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Chapter 18

Rhaegar wakes and blinks to adjust to the near absence of sunlight in his rooms. He frowns at the realization the space beside him is empty knowing it had not been when he had closed his eyes. When he hears noise outside his bedroom he smiles slightly, knowing that it was Elia outside; but, his smile slipped all the same.

He knew Elia woke early frequently; with their respective responsibilities, it was, if not expected, something that became a natural course of things. Though he never thought much of it, it was not an unusual thing for him to have missed her waking whenever she had slept in his rooms. As far as he was certain, she had not demonstrated any negative sentiment or reluctance about sleeping in these rooms or being with him and so he refrained from remarking on it. It was rather curious, all the same. He shook his head as he rose from the bed and put on some clothing; in the end, such thoughts were rather foolish.

When he did make his way out of the bedroom he found Elia sitting in the outer chamber with a plate of fruit in front of her, sipping something listening to whatever the handmaiden had been nattering on about until the handmaiden stopped mid-word when she saw him. Nothing about that tells him very little about what either of them was doing this early nor does it explain the handmaiden's reaction to him. The handmaiden blurts out a greeting and with a short bow towards him follows with a very quickly spoken "May I take your leave, now, Your Grace". It was and it was almost instantly after Elia gives her a jerky nod the lady practically flees the room. If he was not befuddled before, he certainly was now.

Elia was halfway out of her chair when he holds up his hand to stop her. There was no need for her to stand on formality with him; yet, it seems her manners will not allow for a lack of decorum at the table; even if it was intended to be a table set for just the two of them; even when the table was not even set. That the handmaiden acted oddly likely did not help matters. If he was the type to smile at such things he would have. Instead he ignores it in favor of going to kiss her cheek. Elia only smiles faintly, in return.

Before he can say anything Elia speaks, a rather tense edge to her voice, "Ah, I hope we did not disturb you…"

He peers at her as she trails off. He almost frowns at the way she was not looking directly at him. It had been some time that she reacted to him with hesitance; however, to him it seemed she also looked very pale. At first, he merely thought it was the result of the light, or rather, current lack of much of it, but, he is close enough to her to see the frown marring her face. He also sees how the tight grip she has on the cup she is holding is. He sees how white her knuckles from the effort.

Though it was a far rarer thing he worried about he begins to think that perhaps she might have taken ill; but, he dismisses it. She had not been unwell last night and he does not think some illness suddenly took her, but, this was odd. A different, if equally unwelcome type of worry creeps into his mind and he begins to wonder if their coupling had been too passionate, but, he remembered their activities, though enthusiastic, had not been overly aggressive. He dismisses the thought; that could not have been the reason for whatever this was.

"No, you did not. However, I was taken aback it." He hopes that will prompt her to tell him about whatever it was that disturbs her.

Her distracted answer of, "I see", tells him very little. She looks away again, before she prompts him with a question, "Shall I go arrange some breakfast?" His incredulity grew as did his apprehension at the way she was she was trying to distract him; but, she would have known it would have been a fruitless endeavor. No matter how much he knew she did not want him to be concerned, if there was something to be concerned about, he would be.

"Leave it for now; just with me for a while." He keeps his voice level. He does not want to unduly rush her and instead motions towards the plate of fruit in front of her and she pushes it towards him. She will tell him of whatever ails her soon enough.

With a smile he takes an orange and decides to broach another subject. "Will you be joining me in today's audiences?" More often than not, she was there for them. Elia had also taken to sitting in council with him. With Lord Arryn being distant with him, and most others who would spend much of their time deferring to him or scheming to enhance their own aims, it was rather enjoyable having her near, even when it seemed they shared many of the same opinions. Though he had his Hand, if there ever was a need for him to leave King's Landing again; of course, as the chief lady of the realm, she should know about its affairs.

She shakes her head and he finds himself disappointed. Disappointment starts to become concern at her mournful expression. His concern only increases when she replies, "Not for the entirety of the morning. Lady Lysa finally has accepted my invitation to visit the Sept."

They share a look even as an uncomfortable silence grows between them. He had known this was something Elia had not necessarily celebrated but thought it to be important. Rhaegar knew that the pair of them got on well enough, however, the lady had become even more withdrawn to the point where not only had she refrained from venturing outside of the Red Keep, Rhaegar was certain had seen her only a handful of times since the loss of the child.

Even without knowledge of the lady's obvious state of mourning, the air of grief and loss was just as thick around Lord Arryn. No one could blame him, but, the man would not speak about it. At any rate, it was only recently that the Hand willingly had rejoined in meals at the Great Hall and not only when the occasions required his presence.

Lord Arryn was not receptive to much from him aside from the perfunctory condolences. Even if Lord Arryn had not been such a proud man, encouragement about future children from a man who the realm had saw as being unsatisfied with having two children, even though that was not the extent of his motivations, was not going to be welcome to a man who deeply desired, but, was unable, for now, just to have one. Rhaegar could not find fault in it and did not try to, either. Still, he thought it was a good thing the lady accepted Elia's overture at last.

"Very well. Have Ser Brynden escort you both." That the other man was the lady's family and Elia liked the older man well enough worked in their favor. The knight had been affected by the news, as he rightly should, but, he had always been a dutiful sort and that had not changed even in light of the tragedy which befell his niece. Rhaegar admired him for it.

"Yes, I think she would like that." Elia smiled. It was not an easy smile, but, he knew that her unease came from what befell the Arryns, not his suggestion.

She looks at him before taking a sip of what she was drinking and makes a face he knows he is unused to seeing on her visage.

