His lady mother had been put to bed with a drop of Nightshade and a bit of convincing. He steppes without the chamber and looked at the White Cloaks awaiting his return. "What exactly prompted the two of you to leave your post?" he demanded
Lannister and Whent started at one another for a long moment before the oldest of the two cleared his throat. He hesitated but a moment more before he spoke. "Her Majesty the Queen was looking for Your Majesty. Upon understanding you were not within your chambers she feared the worst and demanded of us that we speak of your whereabouts."
Only the two of them hadn't known. Suspicion flared to life within his gaze. "And the Lord Commander?"
"He attempted to put Her Majesty at ease." And by the look Jaime Lannister sported as he answered, Rhaegar could safely assume the endeavour had ended in a complete failure. Again, the two men hesitated, thus he found himself prompting their speech a second time.
"I trust my lady wife was in the end satisfied with whatever answer she found to her questions." He'd known even as he spoke the words that it was not the case. Rather, Rhaegar suspected, she had allowed herself to expose all of her emotions for the perusal of his guards.
"Forgive me, Your Majesty," Oswell began, "I must put the matter thusly: the Queen was convinced you were to be found in the company of Lady Baratheon." That was more than enough to give him pause. Rhaegar was just about to further question what had gone on, when Richard came running down the hallway, looking for all the world as if he might fall over and embrace the stranger.
"Your Majesty, grave news," he managed to say past his wheezing breath. "Trouble brews in the great hall." He tried to explain something in a garbled manner, making it impossible to understand a word. Swiftly stopped by Rhaegar, the squire calmed himself down before picking up his take once more. "Ser Willas Tyrell had been injured while riding. His lord father places the blame on His Grace, Prince Oberyn or very near so. It does not look to be good, Your Majesty."
Gods be good, one problem after another. Putting out of his mind Elia's earlier escapade, he began walking back towards the great hall with its swarm of lords and ladies. He'd wondered what being a king would be like. And now that he had his realm to look after, Rhaegar found he much preferred the line of Crown Prince. "Why should Lord Tyrell make such accusations? It is a grave blight upon the good name of Prince Oberyn." Or what had been left of it by the time that reportedly poisoned blade cut into his enemy. Since one could not choose one's own family, Rhaegar was obliged to intervene and end the nonsense before it caused a rift.
He pushed the doors of the great hall open, a silence falling over the earlier squabbling subjects. Elia stepped away from her brother and towards him, her face basked in cold fury. "Lord Mace thinks he may insult the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms as he wills."
"The truth is no insult," the accused snapped. "Ask your own brother."
"I shan't be ordered to by a lickspittle and a sycophant with nary a shred of brain!" was her immediate answer. "How dare you speak such words to me?"
"Lord Tyrell," Rhaegar cut in calmly, "pray return to your son's side, as I've heard he has been injured. I shall send to you the Grand Maester and after we have assured ourselves that your son is looked after. Then we shall speak of proof of these accusations you have made, if there be such."
He saw the relief on his wife's face as soon as the words had left his lips. She touched his arm gently. a question within her gaze. Rhaegar brought her by his side as his eyes swept over the gathering of souls. "Until a through investigation has taken place, any accusations shall be regarded with due suspicion and the man or woman who utters them will be answering for the words that leave their lips."
A murmur befell the crowd, but nary a protest was raised. "Lord Hand!" Rhaegar called out for Jon Connington to step forth. "I task you with giving this matter your whole attention. I want you to report to me whatever your findings be without bending the nature of the truth. A man has been injured beneath my roof and it seems to be the work of a heinous plot. Or if that not be the case and his injury was the will of the gods, then that shall be revealed as well. Let justice be done."
Their reaction was naught else than he'd expected. Connington seized the Dornish prince with a suspicious glare, but nodded his acceptance of the order and bowed. "I shall bring my report, Your Majesty, as soon as possible."
Rhaegar allowed that it was sufficient. He turned towards Arthur and Barristan. "Have Lord Tyrell escorted to his son's chambers and make sure that aught is according to my word. Lord Commander, see to it that my good-brother is made comfortable in my solar. As fort the rest of my court, you all have my leave to continue as you were."
He waited not for reactions, simply tugged on Elia's hand gently to let her know they were departing. She walked with him in absolute silence, yet he could feel her unrest, rolling off in waves. He wondered whether it was her brother to have brought on such. They left the great hall behind, followed at a distance by the Kingsguards and their charges.
