Thanks for the reads, reviews, follows, and favorites.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. All things recognizable are property of G.R.R. Martin, David Benioff, D.B. Weiss, & company, & the asoiaf wiki.


Chapter 24

'It is strange to be home again', Rhaegar muses as he enters the nursery for the first time in months.

Despite their token protests, he waved Ser Brynden and Arthur away. He kept them long enough from their regular duties and if Arthur was any indication, gave both of them worries they would have rather never had. Surely, Rhaegar insisted, he did not need protecting from his own children.

Only the first face he sees does not belong to any of them, it belonged to Ser Lucas. Obviously surprised at his presence, the knight frowns, yet, his face returns to blankness swiftly. "Your Grace, welcome back!"

Before he could say anything, Aegon greets him with a screech. "Papa!"

His lips twitch briefly. Then his eyes catch the expressions on the faces of the two other children in the nursery. Though it was such a long time ago, he remembers too well Rhaenys' fear and Aegon's confusion the last time. Trying not to feel disheartened, he wonders what else would greet him besides Jon's and Daenerys' solemn faces contorted in surprise and uncertainty.

Clearing his throat, he addresses one of the matters he could do something about. "Where is my daughter, Ser Lucas?"

The youngest of his Kingsguard smiles. "Your Grace, the practice field, I imagine or at least heading towards it. Prince Viserys can be quite insistent when he wants to be."

He must look as nonplussed as he feels because Ser Lucas elaborates, "It is quite usual for her to join him in this these days." The knight laughs as though he finds this absolutely charming.

It was not the closeness of his daughter and brother which grips him like a vice, it was the casual cheerfulness in Ser Lucas' tone.

A laugh very much like Maester Aemon's echoes in his head. To stifle it, he prompts, "How are my brother's lesson's coming along?"

If he heard the possessive edge to his emphasis on 'my brother's' Ser Lucas learned enough about King's Landing ways to give no indication. Instead, Ser Lucas expression brightens further. "Quite well."

Rhaegar's jaw twitches at the younger man's proud look. The knight probably was likely heavily involved in Viserys' education. Ser Lucas used to trail around Ser Jaime often enough to warrant the possibility.

He tries to stifle his irritation. It was his absence which allowed for the latter the first time and this, the second.

Because he does not respond further, the knight takes his silence as permission to begin describing Viserys' training in greater detail. Soon after his eldest son plops down in front of him to sit against his knee. Jon and Daenerys finally draw close to sit down, but, nowhere near as close as Aegon does.

Aegon, and Jon, to a lesser degree, begin prompting Ser Lucas for specific retellings which the knight's eager acquiescence demonstrate this to be a routine exercise, one he is painfully aware he has no part in.


Taking in the sight of Viserys trading blows with a lad, a Brune, if his memory serves correctly, Rhaegar wonders if he should not have come to watch. It being far from an ugly sight makes the sentiment stronger.

Viserys was exactly as the satisfied Ser Lucas described; bright-eyed, self-assured, and quick.

His brother was also more than half a foot taller, thinner in the face, and more sturdy than he remembered.

Watching Viserys, with Ser Jaime standing at attention, makes for a very jarring change, one where he begins to see a future where a similarly looking and one not so similar boy might move in similar ways.

It is both a comfort and not one.

So intent on his own thoughts he was almost surprised at the way Rhaenys, unlike her brothers and aunt, showing no hesitation, launches herself at him.

For the first time since he arrived he laughs fully. Then he moves to pick her up. She too has grown and his effort was without the ease he managed once. Even when she cuddles close he mourns how it does not quite feel the same.

Viserys, noticing the commotion, greets him with an odd look and a simple, "Brother." Last time there was a cheerful shout and embrace from Viserys. Now there was just a restrained half smile after his brother shares a nonplussed look with Ser Jaime and practiced bows from both.

Now Viserys frowns at him. "I was unaware you had plans to return today."

His brother does not even come to his shoulder and he speaks in a tone implying he has such a right. On one hand, Rhaegar supposes Viserys was correct, on the other, annoyance flares in knowing his absence gave Viserys the right.

Before he could say anything he notices the equally curious look on Ser Jaime's face only for the expression to morph into an easy smile. Idly he thinks he discovered where Ser Lucas learned the skill.

Then the gaze of those green eyes floats over to Viserys. "My prince, come now, what had Her Grace said?"

Viserys motions to himself, indicating the spots of dust splotching his clothing, "This is not how I wanted to greet His Grace."

Rhaenys giggles and a snort erupts from somewhere behind Viserys. Viserys glares half-heartedly at the 'offending' dark haired boy.