He peers at her curiously. "What is that you are drinking?" She had been at the table before him; however, nowhere was he seeing any of the tea she was fond of drinking in the morning, or for that matter, a proper breakfast. Whatever she is drinking, it did not seem to have excessively negative effects for her; even if she did so with the distaste and the apprehension she was displaying. Of course, if there was something untoward or dangerous about the drink she would not still be drinking it.

When she does not answer immediately he starts to worry more, but, before he could ask further, she sighs in resignation and looks away before answering him. "It is Moon Tea."

The only thing he can manage is, "You have begun to take it, then."

Even though one rarely thinks about the possibility, let alone at length, Rhaegar knew there are very few acceptable responses to what his wife just said other than that.

Despite Elia's clear unease, she asks him, "Will you not say anything more?"

In truth, there is very little for him to say. Though he had never seen her drink it before and he would never have required this of her, he does not have to wonder at her taking such a step nor does intend to fight her on it. He takes her hand. Though she looks very uncomfortable and while he does feels her hand slight shaking, she does not pull away.

He has no reason to ask too much more nor is he particularly surprised by it. He knows why women take such things and he knew the reasons Elia should. Even without the situation with the Arryn's or Elia knowing both her good-sister and closest friend are with child, respectively, if the Maesters' warnings delivered towards them soon after Aegon's birth were still clear in his mind, they would be in hers. That he and Elia have started to share each other's chambers more frequently only made such warnings more potent. Who better than Elia would know the dangers of her having to give birth again?

Still, she is correct, there are questions he wants to ask; though, by her expression he can see she would not know what sort of questions he would ask of her. "I take it you have been imbibing it frequently enough?"

Her hand sharply twitches in his, obviously taken aback by his acceptance; and he fights back a frown because of it. She takes a breath and manages to say, "Yes, I thought it best not to leave such things to chance."

He is dismayed at the guilt lacing her tone or the uncomfortable and apologetic expression, but, neither that nor her response was surprising. Taking Moon Tea was not something that was discussed in but the faintest of whispers; if it was discussed at all, even between a husband and wife. Of course he knew full well the last time they spoke of the risk to her health when it came to birthing children, he decided the two Elia gave him were not enough for him and they both knew the results stemming from that decision.

"Yes, of course."

Elia takes a breath and looks away before softly saying, "You do not object." The words fall from her lips in a strange mix of shock and apprehension.

The only thing he finds odd is that he is the one being questioned on why he is not the one doing the questioning. For now, he decided to reply simply. "No."

She stares at him; her expression indicated she was more perplexed than anything. "Why not?" He reads her thoughts easily; others would question her decision on this, and that she took this step without consulting him. He fights the urge to sigh. More than anyone else, she should know he is not like most others. Though they had not spoken of this exactly, he knew the necessity of it. Why would he not accept this?

"May I speak plainly?"

She presses her lips together and after a moment, "Yes. I would like that." Despite the words, there is no eagerness in her tone; not that he expected any.

"I am relieved you are taking it."

He wonders if he should have said that differently when her face twists into a disturbing display of alarm.

Rhaegar finds that most of those he knew refrain from acknowledging that one could be faced with the idea that one can either have the child or they can have the mother. Even if the loss of the Arryn's child was not newly on his mind, which it was, he is far too familiar with the grim thought than he had ever hoped to be. He is aware that while loves his sister very much, his dearest mother died in the childbed and that was just the latest calamity of that sort he has known.

In the face of her incomprehension, he elaborates, "There is no need for you not to take Moon Tea."

She purses her lips and takes a breath and looks away. "What exactly do you mean there is 'no need not to'?"

He frowns; now, it is he who does not understand her. "Having another child could be dangerous for you. It is a risk I see no need in taking."

"Having another child could be dangerous for you. It is a risk I see no need in taking."

He meant his answer to be reassuring but, recognizes he failed spectacularly when Elia only frowned deeply as she turns away from him. "What is it?"

He waits and it is not long before he is rewarded with her eyes looking directly into his. "You said that you have no objection to this because of the risk birthing another child can have to my health." She says the words slowly, deliberately; questioning him.

"Yes. That is what I am saying."

She takes what Rhaegar is dismayed to recognize is a fortifying breath. He also feels the tensing of her hand he has yet to let go. Though her chin lifts slightly, her voice is uneven when she asks, "Would you still be so obliging if the nursery had not contained three of your children?"

He closes his eyes and has to turn away; inwardly wincing. He wants to be horrified would ask such a thing, but, he knows it is a fair question. He had wanted three children, needed them, taken steps to have them, and had been blessed with them. What he can no longer afford to do is ignoring the consequences of seeing that dream of his realized or that those blessings came at a cost. He risked Elia's life twice before and it had not been far too long after Aegon's birth when he flatly told her of his need for another child, quite thoroughly forgot himself with her. But, like with most everything else, he got his way and it had cost him Lyanna who died a lonely, bloody death in the middle of the Dornish desert. His Jon had been born and as grateful as he was now he remembered he had not always been because Jon was not what he expected.

Before, it was thoughts of what will come which plagued him and they still do; but, now he finds it is also what had come which plagues him just as much. He had Lyanna for his own and no matter what anyone could tell him, her death is on his hands. His youngest child lost his mother in the child-bed. His siblings lost their mother in the same way. By the time he had realized he should have been grateful for what he had, too much blood flowed from far too many. If such a thing can be prevented, he will not allow Elia to be lost to him and to them; not now.

"Yes. You are done; I am done."

She tilts her head and he wonders if she will say something more or if he even wants her to. In the end, she does ask him, "What changed?"

His eyes narrow in confusion. "What do you mean, 'What changed'?"

