Jenny regarded the woman before with a healthy dose of suspicion. Rhaella Targaryen was and always had been dedicated to the comfort of her own closer-related kindred. She had understood without needing further explanation why and how Rhaegar would benefit from an association with the Stark girl though as a mother herself her own heart went more towards her son. She had even, Jenny flattered herself, aided the young bride in finding her bearing. All in the hope of leading Rhaegar away from the influence of his father and his mother's malleability when it came to pleasing the man. It seemed such an outcome would not be so easily reached.
"Come now, Your Grace, just a small wedding gift," the Princess insisted, clasping her hands in front of her chest. "They are yet so young and would benefit from such support." Surprisingly enough, no one had offered to lend her a hand. By her nature not vengeful, Jenny might have considered helping them in her own time, however, in the face of such manipulative moves, she could but dig her heels into a staunch refusal.
A smile lifted the corners of her lips as she smoothed a hand over the silk folds of her skirts. "Better that they have some time to themselves, say I," she countered. "After all, a woman is a true bride but once. Allow them the time, dear niece, to accustom themselves to one another."
Rhaella maintained a cheerful disposition even when faced with so categorical a refusal. She cocked her head to the side. "Might be Your Grace has the right of it." She clasped one of Jenny's hands in her own and squeezed gently. "How clever of you to have thought of it to begin with." Jenny resisted the urge to pull her limb away.
She'd always knows she was not well-liked among the gilded set of blue-blooded nobles. She, little less than a step above a peasant, had managed to capture the attention of the Crown Prince and not only that, but she had wedded him, insinuating herself in a spot many a lady had been vying for. She could well understand the anger. She could even accept that there was some truth to their whispers of her simply being dazzled by her husband. He could be exceedingly charming when it suited him, as many members of his house.
While she'd not lied to Lady Lyanna in assuring the girl 'twas love which led her to the altar, she'd left out that love was but one of the reasons. Jenny of Oldstones was the daughter of a nobody with just enough coin to look respectable, but ever quite enough to reach for anything higher. Then Duncan had happened along. He was a Prince, wealth and power at the tip of his finger. Jenny had taken the gamble put before her, knowing well enough the high stakes could ruin her quite beyond anything.
The old King had loved his son too well and had stood by him in the face of all opprobrium. From time to time she felt remorse for her actions. But even still, she'd dedicated herself to the Crown in the aftermath of that and had done her best by those she felt indebted to.
For Rhaella to patronisingly speak to her as though she were of no consequence, Jenny very nearly bristled. Somehow, however, she kept her displeasure a hidden thing. "One must always be considerate in such matters," she replied softly. If only Lyanna Stark had not been a maiden above reproach in conduct. It would have saved them some strife. As it was, she'd have to contend with Duncan's humours as much as with Aerys' pettiness when it became known what had transpired the other night. "Pray do not feel as though you need to keep me company when food has been placed before us." She gestured towards the table and urged Rhaella to be about her business.
Thankfully, she'd made a habit of not partaking in the morning meal. Jenny sat at the table simply for protocol's sake and the undiluted pleasure of keeping company with her husband. Other than that, she could well do without these tedious gatherings. Just as she could do without the many courtiers ogling and whispering. Noblemen were a strange lot indeed.
Her comfortable loneliness was once again broken. Her granddaughter approached, with a firm smile in place, this time a genuine one. Jenny patted the empty seat at her side as she titled her head heaven-wards. Daella bent at the waist, pressing a kiss upon each of her cheeks before she took thee proffered seat. "How well you look this morning, Your Grace."
"You mistake the matters, dearling. 'Tis you who looks too well for words." After all, Daella would always be striking in appearance. Jenny pushed back a strand of silver-gold hair, musing that if only all maidens had the luck to be born with such an abundance of charm, the King would find himself quite bereft of young heroes willing to join the Kingsguard. Although one supposed that order the lesser sin. Black Brothers lived through many of the same rigours and they numbered many more. All the same, she though.
