Elia motioned him closer, leaning towards him ever so slightly. "If Your Grace does not think it too forward of me, I should like a question." Her hand rested intimately upon his arm, fingers pressing lightly into his skin. The touch, no matter how gentle, felt a veritable stab, senses heightened in discomfort. Rhaegar stared back at her for a few moments, not answering.
It would not take long, he told himself, and he would be back on Dragonstone. With that in mind, he managed to gather enough will to speak. "But of course. Feel free to ask anything you want of me." The blasted fog before his eyes did not let up even as he closed them momentarily.
The cool night air had helped sober him some when Lady Lyanna had dragged him into the gardens, but that was long gone and it was back to squinting eyes and trying not to appear as if aught was amiss. Beside his eyes playing tricks on him, Rhaegar could feel a vague sense of dread coiling within his skull, as if to let him know the night would not pass with ease. Resigned to the knowledge, he could do little but strain himself to catch the last part of Elia's question.
"What I mean to say is that Your Grace seems ill at ease. I simply fear you have been too long alone." He'd missed an important part of what she'd been saying, Rhaegar recognised. But Elia, unknowing of his sparse attention, had finished and was awaiting an answer.
"I do not know what to say. It seems to me–" A blur moved to his side, interrupting him as he turned his head to survey the distraction. When it proved to have been only a servant woman carrying ale, he returned his attention towards Elia. "It seems to me too great a risk, is all."
A thoughtful sound left her lips. "Mayhap you have the right of it." Rhaegar could not be sure, but he thought he heard a smile somewhere in there. "I pray you do not think less of me, Your Grace. 'Tis just I am weary. You see."
He did not see. Not at all. "Weary? What could possibly have caused it?" Remarkably sensible, Elia Martell was the last person he would suspect of entertaining highly improbable notions. It was not that he thought it impossible per se. After all, she was only human as well and likely to have her own failures. Nevertheless, the Dornish Princess had never failed to be less than poised and graceful.
"Foolish thoughts is all," the woman at his side sighed and patted his arm gentle, seemingly having changed her mind about sharing the burden with him. "'Tis little enough to be worried over, Your Grace. Now I feel so inadequate for making a fuss."
He had two options at hand. Rhaegar could either insist she share her fears with him and try to assuage them as best he could. Or he could take her words at face value and leave the matter be. Elia did not seem, in truth, shaken. He assumed whatever those thoughts had been were very simply those occasional needling phantasmagorical imaginings best buried away, never to see the light of day again. He opened his mouth, as if to speak, the decided not to. Instead, he covered her hand with his own and gave a gentle squeeze. "I find it most endearing." That he made no true fuss that was.
He did not suppose it was aught meriting admiration that he beat such a hasty retreat, but then, histrionics had never been aught which he concerned himself with. An old dog could rarely be taught new tricks. Elia would have to make do with noncommittal comments upon such matters, even if he did not wish to disappoint her expectations. Mother had taught him over the years that it was best not to show how much one cared. Certainly though, there was little danger in allowing Elia to know he found her a most appropriate companion, as that could only encourage an eventual acceptance of his suit.
"Your Grace, a maiden could take those words to heart and have cause to hope." The pressure on his arm turned playful. "Forsooth I could not be blamed if my heart was set aquiver."
He very nearly laughed. "Have I set your heat aquiver? That makes me very glad indeed." Allowing a small smile to form upon his lips, Rhaegar noted with some relief that his sight had returned. He looked upon the crowd. "Very glad indeed," he murmured absently as his sight came upon Jaime Lannister standing to his feet before a bench.
He recognised the woman with him as well. Lady Lyanna was seated holding a drinking horn with a manner of scowl upon her face. Pursed lips were followed by what looked to be a snappish answer. Ser Jaime seemed not to mind, seating himself down and forcing the maiden to turn her face away. They exchanged a few words before the Lannister heir looked to him over the girl's shoulder.
"How peculiar," the Dornishwoman noted. "Ser Jaime seems to be taken with Lord Stark's daughter. I never would have suspected it. She does not seem the sort to enjoy such a dalliance. But you know, Ashara Dayne says she saw them together earlier as well." His companion made a sharp little sound of disapproval. "A lady should not–"
"Should not?" he queried when she failed to complete the thought.
"I merely mean that one should not be so single-minded in their pursuit. I am certain Lady Lyanna does not mean to cause trouble." After a thoughtful silence she added, "There now, he seems to have a tad more sense." Jaime Lannister had pulled away from the she-wolf and sketched her a bow, drinking horn in hand just before the eldest Stark sibling came into his life of sight.
