A/N: to Lamour: Will do :)


"Where is my husband?" The shrill voice reverberated through the corridors, reaching, Jaime was quite certain, all the way to the Wall and he also thought that her ladies-in-waiting might have hidden away for that very reason. If that women yelled any louder, he'd need as new pair of ears and she a new set of lungs. Merciful Mother, was he glad father had not saddled him with her.

"Your Majesty, I pray you, do not exert yourself," the Bull cut into the ensuing tirade, despite the fact that weak-bodied though she might be Elia Martell looked as if she might do him harm. "There is no reason to be concerned."

"No reason to be concerned?" she cried out, hand shooting towards the man to fall onto his gauntlet. This rather reminded Jaime of another moment he'd heard spoken of. He sighed and struggled to maintain a nonplussed expression. "Lord Commander, where is the King? Why are his guards not with him?"

When looked ill, Jaime noted. His face had lost quite a bit of colour as soon as the doors had been thrown open and the Queen started interrogating them. "A King must always have his men with him. And yet I find Ser Jaime and Ser Oswell guarding an empty chamber. What use are they? Where do the Kingsguards not follow their King?"

Gods, if she kept it up much longer he'd lose his head too. It was a sight better to hearing the cries of another Queen, to be sure, but that did not mean the lesser of two evils found its way to his heart. He itched to ask whether she'd given a similar performance regarding a crown of blue roses. And he would have asked Whent too, if he did not look like he might cast his account.

"His Majesty does not answer to us," Hightower commented softly. His manner of speech only further incensed his interlocutor.

"He went to see his whore!" Elia answered her own question. "That is why you did not followed. If I go to her bedchamber, shall I find one of your own there? Is it Dayne? I knew I should have intervened long ago."

Whatever she was speaking of, Jaime had the distinct suspicion that Dayne would not be a happy man during King Rhaegar's reign. It should not have been half as amusing as he found it. But then, the Lord Commander was speaking once more. "I know not of whom Your Majesty speaks."

And that broke the back of the horse. "You think that because I say nothing, I haven't eyes to see. That odious bitch from the North! She was supposed to stay married to her stormlord and live her days out at his keep by the sea, not come after my husband."

Indeed, and believers of the Faith ought to be just and merciful, work hard and entertain pure thoughts. Septons were not supposed to look the way they did at young boys. Whores were not supposed to whore and ought to treat their body like the temple it was; as the Maiden would. But reality had a way of turning one's expectations upside down. It turned out that most people would gladly gain a few more coppers by cheating a bit here and there, and they'd probably kick a three-legged dog if it benefitted them; they also entertained more than their fair share on lurid thought on sunny days during which they baked in the sun. Septons quite often eyes the altar boys and the choir singers. And whores would spread their legs for any man who threw them a copper or two. It was just the way matters stood.

Far from being appeased, the Queen pushed past the Lord Commander and began an arduous journey, presumably to Lady Baratheon's bedchamber. The Bull hurried after her, no doubt intended to calm her. Jaime glanced at Oswell and for a brief moment they stood in silence.

"Is he with her?" Curiosity not to be quelled, Jaime was not cowed by the glare Whent sent his way. "If he should happen to be, might be Dayne could go warn him away." Or not; considering that Dayne would be met with a painful end if he did cross paths with the Queen, Jaime had to rethink his stance. "Since the bedchamber is empty, I shall follow and see what goes on."

He's seen the look on Lady Lyanna's face when the Queen had caught her in the great hall with her crown. Half the realm had seen her gesture. And half the realm had hidden its amusement behind a well placed palm. The other half had been much too busy speculating. Not that Jaime blamed them.

He heard Whent walking behind him and without turning, posed his question, "Do you expect we might be lauded if we keep Lady Baratheon safe?"

"I expect our fingers will be cut off if even a scratch mars her," Oswell grumbled, not finding the amusement Jaime did.

He could not understand one thing. Why was it that the King did not simply install Lady Lyanna as his mistress? The woman was a widow, she'd provided her late husband with an heir, so there was no question of later strife upon the matter and kings have been known to keep lovers. It was not that difficult. His own grandfather had kept one and the gods knew the man wasn't called the Toothless Lion for commanding anyone's respect. If that man could do it, then Rhaegar Targaryen ought not to have any hardship in implementing his will.

"Might be the whole arm from the elbow down," When continued, his dark musings showing that streak of cruel amusement he so enjoyed. He even looked more like himself,. "I suppose we shan't need arm at any rate without our honour."

Certainly the Queen had questioned that. Jaime made a sound of agreement, finally having caught up to the couple before them. Despite the valiant attempts of Ser Hightower, Elia Martell was determined. Which meant that they had to follow along.

As it happened, Lady Baratheon was housed very near her brother and good-sister, thus at the sight of Elia striding down the hallways, Ashara Dayne surprise shone through. "Your Majesty, what brings you here?"