She swallows. "Why are you done with fathering children without me now, when, before, you were not?"

Despite everything the question brings forth, with Elia now, he hears curiosity and some resignation; though he is sure with anyone else he was sure he would have heard accusations. It does not make hearing the question any easier; even though he knew the question was a sensible, if predominantly unexplored, one. Rhaegar knew that if others felt they could ask him such things freely, Elia would not be the only one asking him such things; however, unlike with others, he owes Elia an answer in the same way he knows he will owe them to his children.

He takes a breath. "I almost lost you to the child bed once. I lost my mother the same way. You have been as good as a mother to Jon as you have with Rhaenys and Aegon, but, his mother died in the childbed, as well…"

Rhaegar takes a breath as he sees Elia consider his words as he trails off. Elia does not become angry at the mention of Lyanna, but, there is still hurt in her eyes he knows will never completely be erased which he cannot fault her for. They do not speak of the past or Lyanna very often, however, at times such as these, it would be a great disservice to try to avoid it or try to disregard the need. He could only continue, "I cannot and will not lose you, now, and not to the child-bed; not for anything or anyone else." He hopes she hears what else he cannot bring himself to say and it is a relief when she nods and he feels her grip on his hand tighten.

It is some time before either of them speaks again and he only does so when he sees her take another sip with a grimace. "Who else knows?"

She starts at the question, but, sighs knowing what he refers to. "Oberyn knows; I have not spoken to Doran; but, I know him well too well. You saw my handmaiden. The Grandmaester knows, but, if Pycelle knows our Master of Coin will eventually come to know or perhaps already does. It is not ideal, but, going elsewhere carries its own concerns. As far as I am aware, none of them has told anyone else; much less to anyone who would be surprised."

The resigned sounding answer is not entirely unexpected. Her brothers, however they may detest him, would want to ensure she has the best they can provide. Rhaegar is grimly aware Oberyn studied with the intent to forge some Maester's links and has experience with certain potions. The handmaiden would not have fled as she had if she was ignorant of this. He briefly considers writing to Oldtown about arranging for a new Grandmaester, before dismissing the idea, yet again. It would be more trouble than it is worth to dismiss Pycelle and the man, for his faults, seems to know his craft. Lord Tywin had been the subject of unkind talk, himself, after the death of Lady Joanna and the birth of his youngest son and was no rumormonger. He knew his court and that Elia's health had been a well-worn subject for years.

Elia asks the next question. "You are not angry that I kept this from you?" While he would have liked that she just told him, one hardly speaks about such things willingly. He also knows others had not so quietly whispered about the effect childbirth had on her and how some of the whispers increased because of his actions.

He shakes his head firmly and he is relieved some of tense atmosphere which surrounded them seemed to be decreasing. Not all of it does and he responds with, "No, not at all; however, I would rather you did not try to sneak about in the mornings, regardless of the reason." They should have no reason to by shy with one another, no matter what had transpired between them.

She is almost shocked at his perhaps too flippant response and though he would never usually be this blunt, that habit of hers had been distractingly perplexing. Now that he knows the reason for it, it does not make it any less so. Waking alone when he knew he had not started that way bothered him more than the idea of Elia doing this. There was a perfectly discernable reason for her taking the concoction; not for waking up at abominable hours to do so.

He knows some of her unease remains and so he voices another concern he had, "Have you found that it makes you ill?"

He considers it a near victory when she, rather than seeming nervous, answers the question gamely, "Not particularly. I have not found it to cause any unusual effects aside…"

He nods watches her take her final sip and she does so, again with a grimace he wonders at. "Does it taste awful?"

She sighs, "Even with-" She stops and takes a breath before she starts again, "I would not take it willingly without reason." As he hoped, there is no sadness in her voice, but, she sounds almost put out about it and a laugh slips from him.

Where, before, she was so painfully hesitant, now he wonders if his wife just might kick him. She does not, but, she does glare at him slightly while she puts the cup down and pours water for herself. "You would not be laughing if you had to drink this. No amount of sweetening it can save it, but, I suppose there had to be some disadvantages to taking it." She shakes her head. It certainly was not an encouraged practice, but, Rhaegar knew better than to assume that no lady in King's Landing took Moon Tea or similar creations for various purposes.

He raises his arms in apology. "I should not have laughed." He gets a hesitant smile in response.

Before a silence can fill the room she asks, "Is there something more you wish to ask me?"

He considers, "Not about this."

She coughed; looking slightly anxious. "Then about what?" He can see it in her face, 'What else is there to speak about? Certainly they could not be done discussing this.' He is done with it, however. His wife either takes Moon Tea or she does not and there is no reason for her not to. As for him, there is not any reason for him to desire she refrains from doing so. Even if she acted without his knowledge or blessing he had done the same about different things with far more far-reaching and disastrous consequences for more than just themselves and their family.

"What else will you be doing today, except the audiences and visiting the Sept?"

Anxiousness slips into an odd sort of bemusement. "Why do you ask?" He can see her thoughts again, 'of all the things to ask, why bother with that?'

"Indulge my curiosity." He was certain Elia, like him, was intending to fulfill the various duties required of her, however, he still wants to know and he is quite content to let that other matter rest.

He ignores the curiosity-filled look she sends him before she speaks. "Lady Lysa and I will likely return late into the audiences. I intend to see to the refurbishments being made to the Maidenvault and other areas of the Holdfast. Following that, I will have my midday meal with the children at in the nursery, but, I think some time in the garden would be good for them. They have been rather restless of late. After, I also will have to see the Steward about the accounts; and, then the Cook. Then, some of the ladies will be joining me in sewing just before the night's meal."

