Jeyne, 278 AC, Storm's End

It had been about 2 months since I had returned to Storm's End from the Twins with Father. I played off the whole trip as a waste of time to everyone who would ask, including Stannis, who wanted to know if Merrett Frey had spoken to me respectfully (he hadn't, of course) and Septa Mylla, who repeatedly asked me if I had remembered the proper order of courtesies for a Riverlands suitor (probably not, but that wasn't really important). The only person who knew the truth, or at least a good portion of it, was Robert, who I had written to about it. I was waiting to hear back from him, but I knew it would probably be a while.

Lady Cassana had questioned me thoroughly about what had happened, but I merely relayed to her that Merrett Frey was looking for a wife far richer than I. She had seemed a bit put out by that, and had declared House Frey to be fools for overlooking me. I saw no reason to divulge further what had really happened.

While settling back into my normal routine had been fulfilling for me, I still missed Robert terribly, and the looming specter of the King's tourney (and Lord Steffon had been insistent that we continue to call it that, for he was most displeased with the whole affair) had quickly thrown that bit of solace down the drain.

It was for that reason, indeed, that I found myself outside the walls of Storm's End on a horse riding alongside Lord Steffon and Maester Cressen, who were overseeing the placement of the jousting lists and the massive tent city that was to go up in a few weeks' time for the tournament. It was a typical day in the Stormlands, with wind biting at my face as I kept pace alongside the two of them. Lady Cassana had told me to go and help them as they directed the men in constructing the tourney grounds.

"Jeyne, can you go speak to Harbert about bringing the handguards for the lances down to the tourney ground? I'm a bit busy with putting up the meal tents."

"Of course, my Lord", I replied, before riding back up to the gate of the castle. I noticed Harbert milling around with some Baratheon Men-At-Arms, and asked, "Harbert? Can I get some handguards sent down to the jousting lists?"

"I'd be happy to bring one" interjected Stannis, who rode up to the group of us from behind the gate. He had a lance in hand with a handguard affixed, and was wearing a coat of mail. Stannis gestured for me to follow him down towards the trail that I had rode up from.

"I thought you were still training for the day?"

"Turns out that they're not letting me into the melee after all", he replied, with a more grim than normal scowl on his face. I could tell this was quite the blow for him, but it was probably for the best. He was, after all, one year younger than me, and would be competing against men double his age. However, I knew he had no interest in hearing that, so I tried to spin it in his favor, as the pair of us rode back down towards the assembling tourney grounds.

"Personally, I've always found tourneys to be exercises in preening stupidity and grotesque wastes of wealth", I replied, hoping that it would sway him towards seeing things a bit more positively.

"I'm a second son, Jeyne. I have to make my mark somehow-

"Well, perhaps there will be another tournament when you get a bit older", I interjected. Stannis had a tendency to hold onto slights like they were precious possessions, and I figured that it probably would be better to get him looking towards the future.

The two of us spent most of the day helping Lord Steffon coordinate some of his men in setting up the jousting lists. The archery stations and melee sands would be put in over the course of the next week, according to plan. I could tell that Lord Steffon was highly strung about this whole tournament, and the constant stream of ravens coming from King's Landing, with various petty demands on the part of the King, were not helping matters.

As we sat down for dinner that night, Lord Steffon, having been informed of yet another raven arriving from King's Landing, indulged in a bit more wine than normal for him, and was quite interrogative of me in particular.

"So, Jeyne, when you and your father visited King's Landing and paid homage to the King, how would you say he was?"

"Pardon, my Lord?"

Lord Steffon seemed to bite back a retort, before gathering himself, and asking, "Was His Grace welcoming to you? Did the Royal family seem to be at harmony?"

I thought of that dark night once more, sharing some space near the fire with Ser Barristan, and shuddered a bit, before answering, "His Grace seemed a bit agitated-", I slowly began, hoping not to say anything out of line.

"Agitated? How?"

I figured sharing this with Lord Steffon would be important in some manner or another, but I could tell across the table that Stannis was disturbed by his Father's more talkative and buzzed state, and he was staring at the both of us with intensity.

"Well, he accused Lord Tywin of bringing my Father in to show off his influence, before even acknowledging us."

"I am aware of the tension between them, Jeyne. Anything else?"

"And when we left our audience with His Grace, there was a public execution of a traitor to the realm, who Ser Jon Connington seemed to think was little more than a petty thief."

