Thank you everyone who took the time to read, left reviews, and are following the story.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. All things recognizable are property of G.R.R. Martin, David Benioff, D.B. Weiss, & company, & the asoiaf wiki.
Chapter 17
"Is it not too late to be working?"
Stannis Baratheon, at the sound of his wife's voice, huffs out a breath and looks up at where she is standing in the doorway. "No."
Evidently, what he says matters not because she walks into the room shutting the door firmly behind her.
"The hour grows late." She says it as though he had not understood her meaning the first time.
He knows what it looks like outside; he has eyes and a window. He will not deny that it is dark; however, that alone has no bearing on his abilities. "It is not so late that I cannot continue to do work."
She smiles wryly and he wonders at it. If he had said such things to others, they leave him be. They certainly do not smile at him and perch themselves upon his desk without his leave. His wife is not like most others. On most days he it can be a blessing; at this moment, it is not. "You think I do not know that you would continue to work long past when other would desist for the day."
"I have more responsibilities than others and others are far more lax with respect to their work." No matter how others see their responsibilities, he is the Lord of Storm's End. Even if he was never supposed to be, he is responsible for those who live within the borders of Storm's End and the Stormlands. Even if he owes nothing to those who call him Lord Paramount he owes it to both Robert and his father to do his duty properly.
She leans in closer to him. "I am not denying that."
He narrows his eyes. "Then what are you saying?"
"That it is late enough and you should retire to bed."
"I will retire when I am tired." To make his point, he jabs the parchment in front of him with his quill more stridently than he was accustomed to doing.
"You would not retire even if you were tired." He ignores the laughter in her voice; and the truth.
"Then why is it that we are having this discussion?"
"I think you work far too much." He frowns. He is not a stranger to that sentiment being delivered from her; or from others, for that matter.
"My L-Ashara, I think you say that too much."
She snorts, "Then perhaps you ought to listen to what I say on occasion, Stannis." He clenches his teeth. 'Of all the women he could have married he marries the most stubborn woman he ever come across', he thinks.
He gestures to the pile of papers and ledgers strewn across his desk. "There is far too much work to be done to listen to your multiple admonishments to "not work too much".
At that she plucks the writing tool out from his hands. "Work will keep until tomorrow."
He extends his hand. "I should like you to return that."
"And suppose I do not." Though her words are a blatant challenge there is humor in her violet eyes and he finds himself grinding his teeth more until he stops when he sees how she tilts her head.
He keeps his voice low. "Do not tempt me."
She smirks at him and leans in even closer, "And if I wish that you would tempt me?" Her smirk becomes wider.
At his wife's forwardness he frowns, "You are being highly improper."
He wondered briefly if forwardness was a common trait of all Dornishwomen or if this trait was simply unique to his, in particular. He rarely was in the presence of other women of Dorne and so he could not accurately determine markers for what passed for appropriate parameters of behavior when it came to Dornishwomen. The Queen always acted fittingly in his presence, but, no woman would be a respected queen if she disregarded proper decorum in public. He only had the vague recollections of his wife's younger sister, Allyria. The Martells older girls were loud and brash, but, they were also children. None of that serves tells him anything; much less about how he was to interact with his wife in this particular instance.
She smiles, archly, and walks away from him slightly, with his quill still in her hands. "No one will deny that; certainly not I."
"My Lady-" He starts.
She interjects, "I believe we have had this discussion before; my name is 'Ashara', not 'My Lady'. You were doing so well not even a moment ago. I should not have to remind you that it is far too late for such formalities. A great many moons have passed since I have become your wife. As for propriety, no one else but the guards on duty are awake enough to argue about it and no one would dare accuse the Lord and Lady of Storm's End were being improper. There are far fewer who would even believe such a thing would be possible." His wife is odd as are her arguments and what passes for her amusement.
"Well, Ashara, I am not done with my work and as you say, you have been my wife for as long as you have; you should know that I do not take my responsibilities lightly."
At that she comes to stand behind him, but, not before she put the quill down on a table outside of his reach. If this had been anyone else he would have went to go retrieve the quill, ordered them out of the room, and begin working again, but, he does not. His own behavior when it comes to his wife is strange to him, even now.
He does not flinch away when he feels her hands on his shoulders. He wonders why he starts to notice how warm her hands are. His reverie is broken by her reply of, "Yes, and I know that you do not. Everyone does. But, I am asking you to stop working for tonight. It will keep."
"Why?" He was certain he was not registering a complaint or that it would have sounded like he was to her ears; however, she did not usually make it a point to interrupt him; certainly not for this long.
"I wished to speak to you." He was no lackwit; he knew that. She would not be here otherwise.
"You are speaking to me." He was hoping she would get to the point of this conversation; whatever it was.
"That is not what I meant."
He almost sighed. "I could not possibly know what it is you mean."
His wife is usually forthright, but, he does not understand her completely and certainly not at all times; not at this moment, in particular.
