Jena
The first thing Jena felt was a great pressure on her chest. Then there was a strong wind which she only felt in her mouth, going down her throat. The second time she felt it, she gave a great cough.
Her eyes fluttered open, seeing nothing but blurry shapes above her. She was jolted by several cries of alarm.
"Valarr…" she croaked feebly.
Nobody answered her request. They continued to exclaim and shout over each other.
Jena felt her hand seized by two others.
"Jena! Mother save you, oh Jena!" It was Gwenys. Her voice was hoarse and shrill; her kisses were wet on Jena's cheek.
Blinking, Jena's vision finally cleared. Gwen sat on the bed beside her. Her face was puffy from tears, and she still sobbed as she kissed Jena again and again.
Queen Myriah stood to the side, eyes wide with relief, a smile was spreading across her face. Willem Wylde of the Kingsguard was still in shock, his mouth opening and closing without saying words. Septas and septons cried aloud in prayer; some were even kneeling on the floor. Grand Maester Elial's face was pale, and he looked from Jena to Elaena, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.
Elaena Targaryen stood beside Jena's bed. She was breathing heavily, looking down at Jena with a strange, unreadable expression.
"Give her the baby!" Queen Myriah suddenly commanded.
In a flash, Jena recalled what had happened before the world turned dark. She gasped at the memory of her agony and terror, but before she could speak, she heard a cry.
One of the septas emerged, carrying a bundle wrapped in a cloth. The baby's eyes were closed, it was red-cheeked, and wailing with the same voice that Jena had heard before she was lost.
"A boy, Princess," the septa declared. "Prince Valarr has a brother."
Jena burst into tears as she wrapped her arms around her baby. He found her nipple and began to suck, seemingly oblivious to his mother's reaction.
Queen Myriah looked around at the Kingsguard knight. "Where is Valarr? He must know that his mother and brother are well." Ser Willem Wylde obediently strode from the room.
"What…" Jena murmured, looking around. "What happened?"
"You were dead," Gwen sobbed. "You weren't breathing, and your heart went still." She clung to Jena as if she thought Jena might die again if she let go.
"Dead…" Jena echoed. "But how…"
"The Princess Elaena," Myriah interjected. "She brought you back to life!"
Jena stared at Elaena. "You…"
One septa fell to her knees and held her arms up towards Elaena. "A miracle! Our princess has worked a miracle!"
"It was no miracle," Elaena snapped at the simpering septa. "I will not have anyone saying that again!"
"What was it then?" Jena asked feebly. Her body felt numb, and ached when she tried to move. She tried to lie still as possible, holding her newborn son as he suckled.
"The kiss of life," Elaena answered more gently. "The drowned priests of the Ironborn use that method to bring drowned men back to life, but they are not the only ones who know it. Alyn Velaryon taught it to me."
The Oakenfist. Jena had heard so many stories of Alyn Velaryon. He had survived the Dance of the Dragons, he had been the honoured guest of Racallio Ryndoon, he had sailed around Westeros to brin down the Red Kraken, he had brought Viserys Targaryen back from exile, and he had helped the Young Dragon conquer Dorne. He had also been Elaena's lover, and the father of her twins.
"We must needs give the princess time to rest," Myriah decreed. She approached the bed and gave Jena a kiss on her forehead before departing. The others followed the queen out, but Jena called for Gwenys to stay.
Her companion returned to the bed, and put a gentle hand on the baby's head. "Do you know what you'll call him?"
"I should speak to Baelor about it," Jena murmured.
"Baelor is not here," Gwen answered gently. She was kind enough to leave the rest unsaid, but Jena knew exactly what she meant.
"He would want a Valyrian name," Jena mused sadly.
"Not Aegon again, please," Gwen commented, "I think we've had enough of those, just ask King Daeron."
Jena laughed; it was the first time she'd laughed earnestly in so long that she couldn't recall the last time. It was almost a shock to be laughing again. Her laugh soon gave way to sobs as she held her baby boy tighter, and felt Gwen's hands and kisses on her once again.