He blinks. Renly Baratheon, standing next to a brown haired boy of a similar age, notices his attention and quickly moves towards a man who looks very much like this unknown boy.

What was Renly Baratheon doing in King's Landing?

What else in the in the name of the gods has he missed while he was away?

Rather than make the younger Baratheon or the boy uncomfortable he shifts his gaze towards the man. He was older than Rhaegar by some years and had common features and a gloved hand. The memory struck: Lord Baratheon's smuggler knight.

His study of the man is broken by the sound of Ser Jaime clearing his throat. "All this, my Prince, is proof that you are applying yourself as princes ought."

Confused, he turns sharply back to the knight, but, the words were meant for Viserys not him.

Watching Viserys smile agreeably at Ser Jaime makes him think he perhaps he should have sent word how close to King's Landing he had been if this was going to be the result. Because of the feeling, he answers Viserys' earlier remarks. "I only arrived not so long ago. I have only been to the nursery and then to the chambers of the Small Council and then I came here. From what I have seen, you have been doing quite well."

"I practice daily." Ser Jaime clears his throat pointedly. Viserys colors slightly and straightens, adding, "Thank you, Brother."

To his consternation Viserys turns back to the knight, as if to say, 'I did what you wanted'.

Seeing it, he feels no shame in directing to Ser Jaime, "Perhaps lessons should be cut short for today."

At least one thing goes right when Ser Jaime's nods agreeably and Viserys truly smiles at him.

Still, he has to tell himself not to be so relieved when his daughter and brother agree to his waving away their retainers on the way back into the Keep.

He remarks, "You've both grown quite tall."

Viserys holds himself more upright. Rhaenys gives him a verbal answer. "Papa, you have been gone for months."

The thought struck him deeply especially because he cannot deny his daughter's words. Viserys' frown tells him the same truth Rhaenys had. "Yes, that is so."

Viserys begins cautiously, "What is the Wall like? Besides cold."

While relieved at the change in topic, his brows furrow at the odd question. As if to explain, Viserys says, "Everyone says that each time I ask."

Rhaenys points out in a tone Rhaegar thinks is an approximation of reasonable, "Then stop asking, Uncle."

Inexplicably, Viserys pouts and pokes her in the side. "Not the point."

Before he can get in a word edgewise, Rhaenys does a most unladylike thing and sticks her tongue out at Viserys. "Then, we should get to it."

The exaggerated sigh and roll of his eyes makes him think Viserys might sprain his face. Despite the odd behavior it fills him with relief that his children can still act as such.

But, his relief is short-lived with Viserys looks back at him again, asking, "What is Maester Aemon like? Elia will not tell me anything beyond 'he seems wise and kind'.

Remembering Aemon's words of wisdom along with his of condemnation, Rhaegar can only reply, "He can be".

Seeing the odd looks Rhaenys and Viserys share, Rhaegar is reminded of something he wanted to address. "He told me you wrote asking him questions. I thought they were rather impertinent ones."

Rather than look shamefaced, Viserys retorts, "If he thought them impertinent, I think he would have said so and refused to answer."

He takes a calming breath. He only just returned. He is above getting into an argument with his brother over this or at least he should be. "It still does not mean you should ask."

Rhaenys looks at him confusedly. "But, Papa, you went all the way to ask Maester Aemon questions."

He ignores the triumphant look Viserys sends his way. "I also thought it best to tour the ream and I had to meet the Northern lords."

Viserys, by virtue of being older than Rhaenys and knowing more about the circumstances, snorts and adds, "Lord Stark sent Elia a letter. She responded already."

If there was a reason for Viserys to mention this, it escapes him. "Is that right?"

Rhaenys nods. Then, Viserys went on, "She got a letter nearly every other week, you know."

No, he did not know, but, he suspected dispelling information was not Viserys' aim. "Did she?"

Now, Viserys' expression turns serious. "She got many letters since you left."

He had written, but, was Viserys' point of this that he had not written enough? At the thought he stiffens. "What were those letters about?"

This time, Rhaenys pipes up, "Mother does not let him read her letters."

It was obviously an old argument, because Viserys harrumphs, "I am the oldest. Taking care of the family is my duty."

His brother crosses his arms across his chest and gives him what might pass for a stern look in a few years. "It was not as though it was some big secret. Most everyone wondered when you would return."

Pressing his lips together, he hopes his face does not color. He did not set out to make things difficult for anyone, let alone his family.

"Well, I am here now." He tells himself not to be more pleased than he ought to be when Rhaenys cleans closer into him.