"You are incredibly frustrating at times, Stannis." She has said that before as well. He knows he is described this way. Renly, in his impudence, tells him something similar at least once day. He considers himself fortunate Alya and Mya are still young enough to where they have not developed that habit as of yet; though he was certain that would start soon enough. Still, it has very little to do with anything.
"You sought out my company."
He does not need to see her to know that she is stifling a laugh. "I know." Despite the words, her tone is odd.
He turns, looking up at her. "Is there a particular reason why you wished to speak to me?"
"Of course." His wife was usually a pragmatic person; despite her peculiar humor whatever she wanted to speak to him about would be sensible if she sought him out at this hour.
A silence builds. "Well?"
Moments tick by and he frowns, concerned. Ashara was never the type to be silent; whether or not he wanted her to be. She certainly had not stopped talking since she ventured into the room until this moment. "What is it?"
She looks nervous. This was also rare and disconcerting.
"I have been to see Maester Cressen."
He stared at his wife. That was most unusual. She did not look ill; however, he was no Maester. "Why? Have you taken ill?"
She shakes her head. "No, I am not ill. I am with child."
With child? The silence builds for some time until she prompts, nervously, "Will you not say anything?"
His eyes fly up to look at hers. "I see." She is with child. His wife is with child. He is to have a child; of his own. He had not been expecting this. He frowns briefly, wondering why he is so surprised; it is not as though their marriage is unconsummated. It would have happened at one time or another. It should have happened and apparently it has.
Her face morphs into something he is surprised at; fondness. She eagerly replies, "Will you say something more? That is less than enthused than I had hoped."
"You are with child." She smiles at him, but, quirks an eyebrow. He knows both from experiences in his youth and his sojourns to King's Landing and the Vale that he does not have the charm of Robert but no one expected eloquence from him; except, apparently, his wife.
Ashara is smiling at him; pulling closer to him. "Yes, I said that."
"I am to be a father." That is not much better. He is aware he sounds like a simpleton and he is angry at himself because of it. Still, his wife seems more amused. He supposes that is well enough.
"That is the way of things, yes." She becomes nervous again, "Does it please you?"
It is an odd question. He knew it was his duty to have a child, and had always known it. It became more of a duty since he had become Lord of Storm's End, but, to find pleasure was different thing all together. Pleasure, he had long since decided, something he neither expected nor hoped for. However, does it please him to have a child? He has some experience with Renly and Ashara's and Robert's girls, but, this was to be a child is one of his own.
"Yes, it does." He means it. She nods and smiles again.
He cannot help but ask, "Does it please you?" He knew why he married her and he knew some of what prompted her to marry him, but, today, he decided he wanted her to want this, want his child.
"Yes." It was just one word but he believes her.
He does not know why his body which was so tense just moments ago is not now. "Good."
She echoes him smiling. "Good."
She kisses him.
When they pull apart she asks, "How should we tell Renly and the girls?"
He looks at her, perplexed. "What sort of question is that?"
He cannot help but be rather exasperated at the way she laughs at the oddest things. "Just what is it that you find so humorous?"
Her laughter dies down far more slowly than he wishes.
When it does, she sighs, "We ought to approach this carefully."
"What?" He cannot comprehend the statement she made.
"They are children, Stannis."
"I am aware of what they are, Ashara."
"They will have thoughts about this."
He frowns at her declaration. "Thoughts about what? We will be telling them about our child, it is not an opinion."
"Oh, Stannis-"
He looks at her, "There is no need for that. There is to be a new child in the household. It is not a complex idea or something, save for Mya, they are unused to."
She smiles again. "Still, Stannis, upheaval like that requires a certain level of gentleness."
He stares at her. Gentleness, they both knew, was not a quality he possessed. "Did you wish to inform them of this by yourself?"
His wife laughed far too easily at him for his comfort.
He could not help but grumble, "Are you quite done?"
Her reaction becomes more sober, but, her eyes are filled with humor. "Yes, but, that is not what I was saying at all."
Of course, it was not; his life did not allow for such simplicity. "Then what are you saying?"
"To start with, when should we tell them?"
He has no preference; but, he doubts Ashara will find that as an acceptable answer. "Tomorrow morning." She nods. Was that it?
"And should we tell them individually or together?" He frowns. What difference does that make?
He shrugs. "Does it matter?"
She smiles. "It does not unless you would like to listen to arguments about who was told first."
Incredulously he asks, "Do you expect them to raise a mutiny?" Renly can be rather boisterous in the way he remembers Robert was when they had been younger, but, certainly he would not argue if either Alya or Mya were told before him; or at least he does not think so.
She looks away and he is far too uninspired to demand she stop taking merriment in his questions. This evening alone tells him it is not worth the effort. When she returns her gaze to him she offers, "Did you wish to have the potential for arguments or avoid them entirely?"