"I thought I'd lost you," Gwenys whispered. Her tears were falling on Jena's face again.
"Who knew that Elaena would save me, of all people," Jena replied.
She thought of how the princess had looked upon her; when she'd seen her water break, when she'd watched Jena stir back into life, and the last look she'd thrown Jena before she left the room. I never even thanked her.
"Mama!"
Willem Wylde had returned to the chamber, with Valarr by his side. The boy ran towards the bed, red-eyed and breathless.
Joy leapt in Jena's heart at the sight of her firstborn, but she was taken aback by his distress. "I am well, Valarr," she assured him. "Come meet your brother."
Valarr stared down at the infant, who was oblivious to the world. Much to Jena's surprise, Valarr's eyes hardened, and a cold look came over his boyish face.
"He nearly killed you," he whispered.
Jena's eyes widened, and her mouth opened, but no words left her. She said nothing as Gwen hurriedly called for Ser Willem to take Valarr away again.
After he was gone, Gwen turned back to Jena, "You and the baby should rest."
Jena did not dispute that; she was still weak, and her eyelids were growing heavier by the minute.
"Stay with us," she asked softly, "I have missed you."
Thus it was that Gwenys joined them together in that large bed; Jena slept on her side, one arm protectively around her second son, with Gwenys lying behind her, holding her protectively and warming the back of Jena's neck with her breath.
As she slowly slipped into a deep sleep, Jena found her thoughts were haunted by Valarr's words to his brother. She thought of Rohanne's oldest boys, how they were always bullying their younger brother Daemon. Is that the fate of all brothers?
She thought of writing a letter to Rohanne and asking about her own experiences, until she remembered what she'd heard before her labour. The last sensation she felt before slumber was an anguished melancholy for a lost friend.
"*" *" *"*"* "*"* "* "*"* "*"* "*"*
Jena's strength took some time to return; she remained in her bed for several days, holding her son close to her breast. Gwenys remained by her side, assisting her however she needed. Valarr, Daeron, and Myriah visited her regularly. Valarr spoke no more ill words against his new brother, but nor was he thrilled by all the attention paid to the newborn. Elaena did not return to her chamber, leaving Jena to her own maelstrom of thoughts and emotions.
Much to Jena's frustration, news was denied to her by order of Daeron. Luckily, her female companions eventually wheedled information from others in the Red Keep.
The war had begun in earnest. Lord Commander Sebastion Cave and Ser Jeffory Norcross were slain in battle with Ser Quentyn Fireball. Lord Hayford had witnessed Fireball engage Norcross in single combat, insisting that he yield, but Norcross had refused every time. The court's musicians were already singing of the brave Kingsguard knight called "Neveryield." Daemon Blackfyre and his family had escaped their home and disappeared, hidden by their followers. Brynden Rivers was furiously torturing any Blackfyre sympathizers left in the city, and King Daeron had sent word to all his leal subjects that Daemon was a rebel and traitor. But all across the realm, the Blackfyre supporters had risen up and struck against those who were loyal to the Crown.
Armies sworn to the Black Dragon had risen up to attack their loyalist neighbours. The second contingent was betrayed and scattered whilst anchoring at Gulltown. Dornish houses had sealed the Prince's Pass and Boneway. The marcher lords had joined Daemon Blackfyre's cause en masse.
All this news left Jena feeling devastated. The world seemed to have gone mad whilst she lay in bed. She wept for the two Kingsguard men who had fallen, as well as the others who had been slain. She wrote a dozen letters to Rohanne, expressing betrayal, rage, sadness, and fear. All of them were burned rather than sent; she could not have known where to send them anyway.
She did send letters to Cassana, promising to pray for Baldric's safety, though she knew that would do little to comfort her elder sister. There was no word of the second contingent, or what was left of it.
She was also spurred to rise from her bed. With her ladies' help, she began to walk, strengthening her legs again.