After she finishes she shrugs as if to say he should not be surprised at any of what she said and truthfully he is not. She looks at him once more as if to gauge his reaction before she asks, "What are your intensions for today, then?"

Rhaegar almost smiles. Even if Elia does not seem quite certain the other matter is ended as he says, which for him it is unless they absolutely must revisit it, she is visibly more at ease.

"After the audiences, Lord Arryn and I will decide which petitions I will hear tomorrow. Then I mean to ride out into the city to see the Captain of the City Watch about the recent incidents in Flee Bottom and the Street of Silk. Then I must meet with the Captain of the Royal Fleet about those modifications Lord Tyrell pushed for. Lord Tywin has been hinting he wants another word with my about the kingdom's finances. Following that, I have an engagement with the Arthur in the practice yards. It seems 'I have been neglecting my swordsmanship'." He ends with a sigh, but, not only because he knows most anyone else do not consider the last item on his list an obligation or a chore.

Her eyebrow's rise in what Rhaegar is sure is amused shock and he is almost relieved because of it. "All those meetings and swordplay? I do not envy you."

He nearly groans at her visible interest of the final item on his agenda. "Do not look so enthused. That is Arthur's idea."

While he is relieved Elia's mood is no longer melancholic because of their earlier discussion, now that she was clearly trying to stifle an uncharacteristic laugh forces him to glare. "What?"

The quirk of her lips tells him she finds this far too humorous. "You are aware that you are the King and none of your knights should be able to force you to do anything you do not wish to do; not even Arthur."

He shakes his head, ruefully. "He seems to think I require an outlet from becoming too overwhelmed by the stresses of 'my responsibilities'." It was sound reasoning and while he was grateful to his friend, why he would suggest that, instead of something he knew Rhaegar does enjoy, he does not know; then again, what else was he to expect from a warrior?

Rather than say that, he stands as he ventures, "Speaking of things to come, would you mind if I joined you and the children midday? I think I need something to look forward to."

She too rises and leans in closer to him. "No, of course, I would not mind. You know that."

Rhaegar finds himself trying to control the smile forming on his face in response to the pleased look on Elia's face. He settles for a simple, "Good."

It is then that Elia's smile turns far too crafty, "Perhaps I can spare a few moments to watch as you practice."

That sends a jolt of something through him for reasons he is not entirely sure about. "Why would you want to do that?"

Her amusement only increases. "Why would I not?"

That only serves to raise his suspicions. "Why would you, unless you want to see Arthur trounce me?" He knows where his talents lie and who is far more skilled in such feats.

She smirks and though he knew this was not the time to think of such things, it eerily looks like an expression Oberyn would wear; that alone is worrying. "I would admit to no such thing."

"That is not a denial." He purses his lips.

Her smirk softens into a genuine smile as she wraps her hands around his waist. "Arthur is not only a friend but a Dornishman, there is no reason for me not to support him on occasion, but, I support you most of all and most definitely on this."

Though that pleases him more than he would admit to, he still prompts, "Even though I am better at lances than swords."

She bites her lip as though she was trying not to laugh. "One can only improve if one tries to."

He smiles and places his hands so that he cradles the back of neck in his hands. "I think I should be offended, wife. That sort of endorsement is better directed towards someone Viserys' age."

She laughs softly, "Husband, I certainly do not mean to offend you and it certainly does not make what I said any less true. Still, you have bested Arthur before." He coughs and looks away. Easily said, but, the last time he had bested Arthur in such things was at Harrenhal.
Even though she likely knows this, given what they had just spoken about, he certainly was not going to remind Elia of the events of that tourney without needing to.

Instead, he says, "If you insist on being there, perhaps you would give me a favor. That might actually provide some inducement for me to actually best him."

An eyebrow rises, "I was not aware you required such an inducement to want to do well and even if you did, favors are not usually given for efforts in practice." She tells him that as if he does not know, but, he finds himself compelled to ask her for one, all the same.

"And?"

"Would not my giving you my favor for a practice would look rather ludicrous?" Though there is a distinct lack of refusal, Rhaegar senses there was a reason she asked this, but, he does not mind at all.

"There is nothing ludicrous about what the king requests of his queen or what a husband asks of a wife." It is not much of an answer, but, it was the truth.

She put on quite a show of musing over the thought, eventually saying, "That is rather a rather odd way of looking at things."

He gazes at her curiously. "One would suspect you should have grown accustomed to my, as you put it, 'odd way of looking at things', by now."

She huffs out a laugh. "No matter how much time one spends with one of you, I do not think anyone could quite completely understand the way a Targaryen looks at things." There is a very welcome amused sort of acceptance in her tone.

He tries to fight the twitch of his lips. "You say that as if you are not a Targaryen at all."

She whispers, "I am a Targaryen, am I?"

In turn, he whispers, "You are my wife, are you not? What else would that make you?" Another smile is sent his way before he continues, "However, if you would rather not accept that and are still less than inclined to give me your favor then you should give me a kiss." Rhaegar is usually not this bold and while he does shock himself because of it, at her expression, he finds himself not wanting to take the words back.

His boldness is returned in kind when Elia shifts even more closely and he hears her soft voice in his ear, "Those kisses, like favors, are earned, Your Grace."

It is his turn to raise an eyebrow. "And do you not think besting a knight of great renown should be enough to earn one?"

The both of them know this has very little to do with Arthur or swordplay, but, Elia smiles wryly all the same. "That is very presumptuous of you."

He nods his acceptance of that fact. "Perhaps so, but, you will give me that kiss." If he did make a habit of lying to himself, he would have voiced something about reminding his Kingsguard or her to not make presumptions about his skill set; but, he does not lie to himself and Elia would not have believed it, either.