He sighs and she smirks. "We will tell them tomorrow; after breakfast. Anything else?"
"Yes." Of course, there is.
"What now?" A look is sent his way which he does not comment upon.
"I plan on writing to Starfall."
"Naturally." The Daynes would want to be told; they should be told.
She purses her lips. What now? "Since there is obviously something more, tell me."
"I would write to King's Landing."
He forces himself to not roll his eyes. She speaks as though he would stop her from writing to whoever she wants; about this especially. "Yes, yes, Ser Arthur and the Queen would probably like to know. Write to whoever else you desire."
She blinks at him for a moment and he wonders why. "Now, what is that look for?"
"You do not have to call my brother 'Ser'."
"That is his title."
"But, that is not his name."
He is aware of what her brothers' names are. "I said 'Arthur'."
"Oh, very well, but, if we are ever in his presence calling him by his title is not necessary." She sounds so put-upon and he wonders at it. He would have hoped he should be accustomed to his use of formal speech by now, at least, but, judging by this entire conversation she is resolved not to be.
"As you say." He will not argue with her about it. His wife is stubborn. She would continue to clash with him if he did. He can find numerous things to do in the time he would waste on that.
Clearly, she did not wish to press the matter forward either because she continues, "And do you wish to write to Greenstone or shall I?"
"You can write it, if you wish." He remembers mother's family at his wedding. They would appreciate a letter from his pretty wife far more than they would if it came from him.
She nods. "Is there anyone you would write to?"
He ruminates on the question. He frowns. His brother will know tomorrow and aside from the Estermonts he has very little family. The King's family was kin, after a fashion, but, Ashara would have written to the Queen eventually. He certainly was not going to write to all and sundry. After a moment, he decided, "If you are writing to King's Landing I will write to Lord Arryn."
The answer pleases her, because she smiles widely at him. "Yes, of course. I am sure he would appreciate it."
He does not know that for fact; but, Robert would have written to the man and Lord Arryn had given him use of his home for a time. It was the least he could do. He continues, "I will also speak to Maester Cressen about letters to our bannermen."
He looks at Ashara who nods back and he asks, "Is there anything else we need to discuss?"
Her lips twitch upwards. "No; not tonight. It is far too late." He frowns. Those words are almost the same ones she used when she first stepped into the room; but, it is now that it becomes too late for a 'discussion'? She continues, "We ought to retire."
"We?" He wonders how much she would press him on this and why he does not feel angry about it.
"Certainly."
He sighs. "You will not let me continue with my work tonight, will you?"
"No." There was no hesitation in her voice; or shame, for that matter. However, he had surmised there would not be.
He looks at her, "No?"
"No." She is firm, then.
"You are stubborn."
She smirks, "You say that as if you are not." At least, she is direct.
He sighs again, "Very well Ashara, we shall retire."
She beams and he tries to ignore how he is not angry with himself or at her even though he acquiesced to her too easily.
Rhaegar pulls on the arm wrapped around his wife's to bring her closer to him as he sees Ser Jaime directs some attendants to place a chest in one of the carriages standing by waiting to depart. Rhaegar can hear Lord Tyrell barking out orders of his own. Elia said nothing, but, she pressed closer to his side. Her attention, however, also stayed on the hustle and bustle in front of them.
He gestures in the direction of the head of the caravan, whispering in her ear. "Do you think we are doing the correct thing?" They both watch as more trunks are loaded onto carriages. There are only a few more which need to be loaded and then the convoy will start on its way out of the city.
"What?" Elia purses her lips as she watches the scene in front of her distractedly.
"This visit."
"What of it, Rhaegar?" He almost sighs at the absentminded question.
"I do not like this."
That pierced her attention and Elia begins staring at him. "You do not like what?"
"We have planned exhaustively; there should be nothing to worry about." Her eyes widen. "Are you having misgivings about Viserys-"
At his silence, she exclaims, "This was your doing." He needs no reminder of that. He regrets this very much so.
"Yes, and you also agreed. I believe your exact words were, 'Yes, would that not be wonderful?'" He was hoping she would agree with him now, but, such is not the circumstance he is presented with.
She counters, "And 'He ought to see some of the realm', were your words." Rhaegar cannot deny he said those things. He has been actively trying to forget it.
"I know what I said, Elia." He moves his gaze directed to where the children were. Viserys and Rhaenys were standing some feet away; also watching the scene in front of them, wide-eyed blissfully unaware of his thoughts. Viserys has one of Rhaenys' hands clutched in one of his own. Viserys was grinning excitedly, talking to Rhaenys, who in turn, was eagerly listening to him.
"Rhaegar, what caused you to change your mind; so quickly, at that?"
He frowns. Viserys had been happy since he learned that he was to go to the Reach, and then, to Dorne. As Elia had said, it was his idea, but, now, even seeing how animated his brother is to leave, he does not like it.
Rhaegar has to look away. "A man is allowed to have doubts." That he does have doubts at all, let alone about a simple thing like this, does not sit well with him.