The Queen's face turned a florid shade of red. "You as well?" She pushed past the Dornishwoman, whose confusion was no small thing. Ashara fell into step with them and shot Whent a question look to which he just shook his head.

Realisation dawned on her soon enough for the Queen stopped before a door and looked at her. "Your good-sister is within, I presume," she addressed Ashara. Dayne's sister kept quiet even as Elia pushed against the door without warning.

Jaime would have thought it to be closed, but it opened for the Queen and a shriek came from within, distinctly feminine. Lady Baratheon was within after all and understandably put off at such an entrance. Jaime peered past the Queen's shoulder and blinked.

Lyanna Stark dropped her skirts and the heavy folds fell down to cover her legs, looking at the lot of them standing in her doorway rather as if she wished for a sharp object to slice at them with.

It was certainly an embarrassing situation. Ser Rosby cleared his throat. "Your Majesty, I was not aware you were to arrive. Pray forgive our appearance." Jaime looked from one to the other. They ought to blush at least a little. Well, might be no more for Lady Baratheon, but the man did not look as if he'd climbed out of her.

Speechless, the Queen took a step back. Her hand fell to her middle, as if to calm herself. "I was searching for His Majesty."

"Why would you believe him to be here?" the she-wolf questioned flatly, the challenge striking out in whip-quick fashion.

"Apologies, Your Majesty," Rosby cut in much to Jaime's sorrow. "But my betrothed is at a loss, as am I. His Majesty made no mention of whishing to see us. Nor would he come here. He entertains, I believe, in his own solar."

Jaime struggled not to laugh at the blow the Queen had been dealt. It was to his great luck that the Queen yet faced Lyanna and her beau, for otherwise he did not think he might stop himself in time. Gods, and said with such kindness. At the very least the matter would find a temporary solution. A hilarious one, to be certain, and at the very same time one he was not certain the King had approved of.

"Nay," Lyanna jumped, moving away from Rosby's side. "I see what this is." She stepped forth. "You would believe the worst of your own husband and of a guest underneath your own roof. I am deeply hurt, Your Majesty." No matter that her suspicions were entirely correct. At least Lady Baratheon made a good mummery of it.

"You overstep," Elia growled out at her rival.

"She would accuse me still when the evidence before her speaks differently." The indignant sound she made was quite enough to make tension swell.

"Your Majesty," a voice cut through their small circle. Jaime turned in time to see one of the Queen's women hurrying towards them. "I have found you. The King has returned and is wondering at your absence from the table."

"I beg your pardon?" Elia questioned, voice raising high. The situation had turned against her.

"His Majesty was out riding with Ser Barristan and Ser Arthur," the female answered, bobbing before her mistress. "He has returned and is wondering if you would might be prefer to break your fast within your own chambers."

As if burnt, the Queen jumped away. "Nay. I shall be there." She retreated slowly, missing the triumphant smile of Lady Lyanna's face. Jaime caught the she-wolf's eyes and gave her a look. She responded by raising her chin and defying him to speak. He did not.

Much as he enjoyed the scene, he would not risk the King's wrath over the matter. Rosby had been in her bedchamber for some reason and it was a certain thing that they'd looked to be intimate, what with the raised skirts, but he would hesitate to believe she'd offered him her affection. No woman could move from one man to another that fast. especially not one who had just the other night been with said man. No matter what his own sister had said.

"Lady Baratheon, forgive the disturbance. Pray carry on with your day." Jaime shook the thoughts away as he registered the Bull's voice and snapped to attention. "Your Majesty, might be we should be on our way."

How she grimaced at the treatment, Jaime thought with no small amount of amusement, and yet she'd done it to herself with her own hand. A woman of any sense would have assessed the situation and leave matters be. She had her sons and daughter, heirs of the King and a crown. What did it matter whom the King slept with?

"Gratitude, Lord Commander," came Lady Lyanna's answer. "Shall we break our fast as well?" she asked of her companion who had finished rightening his clothing. "I am simply famished."

"I as well," he offered, taking her by the hand in a gesture both sweet and out of place. Jaime looked away as Whent elbowed him.

"Keep your eyes forth," the older man advised.

Doing as he'd been told, Jaime followed after the Lord Commander and the Queen, somewhat ill at ease. He had a queer feeling that the whole issue would not just die away. If anything, it might burst out in a violet outbreak.

The Father only knew what that would lead to. "You ought to exercise that reputed sense of humour of yours," he told Whent after a few moments. "Now is the perfect moment to convince the King you were born for the position of court fool."

"Yet wet behind the ears and thinking he can give me advice," murmured his companion. "Ser Jaime, when you are a man in truth, come to me with such words. Until then, however, kindly keep that trap of yours shut."