Before he can say anything more, her lips are on his. When they pull apart, she steps back. "It is getting quite late, I think. I will see about a getting you proper breakfast, now."

She barely has enough time to take a step back before he clasps her hand in his and looks at her questioningly. "I thought you said kisses were earned."

Her lips quirk upwards, "Would you still want a kiss from me, even if it was not earned?"

He frowns slightly. What sort of question was that? "Yes. Yes, I would." He hopes she hears the 'You should know that' in his response.

A fond look he does not quite currently understand the reason for is sent his way. "Then why question it?" Why indeed?

Still, he was, if nothing else, persistent. "I should like to know how exactly I earned a kiss."

"Perhaps you did not and I just wanted to give you a kiss." He starts to think the earlier part of their conversation makes more sense to him than whatever this was.

"But, why give a kiss at all, if you are the one to say that kisses are earned?"

One of her eyebrow rises. "What makes you think you have not?"

He furrows his brows in confusion. "As far as I know, I have done nothing."

This time she kisses his cheek. "But, haven't you?"

When she leaves the room after giving him one more smile he wonders if Elia's way of looking at things might be odder than some might suspect his own to be; or at least, he does until his eyes take in the sight empty cup still on the table.


When Rhaegar prepares to leave the Great Hall, he sees Elia in the far end of the gallery; but, she was not alone. Where weeks ago he would have seen Viserys standing besides Elia, instead, it was their daughter who was starting to become every bit Elia's shadow. It had been interesting seeing the varied reaction of his Small Council when they caught sight of his eldest sitting next to Elia at one meeting. Before he can form a smile at the memory of that he takes note of Elia's other shadows; Ser Brynden and his niece and wife to his Hand, Lady Lysa.

He had been expecting the other woman's presence, but, looking towards the gallery he could clearly see others had not. It was natural that Elia and Rhaenys would be given a wide berth; but, it has been some time since that it is not his family which is the object of interest to the stream of courtiers now filtering out of the gallery and for a moment Rhaegar is unsure whether this time it was something he would have preferred. He locks eyes with Elia and he can see disapproval in the way she stands and he does not have to glance very far away from his wife to understand why. Rhaegar did not usually bother with trying to decipher the meaning of other's expressions, but, those few who remained in the Throne Room did not attempt to disguise the way they look towards the Lady Arryn. Taking in the sight of her, Rhaegar remembers this morning and the times Elia had presented herself for court after the birth of both of their children; only the lady's youth was much more evident due to lady's much more poorly concealed discomfort.

Rhaegar quickly looks elsewhere before someone could take note of where his attention was. One look towards his stern faced Hand showed Rhaegar that he was not expecting his wife's presence either and while that should surprise him; but, it does not. In fact, the only one who does not betray any feelings is Ser Gerold who is standing at the base of the steps leading up to the Iron Throne. When he looks to Lord Arryn again, it did not take long for Rhaegar to recognize the other man was equally less than pleased at the looks being directed towards his wife; however, Rhaegar knows better than to mention it to the man.

What he does get from the man is a sound somewhere between a cough and a sigh before the man speaks, "Your Grace?"

"Yes, Lord Arryn."

The other man's reluctance almost seemed to grow in the silence which stretched between them.

"Jon?" It was not his way to use the man's name in public; however, for a man he admired greatly, it was just as well he would have the exception this once, even if the hall was not emptying steadily.

He could almost see his Hand trying to come to grips with himself. Rhaegar knows that is a sight, no matter how many times in recent memory he has seen it, he thinks he will never get accustomed to seeing. He does not want to get accustomed to it.

The older man looks once again towards where their wives are waiting next to one another. "Your Grace, I would not ordinarily ask this and this would more than likely come at an inopportune time.-"

Rhaegar takes a breath at the hesitant stumble of words. "Jon, what do you need?"

The man was not looking in his direction; he was looking towards his anxious looking wife. "I would request some time for my lady-wife and I to go to the Eyrie."

Rhaegar does not have to think about the answer. "Yes, of course."

His Hand nodded; almost embarrassedly. "Thank you, yes, a change of…"

His Hand almost frowns at the almost immediate, "Yes", which spilled from his lips and Rhaegar barely restrains himself from apologizing like an errant child. He had not meant to be so brusque, but, Rhaegar had been considering making this very same suggestion to Lord Arryn for some time, but, he had not known how to broach the subject without doing in such a way which would result in some sort of offence. He is relieved the other man approached him about it.

It was no secret to him that the Arryn's relationship was not one with much contentment; even though most knew the birth of the child was welcomed by both. Rhaegar also had been privy to the knowledge that the Arryns were venturing to the Eyrie after the birth of the child. He grimly suspected this was hardly going to improve the marriage, but, at least leaving for the Vale now would give the Arryns a chance to mourn their loss in privacy. Such things could hardly be said to be done easily no matter how ideal the location, but, it would be better for the Arryns to be at the Eyrie, among their own people rather than the denizens of King's Landing.

"Your Grace, do know that I would not usually like to leave you without someone to take my place as Hand of the King; however…" His Hand looks past them and Rhaegar, even without looking, knows the man is staring at his wife again.

Rhaegar coughs to regain his Hand's attention, "'However' what, Jon?"

Lord Arryn comes back to himself; flushing slightly. "I know it is not ideal to leave my responsibilities here, but, I have been away from the Vale for longer than I intended and Lady Arryn expressed a desire to go to the Eyrie." Though Rhaegar should be happy the man was cognizant of his duties, he almost sighs at the response. His Hand was a proud man, and Rhaegar knew for the older to admit that something was not well would not be easy for the man to admit. Rhaegar knew the sentiment; there were very few who he would choose to keep his confidences and he was not one to easily admit his failures; but, wanting to go home was hardly something to be embarrassed about.