She tilts her head; incredulity plain on her face. "Since when are you 'just a man', much less, one who has doubts?" She narrows her eyes. "For how long have you been thinking about this?" She points in front of her, her voice tinged with some frustration, "There is very little time left before they ready to leave."
"I was not expecting this, but, do you think we can tell Lord Tyrell to leave Viserys behind?"
A pointed glance in his direction and a response of "And you are going to tell Viserys, the Tyrells, and my brothers he cannot leave King's Landing, why?" tells him her answer is 'no'. He wonders if Elia used to be this difficult or if this was something new.
"I am the King and Viserys' brother. Certainly my lack of agreement can count for something." He knows it is a weak argument, but, if it succeeds, then that can only be a good thing.
She counters, "It is all prepared; it would be insulting to change those plans now."
"Children do not have to make such visits; there will be time for that later. Who would be insulted? Mace Tyrell? He and his family would have left for the Reach with or without Viserys. Or is it your brothers that you do not wish to insult?"
The moment he said that he regretted it immensely. Though her expression had not changed, she pulled away slightly and her voice was deceptively soft in his ear when she says, "What is it that you are fighting? As you say, Viserys is a child and plans change, but, these plans were well made and these are coordinated efforts; many having taken part. His hosts will not be the only one insulted."
"I am not fighting anything. I simply believe plans should be changed." He does not exactly explain what caused him to change his perspective; but, he knows it has changed.
She looks at him confusedly, "Why?"
He shrugs, "Why, what? Plans change constantly."
She presses her hands together and looks away from him. "Of course they do, but, we would need a very good reason. It would not do to be seen as indecisive; even about something as minor as this. What of Viserys? He will be greatly disappointed."
He knows what she says is sensible, but, he follows her eyes as they rest on his brother and their daughter. "Rhaenys will be disappointed that he goes."
Elia takes a hand in hers and looks at him with something akin to amusement. "You would use our young daughter's emotions against me and Viserys? That is original, at least. Still, Rhaegar, I believe you were there when Rhaenys said she wanted to go herself."
That was the truth. Rhaenys, too young to go herself, had simultaneously been excited for Viserys and upset that her playmate could go but she could not. As such, the pair of them had spent much time together and that time was quickly coming to an end; far too quickly for Rhaegar's taste, not that he would admit such a thing. Viserys' leave was imminent; the idea of Rhaenys also leaving is ghastly.
He could only grouse, "Our children are far too independent for my taste."
She laughs, as she squeezes his hand. "Is that right? My dear husband, if our children's independence worries you now, what will we do when are grown? This is just a matter of a few moons time. Even if we never let Viserys squire or be fostered, what of Aegon or Jon? Or when Rhaenys and Daenerys marry?"
"That is very cruel of you wife; reminding me of that on today of all days." Neither of them mentions that Viserys and Daenerys are not exactly 'their children'.
After a moment he queries, "Do you think he will dislike me if I refuse to let him go?" It had been an odd revelation that he wanted Viserys and his other children to like him. In his father's later years he knew his father had certainly not liked him.
"He certainly will not thank you for telling him he cannot visit with his friends after you agreed."
"He's going far farther than Oldtown."
She raises an eyebrow, "I know where he is going, and even though this was your idea, we decided it together. Or is it that you do not want him to go to Sunspear?"
"I am not saying that." Rhaegar is certain Viserys could be going to Rosby and he would not like it.
"Then what are you saying, Rhaegar? This certainly sounds like you do not wish for him to go." She snorts inelegantly, but, leans in to him again. "Or is this less about him going than it is this your territorial nature coming through?"
That reply caused him to stiffen, "What makes you ask that? Why is it that you insist on asking if that is what is causing this every time?"
She presses closer to him and it is rather distracting; but, he takes notice of the playfulness in her eyes. "Because mine husband, I cannot explain whatever reluctance causes this otherwise; unless by some chance you are upset that he would rather go to places away from King's Landing and Summerhall is not amongst the ones he does want to see."
He puts a hand discreetly on the small of her back and leans towards her to whisper, "That is not particularly humorous, wife." He had spent many a night at Summerhall, but, he had not ventured to any place in the Stormlands recently and Viserys had not shown much of an interest in the ruins of the place. That does not matter to him.
She shakes her head, "Perhaps so; however, I require a better explanation, husband; as will his potential hosts; as will Viserys."
"What is there to explain? I do not think it would be wise for Viserys to go to anywhere much less to places far away from King's Landing."
She smirks at him. "Is it reluctance to let Viserys go because you truly think this particular venture is not wise, that he is going at all, or is it that Ser Jaime is going with Viserys?"
"That is a baseless question." His tone is clipped, but, he squeezes the hand in his.