If the gods were good, Rhaegar considered, the matter would prove to be aught but some plot of any manner. It was the very last thing he needed. But then again, even Lord Tyrell would have to know that failure to prove his accusations would lead to a very unpleasant end for him.
Leading Elia away into Maegor's Holdfast, Rhaegar came to a halt before the door of her chambers. "I shall give you a moment to compose yourself, lady wife, until I have spoken to your brother. Then you and I must discuss a few matters."
"Aye, Your Majesty," she offered, still somewhat shaken. She had the right to be ill at ease. He'd not promised absolution of any manner within his words. "I shall seed you after you gave spoken to Oberyn." Her hand held onto his arm for a few moments longer before she let go.
The door was opened by one of her women who seeing her in such a state was quick at work. "My King, my Queen." She stepped without, taking Elia gently by the shoulder, "pray come within, Your Majesty. You look wane. A cordial should revive you in no time, I am certain." She bobbed in Rhaegar's general direction as she'd done upon opening the door and led his lady wife within.
He waited for the door to close before he was on his way as well. Richard appeared by his side. "There are rumours already, Your Majesty, that the tourney was rigged by His Grace and that the Queen herself gave the order thinking to gain the crown on the winning knight."
He stopped and his companion did so as well. Though he'd not spoken very loudly, Richard did look somewhat flustered. "Never say such words to me about my own lady wife and her brother. Gossip is the business of the idle. Find me proof or keep your silence, Lonmouth."
"Your Majesty," the squire replied, properly chastised. His step slowed, falling behind Rhaegar's.
Rumours proved nothing, he thought to himself. Elia could not have wished for that crown enough to put her brother up to such a scheme. In fact, he was certain that if asked, such a question should deeply offend her. Wherever Lonmouth had heard the tale from, he ought to have learned not to repeat it. If he had said such words to another lord, Rhaegar was certain petitions would be pilling upon his desk to investigate the matter and quite possibly Tywin Lannister himself would insist upon it. The Lion was as fierce as ever and even in absence he cast a long shadow upon his court.
Rhaegar had need of a balance of sorts. That he could not achieve if his lady wife was discredited in any manner. Dorne would be offended if he were to bring accusation to her and the Reach would be equally so if the matter did not find a solution with utmost haste. He could do little but try his very best to keep them out of violent conflict.
The door of his solar was opened and the Bull stood without, weapon at his side. "Your Majesty," he greeted, "the Dornish Prince is within, awaiting your arrival." And best he do so after all the trouble he'd caused, Rhaegar thought, giving the Lord Commander a sharp nod and entering.
The door closed behind him quietly. Oberyn was standing by one of the lancets, the light of early morning, bright and colourful playing upon his face in a flood of shades. Perceiving that it would be best to leave him where he stood, Rhaegar sat down behind the desk and picked up one of his quills, the brightly dyed feather curling elegantly inwards.
"So, Your Grace, shall you enlighten me as to why it is that Mace Tyrell feels it justified to bring accusations to you, or shall I find out from the mouths of others?" At that, Oberyn's attention snapped to him, dark eyes brimming with barely restrained anger.
"I have not harmed one hair on the boy's head. Nor did I ever plan to. He was my opponent in the joust, and not in aught else." The challenge in his stare almost caused Rhaegar smile.
"Say that I believe you words," he answered, toying with the quill still, "how would you explain then what I have heard of your own squire hanging about the stables and even following young Ser Tyrell. I understand that there have been quite a few witnesses."
"They lie, Your Majesty. They wish to discredit my sister through me." He did have a point. It could all be a complicated plot targeting Elia. "I know not whether it is the Starks or the Lannisters who have come up with this–"
This time he did not manage to hold his amusement in. "And why should the Starks or the Lannisters feel the need to do so. Might be the Lion chafes at his loss. But if memory serves, it was a daughter of House Stark that was crowned."
Oberyn blushed in anger. "Is it true then? Are you shaming my sister in this manner?"
"Shaming her? I?" Rhaegar stood to his full height. "I wish to make this clear to you, my good-brother, I answer to no man, least of all when he thinks to question me so rudely. This has naught to do with me, but with you and an apparent understanding you have made with other knights."
The Prince froze. "Your Majesty accuses me without evidence. If I have had understanding with my opponents then I ask for those to whom I've spoken to come forth."
"Let us see as to the truth of it." He walked to the door and opened it, just as Ser Arthur had arrived. "I was just about to send for you. I trust Selmy has remained with Lord Tyrell."
"Indeed, Your Majesty he has." Arthur answered entering the solar as Rhaegar bade him. "In what else may I serve you, my liege?"