Rather than travel that path with the man, he replies simply, "Yes, of course. I appreciate your duty to your responsibilities here, but, you have a duty to the people of the Vale just as much, if not more. King's Landing will be here when you return and there will be just enough responsibility remaining."

Rhaegar straightens slightly seeing how the other man was staring at him as if he said something odd. He ignored it, instead, asking, "When do you intend to take your leave?"

The other man frowns. "Within the time of a moon's turn, I think."

Rhaegar nods in agreement and for some reason Lord Arryn frowns more deeply, clearly wanting to say something more.

"Yes, Jon?"

"Your Grace, who will…" The other man looks deeply troubled as he trails off.

Rhaegar frowns. He knows what his Hand intended to ask and he knows he will have to find someone to fill the position, but, it must be something he considers carefully. It is a grim thought, but, he knew upon hearing this, if he does not make a choice for himself and soon, when Lord Arryn's intent to leave is discovered, the remaining members of the Small Council would have their own suggestions.

Of course, while being named the Hand of the King was added onto a person's responsibilities, it was an honor; but, who would accept an honor on a temporary basis? Rhaegar does not know who else he would think was appropriate for the position? He knows he does not want another Hand; but, he sees the need to let Lord Arryn go for a while. Rhaegar knows a man with such dedication to duty and who is honorable such as Lord Arryn is not a man who is replaced easily, if at all; but, also he knows leaving King's Landing for a certain amount of time would be good for the pair.

He takes a breath. "We can discuss someone who will fill the role of Hand until your return at a later time." Looking at Lord Arryn, he hopes the other man knows that he does not want to replace him; but, that is the best answer he can give his Hand; one that will give him time to think.

The other man goes to speak, to object; but, the other man visibly deflates and Rhaegar is relieved when the other man nods, "Of course, Your Grace."

Rhaegar knows the other man only accepted his answer because their wives and Rhaenys were not but a few feet away from them. He will not say he is entirely ungrateful for that when he stands to greet them.

He takes the hand Elia extends to him with a smile, before looking to Lady Arryn with an expression he hoped was encouraging. He considers it something of a success when he gets an uneasy smile in return before the lady curtsies slightly and moves to stand her husband after a glance at Elia who smiles at the other woman with what Rhaegar believes is reassurance.

While the others exchange pleasantries, Rhaegar bends to pick Rhaenys up who graces him with an embrace, a kiss, and a recital of some of her brothers' recent antics which she apparently found less than amusing.

It was not very long before his daughter demanded to be set down because she dislikes the way most of his attention is directed to where the Arryns are speaking together in low tones. If the curiously almost pleased look on Lady Arryn's face is any indication, his Hand must have informed his wife of the discussion they had.

He leans in to whisper in Elia's ear, "I think you should know the Hand is leaving King's Landing in a moon's turn and I must begin thinking to find a temporary replacement."

Elia turns into him slightly, but, her glance is thoughtful when she looks towards the Arryns as well. As Rhaegar expected, there was no surprise in her gaze. Of course, the Arryns had been intending to leave for the Eyrie, but, just not in these circumstances. "While I will be sad to see them go, I think that would be wise. Still, I am sure you will find someone worthy for the duration of the Arryn's absence."

Before he could speak the Arryns rejoin them to make their excuses. Seeing that, with one gentle pull on Elia's hand and a tilt of the head towards the pair of Kingsguard, they follow the Arryns out of the Throne Room. As Rhaegar walks he observes his Hand and his lady. They seemed, not lighter, but, more at ease as they walked, in step with one another, but, not touching one another. Rhaegar did not know if they would ever be happy with one another, but, he knew, at least, their leaving would serve them well.

He looks towards Elia and takes her hand again. "Not I; we." She raises an eyebrow. In the face of her slight confusion, he elaborates, "I would need to find a replacement to present to the rest of the Council soon and I would like some suggestions you would consider first."

Elia turns towards him fully; examining him silently, as to determine his motivations for asking this of her. "Certainly you must have some idea of who you would see in the office without my opinion."

He frowns. Why she would think he would not take her opinion on this when he had on matters of council before? "I do, but, I should like to discuss them with you." He studies his wife as she tilts her head while looking at him for something and he blanches slightly as he thinks aloud, "You would not suggest your brother, would you?"

Elia barely refrains from giving him a snort and a knowing look. "Hardly. I do not think Oberyn would leave Dorne while my good-sister is still with child, even temporarily'; perhaps not even if that was not something he had to think about." Rhaegar does not bother acknowledging his relief at that or the stress she put on her brother's name before she presses herself as close to him as she would dare in public. She whispers, "The way you two get on, I would think that would be less than productive."

Anyone he could ask knows the truth behind those words. Rhaegar grouses, "That, wife, is an understatement of the highest order; but, I still would like you to think of some possibilities before the Small Council gets wind of this."

Elia nods. "'We', it must be, then." Rhaegar smiles.


The idea of just sitting with his wife and taking in the sight of his children together playing is a welcome one, but, one that Rhaegar never knew would be something he would have come to enjoy; after all he was not one for much idleness, and more of then not, his previous occupations, and his current duties did not allow for it. He became acutely aware of that when he recognized the familiar shape walking towards him and he feels whatever joviality there is in him slip away for reasons he does not quite know.

He stands to take the proffered envelopes from the boy who minds Pycelle's ravens and he tries not to flinch when he remembers the foreboding adage, 'Dark wings, dark words'.