"And I, in good faith, thought to aid you," he found himself replying impudently. "See here, ser, that I do not prove to you how much of a man I am."

"If you manage that, cub, I will be thoroughly impressed." He chuckled and hurried his pace. "Let us see, if first you pass this test of endurance."

They had arrived at the entrance of the great hall at long last.


Rhaegar looked at his lady mother as she filled for herself another cup of wine. He said little enough to that, but she looked flustered. He had to wonder at the state of her in such circumstances. And to make matters worse, this was one of her few public appearances. It would simply not do to have his subjects believe she had an inordinate amount of love for wine.

The door parted to admit in a large group of people who, to his surprise, included his lady wife and Lyanna as well. His stomach clenched unpleasantly when he took notice of Ser Gylem Rosby close beside Lyanna. He would have leaned forth in his chair, as he thought he saw their hands liked together, were it acceptable conduct. As matters stood, he was forced to grit his teeth and breathe in through his nose.

His lady mother took no notice of his reaction, seemingly preoccupied with gawking at the new arrivals. "Look who has deigned to grace us with her presence. I trust the comfort of your bed was too seductive to be left behind." As long as sleep was her perfect lover, Rhaegar considered as his mother's words registered in his mind, he did not mind one jot if she spent the whole day abed.

Elia flushed at that and took a seat next to him. "Pray excuse my tardiness. I was preoccupied."

And Lyanna had come in with her, along with half the Kingsguard. Somehow, Rhaegar failed to believe her claim. He'd been so taken with the image of his beloved that for a moment the implications had escaped him. "Never you say, lady wife, what important business kept you from breaking your fast?"

She simply shook her head as if to dismiss the question. "I understood Your Majesty has gone out riding. I was worried at your absence." She reached out for a blood orange, grabbing at a knife. "And you left your guards behind as well."

"Not at all. I trust you know I rode with Ser Barristan and Ser Arthur." So she had been to his bedchamber. Rhaegar grimaced. He should have expected aught of the nature to happen. "I enjoyed the outing so much I forget the time," he added, looking away from her as she worked on peeling the blood orange.

"Have you also forgotten to let the Lord Commander know, husband?" Her hand brushed his. Rhaegar looked up. "It is not that I do not trust Ser Dayne and Ser Selmy. Far be it from me, but I wish you had said something."

If only he could disappear. Rhaegar grudgingly nodded at her, unwilling to start an argument before so many eyes. Not that he had much need to start anything for before long the matter was taken out of his hands by a cup of wine spilling onto the table, wine soaking into the tablecloth.

His mother's laughter rang loud through the great hall, attracting more than just a pair of eyes.

"Trust them, she says," the woman managed to get out as she grabbed at the rolling cup, bringing it to her chest. "Do. I pray you, do trust them. Trust the lot of them with you very life and health, child, for they are the best of the realm."

"Good-mother," Elia whispered, at a loss. "Whatever could you be speaking about?"

The Queen Mother laughed even harder, hands shaking as she held her cup. "Your Kingsguards. They call them Kingsguards for a reason, sweet. They protect the King. They obey only the King." She held out her chalice so more wine could be poured within. "It's not the Queensguard, after all."

Rhaegar stood to his feet. "Lady mother, you are not yourself," he noted softly, intending to help her away from the hall.

Shooting him an angry glare, Rhaella stood up as well. "I am myself. At long last, I am." She pointed a finger at the White Cloaks and grinned, "And they are the pinnacle of chivalry. So honourable, so upright. I could have screamed for hours and they would just stand there like dogs waiting for their master's whistle."

"Mother," he hissed through greeted teeth, walking past Elia's chair and taking hold of the woman's wrist. "You are making a scene," he whispered softly, hoping to call her to her good senses.

His mother took no heed. "But you are different, of course. She let her chalice drop, the wine spilling onto the stone floors, running down the steps like the burn of hot blood. "You are my son. Nothing like that father of yours."

She looked around him at his wife. "He is nothing like his father. Or them," she nodded at the loyal guards. Loyal to a fault, Rhaegar realised. "The bruises are gone. But I still have these," he peeled her sleeve up to reveal along thin cuts.

Rhaegar simply pulled the sleeve down and took his mother by the shoulder. "Enough, lady mother. You are tired." And he even more so. The day had only just begun. With a sigh, he linked her arm through his and nodded towards Arthur to keep order. "Lady wife, I shall returns shortly. Pray do not worry at my absence," he gave that last jab to his Queen as she stood to follow. "I expect that my subjects shan't be disturbed from their meal."

Elia sat back down with a frown. He would give her reason enough to frown as soon as he found what exactly it was that she'd done. He heard rather than saw two of the guards following him. Against his better judgement he allowed their presence and continued on his way, despite his parent fighting his every step.