Lord Steffon's face darkened as I spoke, as it seemed that I was merely confirming his worst fears about the King. His bright blue eyes almost looked like they were welling up with emotion as he looked down onto his plate, before continuing, "And what of the royal family?"

At this, I struggled with what to say. I assumed I should stay positive, but I had a feeling that Lord Steffon would see through that. Nonetheless, I figured it was worth a shot. "I did not see Prince Viserys, of course, as he has not yet seen his second nameday. But Prince Rhaegar seemed nice enough, even if he seemed somewhat sad."

I suddenly remembered what the King had said about Lord Steffon finding Rhaegar a wife. I hoped that this directive would not come in the near future, however, as I believe Lord Steffon would have trouble controlling his anger at being given such a task. The walls of Storm's End may be used to dealing with the expressed fury of its Lord and Master, but I certainly wasn't. Lord Steffon seemed to accept this, before continuing, "And what of my cousin, the Queen?"

I had wanted to avoid that part, but a voice in the back of my mind shouted at me to say something constructive. Lord Steffon had the ability to add to her happiness with just a bit of attention, after all. I replied, "The Queen spoke fondly of her memories of Storm's End while growing up, and was very nice to me during the feast."

"Is that all?"

"Well, my Lord, she indicated that she would be very happy if you were to write her every now and then. I don't think-", I said, before stopping myself. It would not serve me or anyone else well if I was to reveal the nasty details of what I had seen or conjectured about the marriage of Queen Rhaella and King Aerys.

"Go on, Jeyne", said a weary and upset looking Lord Steffon. I figured there was no way out of this, with the attention of Lady Cassana, Stannis, and the household attendants on me now in addition to Lord Steffon.

"I don't believe that the King treats Queen Rhaella very well, my Lord. I think she could use a friend, and seemed very interested in your family when we spoke."

Lord Steffon's eyes had watered and glassed up a bit more at hearing this, and I could tell that it was not the wine. He seemed to weigh my words as our meal came to an end, and stayed seated at the table as we all adjourned to our evening quarters.

The next day began much like others, with me going to my lessons with Lady Cassana and mostly discussing preparation for the upcoming tourney. However, at the end, she pulled out a letter that she had just gotten from the raven crookery before lessons began.

"This one is for you, Jeyne, from Robert. It seems like the two of you are becoming avid pen pals."

She said that with a smile, but she also seemed very interested in how I would respond, and was looking at me with a smirking inquisitive glance. Well, I wasn't going to give her anything to work with, despite the fact that my insides were doing flips, as usual, whenever one of his letters arrived. I put on my most stoic expression possible, took the letter, and said, "Thank you, my Lady. I'm sure Robert has much to tell me of his adventures in the Vale."

I walked out of her solar, and I was grateful that Septa Mylla was not in attendance today, as she would have certainly scolded me for not curtsying before leaving. My pace was brisk, but I did not want to waste time reading the letter in front of Lady Cassana. I realized with a shock that she might have already read the letter, and might have known that I was less than truthful about my visit to the Twins. Nonetheless, she did not seem to be the snooping sort, and I trusted that she would not do such a thing.

I sat down in front of the fire in the guest tower's common space, and pulled out the letter to start reading.

Dear Jeyne,

I had a feeling something was fishy about that whole Frey business when you wrote to me about it at the time. Turns out, that weasel Merrett has a younger brother named Geremy who had to stay with Lord Arryn and the rest of us for a few months before moving on to squire with Lord Grafton. I never paid much attention to Geremy, seeing as he too was a bit of a weasel, but Ned reminded me that he kept talking about his father looking for a new wife.

Anyways, nice job on the punch! I know you want me to show you how to do one for real when next we see each other, but really, a windpipe blow isn't nothing to scoff at. You're a girl, after all, and girls are supposed to fight dirty!

As for the rest of everything, your father was right, and it wasn't your fault. I'll have you know that the day before he left, I pummeled Geremy in the training yard and left him with a black eye and multiple bruises from blunted hammer blows, and I did all that for you (although, I must confess, the little bugger had it coming after he had drank all of Lord Arryn's stocks of Arbor Gold for wards and not shared any of it with the rest of us).

So don't do anything like write to the Faceless Men, or write a letter to Lord Tywin regarding his daughter's bratty demeanor and sign it as Lord Walder, or pay some Lyseni merchant to send Greyscale Blankets to the Crossing, or any of the other things you put in your letter regarding revenge. By the Seven, Jeyne, you have a brutal streak in you! I wouldn't have it any other way, though.