Once she was fully recovered, Jena's first journey took her to Princess Elaena.
She found the older woman sitting in the vast garden, sipping from a goblet of wine, along with her daughters Jocelyn, Laena, and Joy. They were all listening to Michael Manwoody as he played his harp and sang in a voice so sweet that Elaena was wiping tears from her eyes between sips.
Jena paused and listened to the words. With a jolt, she realised their meaning.
"The first of the flowers was wild, and 'neath the trees she thrived
The second one so lovely, she charmed the bees from their hive,
The third was small when she sprouted, with gold upon her leaves,
Such a shame that flowers so lovely would have so much to grieve
The king beheld the flowers, and he thought them far too pure,
He said they must be guarded; locked away to be sure,
Two flowers wept and they begged him to let them see the sun,
But the king refused to release them, and they wilted both as one
Men said the king was a kind man, and generous to a fault,
But the flowers thought that nonsense, locked in the Maidenvault,
The second flower grew accustomed, to her abode of stone,
While her sisters cursed the king who sat on the Irone Throne
The realm soon wept for the flowers, and longed to see them again,
But the king refused them all, for the world was dark and profane.
So the flowers bloomed in the castle, far from the eyes of man,
And they raged and wept in protest, against the king's command"
Jena hesitated to approach Elaena at this hour, but she steeled herself to press forward.
As she and Ser Willem Wylde approached the group, Michael Manwoody halted his song, standing up and bowing hastily to Jena. No doubt he's remembering how he looked when we last saw each other.
Elaena turned to see what had disturbed him; when she saw Jena, she too arose, but what she thought was hidden by an impassive expression.
"Princess Elaena," Jena began, hands behind her back, "I apologise for intruding, but I wish to speak with you alone."
The girls looked up at Jena warily. Jena was reminded that Robin was in Parchments, ruling in his father's absence. Jon had gone away with the second contingent, and Jena did not know if he was still alive.
Elaena slowly nodded. "Of course, Princess." The children were surprised by the courteous tone their mother took, but Jena forgot about them as she and Elaena walked alone towards the overview of the Blackwater. She noted that Elaena walked with a deliberately slow pace, as if walking was more difficult than usual for her. How much wine has she had?
"Is there any word from Jon?" Jena asked hesitantly.
Elaena shook her head, "No."
Jena looked down, "I'm so sorry…"
"If he was dead, the rebels would want us to know it," Elaena interrupted curtly. "If they have said nothing, then that means he must still be alive."
Jena was not so certain, but she did not give voice to these doubts, "I shall pray for him as I pray for my husband."
Elaena nodded slowly, "My thanks."
Jena felt herself growing anxious. It was clear that Elaena had had a healthy share of wine, but not enough to be drunk. Her words were clear, and her steps were sure, but there was something about her which felt different.
The two women continued to walk away from the others in the garden. Jena noted that Elaena had eschewed the godswood, moving instead towards open ground at the edge of the plateau.
"I'm pleased to see you are recovering," Elaena observed. Unlike so many other interactions between them in the past, there was no undertone to her words.
"I have you to thank for that," Jena answered, "I owe you my life."
A look of embarrassment crossed Elaena's face, and she nodded modestly, "You do not need to say that."
"Yes I do," Jena retorted. Elaena did not dispute it a second time.
"Quite a departure from our last exchange," Elaena remarked instead.
Jena paused, unsure of what to say. She had no intention of apologising for her words or the slap, as she still felt that Elaena had earned them. But this was a difficult thing to say or think about a woman who had saved her life.
If Elaena expected an answer, she did not show it, for she spoke again.
"The last woman who slapped my face and called me a bitch was my sister. I suppose it is fitting that you continue to follow in her footsteps."
The words were spoken with such bitterness that Jena almost balked.
"I don't understand, Princess," Jena murmured hesitantly. Elaena said nothing to that as they continued to walk.
