act i . chapter xiv

DISGUISED IN HONOR
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BEFORE THEY RODE UP TO the tavern, Rhaegar stopped in the tree line, raising questions from Lyanna. He was thinking about how the were going to avoid Varys's eyes in the trees and walls, so Rhaegar only responded to Lyanna by stepping off his horse and dropping to the wet ground. First, he undid his cape and took it off from around his neck and draped it across the saddle on the back of the horse.

Then he began unlacing his jerkin. It was black, sleek leather with a huge red three headed dragon embroidered across his chest. Most of his clothes happened the be adorned this way. "What are you doing?" Lyanna asked again.

Rhaegar sighed as he began to work the shirt over his head. "Lord Varys has 'little birds' in every nook and cranny of Westeros." When the jerkin was off, all he was wearing was his trousers and small clothes.

Through the thin, low cut fabric, Lyanna could see scars all over his chest and arms. She could also see that his pale skin could barely stretch over his sculpted muscles that he had all over. Lyanna had never seen someone so tall that was so obviously strong. Well... except Robert. Prince Rhaegar was not even as tall as Robert. But she was more curious about Lord Varys at the moment. "Little birds?" asked Lyanna, not sure what he meant. Rhaegar nodded, tying up his undershirt up to the neck. He nodded.

"Lord Varys is our spymaster," Rhaegar began.

"They call him the Spider!" Lyanna interrupted quickly. Rhaegar nodded. "That's him. His little birds are how he knows everything. Not many are exactly sure how they work."

"Do you?" asked Lyanna. Rhaegar took the end of his cape and unsheathed a dagger, cutting the end off. He shrugged at the question. "I think I do. But not entirely. I don't understand how it's all across Westeros and even over the Narrow Sea. I don't understand how he knows everything. I don't know how all his information is true."

He handed her the end of his cape. "Hide your hair," he ordered. Lyanna looked at him, confused. "How am I supposed to do that?" Rhaegar chuckled again. "You are the first person I have ever met that just talks to me as if I am not their prince. Just braid it and ball it up into a bun. The cape will hold it in place."

"And you're the first noble I've met that doesn't get pissy about it." Rhaegar thought on that a bit. She's treated him with respect, as he would expect. But she didn't use any of the fake groveling that all other people who spoke to him used. Lyanna may have been one of the most interesting people he had ever met. A highborn woman who won three jousts in the tourney of its time only to greet her prince as an equal.

He thought back to his dream. It was reoccurring. Night after night. Every time he slept, he had to escape the dragon and the wildfire into the cold. He knew what the dream meant. And he knew that consequences would bring. Looking up at the wolf maid, who was having trouble braiding her hair into a bun, Rhaegar thought about how destiny worked in mysterious ways.

Rhaegar took a strip of the bottom of his shirt and used it to tie his silver hair back. He tucked the dragon adorned jerkin under his horse's saddle and draped the rest of his cape around his own head. Lyanna started to slide off the horse, but Rhaegar caught her. "You're not going to let me walk to the tavern?" she asked.

Rhaegar shook his head. "Your wound is still fresh. You've bled all over my horse." Lyanna huffed, angry. "How are you even going to go under cover. Sure you've covered up your white hair, but what about your purple eyes? You're a kind of the only person on this continent with this look."

"Lyanna, just be quiet. When we get in here, act meek," he ordered, sure that she could play the part. "And keep your eyes down."

He carried her across the horse-worn road, the carved, stone porch, and over the threshold, into the dark inn. Night was falling, so everyone was either settling down or getting drunk. That was better for the two hiding travelers. Upon entering, Rhaegar pretened to struggle with the weight of the woman he was carrying even though she was quite light. He shuffled his feet and hunched his shoulders, keep his head down. He reached the receiving table where the inn-keeper was writing in his books.

Carefully, he sat Lyanna down one of the dining chairs and called for the innkeeper's attention, feigning a lowborn, Riverlands accent. It was a bit slower and sharper than where he was from. "Do you have an available room?" he asked. The innkeeper looked up from his books. He was a plump, middle-aged man who seemed nice enough not to turn them away.

"I do," he answered with a smile. "If you can pay."

Rhaegar gave a nod and placed a silver on the table. "How much?"

"That should do it for the room. If you want food or stable hold it'll be more," the man informed. The disguised Prince reached into his pocket and pulled out three more silvers. I'll need enough food for two, a room, and healing supplies, if you have any."

The man pursed his lips, nodding. "We got stitches, milk of the poppy, an' ointments to keep from rottin'. What do you need?" Rhaegar looked back at Lyanna, who let her head hang low as she stared at the ground. "Numbing ointments as well?"

The innkeeper thought for a moment until he nodded. "We'll have numbing and cleaning ointments, and stitches." He place another silver on the table. "Well have the food brought to our room."

