Jena

Daeron's summons came for Baelor shortly after the Blackfyres had departed from Dragonstone. The Crown Prince had wasted little time arranging passage back to King's Landing. Jena had half-expected Baelor to go back alone and leave her behind on the island. Thankfully, he made no such suggestion or command, but there still seemed to be a coolness between them which had not yet thawed.

Thankfully, the voyage was uneventful, apart from one instance where Valarr nearly fell off the ship in his excitement at seeing a pod of dolphins in the bay. Yet even if they had glided across Blackwater Bay like it was made of glass, Jena's mind was troubled. The feud between Targaryen and Blackfyre, the agitation between her and Baelor, and now this urgent matter from the capital... If Baelor knew what it concerned, he said nothing of it to Jena. She would ordinarily assume that he knew no more than she did, but now she fretted over the possibility that he no longer trusted her with his confidences.

Thankfully, Gwenys did not hold a grudge against her, or else she had set it aside for the present. But that almost made Jena feel worse, to have the pity of those whom she had hurt. Janyce and Faile were little help with regard to her concerns; although they had never wronged her, nor treated her with anything but respect, she had never chosen them, and she still did not feel comfortable with confiding in them. They were Myriah's first and foremost. What would she think if she knew the truths of my marriage to her son?

That niggling thought had come to her while she was on the ship for King's Landing, and she could not banish that notion from her mind. It left her feeling agitated in their presence, all the more because she thought these suspicions unworthy.

And yet, it was becoming difficult to maintain her faith in those whom she loved best. And above all, she feared that her current state might affect her pregnancy. And then what would happen if she had to endure the misery, the disappointment, the sense of failure. Gods, make it stop... Why couldn't you assure me just once?

She did not know whether young Daemon had received any visions of her future, but if he had, then he hadn't shared them with her. During one of her blackest moods after the Blackfyres' departure, she had wondered if Daemon had instead confided in his parents with the vision, good or bad. Then she had wept for shame at suspecting a mere child with such treachery.

She was soon distracted from her inner turmoil when the ship reached the harbour of King's Landing. As always, the city was bursting with life and activity.

As she disembarked, Baelor led her towards a litter which had hurriedly been brought forward. For the first time, however, he stopped their son from climbing into the litter with her.

"He shall ride with me," Baelor explained. "He will be the Crown Prince one day."

Jena nodded silently, even as her lady companions got into the litter with her. She watched Baelor lead Valarr to a large palfrey. Baelor mounted up first and then put Valarr in front of him. Jena couldn't help but smile at Valarr's excitement, but another part of her was downcast.

Thus did they ride through the city towards the Red Keep. Smallfolk stopped and hailed their prince and his son, crying out their names joyously. Jena could not help but notice that they made no mention of her. Is it because they do not know I am here, or because they don't care?

So deeply were these thoughts churning in her mind that Jena became unaware of the trek to the Red Keep until her litter came to a halt.

Jena pushed down her moroseness with a sigh, and allowed herself to be assisted down and escorted by Ser Willem Wylde of the Kingsguard. He led an escort of two dozen Targaryen guards. Their armour was as black as the Kingsguard's was white, with red dragons stitched into cloth or painted on armour.

"A pleasure to see you again, Your Grace," Willem declared cheerfully as he gave a short bow. He repeated this gesture and greeting to Baelor when the prince dismounted and approached while holding Valarr's hand. The boy was still unused to the Red Keep, and he felt intimidated by all and everything around him.

There was a time when she would have been cheered to see Ser Willem. He was an acclaimed knight of the Stormlands who had also grown up with Titus, her brother. She had been present when Ser Willem had won the great tourney of 189, the same one where so much good and ill was done. The latter was all she could think of when she saw the man, as well as her memories of a brother whom she had once thought to be the only moral member of her family.

Worse than that, Jena noticed a collection of crows flying above them, lingering around the gatehouse above her. Their constant caws filled her with a sense of dread, and she remained rooted before the gates, looking upward fearfully.

"Pay them no mind, Your Grace," Ser Willem urged her in a kindly voice. "The heads of traitors are no longer to be feared when they rest on spikes."

"Traitors?" Baelor asked curiously.

"Your uncle's work," Ser Willem replied, "he has been very busy within the capital. Men whisper calumnies in the shadows, but rats cannot hide forever."

Baelor did not need to ask whom Ser Willem meant; Brynden Rivers had become the Master of Whisperers within King Daeron's court, and he was proving highly effective at it for such a young man. Jena had detested him from the beginning, and although Baelor would say nothing against Lord Bloodraven, as he now styled himself, he was not fond of him either.