"That's true I suppose", Viserys says in air which tells him things his brother does not say.

Despite his daughter clutching his hand and Viserys walking beside him Rhaegar does not wish to be in silence, not after that. "I see Lord Renly returned to King's Landing. How did that come about?"

Rhaenys laughs. Viserys, in a gesture much older than he ought to have, quirks a brow. "He came with Lord Stannis."

Obviously that had to be the reason, but, Stannis Baratheon would not be in King's Landing for mere whim. Lord Baratheon disliked being here. Was it because no one was expecting him so soon the Stormlord took his chance?

As if he asked the question aloud Viserys elaborates, "Elia said a debate in the in the Dornish Marshes got a bit too exciting. Both Lord Tyrell and Lord Baratheon are in the city."

He nearly groans. If there was one thing about King's Landing he had not missed it was the endless bickering.

Viserys informs him, "They might be in today's meeting because we are not."

Rhaenys nods. "Lord Jon looked very unhappy this morning."

He frowns at his daughter's aside and an unusually stern Viserys changes the subject again. "We should talk about something else, Rhae."

This time, Rhaenys pokes Viserys in the stomach. "Can we can tell Father about Ser Jaime taught us today?"

With his daughter eagerly contributing details, a more seemingly at ease Viserys begins dutifully recounting, in great detail, exactly that.

Much like with the scene in the nursery Rhaegar is both pleased and not. While seeing once again the children are healthy and hale, he cannot be completely at peace because he still must listen to what he missed. Once again, he recognizes what grips him is not only how he missed these things, but, that he chose to.


Stepping into the corridor housing the meeting chambers of the Small Council he imagines the sight he would see when he gets to the doors. The smile does not quite reach his eyes when he opens them to see the reality within.

Where he believed Elia would be seated at the head of the table with Jon and Ser Gerold flanking her with Pycelle on Ser Gerold's other side, perhaps another member of the council or two, in truth, there was only one person present: the servant banking the fire in the grate.

He coughs and the woman turns to him wide eyed. "Your Grace- I didn't-I wasn't-"

Rhaegar holds up a hand to forestall more of her stuttering. Hearing more of it will not help him see Elia any faster. Once again he cursed not having sent word of his impending arrival. "Yes, I see the council meeting ended already."

She laughs nervously, "Some time ago."

Some time ago and she was still here? He does not question it. Because she was smiling, or at least trying to, he almost asks her if she knew where his wife was but decided against it. Council meetings disbanded or not meant there was work to be done. Elia's letters had not included much of the unnecessary and so, he was not as well versed in everything regarding the current state of the realm outside of the lands he ventured through.

Nodding at the woman with her "nearly finished work", he turns and exits the room.


Rhaegar stares at the man before him. "Jon, my friend, have you been denying those who clean entry?"

Jon looks up at him from the desk with many papers and tomes strewn across it and smiles, something akin to relief flitting across his face.

Then, Jon points at the mess and sneers in his direction, "My dearest King, you call me friend, yet, it was you who left me with this mess."

Rhaegar tilts his head, considering. "I was only gone for a matter of months."

Then Jon frowns at him. "After what I have gone through in your absence perhaps I ought to be." Remembering what Rhaenys and Viserys discussed earlier Rhaegar almost believes the umbrage, but, then Jon's lips twitch as he gets up to clap a hand on his shoulder. "It is good to see you."

Still, guiltily Rhaegar worries, "It cannot have been that bad, has it?"

Jon immediately growing serious causes him to stiffen. "Jon, what is it?"

As if to steady himself, Jon turns away and takes a breath before looking back at him. "Lord Arryn is not coming back."

In surprise, he blinks, "What?"

Jon nods, looking quite severe. "He had a son. Jasper. It was a hard time for his lady because the child came too soon. He does not want to leave the Eyrie now."

"Elia had not written about this." Elia would have, but, then doubts begin to fester. If Jon can feel even the slightest vexed and if what Viserys says about the myriad of letters to be true then…

Jon shakes his head making a dismissive gesture. "We only found out two days past."

"Oh."

He nearly blurts, "You will stay, won't you?"

Jon looks down at the mess around him. "Is there anyone else you wish to have the post?"

"No, however, if you truly do not wish to stay I will not keep you."

Jon shakes his head, "That is not necessary. I will stay, provided you do."

He was almost alarmed by the fervency in Jon's voice, but, with Viserys words still haunting him, he nods perhaps more sharply than he intended. "Good, that's settled then."

Waving away the offer to drink, he asks, "So you have seen her?"

Jon looks confusedly at him, "Who?"

