Jena
Scarcely had the first contingent sailed north than King Daeron announced plans for celebrations to herald in the new year.
It would not be for a few more weeks, but Daeron was resolute that jubilations would be held. Lord Ambrose Butterwell, his Hand, made his stance clear that the realm was in need of another grand event to show the Iron Throne's strength. It would encourage loyalty and distract from the costs of war. What will they think of the cost of these celebrations, Jena had thought snidely when she'd heard Ambrose give that argument.
For her part, Jena saw little to laud until the rebellion was ended and Baelor returned safe and whole. And even if she might have been able to put those worries out of her mind, she was surrounded by reminders. More of the king's banners were gathering in King's Landing to form the second contingent. Men arrived from the Westerlands, the Reach, the Stormlands, and Dorne.
Lords, knights, and heirs regularly presented themselves before the Iron Throne, declaring their loyalty and their intent to sail north. One of these was a familiar face. It was a surprise to Jena when her goodbrother, Baldric, marched into the great hall and bowed low before King Daeron and Queen Myriah.
Jena and Valarr, in lieu of Baelor, often stood to the left of the king during formalities, representing the Crown Prince, so there was no avoiding Baldric when he arrived. It was still very strange to Jena that Baldric was now Lord Dondarrion of Blackhaven. It left her with a sour feeling whenever she thought of it, for she was forced to recall the circumstances around how it had happened. Moreover, she had never liked Baldric very much even before what had transpired.
For his part, Baldric hid any feelings of discomfort or dislike behind a stoic expression as he bowed to the royal family. "House Dondarrion stands with the dragons," he announced pompously.
"It pleases us to have that confirmed," King Daeron replied, nodding his head.
"I also bring warm regards from my wife to my goodsister and nephew," Baldric added, glancing at Jena and Valarr before offering them another bow. What a strange world this is. Jena would never have admitted it, and she did feel some guilty for having such an unworthy emotion, but there were times when she truly enjoyed her privileges as Princess of Dragonstone, and seeing Baldric bow before her was one of them.
Later, at supper, Baldric was given a seat across from Jena, whether by chance or by intent. Also sitting with him were representatives of the three main knightly houses sworn to House Dondarrion: Ser Garvey Sawyer, Ser Karl Penny, and Ser Enoch Bolt, who was Gwenys' brother and their father's spare.
"How is our father?" Gwenys asked of him as they ate.
"Well enough," Enoch replied curtly. Jena knew full well that Gwen's family had always been anxious to have her return to the marches and married off, but that would never come to pass so long as Jena held Gwen in her service.
Her own conversation with Baldric was no better. He seemed rather closemouthed and spoke to her only when prompted.
"A song! A song!" Prince Rhaegel cried aloud enthusiastically. His wife quickly put a hand on his arm and whispered to him so that he might not lose control.
"A good suggestion, son," Queen Myriah agreed gently. "Where is Ser Michael?"
Jena looked up and down the table. Michael Manwoody was one of the most gifted singers that she'd ever heard. He was one of several Dornishmen who'd come to join King Daeron's court. But she did not see him anywhere.
"No matter," King Daeron remarked. "He can sing for us when he returns."
Jena ventured a conversation with her goodbrother. "I trust that your sons are well?" She wished she could remember their names, feeling embarrassed and foolish.
"In good health, praise to the gods." Baldric was in the process of devouring a leg of capon, but Jena suspected that he was filling his mouth on purpose so that he might have an excuse not to answer.
"Lord Dondarrion," King Daeron suddenly interjected, just a few seats away from Jena. "Is there any word from your kinsmen in Stonehelm?"
Baldric hastily swallowed his mouthful of fowl and cleared his throat before answering. "I cannot speak to their contributions, Your Grace, but I am sure they will be arriving soon."
"We certainly hope so," Daeron observed. He spoke calmly, but Jena could sense something in his tone which suggested agitation. He is just as worried for Baelor as I am.
"By your leave, Sire," Jena murmured, rising heavily from her seat and leaving her dinner half-eaten. Gwenys made a move to stand, but Jena put a hand on her shoulder and shook her head. It was all too much for her to endure; she needed time alone.
She bid Daeron and Myriah goodnight and walked by Ser Willem Wylde, guarding the king and queen as they ate. He gave her a puzzled glance but she ignored him.
Unfortunately for Jena, she needed to walk down the long table in order to leave the hall. Men, women, and children looked at her as she walked past, but Jena avoided. Prince Maekar ate as heartily as the others, even as he spoke with a radiant-looking lady with blonde hair and purple eyes. Dyanna Dayne had come to court alongside her brother, Ser Ulrick, and even Maekar was smiling broadly as he looked upon her. Lord Ronnel Penrose held up a horn of ale as he proposed a toast. Even Brynden Rivers was present, much to Jena's chagrin; he ate sparingly and spoke to nobody except for the lovely and alluring woman known as Shiera Seastar. Jena felt something inside of her twist when Shiera glanced at her, and she turned away from those mismatched eyes abruptly.