"If you don't mind me askin', is your wife alright. Does she need a healer to see to her? My eldest daughter knows 'er medicines," he suggested. Rhaegar shook his head. "My sister," he corrected politely, "just managed to cut her foot. We'll sew it up and be on our way by the morning."

The innkeeper nodded, writing his newest customers down. "Can I get your name?"

"Lars," he answered. "Lars Rivers."

"All right," he said distractedly, handling him the key to their room. "You can go get settled. The things will be brought up there."

"Thank you, kind man," Rhaegar nodded, taking the key and shuffling over to Lyanna. He carried across the silent room to the wooden stairs, up and into the hallway that held access to all the room held by the inn. Theirs was the first on the right.

When he walked in, Rhaegar sat her on the straw bad and sat himself down on the straight chair. Lyanna was as the first to speak. "Do you think we escaped the Spider's little birds well enough?"

Rhaegar scoffed. "Probably not."

"He's a eunuch, right?" Rubbing his tired eyes, Rhaegar nodded. "That's the word."

"Why are people so... put off by eunuchs?" Lyanna looked curiously at Rhaegar with her hand under her chin.

The prince sighed and leaned back in the chair. "I suppose it's because he a true neutral. No estrogen to soften him and no testosterone to harden him. No one knows what drives him. He's unpredictable."

"True neutral," Lyanna repeated thoughtfully. "You have an answer for everything, Prince." They sat silently for a few moments before a woman, presumably the innkeeper's wife, knocked on the door and brought in the table of supplies, two steaming bowls of stew, two cups of mead, and bread. "Excuse me," she greeted. Then she looked Lyanna up and down.

"My dear, I'll bring up some clothes for you," she looked at Rhaegar too and back to Lyanna. "I'll ready the bathhouse too," she assured with a smile. The pair were definitely not the cleanest. Lyanna was the dirtier of the two. Rhaegar imagined this must be strange for her. The common people don't have the luxury of being a modest as the highborns were used to. No matter, Lyanna shall have her privacy even though she acts as if she's a soldier within Rhaegar's own ranks.

Thankful for the woman's generosity, Rhaegar pulled a gold dragon from his pocket and placed it on her cart. Her eyes grew wide in surprise. "Thank you, mister. Thank you so much," she breathed, placing their food and supplies on the wooden table close to the door.

Lyanna huffed. "She'll be back. I suppose we can't take off our disguises."

Rhaegar shook his head. "Here, let me take care of your foot. Come sit at the table." Lyanna complied. She stood up on her good foot and pivoted around to sit down on the wooden straight chair. There was not a lot of room between the bed and the table, so it was relatively easy.

Rhaegar took the rag that was left with them and wet it in the water bowl. "You're not ticklish are you?" the Prince asked her before he pressed the rough cloth to her dirty foot that was resting upon his knee. Lyanna shook her head. Rheagar smiled. She was lying. He looked up at her. "You're not the most truthful Stark, are you?"

Caught in her act, Lyanna grew wide eyed. "I am not ticklish!" she insisted. She stuck with it. Impressive. Rhaegar could only smiled. "Very well, my Lady."

And when he washed her foot, he was careful not to tickle her. He cleaned the wound and sewed it up, lightly wrapping gauze around her heal.

"Don't wash your foot in the bath," he instructed.

"What about my disguise?" asked Lyanna, putting her hand on her head. Rhaegar looked at her thoughtfully.

"You have. the look of Stark, yes," he said thoughtfully, "but this is the Riverlands. None of the smallfolk have seen a Stark. We'll have to hope for the best."

"They may have seen Brandon," Lyanna presses. "He's marrying Cat. He's been down here a lot."

"Well, it would be more likely that he was only seen in Riverrun. Well... you're a lot prettier than the Wild Wolf. Just keep your eyes down. The dark hair and gray eyes could tip others off. No doubt there are people looking for you."

"Not for you?"

He shook his head. "I am still searching for the traitor," he said, alluding to the fact that Lyanna is indeed wanted as a traitor. Lyanna picked it up and smiled ever so softly. Rhaegar loved those type of smiles. The ones when one was too tired to fake it, but they were truly happy enough for the grin to break through. It made the Prince smile too. The non-falsity felt strange on his face. But it was a good strange. It took him back to when he was a boy, reading about potions and magic. Before he read about all the horrors of the world... or the prophecy. Before the weight of the world was on his shoulders. Or rather before he knew.

"Thank you, Prince Rhaegar. For saving my life. More than once today," Lyanna told him sincerely. The Prince was grateful for her words, but he could think anything else of it other than his duty to protect the Realm. Or his duty to adhere to the prophecy. The dream he was having every time he slept flashed in his head. The thought of him holding this woman was a terrifying thought. He couldn't even imagine what would happen to the kingdoms. They would all collapse into war to say the least. But for whatever reason fate have by bringing them together, it must be worth it.