Now he almost reddens for an entirely different reason. "Elia."

First there was incredulity, then Jon smirks. "How have you not seen her?"

"I have been trying to since I arrived."

Jon throws his head back and laughs. This does nothing to improve his mood. It feels like an eternity when Jon sobers. "My King, I apologize, but, what do you mean you have not seen her?"

He runs a hand through his hair. "I mean exactly that."

Because Jon's brow furrows he goes on to explain, "I keep missing her."

The furrow grows deeper, "Truly?"

He nods, "I went to the nursery first. Ser Lucas tells me she already left. He only admitted to the possibility of her returning to the nursery before retiring for the night."

"After that, I went to the training yard."

Jon nods absently. "She would not be there, not today."

Confused, he wonders, "What do you mean?"

Jon makes some vague gesture. "Often enough the Queen laments how little she gets to escorts Prince Viserys, and Princess Rhaenys if she chooses to go along, unless Ser Jaime or Ser Lucas are unavailable and if there is no urgent matter for her to oversee."

At that reply, Rhaegar gets up and pours himself some water. It is bad enough Jon has to tell him of the schedule his wife keeps, but, that it is one she would not keep if he had been here makes him feel worse about creating the circumstance.

"Then I went to the chambers of the Small Council."

Jon nods. "And it was a short meeting."

"The girl tidying up afterwards said as much."

At that, Jon snickers a bit. His friend only subsides because the glare Rhaegar gives him.

When he sits down again, he continues, "At least that explains why I did not see her there. I, however, did see Renly Baratheon and Lord Stannis' smuggler knight."

Jon makes a face, and in a close approximation of Lord Stannis' voice responds, "Ser Davos Seaworth."

Distractedly, he asks, "Is that his name?"

Jon nods. "Aye, good man from what little I have seen of him, past history notwithstanding, but, I take it he is not what you wish to discuss."

"Viserys mentioned something about the Dornish Marshes."

Jon closes his eyes and pinches his nose. "Ah, yes. The latest farce. Do not worry overmuch. The matter, or at least this particular one, is resolved now."

He still frowns. While what Jon says may be true and he has no reason to doubt it, he still wonders about Stannis Baratheon's electing to come here. That Jon calls it the 'latest farce' is another worry. "Tell me about it anyway."

Jon sighs, "An inheritance dispute. A master of Keep died and had no issue or close family for that matter. Both potential claimants, one a Stormlander and the other a Reachman obviously, were kin only by marriage and of an equal relation to the man, to boot. It got so bad it resulted in blows between the both of them and it escalated from there. Because the damned Keep is in the Marshes…"

He nearly groans. "What happened then?"

Jon snorts. "Naturally because it is about the Marshes anything the Queen or I would decide neither Baratheon nor Tyrell would be satisfied by."

"Why not?"

"That it was a matter before the Queen-" Jon cuts himself off, looking almost as red as his hair. 'And not the King' is the thought Jon leaves unsaid.

Rhaegar looks away for a moment. He wants to be angry, but, it can only be directed at himself. He had known the possibility might arise and thought it worth setting aside.

"Unfortunately, given that the Keep is in the Marshes, with the Queen's heritage..."

Jon does not even try to finish the sentence, not that there was a need. When the Hand speaks again, his tone is shades too strident. "Of course, both Tyrell and Baratheon still mistrust me as well."

Never before is he grateful for hearing something that has him more nonplussed. "What?"

This time, Jon snorts in derision. "Quite. It's not so open, but, obviously, Tyrell thought I would side with Lord Stannis because we are from the same lands and Baratheon believes that I would side against him because-"

Once more looking horrified, Jon cuts himself off. It takes him only a moment to realize what Jon stopped himself from saying.

He takes an uneasy breath. The war and Robert. He takes one more breath.

He fights to push back the thoughts of Aemon's admonitions and yet as he knows from experience the sting of memory might fade, but, the contemplations will never vanish completely even if they go unacknowledged. "What then?"

Thankfully, Jon's shoulders relax, if only slightly. "Let me just say the Queen and I were glad to have learned each man had children of a marriageable age and even more thankful they were ones who did not seem put out by the prospect. Neither claimant nor liege-lord could argue against giving the damned thing to the wedded couple." Though the sound had a very brittle quality to it, Jon even laughs.

He blinks. "So, it did end well enough, but, that does not explain why Baratheon and Tyrell thought to intervene."

All too soon Jon looks uncomfortable again. "It would not be the first time men thought of a pretense."

Pretense? The answer does not elude him and his stomach twinges unpleasantly at yet another example of his lack of foresight. Instead he says, "Both men have accepted it. That is something."