"What shall you do?" she provoked him. "Lock me away like your father?"

"I thought you said I am not like my father." She steered her out into the hallway. "You shall just rest awhile, is all. Once you are more like yourself you may return."

She scoffed. "Of course you should say that." Pulling her arm from his she stumbled to a standstill. "You were only a boy after all. What could you have done?" Her hand travelled to the wall, holding herself up against the stone. "What could you have done?" He perceived she expected no answer from him.

She was neglecting the fact that he'd stopped being a child long ago. Rhaegar looked at the woman's bent form and shame came on waves. She was his mother, the woman who had given him life. Yet there she stood, before him, in a deplorable state. A state for which he himself could be partly blamed.

As a boy, he had wondered at times why his mother and father seemed cold to one another. He'd not thought much of it, never pushed into their presence for more than a meal during the day and even then he would be kept at a distance, in the constant care of his Septa, a kindly woman in her late bloom, who had served as a sort of mother for him. For his own had oft been kept at court with her ladies and when not then she sat in her gardens, reading or wielding her needles. He'd seen her once more before going to sleep. Enough to be given a hug and be asked if his day had gone well. And that would be it.

He remembered that at some point during his childhood, he'd fallen down so hard that he'd twisted his ankle badly. Child being, he'd expected that his mother would rush over and see to his comfort as he'd been brought back. Only his mother was nowhere to be found. In the last turn of her pregnancy, she would not leave her bedchamber in spite of word being sent to her.

How he'd cried that day. Not even kindly Septa Mela was able to quieten him, despite the best of her attempts. He'd wondered later, when he found out that he was not going to have another brother or sister, what the point of her staying away had been if she'd not managed to bring the promised sibling. Years later, the same thought had produced in him pity for his poor mother and shame at the selfish words. She had continued to miscarry and give birth to already departed dragons for most of his childhood.

His father had not helped matters any. Whenever a child was not born to him, he would get in a row with his sister-wife that would shake the whole keep. And everyone would know of it. His mistresses would know of it, to be sure. The ladies would whisper and the lords would gossip, wondering what could be wrong with the wife of the King that she did not manage to give the man another child.

As for Rhaegar, he was the firstborn and a bitter disappointment to his father as he grew. If when a child he would at times follow the man around and lend ear to whatever it was the King spoke of, as he grew, his interests shifted. And with that the relationship with his father deteriorated.

It was one of the reasons for which he'd chosen not to impose on his children that they ought to learn one thing or another. If they showed interest in a subject matter, someone would be found to teach them. If not they simply had to look for something that might appeal to them. Elia had been much surprised at his choice and had oft told him he ought to exercise a firmer hand. What she said it, he could not tell, for to the best of his knowledge, she had not had to work on anything which did not interest her. A natural enough reaction considering the strain it would have placed on her.

He'd allowed his thoughts to sweep him away. Rhaegar approached his mother and helped her into a proper standing position. "More than I ever did," he allowed the words past his lips. There was no changing what had happened though. His hand slipped away from her shoulder, falling at his side. He'd known for years what his father had been doing and he had kept quiet. Like everyone else.

"Nay," she moaned softly in reply, looking at his face. "You could not have. And should not have. It was no business of yours." It seemed that the wine's effects were fading. "Aerys should have known better."

He should have, Rhaegar agreed privately. Even a wild beast did not attack unless threatened. "Come, mother. We should not linger." If anyone were to walk by, although he doubted it would be the case, fuel would only be added to the fire and the gods knew that fire burned bright enough as it was.

They began walking once more, each with their own thoughts.

He supposed he'd always found an excuse not to aid her. It had varied, ranging from the justification that she rarely if ever came to his aid when he'd been in some way injured to the fact that as a Prince of the realm he could not place himself in the King's path and after his children were born that he could not endanger his family in such a manner. Especially not when his lady mother was attended to by her ladies-in-waiting, thus in capable hands. They all seemed to him, now that he thought about it, flimsy things, without value.

He could have done a number of things. He'd simply chosen not to. And yet when she stood before him his mother defended his character. What could he do other than regret?

If he had intervened, there might have been some danger, but he much doubted father would have slain him. Insane that man had been, but not entirely unfeeling. There was no sense in burdening him with sins not his own.

"Rhaegar," Rhaella called for his attention, her hand patting his arm gently, "Do not over think these matters. It does no good."

They ambled together at a slow pace, followed by the Kingsguard members, who had wisely decided to keep a decent distance between them. He felt rather strange, not absolved of his inactions, to be sure, but not entirely condemned either. It felt as if he'd been given a chance. As to where it would lead, he could hardly tell.

"Someone has to think about them," he aid in response to her earlier words, looking over his shoulder.

"Then let that someone be me. These are not your burdens to live with." She leaned into him, her balance wavering.

His arm was there to hold her steady.


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