He knows the handwriting on both envelopes and so he keeps one and hands the other to Elia. Staring at the one in his hand he barely registers how she calls for Rhaenys or sees the other children toddling behind his eldest and the nurses who trail behind them.

He tries not to frown as he reads through the letter in his hands. The words are brief and familiar, as is the writing, but, that does little to soothe him as his occupied fist clenches around the letter. Though he suspects he is the only one who hears it, the crinkle of the parchment is harsh in his ear.

He has to take a breath and forces himself to turn to where Rhaenys gesticulates wildly at her two younger brothers and her even younger aunt. He suspects all of them only understand just some of what is being said, but, they seem enthralled by it, all the same. Elia, a very indulgent Ser Gerold, and the children's various nurses seem to be enjoying the sight of it, at any rate. Rhaegar tries to shape his lips into something of a smile when as he registers the word, "Viserys" which spilled from his Rhaenys' delighted lips.

He sits down, closer to Elia than he had been sitting and taps her on the shoulder. "What is this about Viserys? Is he well?"

She turns and lacing her fingers through the ones of his free hand and he finds that calms him somewhat. She explains, "The letter came from the Water Gardens. By the sounds of it, he seems to be enjoying himself thoroughly." Elia looks almost wistful and Rhaegar remembers how much Elia had been fond of the place in her youth. The weight of the letters still in his hands, as innocent as the words contained in the missive are, serves as a terrible reminder of how different his own youth was.

He takes a breath, "Did Viserys pen it himself?"

Elia laughs and answers in the affirmative. Before Viserys had left Rhaegar had admonished his brother to write to him and his younger brother had done his duty. Exactly two letters had been addressed to him since Viserys left King's Landing, one when Viserys arrived at Oldtown and another when he arrived at Sunspear; no more than that. If it had not been for Ser Jaime's brief missives which addressed Viserys' health and any mischief he got into, he would have had little knowledge of what Viserys was doing save for whatever Elia's brothers' wrote to her about or what he could glean from the letters filled with childish things, addressed to his daughter, which incidentally arrived weekly, without fail.

Rhaenys, displaying an eagerness to share in the experience much as possible decided she was going to attempt to learn her own letters so that she could to write to her uncle in her own hand. Rhaegar fights the frown on his lips remembering Pycelle's rather irritating suggestion that perhaps a Septa ought to be arranged for his eldest as she was showing an interest in such things. Rhaegar remembers arguing that his daughter was not nearly old enough to begin a proper education; after all, being able to write one's name did not a letter make. The older man only offered some platitudes about watching children grow being difficult for any father. Rhaegar said nothing about the man's eagerness with Viserys that he had not shown with Rhaenys, but, he knew the other man could not have any conceivable understanding of the depths of Rhaegar's concerns. With the letter in his hands he has to acknowledges, at least to himself, how those concerns are once again at the forefront of his mind, whether or not he wanted them to be.

He wishes he could smile back knowing the cause of Elia's levity, but, he only manages to look rueful and he has no need to disabuse his wife of the true reasons for it.

He closes his eyes and breaths deeply, trying to prevent his mind follow that path. Looking at the concerned look on Elia's face he ventures, "And just how well is my brother doing?"

Elia frowns, but, he is grateful she refrains, at least in public, from outright demanding answers he does not quite want to deliver or know how. Still, her voice falters slightly. "Apparently the elder two of my nieces tell him his abilities with a spear are coming along nicely." She looks at him as though she does not know if this would improve his mood or not and somehow he thinks his heart is lighter for it.

He lets out a shaky laugh. "Of course, what else?" He thinks he would much rather hear about his brother's misadventures than dwell his thoughts even though he knows that is a fool's errand.

Elia shifts closer to him and he forces himself to become less tense as she continues, "He is debating what he wants for his nameday present."

That surprises him and he looks between his wife and his daughter who now looks at him with an all too serious expression he does not like. "And what exactly does Viserys expect that I can give him?"

Before Elia can even form the words their daughter pipes up with, "He wants a Sand Steed or a "Valr'an steel sword." A harsh laugh, far harsher than he intended, bubbles from him and not only because his daughter's mangling of the word, 'Valyrian".

He knew he and his brother are fundamentally different in personality and for all that he thinks of Viserys' oddities, the both of them share their family's interest in their Valyrian heritage. Not for the first time does he almost regrets it, even though Viserys' interest was still relegated to history and weaponry. If anything he hopes his brother's interests do not mirror his. Of course, the other gift his brother would want makes him think of a different, if lesser, sort of worry.

"How exactly would he know he even wants a Dornish Sand Steed?"

With the way Elia bit her lip, it is then he knew his question was a foolish one and so he answered it aloud himself. "Someone let him ride one and has taken to it well."

He sighs. "Does that letter say who let my brother get on a Dornish Sand Steed? And why has Ser Jaime allowed it or not inform me about this?" Despite what anyone else may think Ser Jaime was not sent along to be Viserys' playmate. The knight was responsible for Viserys and should have been able to keep his brother off of horses meant for skilled riders. Rhaegar knew the man not shy about speaking his mind if required and he wonders, briefly, if the other man encouraged it.

Elia's lips twitch as if she finds his reaction humorous, but, when she looks at him she schools her features into as serious as an expression she could manage. "I do not think Ser Jaime had much of a choice in the matter."

He nearly frowns at the unacceptable, if somewhat predictable answer; but, that she ended with a shrug tells him that any clarification would be just as unsatisfactory to him. He also knows Elia's brothers certainly would encourage his brother in such things.