The two women had made their way to an uninterrupted view of the place where the Blackwater transitioned from river to bay. The summer sun caused the water to shimmer and glisten, so that Jena needed to avert her eyes.
Jena felt uncomfortable with the silence between them, but she knew not what to say. On a whim, she gave voice to the first thought in her head.
"That song which Ser Michael was singing, is it his own? I've never heard it."
A muscle in Elaena's face twitched. "He made it for me, yes. He only sings it at my request."
"I apologise for intruding upon it," Jena said hastily.
"You weren't to know," Elaena answered with a dismissive shrug. "I was careless today. But my sisters have oft been on my mind of late. The song helps me remember, though I wish it would also help me forget."
"Forget what?" Jena could not help herself. She braced herself for Elaena to snap at her, as she'd always been wont to do before.
Elaena gave a slow, weary sigh.
"I used to admire Daena more than anyone else," she confessed in a low voice. "She dressed all in black just as Father did, but I did not emulate him. I emulated her."
Daena the Defiant. Jena shuddered as she remembered all that she knew of Daena. She, like her two sisters, had spent years of her life imprisoned in the Maidenvault. Baelor the Blessed had ordered them never to leave it, so that they might be spared from the sinfulness and evil. Three flowers so lovely...
"I suppose you have heard the stories?" Elaena asked.
Jena hesitated. It felt like some sort of trap, where no answer was correct. "I have heard some stories," Jena admitted.
"Then doubtless you know of how I had my braid cut off and sent to my brother so that he might release me?"
Jena nodded.
"Daena wore white to shame him," Jena reflected, "but I thought I should do something more noticeable than changing my clothes. But then she did the unthinkable and made my sacrifice a petty thing."
Jena knew this story too, but she wanted to hear it from Elaena. A sense of awe was upon her, and though she did not know why Elaena was confiding in her, she was quite keen for her to continue.
The Targaryen princess obliged her. "Aegon was so handsome in those days. I desired him when he would not even look at me. All he saw was Daena, and she was not named defiant for nought."
Jena tried to imagine Elaena as she must have been: she'd have been scarcely flowered, bereft of her freedom and forced to live a trapped existence with her older sisters and sycophantic maids. And there was her eldest sister, drawing the eye of their cousin.
"After she became pregnant, Baelor was devastated," Elaena continued, "I heard what happened to him when our uncle freed us from the vault. Truth be told, I was relieved to be free, but I had never wanted it to be at the cost of my brother's life. He had always meant well, even if he was... well, I still loved him, even after everything he did." Elaena shook her head in disgust, "Daena laughed when she heard the news. She laughed! I could not believe it. She said it was his just reward." So furious was she that Elaena turned and spat on the grass.
Jena's thoughts were racing as she took in the details of Elaena's confession, all the more quickly because she was being reminded of someone else in her life.
"I went my own way from Daena after that," Elaena resumed, but her voice was lower and thicker than before, "and I found my own way to be defiant. Alyn was a married man, but I didn't care. Baela was not my cousin, she was just an old woman who stood in the way of my great romance."
"Did she know?" Jena could not resist asking.
Elaena flinched, "If she did know, she never confronted me about it." Her voice changed again, and Jena could guess where this was going.
"But someone else did?" she prompted gently.
"Daena was furious," Elaena admitted after a pause. "She dared to judge me for betraying our cousin. But who was Baela to me? I had been too young to know her as Daena did. I was in love, and Daena was betraying our cousin Naerys."
Jena thought of the former queen. The songs had painted her as a gentle woman, delicate and pious, utterly attached to her brother Aemon, the Dragonknight. He had defended her honour against slander, but that had not stopped the rumours from thriving nonetheless. Jena felt a wave of bitterness as she was reminded of Daemon and Rohanne.
"Daena was besotted with Aegon, and she adored their son," Elaena continued. "She had always resented that the throne had not been hers, and she was convinced that Aegon would marry her if he could just prove that Naerys had betrayed him and Daeron was illegitimate. But then Aegon turned his eye to me, instead."
