Jena
"This is rank madness."
"Mayhaps not," Jena urged, though she was herself beset with worry.
Baelor paced the floor of their chamber. It was clear that he was thoroughly agitated, but he was doing his best to stay calm in front of her. Despite his efforts, they only served to make Jena feel worse about their situation.
"I have no choice now. I gave Daemon and Rohanne my word."
"It is a fair suggestion," Jena murmured defensively. "Tyrosh would never go to war with all of Westeros. They would not support a rebel to the Crown. What would they gain from that?"
Baelor's mouth twisted as it always did when he pondered a thorny or weighty matter. "I would prefer not to take that risk. But there is little choice left to us. We must needs either insult Daemon and his wife, or else we turn my own father's supporters against us. No matter what decision we make, men will flock to Daemon's banner."
Jena remained where she sat on the bed, holding her hands over her belly. Daemon had given her his best wishes regarding the pregnancy, and had even suggested that his maester attend to Jena whilst they were staying on Dragonstone. He'd been far less tactful than his wife, of course, but he had meant well, and she had thanked him courteously. Could such a man be preparing to hang a flag of war from his tower?
She was also beginning to wonder if Rohanne was turning against her, using their friendship to advance her husband's position. Can I really live with such mistrust of my friends? I would become no better than Cassana.
She thought of Titus, wishing he could be here to advise Baelor, but then she remembered the circumstances of why he wasn't there, and she was filled with disgust once again. She'd been shocked to hear that her brother had been exiled by the king. Then she had learned why through his letter, confessing that he'd actually poisoned Father. Saying it as if I would approve it... as if he had been doing it for me...
She expelled Titus from her mind to focus on this dilemma. "We cannot think the worst of the Blackfyres. You are better than that. I said as much to Rohanne six years ago, and I meant it. Mistrust is how we encourage them to think ill of us." She remembered the way that Lady Rohanne had been snubbed at the tourney in King's Landing, but also how the masses had cheered for Daemon and his knights.
Baelor was giving her a thoughtful glance, as if he could sense what she was thinking about, but he said nothing.
"It never fails to amaze me how you can live with such hope."
How can anyone live without hope? I would be destroyed without it. "My hope has already been rewarded more than I could have dreamed possible," Jena answered, smiling at her husband.
Baelor might have smiled then, and all might be set right. But he resumed his pacing instead, shaking his head at her words. "Such reasoning is too sweet for others to stomach. This proposal is high-minded at best, and you know full well that it will not go unchallenged." He did not specify who would dispute it, but Jena could guess who he meant.
For all his willingness to do what was right and just, Baelor found it difficult to speak out against his own kin. He knew full well that Elaena disliked and distrusted Jena, and that she had actively tried to have her snubbed by feeding half-truths to King Daeron and Queen Myriah. Not once had he ever confronted her on the matter, though he had maintained a cool distance from her as much as could be accomplished without violating courtly courtesy.
For her part, Jena had never shied away from a challenge, and never would, but it brought her no pleasure. The longer this spat was going on, the more it embittered her against her husband and his family for refusing to get involved. Elaena knew full well how far she could go without explicitly being found guilty of rudeness, and she danced along that line with impunity.
Therefore, Jena spoke with less patience than she ought to have for Baelor. "If it troubles you this much, I can speak to your mother about the matter and leave you out of it."
Baelor gave her a glance; he was perceptive enough to sense her tone, but he was unwilling to provoke her further. For once, Jena did not care. Let his pride be grazed, for he cares little enough for mine.
She did not wait for an answer, but instead turned and went to their bed, undressing herself. She had always slept naked with her husband, even on the colder summer nights of Dragonstone. She turned away from him, nursing a small fire of resentment in her breast. She did not know how long she waited, but just as she was beginning to wonder why he was tarrying so long, she heard the door open and close abruptly.
Panic surged through her as she sat up. Never once had Baelor spurned her abed before. Not once had he slept away from her when they were together. Not during their worst arguments. Why now? What is happening?
She wanted to get up and run after him, but she was unable to bring herself to do it. Why should I yield?
Despite her resolution, a wave of misery hit her, and she felt tears in her eyes as she tried to sleep. He would sooner walk away from me than his own kin...
Another door opened and closed. She felt a presence in her chamber, approaching her softly.
"I heard the door," Gwenys Bolt whispered, "What happened?"
"The same which has been happening ever since I married into this family," Jena murmured back, unable to restrain her melancholy or her indignation. "Perhaps he has simply tired of it."