Attempting to put aside his growing ire, he manages, "What makes you say that?"

In a mix of exasperation and humor, she shakes her head. "I believe the particular horse in question belongs to my good-sister, Cersei. Apparently, the horse did not take well to not getting put through its paces it had before she became too heavy with child too do so. The other children already ride and you know how Viserys is. I suppose they found no reason to deny him if such a mount was made available in the duration of his stay in Dorne."

Elia's intuition had been correct in that he would not found the answer to his liking anymore than he likes being proven correct about how well Cersei Lannister would take to Dornish ways. However, there was nothing he could say now that he was in no position to actually stop Viserys from riding those quick horses without writing to Dorne in objection. He harbors no delusions on that score; the result would be would be some combination of his brother's sulking and the Dornish taking offence at his rejection of their 'hospitality', as if they needed a reason.

While he suspects his reactions are being tested from a distance, he could not help his next question, "I see. Does the letter also say that he's been given her weapons to practice with as well?"

Even if she looks apologetic, Elia laughs fully. "No, if my good-sister had any weapons they would be fashioned just for her; however, it would not surprise me at all if Viserys was encouraged to bring a well-used spear back with him when he returns." Rhaegar could only narrow his eyes as he senses the truth of the words. He briefly wonders if it would be worth the effort to fight anyone on this.

Evidently, even his daughter understood his less than enthused reaction about these developments and prompts him with her own question, "No horse? Viserys gets the sword?" His two sons, even if Rhaegar knows they do not quite comprehend the conversation, look at him with as much interest as they could muster. It is no relief to him when Daenerys just grins toothily at him.

He sighs. "I do not know, Rhaenys."

Rhaegar thinks it is a strange sight to see his daughter frown at him and so he adjusts his response to, "Papa will pick his gift later." What he does not say is that he ought to deny his brother either of those two proposed gifts. Ser Gerold, who had been listening in and making no effort to hide it, looked amused while Elia looked torn between laughter and sympathy, but, at least Rhaenys is mollified and for a moment he is contented.

That moment passes when Elia asks him about the letter he had momentarily forgotten about and he looks at it and frowns.

"It is from the Wall. They are requesting more recruits and Maester Aemon is asking after the children." He ends with what he thinks is an even and measured response and a light enough smile before turns away to look forward, hoping to deflect attention from him and the letter. He knows he is unsuccessful when he sees the worried expression on Elia's face as she surreptitiously looks between him and the letter. She says nothing, leaving it for now, and he is grateful for it, but, this newfound ambivalence to a letter from a member of his own family he respected where there used to be very little of it before would be far too unusual to go unremarked upon.

In truth, the letter dictated for Maester Aemon had contained a plea from the Lord Commander for new recruits to be sent to the Wall, which Rhaegar had expected and will address appropriately. It, for reasons he does not think he would be able to articulate, was the benign query about his family which caused him unease. Looking at his children who returned to their play, Rhaegar could feel putting ink to a letter and sending it back to Maester Aemon will prove difficult for him. The letter from the eldest of his family reminds him of things best left forgotten, though he knows the thought to be a foolish one.

Before, the ravens flew fast and frequently between them with Rhaegar being an eager participant in those exchanges. How could they not when what the older man proved to be such a wealth of information which was of great interest to him? His great-grandsire's brother was one of, if not, the wisest man Rhaegar knew and there were not very many who truly sympathized or, for that matter, understood, the necessities which fueled much of what Rhaegar was and did. Before his father truly went mad; before having met Elia, before Lyanna; before the war; before everything, the older man's letters had been such a boon, but, not now.

Many used to speak of his fascination with Summerhall with a sort of bemusement, but, now he sees his children and thinks he learned far too late what the tragedy of Summerhall should have taught him. Even if the relationship between the Stormlands and himself was absolutely repaired finds he does not even wanting to think of that place which gripped his attention so. What could he write and what fond memories of his children could he recount knowing that the fascination which held captive his family so tightly will be their burden and it was him who caused that burden by meddling where he should have not?

As sure as he is the older man would want to hear about his family, Rhaegar knows the older man well enough to know that his brother's descendants' mundane activities could hardly be the man's primary concern. The Maester had always been so kind, but, if he did write that letter, would the older man's response be filled with pity where he would try to console him about finally realizing the price of making the choices he had or would he demand Rhaegar sacrifice his children for the future of the realm, even if it was to their detriment?

That prophecy demanded much from those of his blood and those of his blood had given to its demands even though it caused very little but grief for them. His father and mother were tied to one another because of it and his father destroyed them both and nearly destroyed the realm. He, himself became a warrior for it. Though he was successful once, how could he count it a victory when victory came in the form of fields bathed in blood and resulted in the mistrust of men, as unvoiced as it is, where he could have taken their loyalty as his due? He kept little from Elia about it, but, she had not believed as he had and his own actions only soured her to such things.

He knew his own birth, youth, and many of his decisions were driven by prophecy; even the way he used to see his children. His children are young now, but, when they grow they would wonder why he had done the things he had and the way he had done them. What answers would he give them?

But, what if he was wrong? He, himself, had come to various, distinct conclusions about the meanings of what he read as time passed and circumstances changed. What if who came before had been just as wrong? What could be said of them, of him, except that they misspent their time and effort for something that was not to be?

Looking at his children at their play now, can he say he even wants to be proven correct about the prophecy? What sort of man would want that for his children? What sort of joy or awe would they have when they learn that, in part, they owed their existence to words written on pieces of parchment written long ago and because of it they were required to become instruments of fate to face some potential unknown threat?

The only thing Rhaegar is sure of is that before he was certain, now he dreads.