A Gem of Their Own

"He's back."

Those were the words that Shaera burst into the chamber with. Jaehaerys looked up from the scroll he was reading, a frown marring his face. "Who?"

"Ormund!"

The frown deepened, he simply couldn't understand why she was so anxious. The return of the new Lord Baratheon had been an expected thing, although no one seemed to be making any preparations to welcome him sooner than two days later.

"And what of it?"

Shaera started pacing the spacious room, twisting her rings, bracelets and girdle and then reaching to release her braids from the hairnet so she could twist them as well. Jaehaerys quickly gathered all the parchments on the tables and tucked them safely out of her reach because when agitated, she twisted and tore at things without thinking.

"I was with Rhaelle when we first saw his party approaching. Jaehaerys, she didn't react in any way at all! There was no joy that he was coming back."

Jaehaerys rose and went to her, touching her shoulder. "The circumstances aren't the best ones for joy, Shaera. He's coming to see his father dead and take care of his funeral. Rhaelle loved the Laughing Storm as well."

"More than she does us," Shaera said softly but her mind pushed back to what worried her almost instantly. "I want her to be happy, Jaehaerys. I want her to be wed to someone who brings her joy." Her hands were pulling at her braids so furiously that Jaehaerys pressed them down.

"You'll make yourself bald, for the Mother's sake! Did you tell her this much?"

"Yes, I did."

"And what reply did she give you?"

"That happiness was in short supply and the one allotted to our family have been long exhausted before it was her turn to taste it. That I was wasting my time, prodding where I was not wanted, basically."

Jaehaerys sighed. "That was to be expected. It still doesn't mean that she'll be miserable."

"Not being miserable isn't the same as being happy," Shaera only said and the pair fell silent, expecting to hear the castle come alive with excitement and powerful presence, like it would have been under Lord Lyonel.

It never did.

Jaehaerys' first meeting with the Lord of the Stormlands left him filled with Shaera's fears, more or less. All those years, he had been telling himself that it couldn't be this bad. Ormund was a friend of his, or at least had been. He had shared many of Jaehaerys' own inclinations: love of books, sound reasoning, a peaceful nature, although it had always been livened up by a touch of his father's boisterousness.

Not anymore.

Now, it was all cold courtesy, all the right words, no feelings at all. Was he behaving the same way with Rhaelle? He didn't look at her unless absolutely needed despite the smooth cooperation the two of them had developed in resolving minor crisis during the evening feast and their separate interactions with Lady Margrat and the two little boys, Jocelyn Baratheon's orphaned children. Was that all that she'd be to him – the perfect keeper of his household, the man-at-arms who navigated any battlefield coming his – her – way? Jaehaerys reeled at this idea. Was Rhaelle destined to not feel acute misery but not true happiness either? The worst was that it might not have been this way, had Ormund stayed the same. But how could he have? After all that had taken place? What have we done?

"I'll send my gratitude in writing to the King and Queen," the new Lord Baratheon was saying. "I trust you'd be so kind to bring it to them?"

All the right words and not the right sentiment. No sentiment at all. No acknowledgment of the things that had united their families, them, not so long ago. Was Rhaelle going to pay for this change? Lord Lyonel had loved her. Would Ormund learn to love her? Was he capable of such a thing?

The library of Storm's End was a place Jaehaerys had always loved. The high windows provided enough light even for the tables farthest removed from them and the white birch cabinets offered a shockingly wide variety of subjects, from sketches of farm tools to the history of the Rhoynar that could be read in comfortable deep chairs fitted with covers for the times cold grasped the castle in icy fingers, trying to coax a cough out of the inhabitants' throats and out of Jaehaerys, that deep wheeze that always preceded the coming of winter. Here, one could forget the passage of time and events outside the thick oak doors. Almost forget them.

The woman walking between the shelves was not so easy to forget about, though. She made just enough noise with the cabinet door to disrupt Jaehaerys' reading. "Can I help you?" he finally asked because in all honesty, he was getting tired just to watch her skim over titles and drag that footstool to climb on when she wanted to check the highest shelves.

Ashara Dayne stepped down and looked at him. "I'm looking for the books on the legends of the Stormlands . I can't find the section…"

No doubt Rhaelle would have the library catalogued as soon as she was informed about the problem.

"I think I saw something about Durran Godsgrief over there…" Jaehaerys said, pointing at his far left. When she headed there, he said, "I didn't know you read legends, Ashara. I thought you had left them behind. That was what you claimed ten years ago, remember? You declared that they were for children and you were now all grown up."