Jon snorts. "And they both hate each other fiercely with no sign of it changing."

Once again he is marginally grateful for the distraction away from his guilty thoughts. "The fathers or their liege-lords?"

It's no shortage of relief when Jon's lips twitch in true laughter. "Both sets.'

Rhaegar nearly laughs, but, he asks another question. "And what exactly does that have to do with why the younger Baratheon is here?"

Jon shrugs. "The Queen informed me can gather the Prince and younger Baratheon kept up writing to one another. It is likely the boy took his chance."

He frowns slightly. Stannis Baratheon never seemed to be the indulgent type and the last time…Rhaegar wonders once again if this willingness to be here and to allow his brother the same had to do with his own absence. "When are they leaving?"

"No later than a week, I think. The Queen would know more." Jon shrugs again.

He lets the matter drop. No doubt the Stormlord and the Reachlord will see enough of each other and him before the week is out.

Then, Jon looks at him speculatively. "The queen said something about an alms house earlier. She will likely be late."

Frowning slightly, "She will not be in the Great Hall for the evening meal?"

Jon shook his head. "More often than not, unless there was a special need to do so, she usually takes her meals with the children in the nursery, only the High Septon invited her to dine with him. It would not do to refuse."

He holds back a frustrated sigh. It was a fair enough explanation, even if he dislikes it.

Then Jon pulls his lips into a sneer, "You truly want to see her?"

Something about Jon's expression has him hissing out, "I have seen nearly everyone I wanted to besides my wife. Is there a reason why I should not want to?"

His glare hardens. Sneer gone, Jon was trying to not laugh at him.

After Jon calms his expression turns craftier than he would have imagined. "I take it His Grace will not be taking any more extended forays into your other realms." Despite the tone, it was not a question.

Eyes narrowing again, he wonders what happened while he was away for everyone he meets to begin acting like this. "What does that have anything do with my not seeing my wife?"

A thin smile forms on Jon's lips. "Your Grace, I am simply suggesting it is good that you just returned from a long voyage and have no plans to take another one. At present, however, you left the kingdom in her hands. I think she would appreciate you letting her go about her business. You will see her soon enough. I daresay there will be plenty enough to distract yourself in the meantime."

Jon's damned smile widens as he points to himself. "While you wait, you can continue to speak to me. I would not make for such poor company."

Before he can get in another word, there was a knock on the door. A freshly scrubbed Viserys pokes his head in and inclines it towards Jon in a facsimile of formality Ser Jaime seemed to be trying to instill in him.

"My lord Hand." Viserys, then, turns to him, blinking, "Oh, hello again, Brother."

"Viserys?"

Evidently thinking nothing of his brother's presence, Jon waves him in. "My Prince, I was not expecting you until later."

Why would Jon expect his brother at all?

Viserys nods, closing the door behind him. "Maester Pycelle cancelled my lessons."

Turning towards him, smirking, Viserys snickers. "You might want to see him soon. He was more taken aback at your return than I was."

He holds back a sigh, determinedly ignoring the look on Jon's face. Likely, Pycelle was another man offended he had not been notified of his presence. But, he does not feel the urge to rectify that, not with the odd scene of an eagerly expectant Viserys turning towards Jon. Wordlessly, Jon offers his brother sheets of paper who promptly takes them and plops into the remaining available chair, without Jon's leave, scrutinizing the papers with a seriousness all too surprising.

The wonder must be plain on his face, because Jon explains, "Summary of the meeting."

Not looking up from the sheets of paper, voice sounding slightly agitated, Viserys pipes up, "I could not go, but, I need know what was discussed."

"Why?"

Now Viserys rises his head. "It is important. Rhaenys is going to ask questions. She did not get to go either. She likes hearing my opinions." For some reason he cannot begin to fathom Viserys was staring at Jon.

Now letting out a sigh, Jon glances at the ledger near him with a dubious expression on his face. He also takes up a writing tool, muttering, "My prince has become very wise."

Viserys puffs with a sense of entitlement a boy his age could manage. "Absence does not absolve responsibility."

He can only stare at Viserys in shock. "You do realize you are a child still."

Viserys gazes at him like he grew a second head, then he grins slyly. "I am a prince. I have responsibilities even if I do not have a Solar filled with pending work."

"Just what are you hinting at Viserys?"

Viserys chortles. While Jon's bowed head lowers further, his snort is audible. Viserys chirps, "You have not been to your Solar yet have you?"

Seeing Jon's lips twitch and Viserys eyes shining in childish glee, once more looking about the state of Jon's Solar he decides not to ask.