"He is a good man," Gwen reminded her, "He will be back, and he will beg your pardon."
"Long may he wait to get it," Jena suddenly hissed.
There was a silence from Gwen, and because of the darkness of the room, Jena could barely make out her figure as she stood by the bed.
There was a rustling of clothing, the bed sheets were lifted, and Gwen suddenly lay beside her. Much to Jena's surprise, she could tell that Gwen was as naked as she was.
Gwen had been her first lover, and even before that, they had been close confidantes for each other. When Baelor was away without Jena, Gwen always came to comfort her, to embrace her and hold her tightly.
Now, however, she felt guilty and afraid, "What are you doing? I cannot have you in my bed tonight. Baelor is here."
"I see," Gwen replied, in a tone which suggested otherwise. It was sadness in her tone rather than anger, however, and this only made Jena feel worse.
"I am sorry," Jena implored, "But this is not right. What if he should return?"
"He would see nothing amiss," Gwen remarked, "he would see nothing which a hundred other ladies have not done with their mistresses before."
"You know full well that not all go as far as we do," Jena reminded her, "and I cannot lie to him about that. I do not want to give any reason for me to have to lie."
"You fear to lie with me in case you have to lie to your husband," Gwen echoed bitterly, "Lie alone, then, my lady."
Jena wept then, even as she felt Gwenys leave her bed and walk back through the side door from which she'd entered. The bed felt so much bigger without anyone else inside it.
*"*"* "*"* "*"* "* "*"*"* "*"*
She saw Baelor again when she descended to the hall for breakfast the next morning. He sat in his chair as usual, with Valarr to his right. Daemon and his own family were also eating at the table. Rohanne saw her where she stood and smiled.
Nothing else to be done, then. Shunning her husband in public, much less in front of the Blackfyre family, was unthinkable for protocol. Thus, stone-faced, did Jena sit beside her husband on his left, wishing that she could have sat on Valarr's other side instead. Even that was too risky; who knew what sort of rumours would abound from these folk.
The one consolation was that it allowed her the chance to sit across from Rohanne.
After an exchange of pleasantries, Rohanne leaned forward. "Your husband was just telling me that there is a magnificent path over some of the cliffs which leads to Aegon's Garden. Would you be interested in being my guide?"
Jena might normally have smiled cheerfully at Rohanne's playful manner, but she guessed Baelor's true intention. A chance to be rid of me while he would rather sit with Daemon and the other men.
All the same, she knew better than to refuse. And besides, I think I would like some time away from Baelor right now. "Of course," she answered as pleasantly as she could manage. "Shall we take the children too?"
"Will it be safe?" Rohanne asked, "You know how the boys can be, after all."
"When they can see the drop for themselves, I do not doubt that they will remember their lack of wings," Jena replied.
A cry suddenly sounded from down the table. It was Daemon's third son, the one who shared his name. He sat between Alyn Cockshaw and his older brother Aemon. The former was shouting in anger while the latter smirked, for Daemon was soaked in milk.
"Boys!" Rohanne snapped. It did little good, for Daemon and Alyn sprang up and attacked Aemon together. Their small fists did nothing more than make Aemon and his twin brother burst into gales of laughter. Aenys and Haegon began cheering on the scuffle, whilst Aelyx and Aethar cried in alarm. Valarr, an only child, simply stared in dismay at what was going on before him.
A brawl might have begun then and there if it were not for the elder Daemon. He rose from the table and strode quickly to his sons. He easily split Alyn and Daemon apart from Aemon. "That's enough!"
Such was the sternness of his loud voice that it seemed to echo across the hall.
It was the younger Daemon who reacted first. "He poured his beaker all over me!" The boy pointed an accusing finger at Aemon.
"He said I was going to die!" Aemon countered with alacrity.
Daemon turned back to his namesake, and his voice was lower. "Is that so?"
"I dreamed it!" cried the younger Daemon, "I dreamed that Aemon and Aegon lay dead!"
Something in the boy's voice filled Jena with a sudden sense of dread, though she could not have possibly explained the reason why it affected her so much.
Whether the elder Daemon was similarly affected, she would never know. His face did not change, and he swiftly gave both Aemon and the younger Daemon a sharp cuff over their heads. "Go and change your clothes. And the two of you had better remember your manners, else I'll give you a sharp reminder!"
This threat was enough to cow the lads; the younger Daemon stomped off to his chambers, little Alyn Cockshaw in tow. Aemon turned to his twin brother and began muttering under his breath.