Nobles were also invited to sit with the royals, as befitting their rank and loyalty. Lord Damon Lannister had sent his younger brother, Ser Adlin, to lead the westermen who'd assembled in King's Landing. At present, Ser Adlin was answering Lord Ronnel's toast with a tankard of stout. Ser Ulrick Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, sat close to Lord Butterwell, the King's Hand. One of other Dornishmen sitting at the table was Ser Uthor Dalt, one of the men whom Titus had saved from execution. Uthor had a discontented expression on his face, and he gave her only the briefest of glances before looking away.
The cacophony of the feast remained with Jena long after she'd left the hall. The corridors echoed with the noises, as did her own ears. So many thoughts cluttered her mind that she paid little heed to where she was going. It was not until she felt the cool air of the evening when she realised that she stood before the royal gardens.
They were as lovely as ever. Servants had lit torches in preparation for the feast's conclusion, so that all the flowers and neatly kept trees on the grounds were lit by an orange light. Above, the night sky was clear, and Jena could see countless stars twinkling down on her.
She sighed as she went for a slow walk down the pathway. She thought of when Baelor first took her out to the garden, where she'd linked his arm with her own and had spoken with him. They had since gone for walks in this garden many times. It was beside that elm tree where Jena had told Baelor she was pregnant with Valarr. Valarr had gone for his first outdoor walk in this garden. Looking back on it now, Jena felt as though it had been the happiest day of her life, spending that moment with the family which she had chosen, which she had fought for, and everything since then had been a slow descent towards the misery she felt now.
"Such a beautiful night!"
Jena turned. Lord Ronnel Penrose was sauntering out of the castle into the grounds, together with Lord Steffon Banefort, the Master of Laws. Others were following up behind them, but Jena had no wish to find out who they were.
With a sigh, she walked back towards the large doors, through which many of the dinner guests streamed in the opposite direction. One of them called out to Jena with a note of alarm.
It was Gwenys. She had called out Jena's name, but when she approached her, she spoke in hushed tones. "Valarr is missing!"
"What?" Jena felt her blood turn cold. "For how long?"
"They don't know. Daeron's already sent the Kingsguard to search for him. He must have gone wandering again."
"Gods be damned!" Jena moved as quickly as she could manage, back into the castle.
Valarr loves to explore. Trying to think like her son, she took a detour down quieter corridors, until she found herself by the guest apartments. With a jolt, she recognised them as the rooms where she had stayed the first time she'd gone to King's Landing.
The doors were all open, for none of them were in use, and so the keys were kept safe in the hands of the guards. They were regularly inspected, but Jena did not trust others to find Valarr. She moved quietly, knowing that her son would treat this like a game and scurry away to hide somewhere else if he sensed her approach.
The corridor was quiet, but she heard some noise all the same. She could hear movement, the same noise repeating itself. Valarr had gone into one of the apartments and was jumping on the bed. She could even hear laughter. He must think himself so clever. Well, two can play at that game.
Slowly, Jena approached the door behind which the noises emanated. With a quick twist, the knob turned with a hinge, and she swung it forward. A triumphant cry was on the tip of her tongue, but what she saw made it die in her throat.
Instead of Valarr, she beheld Elaena Targaryen, the last living daughter of Aegon the Dragonbane, together with Ser Michael Manwoody. Both were naked, with Ser Michael lying on his back whilst Elaena sat atop him. His hands still gripped her breasts, and she was still riding him as the door opened.
Elaena and Jena beheld each other in the same instant, and both women were stunned. Jena forgot to breathe as Elaena gasped, a look of disbelief and horror on her face. Her hands went straight to her bosom, and a high-pitched squeal escaped her. Ser Michael was turning to see who it was.
But Jena was already fleeing the room as fast as she could. She slammed the door shut behind her, so that the loud clang drowned out Elaena's cry. For a moment, she stood outside the room, unsure of what to think.
Then she was struck by a wild urge to avoid any discussion with Elaena and Michael. She hurried down the corridor, seeking to put as much distance between her and that room as she could. It was not until she had to stop and catch her breath that she remembered her first purpose.
Cursing, she made her way back to Maegor's Holdfast, where a knight of the Kingsguard stood by the lowered drawbridge. She recognised him as Gwayne Corbray, one of the knights who had participated in the great tourney of 189.
He gave a start when he saw her. "Princess Jena, we've been looking for you."
"You should be looking for my son!" Jena exclaimed heatedly. She was flushed, both from her discovery of Elaena and also from her subsequent flight.
"No need for that any longer," Ser Gwayne answered politely. "We found him already. He was in the armoury."
Of course. Off to find a weapon for himself. "What madness is it that possesses boys?" She cursed, feeling hot tears of relief and frustration in her eyes. "Why must they run so eagerly towards death and destruction? Is it not enough that Baelor has abandoned me to fight? How long until Valarr leaves me too?"