While he sits he sips from his cup of Dornish red. Waiting.

Despite the situation he finds himself in Rhaegar smiles ruefully.

All day, everyone around him was busy in their affairs, chasing whatever it was they sought.

For months he chased answers he had not found. He spent the day chasing; thus far his quarry remained outside his grasp.

Chasing had always been his error. Trips to Summerhall, his obsession with the prophecy, trying to think of ways to mitigate the damage his father could cause, Lyanna, and going to seek answers from Aemon…Thinking he could chase had been his mistake.

It was of no consequences now. What he sought, be it his children's fate or his wife, will come to him.

At the door's creak he sets his glass down.

It's been months and because Elia says nothing as she closes the door behind her only to lean he does. "As you can see I have returned."

She smirks. "And bringing me all sorts of trouble."

All day he has been thinking about how much trouble his absence brought her. With Viserys at his elbow, he saw the state of his Solar. And here she stands with the audacity to say it?

Though he makes no move to stand, his back straightens. "If anyone has been troubled, it is me. I have been looking for you everywhere."

Her lips twitch upward. "I know."

He rises abruptly. "You knew? You knew that I was here and that I was looking for you."

She lets out a laugh and for a moment he is caught by the notion he has missed the sound dearly. Then, she says, "I did."

Eyes narrowing, he presses, "And?"

She glances down and then back up at him. "And what? I would be a terrible queen if I did not know the king was in my city."

He is distracted by the sight of tip of her tongue poking out to moisten her lips. But, he is not so distracted because he nearly chokes. "Your city?"

A smile plays at her lips. "In the absence of a king whatever belonged to him becomes the queen's and the king was absent for months."

Such gall his wife is capable of. "Perhaps so, but, what sort of queen does not come out to receive her king after he returns from a long venture?"

"The proper kind." She juts her chin forward.

"What is so proper about such a queen?"

As if preparing to recite the long ago delivered lesson of a Septa she folds her hands in front of her. "A lady should never become so bold that they receive those who make no announcement about their arrivals or their intent to do so."

He reminds her, "The presence of the newly returned king is not an exception?"

Even as he says this he remembers she had not come to receive him the last time. That had been different. There had been a war on and neither had not quite known the state of things between them.

Drily, she returns, "I was occupied."

Frowning, he can only say, "I noticed everyone seemed to be."

A stray snicker leaves her lips. "Perhaps you should have sent word of your imminent arrival."

Remembering how not one moment passed after he exited Jon's Solar that the Lord Commander and Ser Barristan near accosted him with ill-concealed curiosity on their faces forces him to reply, "I have come around to thinking the same. But, that does not explain why you would be so occupied so much so that you deliberately missed my arrival."

Much to his chagrin, her eyes widen in artificial concern. "It is difficult to miss the arrival of a king, even when he arrives through the Iron Gate."

He advances upon her, voice deceptively soft, "You knew all the while and even how."

For some reason he does not think to name it thrills him she does not move away. "I have just said so."

He braces his arms on either side of her body. "And not once did you think to come to me?"

She laughs softly. "I had much to do and there was more than one person here who expected my presence. To satisfy everyone would be far too strenuous."

Remembering how every person he encountered thought his queries about Elia with ill-concealed humor, he growls, "What was so strenuous that you kept me waiting, wife?"

"I have many responsibilities, some strenuous and some not. If you are unsure of them because you have been away I do not know what to tell you, husband."

A near silent protest he had ignored months ago and read all too much in her letters he hears all too loudly now. He takes her hand. "Do you know what I think?"

Looking very surprised, she whispers, "I cannot possibly think the thoughts of others."

Because being uncharacteristically bold seemed to become the favored way of way of doing things in King's Landing, he presses his lips to her hand and presses his cheek to hers. "I think you did not come to see me because you are vexed with me."

He is close enough to feel the tremor which goes through her. She takes a deep breath. "If anyone is vexed it seems to be you with me, my King."

He cannot help the laugh which spills out of him. Now it is 'my King'? "Rest assured, my Queen, I am not, even if you are with me."

For a moment all seemed well, then she lets out a sigh and moves to sit down, the look on her face is hesitant. "Did you find what you are looking for?"

Now he sighs for different reasons. "No."

She presses her lips together and then, "All that time away and 'no'?"

About his children he found nothing he already had not known. Only now he admitted it to himself. He sits next to her though he makes no move to touch. "For the most part it was a fool's errand. The only thing I found were other problems."

Evidently, knowing what he means she inquires, "The Wall is truly that bad?"