He ignores her smile. "Is it? I seem to remember you were quite eager, even with Lady Alerie's indulgence of the children, until Ser Jaime asked if he could escort Viserys. Or is it that you believe now that Cersei is with child Ser Jaime will not be as attentive to his duties."
He snorts. "I doubt that and that is not why I object."
"Well, then why do you?" He ignores the curious look she levels at him.
"He is just a child and even elder brothers can change their minds. Or is being, as you call me, over-protective, not enough of a reason?"
Incredulous laughter bubbles up from her. "Not good enough of a reason, I am afraid." Clearly his argument is one with too many holes with his wife.
Now it is he who narrows his eyes at his wife's stubbornness. "I have told you my reasons. What others reasons do you need?"
It looks as though she is trying to fight a smile. "Valid ones. Viserys has been quite eager for this. Of course, even if he has not, while it is true that he is a child, he is a prince; first and foremost. If he is old enough to sit in on council meetings, he is old enough to leave King's Landing for a few weeks."
He dislikes the arguments his wife makes intensely. Instead of addressing them, he replies, "You are awfully eager for him to be gone."
He tries not to wince both at his words and the rather sharp pressure on his foot. He looks at to his wife, who, unless one knew what to look for, seemed to be shocked and apologetic as she removes her foot from where it was firmly planted a moment ago. He never thought his wife would be daring, but, it seems he is wrong about that. He should have known his wife's Dornish temper would have manifested at some time or another; but, he admits, his words were rather unjust. That does not stop him from leveling a mock glare at her and whisper in her ear, "It is treason to do harm to a king."
She whispers back softly, "Even a king ought to know better than to make accusations about a woman's motherly affections." She continues, sighing, while she keeps her gaze directed at his younger brother, "Do not think for one moment that I will miss him terribly, but, it is only for a few weeks and I would hate to disappoint him."
He knows he is fighting a losing battle and so he only grumbles, "You indulge him too much."
She smiles, "Perhaps, I do, but, that is my prerogative."
"Where does that leave me?" He recognizes he is being particularly maudlin, but, that is the crux of some of his misgivings. He had always been a solemn man and taken more of an interest books, music, the realm, and prophesies than he had in children for their own selves; now, much to his shame that was true even with respect to his own children. Rhaenys, even though she is his first child, is a girl child and he does not interact much with her; even now. Aegon, Jon, and Daenerys were much still much too young. Before he had very little to do with Viserys and if he was honest, he did not seek his brother out much. When he came to recognize he wanted to, and given that Viserys was the only one he could take an active interest in, his brother's time and attention had been taken up by too many others and too many other things. That it is partially his doing fills him with dismay.
She looks at him, frowning confusedly. "What do you mean 'Where does that leave you?' Viserys idolizes you. He loves you."
"Because he has to and it is not as though he does not respect or enjoy the company of others."
Before she can reply, Viserys, Rhaenys, Lord Mace, Lady Alerie, and their two children make their way towards them with Ser Jaime following at a discreet distance. Rhaegar looks once more in front of him. They are ready to leave. Elia looks at him, questioningly, but, not accusingly. It tells him that she will abide by what he says. Though he is grateful for that, it does not make this any easier for him.
Mace Tyrell speaks first while Lady Alerie curtseys and the two boys mimic their father's bow of their heads. "Your Grace, the preparations have come completed."
"Thank you, Lord Tyrell." The man returns a simple, "Your Grace." Turning towards Lady Alerie, Rhaegar says, "My lady, I wish you and your children safe travels. It was a pleasure to have you here". The woman smiles at him and at Elia who voices similar sentiments. Mace Tyrell, with a bow and a "Please allow us to take your leave, Your Grace", escorts his family towards the wheel-house intended for Lady Tyrell and the youngest boy.
Turning towards Viserys he puts a hand on his brother's shoulders. "Now, Viserys…" He begins as Viserys starts to straighten his spine; the look on his young face is hopeful. At Elia's encouraging look he sighs and starts again, "Be respectful of Lord Mace and Lady Alerie on your journey. I expect that you be respectful and polite to all of your hosts and any elders you encounter." He finds himself smiling back at Viserys, whose smile is blinding.
His brother nods eagerly, "I will Rhaegar."
He continues, "Mind Ser Jaime. I want no reports of mischief. "
"Yes, Rhaegar." That is accompanied by an eye-roll from his brother.
He moves his hand so it rests on Viserys' head. The texture of his younger brother's hair, in addition to the color, is very similar to his own. "You do realize that if I see any more of that cheek I will not let you go at all and if I come to learn of more of it I can have you ordered back even if you never arrive at any of your planned destinations." He is not entirely positive if he does not mean that. If Rhaegar is fortunate, Viserys would never know how close he came to actually not being able to go at all because of him.
"You wouldn't!" At that outraged squeak he can see Ser Jaime grinning and Elia trying to stifle her laughter behind a hand.
"I will if you do not behave yourself and fail comport yourself appropriately." He was sure that sounded vaguely paternal. Or at least he tried for a tone which was more reminiscent of Doran than their father or Tywin Lannister.