"Answer me one question, ser." Arthur looked from him towards Oberyn, but Rhaegar spoke before he had the chance to say aught more. "Was there an understanding between you and His Grace as to whom the victor of your match would be?"
Arthur straightened. "Your majesty has pushed me into a tight spot. If I say aye, I shall lose the respect of the Prince and if nay then I fear for my lying tongue. I had no maiden of my own to crown and saw no ill in allowing His Grace the win as he'd requested."
"I bring no accusations, ser," Rhaegar assured his friend. "It was my wish to settle with my good-brother here a matter. You may leave." The Kingsguard did as he was bid to do, turning towards the closed door to open it and go without.
"Shall I ask the same of other knights as well, or shall you tell me from your own lips?" He returned to his seat, feeling much like he was disciplining an unruly child. "Might be this is a ploy put together to cost me the Reach. Have you any idea, Your Grace, how a kingdom is run or does your knowledge limits itself to plucking the fruit of others' hard work?" The sullen silence which greeted him was answer enough for Rhaegar to continue. "You come into my home as the brother of my lady wife and when I turn my face away you do as you have done. If there is any man shaming Elia Martell that I can conceive of than that fellow is not I."
Oberyn sneered. "We have eyes, Oberyn sneered. "We have eyes, oh King," he mocked. "All of King's Landing does and our memory is long and enduring. It was my sister who deserve the crown and I would have fain given it to her. Might be the understanding that truly matters was between yourself and Tyrell's son."
Had he the disposition for it Rhaegar would have laughed at the sheer ludicrousness. "I do not think your eyesight is as good as you believe. Have a maester look into that. In the meantime, you can begin to tell me all that it is you have done. I need to know every detail."
"My sister, she knew naught of this," the man hurried to add before he had agreed to it. As if Rhaegar would throw his own lady wife in the tar for a crown of flowers. He was not Oberyn Martell,, after all, to know no better.
"Of course she knew naught. My Queen does not involve herself in such schemes. Now go on and tell me." The Prince nodded. And so Oberyn began to tell him of the understanding he had reached with other knights. It was all innocent enough, a few coin here, a favour there, a promise and whatnot. It was naught to which he could protest too loudly. "And the cut saddle?"
"It was no work of mine, neither in thought nor in action. If indeed my squire acted, he acted on his own." The Dornishman swore by his words. "Willas Tyrell won fairly. I hold no grudge against him." Only to his choice of Queen of Love and Beauty, Rhaegar thought unkindly.
By the end of it, however, Rhaegar was convinced Oberyn had naught to do with the unfortunate accident of Lord Tyrell's heir. Or had that been no accident? He allowed the man to leave, on condition that he kept to his own chambers for the time being until matters simmered down. In the meantime, he would speak with his own lady wife of another matter altogether. One which it was high time they worked out between the two of them.
And thus after he had ended his questioning of the Dornishman, Rhaegar stole into his lady wife's chamber to find her surrounded by her ladies-in-waiting. Upon sighting him they bobbed their curtsies and retreated into the antechamber, leaving him alone with Elia who looked to be somewhat restored.
She stood to her feet and rushed to him. "My brother is innocent. He would never do aught in that fashion." Her fingers clung to his forearm. "They are trying to frame him."
"Calm yourself, lady wife. I was spoken to him and we have worked the matter to a satisfactory explanation. I wish to speak to you of another matter." He helped her into a chair and sat down as well in a seat opposite hers. "I have heard you went in search of me to the chambers of our guests."
Elia grimaced. "That is your worry? That I have disturbed that Northerner whore." At the flash of anger on his face she chuckled. "You know her not as well as you think you do. I am within my right to call any whore a whore, be she of noble blood."
"Do not go too far with your words," he warned.
"I shall. I shall go as far as I need to until you understand that she is not worth your regard." Elia stood once more, catching his face between her hands. He did not stop her. "Whatever her purpose in returning the attention, it is not at all sincere. She thinks might be to increase the favour her son shall someday hold in court, or she wishes for coin. I know not what. But any woman with her skirts up to her ears in the presence of a man not her wedded husband, and in broad daylight too, is not a woman who deserved aught else but contempt."
His eyes had widened half into her speech, but by the time she had reached the end of it, Rhaegar feared what his own face might look like. Elia picked up once more, "I see in your eyes the anger. I tell you this because you are my husband. I am the only woman you can trust in this world for our interests are twined together."