"I am very well indeed, Your Grace." Her smile morphed into what could only be called a self-congratulatory little smirk. Not unlike her grandmother, Daella preferred not to partake in the morning meal. Whether that had to do with an actual preference or simple habit, Jenny could not at the moment recall. "Better than well."
Jenny feared to ask after the origin of this wellness. Daella, for all she loved the girl, had a tendency to cling to the most outrageous notions. One of these notions had to do with the state of her beaux of whom she tired at a rapid pace. She more often than not found pleasure in acquiring a new lover; which truly was no subject to be breaking their fast over. Might be once the crowds had dwindled sufficiently to have such a conversation she might ask after it.
Meantime, Daella had no trouble providing another subject, altogether more scandalous, for them to ponder. "Father seems to have completely banished Lady Branda from his bed, if not from his thoughts. She was crying fit to bring the house down on our wing. To think she would be so very insistent in making a spectacle of herself." Daella sighed. "I liked her well enough, grandmamma, for at least she knew to keep her opinions to herself."
"Truly, your father should not thank you for such marked attention towards his situation," Jenny attempted to end the conversation with that. Daella was having none of it though.
"My father ought to know better. This girl he has his eyes on is young enough to be his granddaughter." That made Jenny feel her age, not for the first time, mind. She shook her head at Daella's antics. "She is a child. Not at all what a man like my father needs." As to how Daella managed to become an expert on her father's needs, Jenny would prefer not to know. "Although if he desires her so strong I don't suppose aunt may keep her forever in her chambers."
"Indeed, she may not." What had prompted her son's interest in the first place? Lady Lyanna, for all her charm, was much different from the others whose attention he'd courted. Might be she ought to ask her husband. He was bound to understand better than she herself ever could what lead to this distinct shift in preference. Better to know which of the maidens she had need to watch closely.
"I presume she wanted you to intervene on behalf of the girl, did she not grandmamma?" Daella pressed for information. "Useless as that'd be, would it not simply be better to ignore the matter altogether? 'Tis not as though the lady's consequences would be bruised beyond repair."
Her consequences, Jenny supposed not; there would still be men enough willing to take her to wife, or if not perfectly willing then certainly willing to listen to a persuasive argument in that sense if it happened to come in the form of a court position or monies. The illusion of morality could certainly take such a blow and not be dismissed. "I fear her heart might be, nevertheless, bruised, dearling," she finally answered, "and whatever else you may think, an unwilling mate brings little pleasure." Her granddaughter scoffed. Whether it was the idea that she had presented her with that encouraged the reaction or the fact that she simply could not believe any woman would be an unwilling mate to her father, Jenny did not pursue.
"My lord father will not accept defeat. That is more than enough to dictate the end of the matter. If the girl were wise, she'd accept defeat with some grace." Daella glanced at the gathering before them, "Do you think for a moment that if she escapes her attentions she will be considered blameless? The woman is forever the one to take the fall." That much she could not dispute.
And speaking of her wayward son, Duncan strode right in, on his arm Fair Jenny. They made for the long table still caught in whatever conversation they were having. The young Jenny was shaking her head vehemently, her lips pursed in evident displeasure. Her father looked equally grim, albeit his delivery erred on the side of subtlety lest they give the courtiers cause for concern. Though by the way the corner of his lips twitched ever so slightly, his temper had long since been engaged.
Fair Jenny paused in the middle of her retort, breaking away from her father to give her greetings. She came, after a time, to her and Daella. "Grandmother, Cook shall be weeping this morning as well." She too, as her sister, bent to place kisses upon her cheeks. "Daella, I am much surprised to see you up and about."
"Why should that be?" the elder sister questioned, her eyes darkening as humour fled the premises. Jenny tensed in her seat, shifting uncomfortably at the promise of violence.
"Why, sister mine, one expects such vigorous exercise as the one you routinely engage in to leave one somewhat in need of rest." The snide remark reverberated between the sisters with the first of the two reddening to a great degree.