Viserys' face is now tinged with worry as he replies with a nervously earnest, "I will act properly. I swear it, Rhaegar." He fights the frown building on his face. He had not meant for Viserys to be nervous, but, he supposes his words were more severe than he intended.
He nods, "I know you will."
He is not usually demonstrative, but, he wraps an arm around his younger brother and his brother returns a tight embrace. He finds himself almost reluctant to let go.
Viserys looks up at him once more. "I will miss you."
"And I will miss you." With no more he could say he lets his brother go and Viserys is swept into Elia's arms.
Rhaegar turns towards Ser Jaime, "Do keep an eye on him."
The knight replies, smiling faintly, "Yes, of course. But, how certain is Your Grace about wanting news about every bit of mischief?"
Remembering his and the knight's last private conversation and his brother's behavior he considers the question. His brother, he knows and is told, is not a habitual trouble-maker, but, is not well-behaved at all times, and so he is certain his brother will engage in a bit of tomfoolery at one time or another. Ordinarily that would not worry him, but, this was no ordinary circumstance. Though he is hopeful things will go well enough in Oldtown and Highgarden, remembering his brother is going to stay with his wife's brothers and their raucous daughters does not ease his discomfort. While Ser Jaime is capable and that Doran is a sensible man, Oberyn would likely encourage Viserys in mischief.
Seeing Ser Jaime's attentive expression, he settles on, "If it is minor and the matter settled with a talk with him then I do not need to know. If he does anything that either Her Grace or I would punish him for I expect that you would discipline him as we would and for you to use your discretion about sending a raven about what happened. If he almost causes or does cause a diplomatic incident, try to curb the fallout as much as possible and send a raven immediately."
The knight's eyebrows rise spectacularly. "Your Grace expects a diplomatic incident?" He nearly winced; the last time he left King's Landing and ventured into Dorne, to say that it caused a diplomatic incident is an understatement.
"No, but, I would rather be prepared." Anything could happen and he would not be there to prevent any such thing, even if nothing Viserys could do on his own could match his exploits.
"Of course, Your Grace."
"Very well, then I leave my brother to your charge for the time being." If there was a possessive tone to his voice the other man does not react to it.
With that done he turns to where Elia, despite her previous nonchalant words, is tightly hugging a positively beaming Viserys and admonishing him to be good and write to her frequently. Rhaegar decides he will not mention this observation to her; lest his other foot get stomped on or worse.
After his wife lets his brother go, Viserys gets one more hug from Rhaenys after promising to give her a gift upon his return.
With that Elia turns to Ser Jaime and wishes him a safe journey and asks to send along her love to her brothers and their families. It is far too quickly after that when Ser Jaime and Viserys mount their waiting horses.
Rhaegar, with Elia and Rhaenys beside him, watches as the convoy begins to move. Viserys waves back cheerfully and he tries to muster up some semblance of a smile for his brother to accompany his own more restrained gesture. They stay watching until the caravan has moved out of sight. While the trio walks silently into the Red Keep they make their way into the nursery. No member of the family is seen until they are expected for dinner.
Jon Arryn looks up confusedly at the knock on the door of his Solar.
He was not expecting anyone this late in the evening. It certainly was not going to be Lysa. Though she had proved more eager to hear about the Eyrie and the Vale once in a while at their occasionally shared meals, they were still dreadfully formal with one another. She rarely, if ever, sought him out. Even if she had need of him, which was rare enough, certainly she would not have come here now.
It surely was not the King. He had seen the King at the midday meal, and there was nothing pressing the King would want to speak to him about. Of course, the King had not been particularly effusive lately. The younger man was never the talkative sort, but, he had become less so these past few days, instead spending the bulk of his time not at court with his family. Jon suspected the departure of Prince Viserys had much to do with it and he loathed to press the other man on it.
Additionally, there was no council meeting today or tomorrow. Of the members of the Small Council still in King's Landing, Tywin Lannister and Emmon Frey, in particular, would certainly not venture to his Solar themselves though they could potentially send someone if they had need of him; but, they would not at this hour. The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard was a frequent enough visitor to these rooms, and Maester Pycelle to a lesser degree, but, he could not think of a reason they would venture here today at this time.
He shook his head. He would not know what the knock was about if he never let the person on the other side of the door into the room. "Enter!"
Sure enough, it was no one he had thought of. It was the young boy who delivered letters from the Maester. It was odd. He was not expecting any sort of correspondence. He had just sent a raven to the Eyrie the day before. Far too little time had passed for his letter to reach the Vale; let alone for there to be a return reply.
"My lord Hand, a letter came for you", the boy started, holding up a letter.
"Did it, now? Where did it come from?"
"They came from Storm's End."
He felt shock and a slight pang at the words. Who would be writing to him from Storm's End and for what purpose? And, 'they'? How many letters came from Storm's End? Confusedly, he looks at the boy. He queried, "They?"