A faint smile touched his cousin's face. "I remember. But they aren't for me. I'll ask Rhaelle if I can bring them to Daenaera. She loves such stories."

The name of their cousin filled Jaehaerys with shame and regret. Unfortunately, she was the one who was still paying for his father's uneasy trust with the Riverlands. If it wasn't for what we did, she would have been able to get rid of that Bracken of hers years ago. But in the absence of a royal match, the one of the king's niece served to keep the things smooth sufficiently enough.

"Is she going to attend the wedding?"

"Most likely." Ashara's violet eyes met his in mocking that she did not try to mask. "Aren't you overjoyed?"

"Is Ormund going to treat Rhaelle well?" Jaehaerys asked, reasoning that she'd be the one who might just tell him the truth. She cared for proprieties and sparing his feelings not.

Ashara gave him a long look. "Why don't you ask him?" was all she said. "Or her?"

"Because…" Because what? Despite what others might think, Jaehaerys Targaryen was not devoid of some basic decency. He couldn't ask, "Since my brother treated your sister like dirt, do you promise that you won't treat mine the same way?" "Because Rhaelle bristles every time we try to show that…" He paused.

His cousin was looking at him expectantly. "To show what?"

"To show that we care," he finally said. "That we're sorry."

There was something like disappointment in Ashara's eyes. "To speak regret is not the same as to show regret with your actions," she only said. "You two and Duncan, you only received while others paid. Do not expect of her to get over it just because now you want to say you're sorry."

She had changed as well, this cousin with laughing eyes and charm that lit everything around her, bathing it in warmth. She was now grown up, very beautiful and arresting – but she could now freeze a hall over. "You've changed as well," he said. "So many things changed."

"Yes. Like, you all started taking and let the others shoulder the burden of your choices."

There was no heat in her words – she was simply stating what was, to her, obvious.

"What can I do?"

"Start with acting," she said immediately. "Convince the King to release Daenaera from this so called marriage. You know it's no marriage at all. She's still a maiden. Let her find what you and Shaera have."

Hadn't he tried! "I… I'm afraid it isn't possible. My father is intent to keep his good intention with the Houses of the…"

"Then, you have nothing to offer Rhaelle to make her care about your so called regret," Ashara replied wearily, already going away to look for the book in the direction that he had pointed out.

Perhaps he was just being too anxious. Ormund might not pay attention to Rhaelle but he was not discourteous to her, never. And when she spoke of him, there was no disdain in her voice. None of them seem to oppose the wedding that would take place in mere months. Not being happy was not the same as being miserable. Perhaps they would learn to be happy like Jaehaerys wanted her to be. Perhaps they would leave the past behind. Perhaps he was letting Shaera infect him with her overblown fears.

All those comforting thoughts were dispersed three days later, the day of Lyonel Baratheon's funeral. Once again, Ormund did all the right things, observing all the customs, supporting his distraught mother who looked about as alive as the body they finally laid to rest in the crypt. And once again, he showed no emotion, his devotion to his duty and possession leaving no place for a sigh or a tear. Had his father's rebellion and the devastation that had followed burned all feelings in him? Have we sentenced Rhaelle to live with a corpse that still breathes? Ormund Baratheon wasn't human and he wasn't a beast. He certainly wasn't the boy Jaehaerys remembered. He was a grey statue. And Rhaella had always preferred the bright, the bad, the flame even when it burned. The only thing she could have never abided, once, was the lack of colour.

The knock was so soft that at first, he thought he had imagined it. But Shaera was looking at the door and he knew that she had heard as well. As she went to änswer, a jiggle from the outside showed him who was at the other side. Ashara. Ashara and her silver bracelets that she wore many a piece at the same time.

"What?" Shaera asked worriedly as soon as she opened the door. "What's happened?"

"The hour of the bat," their cousin said curtly. "Near the Caves of Despair. Don't be late. And do not let anyone see you."

"Why?" Jaehaerys asked, coming close. "What's going on, Ashara? Why don't you come in?"

She shook her head. "There's no time. Rhaelle and Ormund are getting wed tonight. I thought you might want to be present… from a safe distance."

"What?" Shaera gasped. "But the wedding is taking place in King's Landing, in a few months!"