Breakfast had already concluded before their arrival, and so the escort led them towards Maegor's Keep, where the Targaryens made their abode within the massive castle. It was in one of the richly furnished chambers within the holdfast that they were reacquainted with Baelor's parents, brothers, and the other members of House Targaryen who lived in the capital.

Round-shouldered and pot-bellied, King Daeron II seemed more like an affable maester than a king, or so fools would assume if they went by his appearance alone. In truth, Jena knew full well that he was a wise and just man, and more than capable of decisiveness when necessary.

Queen Myriah was much more striking, with an indomitable spirit which Jena had always admired. Like her husband, her hair was streaked with grey, and she was growing stouter in her autumn years, but she looked no less regal.

Prince Aerys was the second-eldest of his brothers, but one might have assumed that he was Baelor's elder by some ten or fifteen years. He was stooped and shrunken, though his face, hair, and beard were long and thin. He was known to spend all his days reading books, often of such dubious subject matter. Jena had long ago learned to avoid getting her goodbrother started on the higher mysteries or prophecies.

Like his eldest brother, Prince Rhaegel had inherited the black hair and olive skin of his Dornish ancestry; he might have been accounted a handsome young man if he had not inherited House Targaryen's madness. The coin had landed badly when Rhaegel was born, and now he was seldom seen without men and women to keep him in line. One of those women was, in fact, Janyce Arryn's daughter, Alys. Alys was the foremost of those who could soothe Rhaegel during his darkest moods, and so Daeron had overseen their betrothal and wedding just the year before.

The youngest of Baelor's brothers was certainly not the least. Maekar was only sixteen years of age, but he was already a man grown in ways that Aerys and Rhaegel would never achieve. He had earned his knighthood just that year, though the accomplishment did little to lift his mood. Jena could count on her hands the number of times that she had seen Maekar smile, and she had never heard him laugh. Although he never forgot his courtesies, they were ever given in a stiff and halting tone.

Of the rest of Daeron's family, his sister resided in Dorne as Princess to Maron Martell; of his five cousins, born to King Aegon III, only two were still alive and only one remained in King's Landing.

Elaena Targaryen was the youngest child of Aegon the Dragonbane and Queen Daenaera. She had spent part of her youth locked up in the Maidenvault with her elder sisters, on the orders of her pious brother, Baelor the Blessed. Upon her release, she had caused a scandal by having an affair with Lord Alyn Velaryon the Oakenfist. He had fathered twin children on her - one of whom, Jon Waters, was fast making a name for himself as a knight - but the Oakenfist had disappeared before he could wed Elaena. Her first husband had died while bedding her on their wedding night, and many whispered that the true father of their son, Viserys, was in fact Daeron's father, King Aegon the Unworthy. None dared suggest that to her face, of course.

Elaena had returned to live at the Red Keep with her bastard twins, as well as her second husband, Lord Ronnel Penrose. She and Ronnel had four children together, three of whom still lived in Maegor's Holdfast. Her son, Robin Penrose, had gone to the Stormlands to sit in Parchments as his father's heir. Ronnel's niece, Aelinor, had been married to Prince Aerys two years before.

Jena greatly disliked Elaena, but nor was she fond of Lord Ronnel. He was a pompous man whom many found charming, though Jena had yet to see this side of him. He was the Master of Coin on King Daeron's Small Council, but Jena knew full well that it was Elaena who had been gifted with sums and management. She could almost sympathise with Elaena when she thought of her plight, if only Elaena were not so determined to make herself Jena's enemy.

Jena maintained polite and courtly air as she was reunited with these Targaryens. Years of effort and practice had made her much more adept at handling herself, and she was determined to conceal her anxieties from Baelor's family.

After a time, the king addressed his heir. "If you will, we must speak of important matters in private."

Baelor turned to Jena. He had a cautious look in his eye, and Jena could sense that he did not want her to join them. She was quick to give him a sharp glance. Forbid me if you dare, but I will not be left alone among your brothers and cousins. Baelor knew far better than to challenge her expression, and kept his peace.

It was Queen Myriah who spoke instead. "Lady Jena, I trust you will learn of these matters regardless. Would you care to join us?"

Jena smiled gratefully. In any part of the Seven Kingdoms outside of Dorne, it would be unthinkable to have Myriah or Jena play a role in matters of rule. Daeron would never be so bold as to suggest his wife stay away, and Baelor was his mother's son, even if he would not admit to it.

As Jena followed the others into their royal apartment, she noticed the look on Elaena's face. There was hostility, as always, but this time there was another emotion which Jena had not seen her express before. Envy?

"It is good to see you, as always," King Daeron stated once the four of them were alone, "but the circumstances are dire. The North is in disarray."

Jena felt a shudder down her spine. She had heard news of a rebellion on the island of Skagos, and House Stark had called its banners to bring the rebellious Stoneborn - as they were allegedly known - to heel. Although the Starks had never asked for aid from the Iron Throne, the news was that they were losing the war. Thousands were already dead, including Lord Barthogan Stark.