Bad. Worse than he imagined. So much more. "It is not hopeless, but, it is bad. Of course, the Night's Watch plays no part and they nearly expect the same with very few exceptions."

"What do you plan to do?"

"Send more men and supplies to start. That they will welcome. Hopefully, things improve in time."

"That is wise."

He agrees. "For a beginning." He takes a deep breath. "Are you displeased with me?"

For the longest time she says nothing. Then, she shakes her head. "You told me you wanted to go, that you needed to go and I did not argue. Why should I be angry because of that?"

"And yet, you can be angry?"

She snorts. "I should be because you were gone for weeks longer than you promised."

He sighs even as he takes her hand. "I returned as quickly as I could."

Even before he feels her stiffen, he knew it was not an acceptable answer. "There will not be any more voyages. I am quite done."

She pulls her hands away. "So you said once before."

It felt like a blow, only it is one he deserves. "I swear it, not again."

She leans against him. "I missed you."

He put his arm around her. "I missed you just as much. More even. There was not one moment I had not thought of simply returning."

Then she chuckles softly, "I suppose that must be true."

"Why?"

"Because when you have you did so without a word."

He smiles ruefully, "At last it was a small folly." One in a long line of greater ones.

She turns towards him, face full of confusion. "A small folly?"

Hoping to sooth her worries, tone light, he replies, "When I return the youngest of our children find me completely uninteresting while my brother makes far too many pointed asides and my wife remains away for the entirety of the day knowing I am here. Even Jon was laughing at me. What else is a man supposed to think?"

His effort is evidently working because she laughs. "Firstly, the Hand has not had the opportunity for much levity at all of late. Second, you ought to know Viserys makes pointed asides about nearly everything. I know they quite missed you and enjoyed your company today."

He leans back slightly, and even with a faint smile which appears, he accuses, "You mean they enjoy mocking me."

Elia laughs. "You are being too hard on them. The longed to see you."

Still, the odd scene in Jon's office was fresh in his mind. "I doubt that.'"

Eyes glittering, she says, "Oh?

"Jon he spent much of our meeting muttering under his breath about recalcitrant lords while Viserys he spared less than a handful of glances from the notes from the meeting he was not allowed into to make pointed asides at not only me, but, Jon as well."

She laughs again, this time the sound is indulgent. "Ah, yes, that childish possessiveness which has yet to dissipate."

Not understanding and even fearing what she might mean, he was hesitant to ask. "Possessiveness towards what?"

She chuckles again. "Our daughter."

He blinks. "I do not quite understand."

Shaking her head, Elia answers, "I think he fears her regard of Jon would impede on her adoration of him."

Thankful he put the glass of wine down long ago, confounded, he queries, "Regard for Jon? Connington?"

Elia laughs again. "She finds him endlessly entertaining." She adds, "It must be that red hair." Her lips curl upward. "Well, that and the way he is nearly always nonplussed about how to act around her."

Remembering how he had seen Jon's easy laugh at his concerns about not seeing Elia, he cannot help the near growl which comes out. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Her eyes are full of mischief. "Oh, simply that such things have their own sort of appeal."

Smoothly, he replies, "Such as the appeal to keep one's husband waiting."

She squeezes his hand. "That had not been my intention."

"And yet you say you knew when I arrived and-"

Now looking disgruntled, Elia says, "I would have come to greet you, however, there was simply no opportunity."

He arches a brow. "So it is not simply that you enjoyed keeping me wait?"

She glares half-heartedly then she sighs, "If only. Not long after a red-faced stable-boy nearly collapsed in front of me Tyrell arrived for an 'additional word'. I did not want his exuberance for your return to turn into his insisting on an audience with you."

Remembering Jon's words about pretense he nearly cringes.

"By the time I learned you were with Jon nursery the Matron of the alms house arrived."

He nods. "I was told you usually speak to her at great length."

Elia nods tiredly. "She is one of the few heads of charity who rarely asks for money unless she absolutely thinks there is a need for it."

He agrees, "A rare breed. What happened after?"

Shaking her head, Elia continues, I went to see the High Septon. Of course, in between I heard the terrible row between the Steward and the Chamberlain struck up again."

Incredulous, he asks, "Row?"

Elia chuckles. "They only speak through intermediaries now." At his look she sighs. "They will do this for a week and someone will tell them to do what I wanted to tell Lords Baratheon and Tyrell."

"And what is that?"

"To go to a tavern, drink their fill, and pummel each other to their hearts content."

Eyes wide, "What?"

She almost looks hopeful at the prospect. "It's what the Steward and Chamberlain want."