That wasn't even the thing that scared him the most. What scared him the most was the horrifyingly quick pace in which Rhaegar was actually getting to like this woman. It made him sick to his stomach. He thought of Elia. The woman that he was supposed to love. If was only right that his told her what was happening and why. Arthur will need to know too. If he were to play he role that the both of them will want him to play. And Lyanna... when it was time.

"Shouldn't you go with me, Rhaegar?" Lyanna asked. "What if they find out who I am? What if I can't keep my mouth shut?" Then her voice lowered. "And this is a tavern. I'm supposedly a lowborn girl. It's late at night with a room of drunk men."

Rhaegar knew what she was getting at. And he knew she was right. He nodded slowly. "I'll stay outside the door. You just clean up as quickly as you can, then we'll go straight back to this room." Lyanna smiled hugely, happiness overtaking her.

"You didn't seem to object to the fact that I was just able to stitch you up without difficulty. Usually people don't trust me."

"You're quite the celebrity," Lyanna said. "I heard you could do anything. So far all the talk about you has been true. So I trusted you."

Rhaegar's brows furrowed in thought. He wondered what people said about him.

"You're exactly the way people describe you. And that's what makes you so... I don't know the word. But it's a good word, Prince Rhaegar," Lyanna said excitedly.

"I feel the same about you. Your exactly what I've ever heard about the She-Wolf. It's surreal." It seemed that excitement overcame her when she smiled and wrapped Rhaegar in a hug before really either of them could think about it. But once they were in each other's arms, it was like the world stopped. Rhaegar felt so warm and safe. And Lyanna seemed to have forgot what she did. The excitement wore off and instead she was just taking him in, as he was her.

And then, like magnets, Lyanna began to move her head towards Rhaegar's and he was sure that he felt the same way. He wanted to kiss her. And he almost couldn't control himself. He almost even let himself kiss her. Almost. When they were close enough to look into the depths of each other's eyes, they both seemed to realize what they were doing and backed away. Then the woman entered.

"That's the word, Lars. Surreal," Lyanna agreed, settling the thick tension in the rooms. The whole situation was surreal. It was precisely the was they all felt.

"I'll take you to the bathhouse, m'dear," she told Lyanna. Then she turned to look at Rhaegar. "There's enough room for you too, gent."

He turned down the offer and resorted to following them out to keep watch by the door. In the darkness, the prince's eyelids grew heavy as he thought about what he had to do. About the weight of what he had to do. It was so heavy that he thought he may collapse. The dream kept reappearing in his head. Every time he closed his eyes, Balerion would reappear, waiting to eat him up.

But he could not think about about. He could not dwell on it. He had to act on it. It wasn't too long before Lyanna emerged from the bathhouse, far cleaner than she was before. They thanked the innkeeper's wife and disappeared into their room. Silently, they are the given food until it was all gone.

"You have the bed," Rhaegar ordered her, standing up and stretching the days toil off his body. He pulled the disguise off too, knowing there was no need for such thing behind a locked door. "But you're the Prince. Shouldn't you have the bed?" Lyanna asked, not having to do away with her disguise due to the bath.

Rhaegar wouldn't allow it. "You're the Lady. You shall have the bed," he ordered. "But-" she began to argue.

"Don't contradict your prince, Lady Stark," Rhaegar ordered again lightly. He was growing tired and was ready to sleep. Lyanna sighed and crawled into bed. As Rhaegar let himself relax on the plank floor, he stirred to Lyanna, "You're as stubborn as they say too."

And with a voice just as thick with sleepiness, she said "I'm not all anger and horses like people say."

"What else are you?" Rhaegar asked, truly interested.

"I love songs. The one you sang was beautiful. And stories are like ways to forget about the world that we're actually in. Like the ones where the Ladies run away with their knight. As if she weren't betrothed the a blubbering oaf. I love to dance. And roses. But not the red ones. The blue winter roses the grow in the glass gardens at Winterfell. They're unlike any other flowers in the Kingdoms," she expressed in a moment of vulnerability. In the dark, Rhaegar smiled. He loved to hear all these things about this incredible woman. To hear a side that no one else knew.

"I get lost in the songs too," Rhaegar admitted. "When I was younger. . . before I knew things, I wanted to be a maester. I wanted to study magic and science and the way things worked."

"One could argue that you're still young," Lyanna said, her voice thick with fatigue.

Rhaegar was quiet for too long, thinking about what Lyanna said. He was still young.

"It doesn't feel like that," he said. The words hung heavily in the air.

"There's more to you that no one knows. I can feel it," was the last thing Lyanna said as she fell asleep. With those last few words, he found himself wide awake. Awake with guilt and unable to sleep.