"The time to act is upon us," Daeron declared dourly, "Brandon Stark is not yet a man grown. He cannot lead his bannermen to war, and the northmen are in disagreement as to who shall take control. And besides, the Iron Throne owes a great debt to the Starks. It was Barthogan's kinsman who died in Dorne while fighting for my cousin." He did not need to mention that this was the same cousin who had borne his name, and who had begun the Conquest of Dorne. So much evil was born from that invasion...

Daeron continued on, "In any case, I have sent word to assemble reinforcements."

Who shall lead them? Jena was about to ask her question, but then the path of this conversation became clear as day. She could not stop herself from looking to Baelor with alarm.

Daeron surely must have noticed, but he was gracious enough to say nothing about it. He himself appeared hesitant, which only made Jena more agitated. "Son, I would not ask you..."

"Nor would you need to ask," Baelor interrupted. "You are needed on the Iron Throne. I request the chance to lead this expedition in your stead."

Daeron gave a small sigh. "I

If Baelor felt any fear or vacillation, he hid it well. "When will our forces assemble?"

"Word will not reach all the kingdoms at once," Daeron replied, "I intend to send them in two contingents. Lord Butterwell suggested that we need only assemble thirty thousand men for this rebellion. You will lead the first within a week, and the second will follow after that. Elaena's son Jon will lead the second contingent to join you."

"A sizable number," Baelor observed. "I find it hard to imagine that Skagos will require even that many."

"I mean for this matter to be resolved swiftly," Daeron insisted. "I know not why the Starks could not resolve this themselves, but it has gone on long enough."

Jena's hands gripped her swollen belly, alarmed at how lightly her husband spoke of war with his father. Her eyes wavered towards Myriah, hoping that she might step in and excuse her son from this responsibility, but she was standing aside, looking resigned. Mother, keep Baelor safe. Father, watch over Baelor...

Despite the tempest of emotions which raged inside of her, Jena kept her peace until she and Baelor were together in their own apartment. Valarr was away, eager to explore the castle. It was almost a relief to give him over to Ser Willem Wylde so that he would watch over the young prince until he tired himself out.

"You did not hesitate to take that burden on your shoulders," Jena observed quietly as she sat gingerly on one of the couches.

Baelor paused, then sat down so that they faced each other levelly. "I am the Crown Prince. What would men say of me if I hung back and allowed another man to lead armies in my stead?"

"Your father manages well enough."

Baelor gave her a glance which suggested that they both knew better than that. Much to her reluctance, she had to admit it was true. All the same, the thought of losing Baelor was terrifying.

"It must be done," Baelor answered quietly. "I must be the man that my father cannot be. Especially given..." He did not finish his thought, but it was too late.

"Daemon again," Jena observed acidly. "It always comes back to him, does it not? You defeated him in Dorne, he will never be king. How many more victories must you win before your mind will be at ease?"

"I am a prince," Baelor answered simply, "I will never be at ease for as long as I live."

Jena could not argue with him when he was like this, especially because she knew that she was being unreasonable. All the same, she hated every bit of her situation.

"So," she spoke again, "when shall you ship me back to Dragonstone?"

"I will do no such thing," Baelor replied patiently. "You may stay here or go back, that is your will."

"But not Valarr?"

For the first time, Baelor lost patience. He gave a frustrated sigh and stood up, pacing across the floor. "Gods be good! I do not enjoy this any more than you do. I will fight Stoneborn, I will fight in tourneys, I would even fight Daemon Blackfyre if I must, but I will not fight you."

Jena hated that this was how they were speaking to each other, but she was still too angry to yield. Instead, she kept a sullen silence, wishing that he might approach her and hold her again. But he kept his distance with a wary and discontented air about him.

"*" *"* "*"*""*"* "*"* "*" *" "*"*"* "*"*

The icy rift between them was not thawed seven days later. If anything, it only deepened whilst men poured into the capital. They came from the Crownlands, the northern Stormlands, the Riverlands, and the southern portions of the Vale. One sixth of the Royal Fleet was to escort the reinforcements northwards, whilst another sixth would escort the second contingent when they arrived.

Daeron was determined that his son would be safe. Lord Isengrim Velaryon, Master of Ships, would personally lead the fleet whilst his heir sat on the Small Council in his stead. Two knights of the Kingsguard - Ser Borlad Hardy and Ser Clarence Crabb - were assigned to protect Baelor during the expedition.

Jena had not been present when Baelor told Valarr of what was to happen, but father and son were equally melancholic afterwards. Jena tried to cheer Valarr up, but the boy continued to sulk as Baelor's time was devoted to the endless details of drilling men, preparing provisions, organising transport ships, and so much more.