The boy nodded. "Yes, my lord Hand. Three letters came from Storm's End today including this one for you."
"Oh, I see." He did not, but, the boy said no more and he did not bother asking even if he was curious. Three missives from one place meant some news of great import.
"Thank you. You can go."
After the boy left, he turned the letter over and saw the crest on the letter. The sigil of the Baratheon stag enclosing the envelope merely confirmed what the boy had said: the letter was indeed from Storm's End. He could not stop himself from feeling a pang at the realization.
He opened it to see a less of a letter and more of a note. He smiled in spite of himself looking at the sender's identity; and at Stannis' insistence at the lack of platitudes. Though he could not say he received that many letters, or truly, any at all, from Stannis, he should have suspected that any letter from the younger man would contain only so many signs of personal embellishments. Now he knows that to be true because the only variety of such things is inclusion of their formal titles. With that he is reminded again about how different Stannis and Robert proved to be; even though they were quite close in age. Though the news Stannis writes to him about is of the felicitous sort, and for a moment he is very happy about it, his smile slipped almost immediately at the flow of thoughts.
That Robert's family, like Ned's, is growing, should fill him with joy, he cannot forget that Robert's family is growing without Robert. Robert, like his Elbert, never got the chance to be a husband. However, unlike Elbert, Robert had been a father, even though he had not much time to act like one; and now he cannot act like one, either. He closes his eyes and his mind conjures up images and memories of Robert growing up and even some where Robert was with Mya.
Having observed Stannis with Lord Renly and Lady Ashara's girl he was confident the younger man would make a fine, if stern, father to this future child; still, he cannot find it in him to forget that one of the girls Stannis now acts as a father to is Robert's child, while the other is daughter to Ned's brother.
He sighed. Such musings are unkind of him. No amount of thinking about Elbert or Robert will get them back and he certainly should not begrudge anyone for living their life after deaths in their family. He had tried to do the same. It is not the fault of anyone else his life is not how he had imagined or hoped it would be.
He wants to be happy for Stannis; in the same way he tries to be happy for Ned, but, he finds himself slightly jealous of them both, even though he knows he should not be. He loves Ned fiercely; but, in Ned's letters to him he can read how Ned's Tully wife holds him in a certain regard while his own wife does not. Ned, though he had married the woman intended for his brother, was happy with his wife and young son; happy and far away. Jon had been here to see Stannis marry Lady Ashara. Though they had not married for love, he knew the both of them got on well and now, they too, were expecting a child. The very fact that Stannis Baratheon, who had known him only as his brother's foster-father, wrote a letter to him says that he is happy with the course of his life.
He had married for duty to his house just as they did, but, even though he, too, is to be a father soon, the same happiness which comes from exactly that is denied him.
He shakes his head. He gets up to take a walk. It will not help him to stop thinking of the fortunes of others or his misfortunes; nor will it help to erase his feelings, but, no good came from hiding away in his Solar. As strange as it was, the voice in his head sounded very much like the King's.
For some minutes he wanders through the halls of the Red Keep occasionally nodding in greeting to the rare individual passing by. He was taken aback at how late it was. The King had been what passed for his being uncharacteristically vocal and outright advised him not to work so much; but, what else was there for him but work? The younger man can give him all the lax duties he wants in the hopes of helping him focus his attention on his marriage, but, Lysa Tully will not adopt the pragmatic nature of Elia Martell simply because it might become easier for him. Lysa had disliked him for so long and only recently had begun to accept even conversation from him. He would not press himself on her more than he already had. She was giving him a child; his child. He would be foolish to demand more. With her he felt so old; he did not have the strength or the desire to fight her on things.
So lost in thought was he that he almost failed to hear the sound of familiar laughter. When he stopped to investigate the source of it he saw Gerold Hightower, Arthur Dayne, and Oswell Whent sitting in an alcove talking and laughing. As Jon steps closer to them it seems to him, by the looks of it, they have been drinking. Being who they were, Jon thought it was very unusual; but, he assumed there were other members of the Kingsguard, aside from Ser Jaime who was accompanying the young prince on his journey, on duty tonight.
As he drew nearer he heard Ser Oswell say, "Arthur, you are quite pleased by this".
Arthur responded, rather indignantly, "Of course I am!" He laughed. "Why should I not celebrate being an uncle once more with a prospect of more and more nieces and nephews to come?" Ser Arthur punctuated that with a sip of wine.
Jon smiles faintly, thinking that now he knows why they are doing as they are. He also comes to know that one of the other letters from Storm's End was meant for Ser Arthur. Lady Ashara would write to her brother about her impending motherhood. The third letter, then, was likely for the Queen; after all, she was Lady Ashara's closest feminine friend.