For some odd reason, Rhaegar experienced a moment of relief. As soon as he could fairly place the feeling, he stiffened. It had to do with her earlier actions, he told himself. She had aided him. Naturally he would feel inclined to reward that, or at the very least to make it up to her. Jaime Lannister was by no means an idiotic child. He must have known what he was doing. It stood then to reason that was well aware of the impression his actions caused.
Lyanna Stark he was not so certain about. As a general rule, gauging someone's character by the few lines they'd exchanged seemed an idea fit for song, not life. Then again the girl was yet young and likely to be taken in by a cheery smile and promises.
"I am certain Lady Lyanna has enough sense of her own," he found himself defending the she-wolf who was being led away by grimfaced kin. She looked over her shoulder, stare meeting Ser Jaime's. Pain flared to life , anvil crashing into his temples with force.
Elia tittered lightly. "Ever so gallant. I was not insulting Lord Stark's daughter. Merely complimenting Tywin Lannister's son." It seemed she found true amusement in the matter. Rhaegar let it be, suppressing a sigh at that.
"It would serve her very ill in anyone should overhear our conversation and spread rumours. My brother is quite taken with her." He'd not meant to involve Daeron, but what other excuse was there to end the conversation. Lyanna Stark was not someone he had any wish to think of.
Understanding flickered upon Elia's face. "I suppose it might land her in some trouble, Fair enough, Your Grace, let us consign this subject to the void of trivial matters not worth discussing at length. Shall you be watching the joust on the morrow?"
The leap between subject left him slightly befuddled in so much he'd thought she might protest. Then again, there was no cause for complaint. "I've a mind to. Who knows which of these men I might meet in two days' time. 'Tis best to know my opponents."
"Such diligence. I daresay Your Grace needn't worry, for where there is the will to win, difficulty cannot be. If you do win, Your Grace, what do you plan to do with your prize, if 'tis not too bold a question?" Rhaegar pondered her question carefully, knowing she was in search of encouragement.
"It would not do to spoil the surprise," he said in the end, glancing away from her once more.
This time Lyanna Stark was speaking to a young man seated at his brother's table. Concentration cast her features into a rather cold picture of determination. She was having an argument, Rhaegar realised, eyes widening. There, in full view of the realm, as if it mattered naught. The man turned and said something to her to which she flinched. He in turn winced, not quite able to stop himself.
"It would not do, indeed," Elia replied with amusement, forcing his gaze away. "I must say, this is not quite what I expected it would be. Do you know, I am very glad to be a witness."
Warmed, he smiled at her. "What did you expect?"
But Elia shook her head. "I believe that is my secret to keep, Your Grace." And with that she excused herself, making her way to her brother's side. Oberyn Martell threw him a rather dark glare before offering his sister a supporting arm.
"How very well-mannered." Rhaegar turned to stare into his brother's face. Daeron was glaring right back at the young Martell Prince, seemingly unbothered by the fact that his actions were public and visible and most certainly likely to reflect badly upon them all.
"Do you slay every dog that barks your way?" he questioned, voice sounding harsh in his own ears. "If you've nothing better to do than I advise keeping an eye on our sister." Which sister was no longer in her seat but had traversed the breadth of the chamber and was speaking to Myles and Richard. "The last thing we need is Shaena trying to bring a plot to fruition under father's nose."
"Shaena would never," Daeron spoke, suffusing his words with faux disbelief. "She is the mildest, gentlest creature. Surely, brother mine, you do not suspect her of plotting aught nefarious."
"Of course not. Any plot she has in her head has been conceived long before our arrival here. Make sure she does not carry it out." His sister was laughing, the stretch of her lips mirthless. He did wonder if other caught on. But Myles and Richard looked as if they truly believed she was amused. "Daeron. I mean it."
"Well, if that is the case, you should be aware, Your Grace, that I require compensation." His stare must have been incredulous for Daeron offered a shrug. "Just that you listen to me as well every once in a blue moon. Fear not, I've no designs upon serious matters."
That much he did not fear. "Listen to you, you say. What exactly do you wish me to listen to?"
Once more his younger brother gave a noncommittal reply. "At the moment, I only wish you would have a care not to incite father's suspicions. He looks to be in a devil of a mood."
Which was not an inaccurate description of their father's mellowest mood. Rhaegar glanced over his shoulder at the man, not bothering to hide it. The King's eyes had drifted to Cersei Lannister who was speaking with her brother. Shaking his head, Rhaegar tried to hide a shudder creeping down his spine. "He is always in a devil of a mood and forever suspicious." Especially of his sons. "Why should that concern me now?"
Daeron merely smiled and picked up his cup. "You would know better than I." He drank until he'd emptied the vessel. "I mean it. You should listen to me."