The momentarily shaken balance redressed itself enough that Daella's pretty face was morphed by a snarl. "At least I have the exercise." The Fair Jenny reeled back as though her sister had slapped her rather than insult her. "There, there, Jenny, don't take on so, I am certain you too may engage in exercise to your heart's content."
"I would rather join Mylisant in her prayer than you in your exercise," Fair Jenny snapped, taking yet another step back. "Grandmother, pray excuse me. I, at least, am famished and should like to have a bite." Graceful a retreat as that was, Jenny feared the quarrel had already been started and no amount of lull between the outbursts would manage to hide that much.
Fair Jenny, however, true to her word, gave not as much as a glance towards her sister. She simply repaired to the seat provided for her and filled a plate, keeping all attention scrupulously to the cold meats she piled with great care on the trencher. So concentrated was she on her task that she completely missed her kin's arrival with his new wife in tow.
The same could not be said of the many others partaking in the morning meal; many others including her son and her nephew. Rhaella had already moved to clasp her husband's arm, whispering furiously into his ear. Doubtlessly she explained that he must welcome his new daughter properly. If he wanted to save face, that was. Jenny pried her stare away from the two to observe Duncan. The flush of anger which had hitherto been concealed by careful exertion was in full bloom and in full view.
That Rhaegar secured his young bride to his side with a gallant gesture couldn't be helping matters. To further compound Duncan's souring mood, his cousin let out a loud bark of laughter, sitting up from his appointed seat, having apparently chosen his side. He beckoned the couple forth, proclaiming himself to be a pleased father beyond measure. Which with Aerys simply meant that while thwarted he was not yet willing to give up mischief. Once the two had managed to close the distance he leaned in, allowing Lady Lyanna to couple some kisses with her very proper curtsy.
"I see we have left the lot of you speechless," his voice boomed but a moment later. "Just as we should. You've all been so very dull these past few turns." He grinned from ear to ear, shooting his cousin a triumphant look. After all, it did not much matter to Aerys that he lost, just as long as her son did not win either. Jenny saw her husband shaking his head at Duncan, presumably at something the man had said.
What followed was a flood of well-wishers and surprised maidens whose only indication of sourness was a terrible glint in their gazes. Jenny remembered she'd been much the same as shy Lady Lyanna, half-tucked into her husband's side as though seeking him for her shield. Alas, unlike the lady who found her feet a few moments later, plastering a small smile to her face, Jenny had needed years and years until she was fully accepted. As for the she-wolf, Lord Rickard's daughter answered what could only be some uncomfortable questions but made certain to glance at her husband from time to time. She needed not the shield, though she sought the assurance. For his part, Rhaegar proceeded admirably, keeping an eye on the girl while soothing the bruised egos of many a maiden.
"You knew." Jenny gave a start at the unexpected claim. She shifted her gaze to Daella. Her granddaughter pursed her lips. "This was planned."
"I'd hoped they'd know better than to appear so early before us," she answered. Rhaegar ought to have in any event. Not unlike his father, it seemed, he too wishes to flaunt before the world his success in proving an obstacle to his kin. "But it is what it is."
"Has she that fat a purse then?" the eldest of her son's children demanded. "I don't imagine he'd have taken her for naught."
"My, what a thing to say. Lady Lyanna is a perfectly acceptable mate for a Prince." She elected not to disclose her knowledge regarding the lady's purse, fat or otherwise. Daella would likely bribe it out of someone at some point, but for the time being she deserved no satisfaction. "Have a care, dearling; you would not wish to find yourself on the receiving end of criticism for being less than what a noble Princess ought to be."
"Rhaegar's wife hardly merits such effort on my part," Daella snorted, standing to her full height. With that she turned her attention to the newlyweds and made a demand of her kin to approach. "Why, you sly thing, Rhaegar, you never said a word to us."
"Alas, I was too concerned with securing the wife before I proclaimed himself the happiest man." The lady at his side blushed becomingly. To look at her, one would think she too thought herself the luckiest woman in existence.