"Yes." Ashara was losing her temper. "And here, tonight as well. I am telling you only because you look like you could use some reassurance. Of course, you may stay here. I would have gone to see my sister wed, even if I cannot take part, though."

Which was why, when the hour of the bat came, Jaehaerys and Shaera watched the torchlight coming near from the dark embrace of the huge rocks that had shielded and killed the people of the coastland for thousands of years. Ashara had not been jesting. The small gathering that stopped near the waterline, so close to them that Jaehaerys imagined he could feel the warm glow of the torches, consisted of Rhaelle, Ormund, Lady Margrat, Rhae and her husband, Ashara and her brothers, the castellan of Storm's End and a few young men and women that Jaehaerys and Shaera had quickly learned were friends of the new lord and his future lady.

What was most astounding was the change in Rhaelle. She was practically glowing now, in her long violet gown that brought out her purple eyes even more. The pearls adorning the fabric were the same silver as her hair. But her face was not silver at all – it was flushed with happiness and excitement. She kept inching for Ormund and Rhae practically stood between them. "Not now!" she scolded but her eyes were smiling. "You'll have a lifetime for that. Really, that's going to be the most indiscreet wedding in the history of Westeros…"

This time, no one seemed to think about Rhaelle's siblings' wedding – no one but Jaehaerys and Shaera herself. Even Lady Margrat managed a small smile. "More indiscreet than your own, my lady?" she asked. "As far as I know, Lyonel offered you a last chance to become Lady Baratheon in the very eve of your wedding before standing next to Arthur for the ceremony the next morning."

Rhaelle laughed. "He wasn't being serious."

"I still wonder," her husband murmured and sighed exasperatedly. "Back, lad," he added, pushing Ormund away determinedly.

"We could have had this done a month ago if Rhaelle hadn't insisted on this Tyroshi violet," Ormund said. "As if it matters!"

Now, he was smiling, looking his years and not aged before time, his blue eyes full of joy and anticipation. He was meeting Rhaelle's eye in a way he had never done in the great hall, as far as Jaehaerys could say.

"What, you think it doesn't?" Rhaelle asked indignantly. "I insist that I look glamorous at my true wedding."

"Your father supported her," Lady Margrat reminded her son, her voice shaking. "Who was to know…"

Rhae touched her hand. "Not now," she said. "Now, it's time for joy. You know Lyonel would have been joyful, had he been here with us."

"Come on," Ormund said before his mother started crying again. "Let's get started."

"Yes!" Rhaelle said eagerly and took Lord Dayne's hand. He laughed at her impatience.

Everyone withdrew, so a small space was formed where only Rhaelle, Arthur, and Ormund remained. The wind stuck Rhaelle's hair to her face and made the skirts of her gown swirl in a bridal dance of their own.

"Do you give me this woman?" Ormund asked. "Do you give her to me on your own will, with pure heart?"

"I do."

"And you?" Ormund asked. From this far, Jaehaerys couldn't be sure but he thought Lord Baratheon's eyes were fixed on Rhaelle's face. "Are you coming to me on your own will, Rhaelle Targaryen? With pure heart?"

"I am," she replied firmly. "Before the face of the storm, I am coming to you with pure and willing heart.

"Then, before the face of the storm, I take you in my love and protection. I pledge you my devotion, I pledge you my life, I pledge you my home. All I have, and even more, I'll share with you gladly."

He took a ring off his finger and placed it on hers for a moment before removing it and hurling it as far away in the sea. For a few moments, no one said anything and then Ormund turned to Rhaelle. "My lady," he said and there was this peculiar inflexion in his voice, the one that showed that to him, she was indeed his lady. Their kiss was long and probably not their first.

Then, everyone came to them to offer hugs and congratulations, from Lady Margrat to the Estermont girl who was Rhaelle's preferred companion. Everyone was smiling, happy, chattering excitedly… all those things that the official wedding at King's Landing would lack. Until Ormund suddenly rose to his full height and swept Rhaelle in his arms, lifting her high in the air. She laughed and he headed for the dark caves without hesitation. And yet, right when they were passing near the rocks, Jaehaerys heard him ask, "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Rhaelle replied immediately. "I am not afraid, Ormund. I'm even… curious."

His laughter boomed in the night, as explosive as Lyonel's. "Perhaps you'll be sorry that you left me hanging over a piece of violet silk," he said as they headed off for their first night together after this precious, hidden thing that they had enjoyed – a moment of their own. Not belonging to hatred, or healing old wounds. Just the two of them.