Elaena turned her face away from Jena, for she was weeping again.
"He took me on my wedding night to Ossifer Plumm. He was drunk and insisted on claiming my first night. Lord Plumm objected, and Aegon had him smothered with a pillow while he…"
Jena saw it before her; a woman crying in pain, pleading for mercy. She saw a man drunkenly shout at her, curse her, hit her harder, forcing himself inside her as she lay helpless on the great bed. She had seen that sight several times as a child.
"Daena did not believe me when I told her what had happened. She blamed me instead." Elaena's voice was so icy that Jena shivered, as tears went down her face.
"I hated her for that, or I thought I did. So, when I heard a rumour that she was plotting to murder Daeron, I believed it."
Jena was shaken from her personal recollection. She looked at Elaena in horror. "Was it true?"
Elaena sighed shakily, "I will never know the truth. That is the curse upon me for betraying my sister."
"But…" Jena was astonished. She'd heard nothing about such a scandal in all her life. True, none of the Targaryens had ever brought up Daena, but surely they would have been unable to hide such a shocking plot against the Crown Prince.
"I might have confronted Daena. I might have urged her to stop her plotting, I might have warned her that her plot was discovered. But all I thought of was how she had laughed when Baelor died, how she had blamed me for Aegon's rape. So I did nothing. When she died, I believed the claim that she'd choked upon her food. Or I pretended to believe it."
Elaena did not even bother to hide the tears any longer. Nor did Jena. She reached out and held Elaena's hand.
Elaena stiffened at her touch, but did not recoil. She stood where she was, staring ahead of her.
"I must apologise," she whispered, "I saw so much of Daena in you that I wished to see the rest of her as well. But I could not stand by and do nothing a second time."
It was clear that those words had been the most difficult for her to speak.
"You might find this strange, Princess," Jena replied, "but this is the first time that I have seen myself in you."
Elaena turned to look at her, "What makes you say that?"
Jena told her of her father, of her mother, of Titus, of Cassana, of her other brothers, and the contents of Titus' last letter.
Elaena looked troubled at Jena's words. "So, that's why he was exiled."
"I cursed him for a kinslayer," Jena murmured, "I hadn't seen him for six years. That might have been the last time I ever laid eyes upon him, and I did not even say goodbye."
Elaena gave her hand a squeeze, "May the gods bring him safely home."
"What good will that do?" Jena lamented, "He will not have forgotten how I last spoke to him."
"You would still have a chance," Elaena reminded her, "I have lost count of the nights I prayed for another chance to reconcile with Daena."
"Lady Jena!"
Jena turned. One of her companions, Faile Jordayne, was hurrying across the grass as quickly as she was able. In her hand was a scrap of paper.
"News from Baelor!" She gasped as she approached.
Jena felt dizzy for a moment, but managed to collect herself to heed Faile's words.
"Baelor sends you his love, and is praying that you and Valarr are in good health" Faile explained, "and he has learned from your brother that he has two children in Dorne. He also asks his father to legitimise them both."
Jena was dazed. Titus is a father? I never even thought to ask him. Her flash of shame gave way to confusion. "Is that all that Baelor has to say?"
"He spoke of military matters to His Grace," Faile replied, "but I was not permitted to share that news with you."
"Military matters do not concern me," Jena answered impatiently, "Is my husband recovered from his injuries? He found the strength to write, but does that mean he is in good health?"
"Princess," Elaena murmured gently, "I'm sure Lady Jordayne has done what she can."
Jena paused, then felt flushed at the reproof. "Forgive me, Faile."
"It has been a trying time, Princess," Faile replied in a forgiving tone, "and these messages do take such a long time to reach us from the North."
"Still," Elaena remarked thoughtfully, "I do find it odd of Baelor that he would make no mention of his injuries."
"It would not be the first time that he has waved away risks to his life," Jena answered ruefully.
"Perhaps, Elaena acquiesced. "All the same, I suspect that there is something amiss."