"Even so, fie for keeping such a secret to yourself." She then held her arms out towards Lyanna. "I am always very glad to greet kindred of the female variety. There is never quite enough of us." That in defiance to her father, no doubt. Jenny would have smiled if she were not too concerned still. Lady Lyanna accepted the embrace and the following congratulations.
Jenny too followed Daella's example, but she merely welcomed the lady to her bosom before allowing her to be off, as the King was desirous of her presence. Likely he wished to let her know that her father would receive word of her nuptials as soon as possible, along with a demand for her dowry and possessions, those which she had a desire for. The conversation would be too far from her ears for her to hear a thing.
And so passed the morning meal, with many heart aflutter, a handful of weeping maidens who had had their dreams and hearts crushed, they claimed, beyond repair and a general consensus that the Prince ought to have mastered his passions with greater care for the courtiers should have liked to participate in the wedding celebration. Thankfully, the few bawdy jests that rang out in the hall were not quite as mean-spirited as they might have been and much ado was made about such daring words in the presence of pure-hearted, if naught else, maidens.
The bride kept to her husband's side, smile still in place. Whatever else was to be said of her, she carried herself well. "I see now," Daella commented, a satisfied smile curving her lips, "she is but a pawn. For a moment I feared there was aught else to her."
"A pawn?" In a way, she certainly was that. Weren't they all?
"You know how Rhaegar is, grandmother. Too proud to bow to either my father or his own. I reckon he merely wanted to put some noses out of joint. And the lady gave him the perfect opportunity. A milk and water miss like her probably offered up no protest." An old woman such as Jenny recognised the little speech for what it was, a reassurance.
"I don't believe there was much protest on either side," she responded in a bid to quell any ideas Daella might develop, "and why should there be any, indeed." Rather more than put out at the implications of Daella's behaviour, Jenny found herself begging the gods for speedy relief. It was time she had a talk with her old friend once more.
"Won't you wish us happy, Your Grace?" Rhaegar was well aware he played with fire. At his side, Lyanna dug her fingers into his arm, the warning biting. He would have told her not to worry, alas, he could see reason enough for her reaction in the way Duncan the Younger reddened with unspent fury. He moved his arm lower, as though to keep Lyanna from losing her balance. Not that he had much need to, the way she clung to him.
"You think you are so very clever, don't you?" the man snapped back, an ugly sneer warning of impeding danger. "Have you considered that might be not all of us are as tolerant of you as your sire?" He glared at Aerys whose grin broadened. Rhaegar wished, not for the first time, that the earth would swallow both men. The Seven knew many a life would be bettered for it.
But the man did not seem inclined to waste anymore time with him. Rhaegar merely drew Lyanna closer and bent slightly to whisper, "A few moments longer and we may depart. It seems he wishes to speak to the King, which he will allow, doubtlessly, but not in our presence."
"Your Grace would be wiser still to hurry us both out of the chamber," she answered in a soft voice. Her warm breath washed over his skin, reminiscent of the early hours they'd spent together. He merely gave her side a gentle squeeze before turning his attention to the King.
"That is quite enough for one day," the man was saying, dismissing the gaggle of kindred gathered about him. "An old man needs his rest." Varying protests met his statement, but he was determined to see them leave, which one and all gave in to after a few moments of resistance. He and Lyanna chief amongst them. After all, Rhaegar was not necessarily interested in spending more time than strictly necessary in the company of his family, even with the presence of his grandmother and mother to act as shield for whatever tomfoolery the others came up with.
Released from the embrace of so endearing a collection of individuals, Rhaegar merely took the path to the gardens. He chuckled when Lyanna breathed out in relief, her hand loosening its hold on his arm. He half-feared she'd tear holes in his garment for a moment. "Truly, you ought to trust me on handling my kin," he said, allowing her to set the pace. She walked with a slow gait, similar to how a wounded man or an old crone might.