"Without doubt." He reached out for his own cup, hoping there was some wine left.
"I cannot deny that I did see them, Your Grace, but they were certainly not alone." Lady Ashara sat in her chair with a perplexed expression. The perfect bow of her upper lip glistened from the wine, deep burgundy. "I never claim knowledge of a liaison. And to be perfectly honest, even if I had knowledge of it, I would most certainly not spread it about."
"Pray do not take offence, my lady. 'Twas just I heard it and you were mentioned as witness, is all. I was merely trying to test the veracity. So there is naught to speak of?" Rhaegar had known her for how long now? Must have been a few good years.
"I can say neither aye nor nay." One of her hand clasped at the fold of her kirtle, crumpling the embroidered floral patter between long elegant fingers. "Lady Lyanna is not well known to me, but I firmly believe she has done little to attract censure and certainly nothing to merit slander."
"I see. Be assured that I shan't repeat such rumours. I advise warning Lady Lyanna or even one of her brothers." The Dornishwoman nodded, rising to her feet. "As pertaining to my sister, pray do not allow her to push the boundaries too much. Father is in a frightful mood."
She was nodding her head, assuring him she would do just that. Rhaegar allowed her to leave, conscious that she ought to be in Shaena's bedchamber. There had been enough suspected trysts for one day and his frayed nerves were begging for peace and quiet. Both of which he had aplenty after the door closed in Ashara Dayne's wake.
Rhaegar remained seated longer, staring at the high lancet studiously. His sister had taken an interest in something other than ho to best hide a knife under her skirts. And of all the things it had to be the melee. Given the sheer umber of participants, he could not pinpoint exactly who it was she had her sight on. And Lady Ashara either had not known herself or was not willing to tell him. Whichever it was, he was left with aught to dread. But then it might well be naught. No sense in borrowing trouble.
He climbed to his feet and brought a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing a stiff spot. Best to just take it all as it came. Rhaegar gave one last glance to the small desk he'd been using, just to make certain nothing of great import had been left upon it. Satisfied with the results, he walked towards the doors leading to the bedchamber proper and opened them wide.
A breeze came from within, chilled air gliding along his skin in smooth caresses. He walked inside and closed the doors, avoiding looking at the bed. Granted it was a most difficult task given the position of that particular monstrosity. Nevertheless, he deftly avoided it by stepping to the side, so as to discard his clothing in neat order.
Once comfortable, he took hold of the jug of wine left on a stool and poured some. It was a bitter, strong fare, the strongest Lord Whent possessed. Rhaegar could only hope the blasted thing would knock him out after a few cups for his mouth heartily protested the taste. He gulped down what remained of it before staring at the empty bottom, smooth and dark. His teeth were very nearly clattering as he refilled it.
This time he took to the bed, still not daring to look too long upon it. The headboard was firm behind him, holding him up with little effort. Might be he should have asked Elia if she'd been serious about her offer. He would wed her. Anticipating one's vows had worked in favour of so many others. He shook the notion away with a bitter chuckle. She would have accepted, no doubt, hoping to cement the union.
Rhaegar by no means regretted choosing Elia. But at times he felt rather odd in her presence. He'd not promised her aught as silly and frivolous as love, yet that did not mean she knew he could not do it. It seemed to him in that moment, throat and stomach burning from the thoroughly cleansing effects of alcohol, that he was being entirely unfair to his future wife.
Forsooth, he'd seen a few of his own close companions wed for love. A love encouraged by their kin, but still love. They'd sworn to him nothing existed which could compare. Was it fair to deprive Elia of that? Did it even matter if so? She had elected to follow him. Might be she had no need of love. The somewhat heartening thought gave him pause.
What a miserable wretch he was. Rhaegar sighed, looking down into the half empty cup. Elia would get a crown for her efforts. That was prize enough. It had to be. He rolled the earthen cup between his fingers, watching the glistening liquid swirl elegantly. Where his army failed, she had her brother's poisons.
Laughter bubbled upon his lips at the thought. It was not the least bit amusing, but he shook from the effort of holding laughter in. Oberyn would likely have no qualms about killing his whole court in the process if the matter was left to him.
Gradually, calm returned. Rhaegar drained the rest of his drink. His lids were growing heavy. One last cup, he told himself, reaching out for the jug. His balance shaky what he managed to do was land on his side. Lord Whent had had the right of it. Pain erupted in his skull, enough of it to jolt him into action. Rhaegar lifted himself and this time grabbed the jug. He drained all its contents into the cup with shaky hands.
"To this plague of a realm," he muttered to no one in particular. "Without fail in my deepest night terrors." Aye, that was the right of it, naught but a pestering plague.