In the dim light Ser Oswell grins widely at the excited future uncle, "You do realize that in order to get you your future additional nieces and nephews, your sister and her husband would have to-"
Ser Arthur looked a bit tinged with green when he turned back to Ser Oswell. "I would thank you not to discuss my sister's marital activities even if I am not anywhere near; or my brother's for that matter. There are things a man does not need to think about."
Ser Oswell laughs, "You are awfully prudish for a Dornishman!" At the look he receives, he holds his hands up in surrender, "I jest, but, certainly does it not make you wonder about her life with Stannis Baratheon? He is so serious all the time."
Even though the silver haired knight is well into his cups he nods. "Aye, my good-brother is that and he is not even the type of the husband I would have chosen for my sister, but, he treats my sister and her girl well. He makes her happy. That's all I could ask for." The silver-haired man ends and Jon is rather ashamed at his own previous thoughts about Stannis.
The Lord Commander interjected as he saw Jon approaching. "That's more than enough of that. Ah, my lord Hand, come sit with us. As you can tell, we are celebrating. Arthur is to be an uncle."
He takes a seat next to Ser Gerold and accepts the proffered wine. He does not speak to Sers Arthur or Oswell all that much what with their being so much younger than him, but, the Lord Commander is something of a friend and it would be rude to not at least join them for a bit. "Ah, thank you; yes, I know. Congratulations, Ser Arthur." The man accepts this with a nod of the head and a "Thank you."
Still, that does not stop the three of them from looking at him confusedly. He wonders at it before coming to the conclusion that it is because they are drunk and his admission that he already knows about what they were celebrating.
"I received a letter from Storm's End also; from Lord Stannis, who was kind enough to write to me." Ser Arthur nods in response and follows that action by looking pointedly at Ser Oswell who rolls his eyes.
Ser Gerold prompts, slightly "Oh?" The thoughts on the other man's face are evident. That Stannis Baratheon wrote to anyone is unexpected in this quarter as well.
Jon feeling slightly embarrassed replies simply, "Yes." He finishes with a shrug; not wanting to discuss the matter future. He is rather ashamed that he had been thinking uncharitably about Stannis. The other three do not ask for an elaboration; but, by the looks they share, it is clear to him they attribute the actions of Stannis to his having some residual duty towards Robert and he finds himself self-conscious again and it is not only because his previous thoughts.
Ser Oswell with a drunken laugh interrupts his reverie when he says, "Ah, well, it seems Lord Stannis and Lady Ashara are happy at the news, but, Arthur, that doesn't explain why you act as it you who just received word about your own child."
The knight shook his head. "My brother has no child yet. With my sister, I never got the chance to celebrate the birth of her daughter." For a moment Jon thought the knight tried to avoid his eyes and he does not have to wonder at the reason why. However, that moment passed and the other man looked rather wistful for a moment before becoming elated once again. "My niece and future nieces and nephews are the closest I will come to having children of my own. Why would I not want more?" Though it was only for a brief moment there was a faint air of sadness to the other man's words.
For a moment Jon feels discomfited watching as the other two knights nodded sagely. He flushes slightly and it has nothing to do with the drink in his hands. While it was a noble choice these men made to join the Kingsguard, they sacrificed the idea of a chance at family for themselves. He had chosen to marry and have a child; he should be able be thankful for that without being morose about not being completely fortunate in all areas of life.
His thoughts are broken when Ser Oswell rumbles out another laugh, "And I suppose it is for the best that your sister's husband is more serious and your brother has to be, because you get the chance to be the dashing uncle."
They all laugh at that before Ser Gerold turns to him, "And you, my lord Hand, I believe you it is not that long until you yourself are to be a father?"
He nods and smiles a bit, "Aye, that is so." Even if the state of his marriage is not ideal he can look forward to being a father.
"Anxious?"
"Yes."
Ser Gerold smiles at him. "I am sure it will pass when the time comes."
Jon wishes he could believe him.
"Have you chosen potential names for the child, yet?"
He frowns. He has not; he had hoped Lysa would tell him she wanted to choose the name, but, Lysa had not told him if she has thought of possible names, either. Perhaps he should ask her. "No; there is still some time left." He is thankful the Lord Commander does not press him further and instead pours him some more wine.
He sits for a while longer; until he deems it time to retire to his chambers and he takes his leave. When he returns to the Tower of the Hand, he only sees guards on duty in the hallway containing his and Lysa's chambers. On a whim he asks the guard on duty if his wife's ladies have left her. Because the guard answers in the affirmative he is certain Lysa is asleep; he finds himself somewhat disappointed, but, he accepts it. It was a late hour.
When he reaches his own chambers he is resolved to speak to his wife in the morning. Thinking of Stannis' letter and Arthur's approach to the news he is reminded again of what the King had told him, "You could at least say you tried". He can wish for happiness all he likes, but, happiness would evade him if all he did was to give in to worry, jealousy, and bitterness. He is better than that; others deserved better than that from him.
Chapter 18: Present and future.