They had been just shy of Daemon's age when Jena had first met them, but now they were nearing manhood, and Jena did not like all that she saw. They were bullies to their younger brothers, it was plain to see. Jena had visited the Blackfyres several times and there was rarely an instance where one of the younger boys did not end up in tears for one reason or another. Rohanne and Daemon were sharp with them whenever they were caught, but it was very difficult to catch them at it, and most would have said that they were just being boys. If I ever give Valarr a younger brother, he will not be excused for bullying him.
After breakfast, Jena led Lady Rohanne and their children along the well-trod path which began in the garden and continued atop several cliffs overlooking the shore. The view was magnificent, and the wind was strong enough that it blew away any whiffs of sulphur or brimstone which plagued other parts of the island. It was relatively safe, but it seemed otherwise to those unfamiliar with the trail.
The bravado of Aegon and Aemon had blown away with the wind. Now they walked cautiously, staring at the drop which was barely a metre from where they walked. No doubt Aemon is remembering what his brother claimed.
"What did Daemon mean at the breakfast table?" Jena asked Rohanne as they ambled along the path. "He seemed very sure about his dream."
"Pay no heed to it," Rohanne said hurriedly, "Daemon is a little boy, and he knows not what evil he brings into the world with those dreams."
"You believe that dreams are evil, then?" Jena asked.
"I would call any dream of my dead children evil," Rohanne answered. "I have never understood what magic there is in dreams. I have heard stories, but what truth is there in stories?"
"Mayhaps it's real," Jena mused, "Baelor told me that his forbears first came to this island because a Targaryen daughter dreamed of the Doom before it descended on Valyria."
"Another story," Rohanne replied, still refusing to meet Jena's eyes.
She is terrified. Jena made no further mention of her wonderings, but her thoughts lingered on dreams for the rest of the walk along the cliffs.
The trail went on for a long way, but Jena led them back in the shorter circle, so that they were back in Aegon's Garden.
Everyone relaxed in the garden. Valarr was only half the age of Aegon and Aemon, yet he outclimbed them both, due to his long experience. Jena sat on a stone, watching the children run and play whilst Rohanne examined the flowers and bushels.
At one point, Jena noticed young Daemon and Alyn Cockshaw, sitting apart from the others, whispering together.
She watched them until Alyn ran off amongst the trees, and she called out Daemon's name.
When the boy approached her, Jena leaned forward, "Has anyone told you about dragon dreams?"
The boy shook his head; he said nothing, but his eyes were widening.
"It is said that some members of House Targaryen could foresee the future through their dreams," Jena explained. "Do you think that is what is happening with you?"
Daemon looked around, to where his mother and siblings were, and then he faced Jena again. "I dreamed that I saw my brothers dead."
"Did you see what killed them?"
"No," Daemon replied, "but I saw a white dragon standing over them. It was laughing."
Jena shuddered, but she did not know why. The last dragons had died during the reign of Aegon III some fifty years ago.
Curiosity pushed her to speak again. "Have you had any other dreams like that?"
"Like what?" Daemon asked, "about my brothers?"
"Maybe not them," Jena clarified, "but dreams about the future. Do you recall any?"
The boy regarded her warily, as if he suspected that this was a prank or some kind of trap.
Jena put a hand on her belly, "If you can foresee the future, I would wish to know the fate of my child." It took all her nerve to admit this, especially to a child who might repeat it to the world. "Please keep this between us, but I am afraid."
The idea that a grown woman might be afraid was a novelty for young Daemon, based on the way he looked at her.
"I only ask," Jena faltered, but continued, "if you dream of my future, or my child's future, please tell me when we are next alone."
Daemon said nothing in response; he simply nodded his head.
I am still speaking to a boy. Jena reached into her purse and took out a silver stag. She put the coin in Daemon's little hand and closed his fingers over it, "Tell nobody else about my request, Daemon. Swear it."
"I do," Daemon said quickly, trying to pull his hand free of her grasp. When she released him, he stared down at the silver, holding it so that the sunlight glinted off of it.
"What's that?"
"Nothing," Daemon said, quickly stuffing the coin into his clothes as Alyn returned from the forest, re-tying the strings of his breeches.
Jena watched the boys run off through the maze of flower beds where Rohanne was still wandering with Calla. She could also see Valarr, cheering and laughing from high up in a pine tree whilst Aegon and Aemon cursed him from a lower branch. She watched the younger boys play some game together, swinging twigs as if they were swords. She beheld them all from where she sat, unable to shake a sense of worry from her mind. Gods, please send Daemon a good omen.