"It is a dastardly thing to do to someone who already worries so," she complained nevertheless. "He is still a Prince of this realm. We don't want to make an enemy out of him." It took her a few moments, but she seemed to be gaining back whatever strength she'd spent appearing unconcerned moments earlier. "I like it no more than you, Your Grace, but I fear we must refrain from prodding the man too hard."
"You are going to be one of those wives, I see," he teased gently, quite curious as to how she would take it. She glanced up at him with a sharp little glare. "There now, don't take on so; I don't mean to court your ire."
"And I do not mean to don widow's weeds before the year is out, Your Grace," she answered in a voice indicating an unwillingness to back down. He'd seen some of that prickly nature before. But the steel was new. "Therefore I beg you keep in mind your duty to me as well when you challenge the Crown Prince's son."
"I doubt I may easily forget it." Not to make light of her worry, for he did allow his departure would spell trouble for her, but he doubted Duncan was quite that malicious. Not over a thwarted affair in any event. The Iron Throne was another matter altogether and he supposed he ought to watch for any attempt on his part to forcefully take it. Aegon being as he was, and no issue in sight, there was simply little need for an intervention of that kind. Nevertheless, it paid to be cautious.
"Your Grace?" She tugged on his arm, her grip tightening once more. "Where exactly are we going?"
"Haven't I told you yet?" It might have escaped him. With the ridiculous amount of agitation stored by the less than expected union between them, his mind had moved from Sawolfyr to entirely other matters. More earth-bound as it were. His wife of a few hours shook her head. "I want you to meet someone. She is very important to me."
"She?" Suspicion coloured the question. Normally, Rhaegar would have hastened to assure her the she they were speaking of did not present potential danger to their marriage, however, the look on Lyanna's face coupled with the promise of a fervent response was too much for him to resist.
"She. I should like the two of you to get along. As you will be in the company of one another on many occasions." Eyes unbelievably wide, his wife gasped, pushing away from him. She stopped upon the path, apparently not minding that they were in full view of whoever decided upon a stroll that morning.
"What are you about?" the she-wolf demanded, to his amusement adopting a belligerent tone. Rhaegar was looking forward to the many years of teasing her mercilessly.
"Ought I not to, then? You do not wish to know those who are important to me?" A blush suffused her cheeks.
"Not unless we speak of some maidenly aunt whose existence has so far escaped me," she said, stomping her foot. He was just about ready to give free rein to his mirth but somehow managed to catch himself just in time for Arthur's arrival. Better to be prepared, he thought, as the man bowed to his lady wife, taking the time to compliment her very lovely appearance.
"I see, however, that my friend cannot go even a day without causing trouble." He leaned in. "I take it he's told you about her." He must have overheard. Arthur was not above causing some strife if he could do so. Rhaegar waited with baited breath for Lyanna's reaction.
The girl's jaw slacked. For a few moments silence reigned supreme. Just until Lyanna managed to gather her wits. "Very well. I should much like to meet her." A determined light entered her eyes. "There are some things, I perceive, which need discussing."
"You'll like Sawolfyr," Rhaegar finally spoke up, pushing past Arthur who had interposed himself between him and Lyanna. He took his wife by the shoulder, guiding her gently. "And I am certain she will see the wisdom of my choice as well."
"A dragon?" He wasn't quite sure whether her ire waxed or waned with the knowledge. "But you let me believe–" A frustrated little sound caught in the back of her throat as he leaned in to quieten her with a sound kiss. In his experience, that was the surest way to achieve the desired effect. She softened. Rhaegar wrapped his arm about her more firmly.
Arthur gave a low whistle, breaking the moment. Lyanna jumped back, nervously chiding him for being so forward. "Indeed, Your Grace," his friend joined in, aping a shocked reaction, "whatever will the good people think?"
"They will find it within their hearts to forgive me," he replied, all innocence. "After all," Rhaegar continued, reaching out for Lyanna who, too caught up in his friend's mummery did not mind him, "I have just acquired a wife and have not yet had the chance to tire of her."
