Lord Morrigen and his lady wife dispensed of a brief greeting to the Crown Prince. Rhaegar himself managed a polite reply, but he was not much in the mood for conversation. Whent and Dayne lingered a bit behind, but by no means were they trying to hide. All the better. Rhaegar did not know how he would have reacted to such a sight.

The men that had joined him were dismounting as well, as servants came to take the horses away and lead them into the main hall where, presumably, they were to be served food and drink after their hard road. Rhaegar brushed such thoughts away, concentrating on what was being said to him.

"Her Grace is yet under the influence of our good maester's draughts," Lord Morrigen let him know. The man presented nothing out of ordinary. In the later part of his life, he sported a head of thinning grey hair, matted to his scalp. Of middling height, he made just past Rhaegar's shoulder, but his frame was sturdy, some would go as far as to claim he was thick. The most striking thing about him was not even his hook nose, but his very bright green eyes, visible from under a pair of busy brows that had not yet lost their dark colour.

His lady wife by contrast was a pale, tiny thing that clutched onto her husband's arm withy surprising strength. In the lines of her face, Rhaegar could read worry. She gazed at the world through a pair of dark blue eyes. Her limp blonde hair fell about her shoulders in lifeless waves. It took Rhaegar a moment to realise that she was likely mourning. Her bloodless lips were pressed tightly together as if she were trying to keep a secret away from the rest of the realm. And she might as well have been.

Looking away from the woman, Rhaegar 's eyes settled upon the lord of the keep. "I should like to speak to the maester if at all possible." There was still very much he did not know, after all.

Lord Morrigen gave a shallow nod and prying away from his lady's hold he send her on her way with an assurance that all would be well. "Forgive my lady, Your Grace. It has not been long since we've lost our oldest son. She still mourns him."

A nod of his own was the first answer. "I am sorry for your loss." Meaningless words, of course. Rhaegar had not known their oldest son and he could no more ease their pain than they could change the fact that they'd lost a son.

"We were much surprised and rather horrified at the daring of those who attacked the Princess," Lord Morrigen changed the subject after a moment f silence.

Grateful, Rhaegar took the opportunity to try making sense of what had happened. "Have any of the culprits been apprehended."

With a sigh, the other man shook his head. "We searched for them, but, unfortunately, they managed to escape us. Apologies, Your Grace."

"There is nothing for it," the Prince replied. It could hardly be helped in any case. The best thing for it would be to gain as much knowledge as he could from the incident.

Which it was very likely that he would, given that the maester of the keep was coming towards them. He bowed before his lord and his Prince. "Your Grace is arrived, I see. We feared the raven had been shot down."

"While I cannot account for the delay in the reply offered, I was on the road as soon as the message reached me. Now, my good maester, I should like to hear about my wife." With a small nod to the lord began walking away with the frail old man that had just arrived.

"What news I have is not good I fear," the maester began. His thin fingers had curled around his chain, tugging gently on the metal. "Her Grace had sustained an arrow wound. Fortunately, we have managed to keep her alive until this point, but, Your Grace, she is fading rapidly."

"The nature of this wound," Rhaegar prompted. It was rather peculiar how me managed to keep his calm. He supposed most found it strange too, for the maester seemed startled.

"Aye; its nature. Her Grace's spine has been severely damaged. We thought that we might still save her, even if she would have been bedridden for life." There the man stopped and drew in a long, shuddering breath. "Alas, the gods were not that kind. The marrow has leaked into the bloodstream. Her Grace is dying."

His wife was dying. Rhaegar hardly knew what to say. "Is there truly nothing that could be done? Mayhap in King's Landing," he trailed off. Of course there was nothing. Rhaegar had heard of such wounds. Had the gods meant for her to live, she would have been on the mend.

"Aside from that, Your Grace," the man continued, "the wound has begun to fester despite our best effort. Nothing seems to cleanse it." And that could be anything truly. A splinter left behind when the arrow had been pulled out, a speck of dust or mere chance.

"I shall see my lady wife now." He thought the maester might protest, but the man merely looked to the ground and stopped walking. Rhaegar waited for an answer to what had been a command rather than a request.

"If Your Grace insists, then of course. But I must offer warning. The Princess is unlikely to have much strength left." By which the man no doubt meant that Elia was nothing as her husband would remember her.

He might well be correct in his assumptions. He and Elia had not been long wedded one to the other. Yet even so, the general consensus was that they got on well. Which they did without doubt. There was little in the way of passion from him and his lady wife had scrupulously kept from demanding his heart. The truth of it was that Rhaegar had needed a bride and Elia Martell had wanted to wed. It was no more and no less than that. That they found each other tolerable was a kind enough intervention of the gods. And now he stood to lose it all.

He gave no answer to the maester's words, but turned on his heel. He had taken no more than three steps when Dayne and Whent approached him. He'd known they would wish to speak to him and for one moment Rhaegar was tempted to give them leave, but in the end he did not.

"Not now," he said to the two Kingsguards. "After." The assurance seemed to be enough for them. The two exchanged a look before bowing their assent and allowing their Prince to step past them towards the keep. He could hear them walking behind him though; the heavy armour pieces scraping gently one against the other.

Since one of the two was surely aware which chamber was the one that held his lady wife, Rhaegar had no issue with their following him. If anything it made matters easier. Afterwards, he was sure to visit with the Lord Commander as well, to see how he fared.

The trio entered the cavernous space together, making their way through winding corridors, climbing steep stairs and taking care to avoid most anyone. The last thing Rhaegar wished was for undue attention to be heaped upon them.