"How do you know this?"

She shakes her head. "Because that is the same thing, without fail, the cook has been telling them every other week since you have been gone."

Even more shocked, he has to question, "And you have done nothing about it?"

She frowns, "If it affected their work I might have; only, it does not."

It is when her expression turns sly he believes he discovered a cause of Viserys' lack of repentance. "But, if it means so much to you, by all means, intercede all you wish or dismiss one or both. Just keep in mind, they have both served this house for many years."

He could only stare. "Now I know you are vexed with me."

Her lips twitch. "How so?"

"Not only have I seen the mess made of my Solar, you would leave unpleasant tasks to me."

She laughs. "Shall I prove to you that I am not?"

Mildly curious, he asks, "How would you go about doing it?"

She rises and steps back while making a show of considering something. Then: "It is quite late."

"Yes, I waited a very long time to see you."

He should be ashamed of how much he reminds her of this, but, he could not be even if he desires to put for the effort.

She smirks as she goes to open the door to her boudoir. "I think it is well past time for me to retire for the night." She turns her back to him and looks at him over her shoulder. "If you would be so kind I should like it if you would help with these laces. As you can see none of my ladies are here."

Stepping closer to her, he recognizes that for the first time in a long while his face heats for reasons which have nothing to do with shame and embarrassment.

After so many months, it is a welcome change.

When he finished pulling at the laces he followed her into the room where she removed the garment, leaving her in a plain shift.

She drew herself closer to him and gave him a kiss. When he feels her fingers thread through his hair he could not restrain the sigh of contentment which fell from her lips. This, he missed very much.

It was too soon when she pulled away and settled herself on top of her bed. "Please, do one more thing for me."

At that, he stopped moving to follow her and swallows. "Yes?"

A smile played at her lips, before, "Close the door on your way out, please."

His thoughts came to an abrupt and undesired halt. "What?"

As if she was being helpful, in a cheerful tone, she adds, "No doubt, you are very tired. It was a long journey you had and as you said you had waited for quite a while. You should retire as well."

Hoping he was failing to understands, he clarifies, "You say it has been far too long and the day I return you turn me away?"

She tilts her head to the side in a mockery of deep thought. Then, she smirks. "In the letter you wrote you stated you missed your own rooms. In your absence I have been in them infrequently, but, I do remember they are a most excellent set. However, there are many other rooms available to you, you are the king after all."

His jaw tightens. Playful as it was, Aemon might like Elia's Dornish defiance, in this moment he cannot say the same. "What if I do not desire that?"

She smiles. "Tomorrow."

He steps closer to her. "What about tomorrow?"

He narrows his eyes as she leans back slightly and idly traces imaginary figures against her thigh. "You will get your proper welcome tomorrow."

He growls, "And what if I want my welcome tonight?"

He stops moving when she lifts her leg so that her foot rests against his calf.

Her eyes flash with something. "If you want your welcome tonight, you will want it tomorrow."

Without trying the voice coming out of his throat is deeper than his usual timbre. "What if I do not want anything tomorrow?"

She smiles and rises to press herself near flush against him. 'Damn her', he thinks as he feels her hand brush against the fabric of his britches.

"Oh Husband", her voice drips silk into his ear. "I swear it…" He hisses at the more firm brush of her hand, "You will want to wait for tomorrow."

He snakes an arm against her waist. "Why would you punish me so?"

"Punishments are what the Black Cells are for. We are nowhere near them."

Playing with the collar of his tunic, she smiles. The demureness of the scene false and intoxicating. "What is this if not punishment?"

He nearly lets out a groan when she smiles up at him, gaze heated. "I waited months for you. Can you not do me the courtesy of waiting a day?"

"I nearly waited this entire day. It is not very fair to make me wait more."

"I do not mean to be fair." He does not know if she could press any closer to him than she was already, but she tries. Oh, how she tries.

He has to take a moment before responding. "What do you mean to do?"

"To remind you of what you missed so much that you do not think of leaving like this again."

When she begins to pepper kisses along his jaw he lets out a far too unsteady breath. "I knew I wanted never to leave again the moment I stepped foot in the nursery."

He can feel the smile against his face. She whispers hotly into his ear, "That is very good of you, but, husband mine, you do not know what I mean. Trust me, wait for tomorrow and you will."

A low growl rumbles in his throat and grasps both of her hands. "Then I shall be here tomorrow morning."

For the moment her eyes narrow, he revels in how he can surprise her.

"Why so early?"

Almost without thought, one of his hands move to grip her waist again while the other rests against her neck. "I think I have been late enough in learning what I should know."