The soldiers were led by their liege lords, or else the lords had sent others in their stead. Lord Donnel Arryn was ill, but he sent Lord Everard Royce, along with four lesser lords, to lead the Valemen unde Baelor's command. By contrast, Lord Medgar Tully rode at the head of his troops, proudly declaring that he would prove House Tully's loyalty to the Crown. He was young, confident, and boisterous, with a full beard of auburn hair across his square jaw.

One notable absence was Daemon Blackfyre. He had injured himself, it was said, but he had sent a number of levies under the command of Ser Lavaine Harte, one of his household knights. King Daeron clearly wanted to question Ser Lavaine on the veracity of Daemon's injury, but such questioning would have been unseemly.

Jena spent as much time in her apartment as she could, attended mostly by her ladies. She did entertain her goodsisters on occasion, though Alys Arryn was often needed by Rhaegel's side, and Aelinor Penrose was no more charming than her uncle. Elaena was never sent for, nor did she ever invite Jena in kind. Sometimes Queen Myriah would play hostess, but Jena would sometimes beg those off in the name of her condition.

The worst was when a small flotilla of ships arrived in Blackwater Bay, flying the dragon of House Targaryen alongside the spear and sun of House Martell.

The Dornish were expected to join in with the second contingent, and this arrival was deemed very premature. All the same, the King bade all the members of his family come down to bid the new arrivals welcome.

Ser Damrod Martell was Prince Maron's younger brother, and he was greeted warmly by his elder sister, Queen Myriah. Unlike his older siblins, Damrod was still young enough to have a full head of black hair, though he had developed a substantial widow's peak.

"Let no man say that the Dornish forget their oaths," he declared, but while others cheered, Jena went cold.

For among his assembled commanders stood a scarred man with dark red hair, and a fearsome black sword at his side. He looked ten years older than the last time she had seen him, but she recognised her brother immediately.

"*"*" "*"*"*"* "*" *"* "* "*"*" *"

"It is good to see you again, sister," Titus told her when he approached her after the reception.

Jena gave him an icy glare in return, "I wish I could say the same."

Titus seemed utterly baffled by this response, for his eyes widened and the smile left his face. "Why do you say that?"

Is he stupid? "Why? You really ask me that, kinslayer?"

Titus blinked in surprise, but he recovered switly. "Aye, that's true. I will not defend that decision, but if I might be permitted to explain-"

"What more do you have to say for yourself?" Jena interrupted heatedly. "Your letter was clear enough!"

"Did you read it all, then? Or did Cassana read it to you in parts?" Titus was frowning darkly, as he'd never done before. For the first time, she was reminded of their father when she looked upon him. But that only made her even angrier.

"I do not need Cassana to tell me what is wrong with what you did! Poison? Murder? How could you ever imagine that I would have wanted that from you? How could you imagine I would ever want that for my own father?"

"Your dear father now, was he?" Titus snapped. "I remember the way he made his affection for you clear."

"What of it?" Jena retorted. "That is no justification for what you did. You are lucky that King Daeron did not execute you!"

Titus stared at her; shock, anger, and shame were plastered across his weathered face.

"Is that what you would have preferred? To lose your last brother to the headsman's axe?"

Jena had no answer for this; she had not been prepared to see him again, could not begin to imagine how she should react to him and what he had done. And so she had left him standing in the corridor, retreating to her apartment as usual, refusing to let Titus see his nephew as far as she could prevent it.

On the day before Baelor was due to depart, he lay beside his wife in their bed. She had turned her back to him, as she had done for so many days since that initial quarrel on Dragonstone. But this time, his hand touched her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "If I am to leave on the morrow, would you have it that we left each other on these terms?"

The question was asked in such a hesitant and humble voice that Jena could not help but weep. "I would not have you leave me at all."

"That is beyond your power and mine. But I promise you that I will return to see our second child."

Jena wept harder, and soon she had turned around and buried her face in Baelor's chest. She had always adored his touch, his scent, and his voice. The absence and denial of those things had made her miserable, and though she did not feel reconciled to him, the truth of his words had hit her where she felt most vulnerable.

"Please keep your promise," she murmured, holding him as tightly as she could.

Thus did they fall asleep, and when Jena's eyes opened to bright sunlight, she cursed the new day with such venom that Baelor laughed and kissed her tenderly.

"I shall pray for you," Jena whispered. Even as Baelor kissed her a final time before getting up to prepare for his departure.

As he dressed himself, Jena could not help but hear his words echo in her mind again when she thought of Titus. She could not bring herself to see him, however, but she did think of him later when she visited the Sept of Baelor to pray for her husband's safe return. By then, the ships had left the harbour and were making their way out into the horizon.