Jaehaera often finds herself wondering if her King remembers how to smile. Can he turn his lips in a crescent that expresses joy, or even amusement? The man sits across from her at the table, studiously avoiding her gaze. He concentrates on his food, but the way he chews indicates that it could have as well been ashes in his plate and he would have been just as well pleased with those. She swallows the piece of meat in a mirror of her husband's actions but her mind is a thousand miles away.

He knew how to smile when she was a little girl. He knew how to laugh as well. She remembers the warmth of those smiles. Jaehaera sees the young boy he'd once been and her chest tightens with the joy-pain of it. He caught her once as she was about to fall. He had been nigh seven years of age. She had had four years then. Their grandfather had still been alive at that time.

"Why do you smile, my lady?" his voice breaks through the fog of her thoughts. Jaehaera looks up. He watches her with eyes like two chips of ice. She wonders if her face gives anything away. It is not likely for he feels the need to ask again, "What amuses you?"

"I-" she begins and then stops. She cannot tell him. Her lips part as if to give in a reason or buy herself more time. Jaehaera sighs. He eyes her still, the slightest hint of contempt hidden behind a wall of cold curtsey. She drops her head and a plate of stewed vegetables appears in front of her. Green peas catch her eye. "You are not partial to peas." She looks up.

Something shifts in his gaze. They had attended a banquet, sometime before their grandfather's death and they'd been served pea soup amongst others. "You remember." He does not smile and he does not look pleased. How does he feel?

"How could I forget?" Her voice is strained. She hates herself for that. It had been one of the last moments of carefree happiness. She scoops the peas on her plate. "Threat averted." When they were children she helped him make the bowl of soup disappear. "I don't know if I managed to get all of them."

Aegon remains silent. He studies her now and his eyes have lost some of their chill. He extends his hand and takes his own spoon to the plate of vegetables. He clears the parsnip away without a word. He is diligent. Jaehaera hides the smile that threatens to bloom on her face. Parsnip does not agree with her.

They continue their meal in silence that is if not amiable, not an arrow to her heart. Now she really is sure her husband does not remember how to smile. It is too painful for him. He used to smile and laugh when his mother was alive. That woman could make anyone smile. Jaehaera lifts a spoonful of peas to her lips and shudders when she catches a bit of the Dornish peppers she has been trying to avoid of late. Her mouth burns and her eyes water. She cannot possibly spit the vile thing out. Jaehaera swallows. With difficulty.

Her husband is watching her with curiosity again. She ignores the urge to stare back. Instead she wraps her fingers around her cup of sweet wine. His gaze is insistent. A blush burns her cheeks. Is it the peppers or the attention? Jaehaera gives up trying to find out. She licks her lips and takes a sip of the wine.

"Is aught amiss?" he finally asks. She wants his attention. She needs more than the polite indifference he graces her with most times.

"Nay." Right now she is actually proud of her composure. His eyes narrowed into slits. Jaehaera holds on to her mask. Her fingers twist the material of her skirts. The urge to rear away from him she stamps with conviction she did not she possessed. Convincing herself that she is in no danger, Jaehaera continues her game.

"Jaeheara." Her name falls from his lips, a whip crack, an order. She holds her breath. Aegon leans in towards her, but thankfully the table between them is quite large, so as to render his movement a mere drop in the ocean. He could barely even reach her hands had they been on the table. Which they aren't. "Jaehaera!" he repeats, louder this time.

Her fingers ache. She looks down at her lap. Of course they would. She'd been twisting them into the folds of her dress, holding them so stiffly it's a wonder they haven't fallen off. She lets go and flexes her fingers. "I believe I am not hungry any longer." She sits still.

It is bad form to rise before the King does. Even as his wife, she is to wait until he is done and only then can she take to her own feet. Aegon gives her a sharp look, but he is in no hurry to rise. He motions the cup bearers away. They retreat. She returns her eyes to his face. A battle of wills commences.

Jaehaera has been, for as long as she could remember, a placid, calm, reserved sort of woman. Anger to her is an icy calmness and joy is a bright smile. She is not fond of exhibiting her emotions. She does not want people studying her. It's a misfortune to have been born a princess with her disposition. Right now, though, she wishes she had been different. More like aunt Rhaenyra. This rage coursing through her veins is not of her own making. She does not feel so strongly. A princess, and for that matter a queen, does not allow her temper to rule her.

Aegon rises to his feet, towering over her seated form. "We shall discuss later." He stalks past her as she too stands, but she can swear she hears him chocking back a sound. Whether it is irritation or something else, she cannot tell.