When he'd stood up as well Rhaegar knew not. But through a daze he heard Elia calling to him. Instead of stopping to acknowledge her, he went out the door and into the hallway. Hand fisted at his side, Rhaegar considered for one wild moment going after her himself. And why should he not Did she think he was her puppet or some fool who would dance to her tunes.
Feet working all on their own, he was very near the stairs when Dayne caught up to his, halting his progress. "Where to, friend? You cannot leave unattended." By the look on his face he'd heard the tale himself. So that had been what Jaime Lannister and Oswell Whent had hidden from him. He'd skin them both. But later.
"Out of my Dayne, this does not concern you," he ground out, more than prepared to do him harm at the moment.
Arthur shook his head, spreading his arms out. "Whatever it is your anger boils for, take a moment to think it through. What shall you do when you get where you want to het?" He did not budge even when Rhaegar placed an arm on his shoulder to move him.
"What shall I do?" he questioned out loud, not truly expecting an answer from wither his friend or himself. But the answer came nonetheless. "Firstly, I shall find Rosby and hang him by his feet somewhere, I suppose any place might do. Should be fall and crack his skull and have all his lifeblood leave him, I declare myself please. And then–" he trailed off.
And then what? He didn't know himself if he wanted to wrap his hands around Lyanna's neck and squeeze the life out of her or if he wished to hear from her that it was all some misunderstanding. But what misunderstanding could be at play that she might lift her skirts for the man?
"And then what?" Arthur echoed his thought. "What shall you do to her?"
His teeth pressed tightly together, the pain of the pressure making his skull ring. He breathed in trough his nose hoping to dispel the ache, but there was no succour. Arthur continued to gaze at him intently. "You have said that you wish for justice. You must listen to all sides."
"Justice?" he managed through clenched teeth, the word rolling out as a curse might. "What justice? She might as well have been fucking him. It was a clear enough statement on her part."
"You miss the point, my friend," the knight disagreed. "She was not, in fact, fucking him. Think, Your Majesty, think on this a moment."
"I do not wish to think on it," he snapped, pushing Arthur out of the way. But then he paused, as his foot touched the topmost stair. He turned around, not knowing why himself. Arthur was poised to follow. "Why do you protect her?"
"Because she is blameless in this," he offered. "Rhaegar, justice, recall? There must be justice." His anger did not by any means deflate, but he managed a nod at those words. "I shall bring her to you, if you give me the time."
"Bring her then." Rhaegar walked past the knight. "I shall be in my solar."
True to his word, Rhaegar re-entered the chamber he'd mentioned and sat down at his desk, pushing out of the way all documents. Once the desk was bare with only the light shining upon it, he proceeded to pull from his belt a knife, a Valyrian blade, smooth and cold. Its hungry glint sparked something within him. Something monstrous he did not wish to feel, something he had felt before upon finding out that Sylia, a woman he'd not loved by any count, had been met with the cruel fate of burning alive. It was a sort of anger, but its manner was quite peculiar, for instead of focusing on one point, it spread its taint.
The knife was slammed into the surface of the desk, splitting the wood apart with the same ease with which it might cut into flesh. But the wood did not bleed, nor made any sound of pain. Rhaegar removed the blade and inspected it in the light. There was naught damaged. A fine blade that had not dulled in the slightest.
But he dared say he wished for aught else. Something to challenge him. He thought the matters over for a moment and then decided that it was as good an activity to pass the time as any else. Placing his left hand upon the table, he spread his fingers slightly apart. The first time he struck between his thumb and forefingers and with that first strike the game was begun.
He hardly waited more than a few moments to increase his speed, the blade flashing as it based in the warm glow. He heard the door open when it did, he looked up just as the knife was coming down and her shrill cry snapped his attention to the blade once more.
But he'd underestimated her, as he oft did, he found. He knew he wouldn't be able to stop the blade's momentum without causing himself injury, but he never truly expected her to slap the weapon out of his hand. "Have you gone mad?" He'd only managed to slash the back of his palm open. She seemed to take little notice of the chaos around them, instead focusing on his injury. "The finger dance? Is there naught else to do in this keep, Rhaegar?" Her careless tongue would her in trouble. He nodded towards Arthur to close the door. Frankly, he did not look as if he wished to do that, but he acquiesced.
"I've heard there is much to do indeed," he drawled out, pulling his hand out of her grasp. She gave him a questioning look, reaching out for him. "For instance, I've been told that in the relative privacy of a chamber a lady might be persuaded to be kind." He knew she understood his meaning well enough by the flush in her cheeks. "So, Lyanna, did Rosby appreciate your kindness?"