By the way, I'm going to Gulltown soon to depart for Storm's End, as the tourney draws near. The guys are all coming with me, and I'm sure you'll love them.

Your Friend,

Ser Robert Baratheon

As usual, Robert's letters made me feel all warm inside as I imagined him putting every ounce of his joviality into his quill strokes. I found his confidence in me, and his indignation at my treatment, to be quite heartening. I wasn't serious about any of my Frey revenge plots, but when I wrote to Robert, I was certainly thinking some dark thoughts. Perhaps Stannis could have come up with some better ones. For now, though, I will be satisfied with Geremy Frey's thorough battering.

Robert and his friends coming to Storm's End soon definitely would bring me out of this depressive rut that I had been in since the Frey visit. While Stannis was a dear friend, he was probably the most permanently depressed lad I had ever met, and he really wasn't much of a help. As for Robert's friends, they all had to have something going for them. Otherwise, why would he bother?

I spent most of the rest of the week assisting with tourney preparations, as expected, but Robert's return was definitely on my mind the whole time. I was a bit worried about what his friends from the Vale would think of me. Stannis had no interest at all in discussing this when I asked him, and I got the impression that Robert's life in the Vale was a sore subject for him.

The tourney drew nearer and nearer, with only a few weeks left before the hedge knights would start to arrive early to capitalize off of the generosity of House Baratheon. The massive tent city and the jousting lists were all complete, and although it seriously inhibited the ability to Stannis and I to ride out towards the woods as we desired, it certainly made for a beautiful sight from the height of Lady Cassana's solar, and I spent much time during lessons looking off into space, imagining what it would look like when people inhibited them.

With the preparations of the grounds complete, Lord Steffon spent much more time inside the castle, but his nervous and frayed outlook did not seem to change very much. In fact, he started talking about disastrous hypothetical crises quite often during supper, and asked Stannis how he would handle it. I found the conversation to be both disturbing and fascinating in equal measure, so I frequently would join in.

Tonight, in fact, they were going over a touchy subject relating to the specter of rebellion.

"And what would you do, Stannis, if one of our bannermen rebelled and declared war on us for the paramountcy of the Stormlands?" he pressed, prying for any weakness on the part of his second son.

"I would petition his Grace for aid, and proceed to destroy the rebels to the root-

"Assume for a second, however, that this rebel has outside support. Assume that His Grace wants us to be overthrown by our bannermen."

Stannis stammered in reply, "That's…., well, Father, that's just insane. Why would such a thing happen?"

"The point of this, Stannis, is to have a plan for all situations. What would you do in that situation?"

Stannis thought for a moment, and seemed to pour over his options, before replying, "Well, it depends on what house you have in mind is leading the rebellion."

"See, this is what I was looking for. Go on, Stannis."

"Assuming it would be a house strong enough to stand on its own, it would have to be either the Carons, who are geographically isolated far to the west and could count on support coming to them quickly from others who would profit from our demise outside the Stormlands, or it could be House Tarth, who have a fleet of their own and would have a secure base on that island of theirs. Or, it would be-

"House Swann", I interjected, as Stannis started to look over at me. "Oh, don't worry, Stannis, this is all just a hypothetical exercise."

"She's right, Stannis", began Lord Steffon, before continuing, "Although, I wonder, Jeyne, how is it that you'd make such a rebellion work?"

"Well, it wouldn't work", I replied, before going on to say, "But, I'm sure that the Selmys, Dondarrions, and Mertyns would immediately rally to us, with the Carons likely staying neutral and the Estermonts, with the small amount of men they can furnish, probably capitulating quickly."

"Now wait just a minute! ", interjected Lady Cassana, but I continued on.

"At that point, we would have around 10,000 men, and would lay siege to Griffin's Roost, which is indeed quite formidable. The rebellion would fall apart at that point, however, unless there was serious outside help, as none of the northern Storm Lords would declare for us without House Connington on our side, and House Tarth alone, in addition to your personal holdings, would give you all the men you would need to relieve Griffin's Roost."

Stannis scowled at me, as I had yet again upstaged him in his father's stress addled pre-tourney state, but the rest of the hall just sort of continued on as normal, and ignored Lord Steffon's ramblings.

I went to bed that night wishing that this infernal tourney could be over so everyone could just calm down a bit. Sometimes, I really did miss Stonehelm.