteworthy companions of his, but she does not launch into a conversation with any. Instead he approaches him once more. "Take some time to refresh yourself, my lord. You shall have what you've come for after."

Later, after he has bathed and eaten something, Arthur makes his way to the hallway. Claw waits a little way away from the doors of his chamber. This is how the Lord of Starfall knows the Queen is close by. She comes in a cloud of shimmery satins and pristine silks. Somehow she seems out of place in the greyness of his world. But Lyanna knows well enough not to speak. She must have learned to read people from her husband. Claw growls softly and runs ahead of them.

Further down the hall there is a room with doors wide open. Lyanna stops in front of them. "She is well enough, but tired and worried. It will go a long way to know she is not alone." She stops and thinks. "Rhaegar worries about the lady's family."

"He needn't be," Arthur replies. "We shall have need of a Septon and witnesses." The Queen nods at his words. But her answer is that all those matters may be cared for on the morrow. "You have my gratitude, Your Majesty."

"My lord, 'tis the Highgarden heir that deserves your gratitude." With that she takes her leave, Claw running out from the room after the mistress of the Red Keep.

Wasting no more time, Arthur hurries across the floor. The doors close slowly behind him. He pays that no mind. Tyta is abed, but she does not sleep. Her back is propped against wide pillows. The woman's head turns his way and her lips part in a silent greeting. He has to stop. Eyeing her with interest, Arthur cannot seem to get enough of her.

"My lady," he greets quietly. His feet take him closer to the bed. She looks almost the same, although she has grown somewhat pale and there is a strange glow to her skin – or what he can see of it anyway. Her eyes shine. "Are you well, my lady."

"Are we not past titles, my lord?" A gust of wind comes sweeping in. "I am well," she offers at his surprised face. He has the feeling that she is amused. Arthur can only wonder at that.

"And the babe?" His hand itches to find her middle under the coverlet and furs. Elia had not grown very large with Aegon much to the worry of the maesters. Yet Aegon had been born well enough, though he'd be the last child Elia could ever carry. "Does the child cause you discomfort?"

She shivers. "Not more than most mothers are caused, I suppose. Her Majesty the Queen tells me it is normal to be a bit weakened, especially after a long travel. She says I should feel better in a few days. I am already much improved." She shivers once more. "Food is the only cause of fuss." But she smiles while she says it.

Arthur takes her hand. She is cold, he realises with a start. Even under furs, she is cold. "Give me leave to share warmth with you," he coaxes, fingers climbing higher up her arm in an intimate caress. There is little sensuality about his touch.

"Share warmth with me as you will, my lord," she says. There is worry in her eyes as she pulls the corner of her coverlet and pushed herself back.

He slides in beside her, wrapping one arm around her shoulder and manoeuvring her to lie with her head against his chest. His other hand glides to her middle and feels for the telltale signs of pregnancy. There is a small bump. His fingers spread over it lovingly. She is still slim enough and almost weightless. Arthur kisses the top of her head with affection. Her shivering stops. Warm breath blows against his chest, and he can feel it through the tunic. One small hand hangs to his shoulder, the other rests on his heart. It belongs there.

"Are you warm now, my lady?" The formal name comes as a form of good natured teasing. She gives a nod and he gives her another kiss, only this time she turns her head upwards. Her lips are inviting and Arthur does not have to think too long before taking them with his.

Why does it not feel a sin to do so? Arthur has no answer for that. But it does not, so Arthur plans even now the return home. Tyta shall be the Lady of Starfall, and if the gods are good she will live long and be happy. A flash of something courses through him. It is not lust. It is not love either. A mix, he decides within a heartbeat. Elia had brought something similar with her smiles and gentle words. But Elia is dead and buried and she can no longer smile.

Surely it is not an affront to the gods that he continues to live after her death. He mourned her, he did. He'd been mourning her for years now, ever since she fell ill. It is time to move on and live. Aye, to live. Tyta smiles. She settles against him once more and sleeps.