"You can ask him if you really must know," she told him after a few moments.
"But I am asking you. I expect yours to be my answer." He stood to his feet, the blood from his open wound tricking downwards with his movement.
"Nay." He paused, fighting the urge to reach for her. "But I am persuaded he found some amusement in a tale concerning Benjen and I trying to wield a pitchfork. I know what it must have looked like to your lady wife, and I believe I can make a decent guess as what she said to you–"
"I do not wish to hear of your guesses." She gave him as long look, but said naught. "Tell me something, Lyanna, something that will douse this fire, or so help me the Seven," he did not finish, but he perceived she understood the general meaning.
That streak of stubbornness she cherished reared its head as she stepped towards him. She raised herself upon the table with ease. Rhaegar did not back away even as she stood to her full height, pushing him backwards so she might sit down on the opposite edge from which she'd started. She pulled a face and pulled her skirts out of the way. "Look at that," Lyanna told him.
He looked between them, expecting there to be some spark. There was nothing. "Very near the knee, there is a thin scar. Can you see it?" He'd not notice that before. But he supposed that not having checked for it, it was not that grave a matter. Rhaegar nodded. "Benjen and I, we snuck in the stables one day. I cannot remember what it was we were there after, but a pitchfork caught our attention. We must have been no older than six winters or so. Why we decided that knocking the blasted thing down was a good idea, I do not know; needless to say, three long spikes were our reward. And I have this to remember it by. And do you know what else?"
"What?" he questioned, blood now dripping on her naked skin. "What else, Lyanna?"
"I could have stood there without a scarp on and he would not have touched me." He was tempted to laugh. Bitterly. Instead, he felt her hand on his. "He is not a foolish, Rhaegar. He would not have touched me."
"If he is not, then what business had he in your bedchamber?" The tip of his blade had neared to her hip. Her finger rested upon the blade which lied sideways.
"Because I shall wed him, Rhaegar. I have told you." She leaned in, fingers returning to his hand, dragging until they reached his wrist. "Do you truly believe that if I was not assured of the man's lack of interest I would have stood with him? The most important aspect of my marriage to Gylem Rosby is that the man shall never touch me. Let me tell you a secret," her lips were very nearly against his own, forcing their eyes to meet and hold, "some men don't like women."
It took all of a minute for the notion to click. But when it did, the frustration remained firmly in place. "Why?"
"Why do they not like women?" Lyanna shrugged. "I do care to know. All that matters is that I shan't have any wifely duties towards him." His grip on the knife eased. She pulled on his wrist and he ended up pushing the weapon away.
Lyanna let go and moved her attention to his other hand. "What a mess." Bringing it closer she inspected the wound for a few moments before her lips slid against the cut, tongue darting out with he knew not what intention.
Attempting to ignore the results of her careful ministrations, Rhaegar reached for the end of her braid, unknotting the scrap holding it together. "I care not for his personal preferences." He unbound her hair. "If ever a tale like this reaches my ears, have no doubt that I shall kill the man."
"And install me in the Red Keep permanently," she murmured, looking up from her work. "You would like that." She let his hand go.
"You would like it as well." Their fingers twined.
"So it is true what they say about dragons? You might grow to regret placing me in a golden cage. I was often told I only grow more demanding with every bit of attention given to me." They had been Brandon's words, and she would have dismissed then, but for some reason they felt like the right response.
"It must be. I would not mind if you did. Demand as much as you want." And apparently her will was as strong as his own. When was the last time he'd spent making such talk, he wondered? If only the day had not gone so horribly wrong. And he still had to trudge through a conversation with Mace Tyrell. The very thought.
"Your thoughts stray," Lyanna's voice reached him just as she cupped the side of his face. "You said I could demand as much of your attention as I wished."
"If," he emphasised, "you stayed with me. I cannot give my attention to someone who is not here."
She offered a sharp smile. "But I am here right now. And I did take care of your wound. Do I not deserve something?" He gave her a short kiss, more to test her patience than anything else. When he pulled back she pouted. "I think we can do better."
"I think there are matters that need to be taken care of." And he pulled back completely.
To his astonishment, instead of accepting the postponing, Lyanna caught onto his arm and jumped off the table. "For pity's sake, Rhaegar, give poor Mace Tyrell some time with his son and give me some time with you." He hesitated. "Do I have to beg?" The thought of it was not helping matters.
She tugged on his sleeve, rising on her tiptoes expectantly. And he was only a man after all.
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