In the Marches of a Heart

She felt the change even before she heard that a raven had arrived: the handmaidens whispered urgently between themselves and fell silent when they saw her, Maester Samon gave her a long thoughtful look, and her father looked thoughtful, as if he couldn't quite decide how he felt.

Her mother, though, was giddy with joy, and it was from her that Jena learned what all this was about. "What honour the King does us! His own son, his firstborn, for our Jena! I can't believe you didn't answer at once, saying that you accept! Our daughter will be queen! Just imagine – Queen Jena!"

Her father huffed and glared. "Stop it! First, Daeron isn't king. It's only King Aegon who can discuss such things with me."

It doesn't look like it, the girl thought and bowed her head even lower over her embroidery, hoping that they wouldn't realize their voices carried so far through the great hall. She knew her lord father. His voice didn't sound as sure as usual. And it shouldn't. Everyone knew that Aegon couldn't even hoist himself off his couch… that he'd die any moment now…

And then, she realized the meaning of the words she had heard. Queen! She'd be queen! Just a few weeks ago, she had heard her father and Maester Samon discuss her chances to wed Lord Baratheon's heir and decide that they were not good at all.

Queen! Her joy faded, replaced by fear, when everything that she had heard here and in the other Marcher castles rushed to her mind. Prince Daeron had carved a small Dorne out of Dragonstone. He only did what his Dornish wife told him. His firstborn was… Mother save me! Am I really to wed a Dornishman?

She was. The moment she first laid her eyes on him, she didn't even recognize him – they had arrived a day earlier than expected and so he had spent the day in his usual routine. He was just coming from the practice yard, face bathed in sweat and hair clinging to his sculp. In his simple and comfortable clothes, he was no one. Jena didn't pay him any mind. She just thought, I haven't even arrived, and I've already encountered a Dornishman. They say the Red Keep is teeming with them.

He was nothing like a king should be. He was all Dorne. Would he betray the Seven Kingdoms for his mother's land? Not as long as I'm here, Jena vowed. Not as long as I am his queen. She prepared her best smile and bestowed it upon him. He returned it and Jena had to admit that he did have a nice smile. Pity that he was probably giving it to a different girl three times a day, every day. He was King Aegon's grandson and a Dornishman to the boot. He simply couldn't help himself. Jena just hoped that he'd be discreet.

There was nothing discreet about the queen. She didn't constrain herself to the typical duties expected of a lady – charity and running the household. No, she read documents of state and felt the urge to state her opinions without disguising it. They were good opinions too, but put forth in a way that was unbecoming. Like a man would state them. When I am queen, Jena thought, I'll restore femininity to its rightful place at court. Well, perhaps not all of it. She certainly would do her best to keep alive the respect the current king was paying his queen. Even if it was of the kind that was expected to be bestowed upon lords.

She was eager to leave for Dragonstone, to have a place of her own, but Baelor still had much to learn, so they stayed at King's Landing. Jena had to admit that she had much to learn as well, learn how to be queen, and those were lessons she shared almost evenly with Princess Daenerys. At least, it was supposed to be so…

"Why are you so interested in Dornish ways?" she asked one day, after a long hour of attending Mariah as she was receiving visitors and listening to their pleas.

The other girl looked up from the petitions they were sorting out to present to the Queen later. "Because in less than a year, I'll be wed," she whispered conspiratorially and Jena's jaw dropped. Surely Daenerys could not mean what Jena's suspicious mind had put forward? She had always thought that the girl would wed Aerys or perhaps even Rhaegel. In fact, she had been surprised to be chosen over her for Baelor! The King would not step over all traditions so boldly, would he?

Daenerys nodded eagerly. "To the Prince of Dorne," she confirmed. "Didn't Baelor tell you?"

"No," Jena said and tried not to feel hurt by this. Her husband had always shown her nothing but care and respect, even spending all his nights with her, instead of seeking other women. Why had he kept something so important in secret?

Perhaps because it was so important. Perhaps he, with his Dornish blood, felt that a Marcher woman could not be trusted with information about something that would give Dorne more prestige, one that it did not deserve at all?

"Aren't you… scared?" she asked carefully.

Daenerys shook her head. "Of course not. He's Mariah's brother. And he's so very handsome." Her laughter turned to a smile. "Three years ago, I even asked him why he hadn't taken a wife yet."

Jena's breath caught. "You didn't ask him!"

"I did. And he laughed and said the moment still hadn't come. From the time Mother died and I was sent to Dragonstone, he must have known that Daeron had intended me for him. Through me, Aegon the Conqueror's work will be finished without fire and blood. I'll continue the Martell line by giving Maron many children with dragon blood who will bring peace and prosperity to Dorne. As you will here," she finished, smiling at Jena.

Jena startled back. But no, Daenerys couldn't know. Jena was not even sure herself. She even counted the hours, out of too great joy and even greater fear. She might be wrong and if she was, she'd give Baelor false hope, so she needed to wait another two weeks before telling him.

It would be a Dornish child. A half-Dornish child, in a too Dornish court. Still, Jena was joyful – and still too scared that she might have no reason to be.