Said wife gave a shriek when he pulled her up for another kiss, but stayed willingly enough after a brief protest. He set her back down with a chuckle and turned with a more serious expression to the knight. "One more thing, my friend; I expect you to be on your best behaviour around my lady wife." Entirely unbothered Arthur merely protested that he was ever on anything less than his best behaviour.
"He fears I shall expose all his dark secrets, my lady, in exchange for a sweet," he paused and Rhaegar braced himself for the mild annoyance which came whenever his friend crossed a line, "smile," Arthur managed.
Lyanna must not have been fooled either for she simply demurred, indicating that she had no need to know secrets of any description. "Even so, good ser, you are welcome to as many smiles as you desire." She gave him one on the spot, as though to emphasise the promise.
"I like your wife exceedingly well, Your Grace," Arthur said with some enthusiasm.
The three of them made their way to the stables. Sawolfyr could not be so easily reached as crossing from one hallway to another, but a short ride to Rhaenys' Hill sat that to rights. The Dragonpit, in spite of its uninspired name, was a domed hall meant to house the creatures for whose use it had been named. Lyanna marvelled at the structure, though lines of worry were already starting to appear.
"Might be 'tis not such a good idea. I am certain I could admire your dragon from some distance. She might not like me, after all." At that, he merely dismounted from her horse, noting that Arthur had done the same. He pulled Lyanna down, not minding the other's presence.
"Sawolfyr listens to me. And I won't let any harm come to you." Should he have simply allowed her to go on thinking she was meeting some mistress or some such? "Come, lady wife; I shall take you for a ride if you acquit yourself well."
"I can barely consent to seeing the creature and he's already planning to make me mount it," she spoke, ostensibly to Arthur. "Ser, can you not dissuade him?"
"Have you turned craven on me, lady wife? Do not look to Arthur for aid." She pursed her lips and turned pleading eyes towards him. Luckily, he had enough females for kin to know their tricks. "You do not have to ride, if you do not wish it; but I insist you meet Sawolfyr. For the good of you both."
She relented after some further cajoling. Truly, the Dragonpit was not quite as dangerous as his wife made it seem. Dragons were kept in their own pens and though they could fly out, having food and water at their disposal, they were not like to. "See there, lady wife, you are in no danger."
Sawolfyr was sleeping upon their arrival. Rhaegar left Lyanna without, in the company of Arthur as he woke the dragon. She stretched out her wings lazily and peered at him as though to question his presence. "I have someone for you to meet." Sawolfyr perked up at that. "Curious, are we? Well, I shan't waste anymore of your time, shall I?" He turned towards the entrance. "Come, lady wife."
Sawolfyr rose behind him, creating a gentle breeze as she moved. Lyanna poked her head in. The dragon's gargantuan head dropped down to level just above his shoulder. Rhaegar held his hand out invitingly aware of the calm presence behind him. He turned his head to look at the she-dragon. "She's scared of us, girl." Sawolfyr made a snort-like noise before lowering herself even further until her head was lying upon limbs stretching forth. "Good girl." Then he glanced at his wife who managed, meantime, to set one foot before the other and enter the chamber.
Her face was pale, but she, nevertheless, reached back to him, placing her hand in his trustingly. "Do not let me regret this, Your Grace."
He smiled, teeth and all, and tugged her close, all distance between them vanishing. Sawolfyr looked at them with undisguised interest, he could see, but did not move from her spot. "This, lady wife, is my constant companion. We share a name day among many other things." He patted Sawolfyr's head gently. "And this, Sawolfyr," he gestured towards Lyanna, "is my lady wife. Someone you and I must strive to protect." The dragon blinked, cocked her head to the side, then straightened it. She raised it gently, gingerly bringing her snout closer to the folds of Lyanna's skirts.
She sniffed. Lyanna gasped.
Sawolfyr pulled back, rising to her full height. She allowed her wings to spread out to full span and flapped them once, twice, thrice. "Now you've no escape, lady wife. She means to test your mettle." He grasped Lyanna firmly by the arm.