Ser Gwayne gave no answer to her questions. Instead he looked embarrassed and approached her slowly. Does he think I will run away? With this baby inside of me?
"Your Grace," he urged, "I assure you, your son is unharmed. We have him in your chamber if you wish to see him."
It was clear to Jena what this young knight was thinking of her; all that she had said would be dismissed as part of her condition, but for once, she did not mind if he did so; she had had enough excitement for one evening. "Yes. I would. Thank you."
"*"* "*" *"*"*" *"*"*"*
Jena remained in her chamber the following day; she had no wish to see Elaena or Ser Michael after what she'd seen of them the night before. She did not even share her secret with Gwenys; if her friend sensed anything amiss, she gave no indication.
She ordered breakfast be brought to her, and then supper as well when the day ended. The following morning, she did the same. She spent a good deal of time reading, or looking out her window, down at the castle grounds. She was too high up to recognise anyone, so every speck which wandered below her might have been Elaena. Is she fretting? Does she think I will speak to her husband?
Truthfully, Jena could understand why Elaena would cuckold Lord Ronnel; she had not seen him display a single bit of affection for her in all the years she had known them. If anything, his very existence seemed taxing to Elaena. Jena knew full well that Ronnel was the Master of Coin in all but name, and the true responsibilities belonged to Elaena. Why shouldn't she be drawn to an intelligent young man like Ser Michael? How often has he sung to her in private?
The sun was at its highest point in the sky on the second day when Gwenys knocked on her door. This time, she was accompanied by Ser Willem Wylde.
"You are requested, Princess," Willem explained, "by order of the king."
Jena felt alarmed, and strangely guilty as she followed the Kingsguard knight out of Maegor's Holdfast into the Red Keep. Is Elaena plotting some sort of revenge against me?
"Do you happen to know the reason for these summons?" Jena asked tentatively.
"His Grace did not confide in me, Princess," Ser Willem answered, "but he is sitting with his small council."
I should not ask. I must not ask... "Is Elaena there too?"
Willem gave her a puzzled look, "No. Why would she be?"
"My mistake, then," Jena said, attempting to sound airy, but feeling stupid for opening her mouth.
When they arrived in the hall, Jena beheld the small council at their usual table. King Daeron was present, as was Queen Myriah. Lord Ambrose Butterwell sat on the other side of the table, facing his king with a nervous expression on his face. Lord Commander Sebastion Cave of the Kingsguard sat beside Daeron. Lord Steffon Banefort was present, as was Ser Sigfryd Velaryon, heir to his father, sitting as temporary Master of Ships whilst his father was sailing north. Brynden Rivers sat as Master of Whispers, but for once, he was not the most disconcerting man in the room.
That honour now belonged to Lord Ronnel Penrose, who still seemed blissfully unaware - or entirely apathetic - that his wife was dallying with a Dornishman almost half her age. Despite her nervousness at facing Lord Ronnel, it was his casual nonchalance which ironically put her mind at ease over the reason why she'd been summoned.
"Thank you for joining us, Jena," Queen Myriah announced, giving her a warm smile. "I trust you are feeling well?"
"I am, Your Grace," Jena answered, reflexively putting a hand on her stomach. "May I ask to what I owe the honour?"
"The matter concerns your son," King Daeron answered, "Baelor made it quite clear that you were to speak for him should this matter come up before the council."
It was clear to Jena that a number of the nobles on the council disapproved of Baelor's Dornish notions; Queen Myriah, however, seemed quite pleased with the arrangement, and Jena much preferred her opinion to that of the others, even Daeron. She gave the monarchs a quick smile and curtsy before seating herself at Myriah's side.
"In any case," King Daeron continued, "Baelor informed us of the proposed betrothal of our grandson to Kiera of Tyrosh. It appears that Lady Rohanne took it upon herself to inform the Archon of Tyrosh about our deliberations. He has been good enough to send us a letter." He produced said letter - a long scroll of the finest parchment that Jena had ever seen - and passed it down the table for Jena to read.
As Jena read over the Archon's elaborate script, Lord Butterwell voiced his displeasure. "Your Grace, I believe that this is an unwise decision, for more than one reason."
"I agree," Lord Banefort interjected peevishly. "Lord Blackfyre will surely relish the notion that he is bound to the Iron Throne through his wife as well as his own bloodline."
"The people will not accept a foreign queen either," Lord Butterwell continued.
"Will they not? They have done so before," Queen Myriah mused. She spoke lightly, but her words had a chilling effect on the master and Hand.
"What say you?" King Daeron asked Jena.
Jena felt flustered, but she took a breath and spoke earnestly, as she knew Daeron surely wanted from her. "I believe that Lady Rohanne spoke in good faith. She wants peace, and Daemon has shown his willingness to accept peace before."
"Your Grace," Brynden Rivers interrupted, "I must say that this opinion, while certainly admirable, is easily contradicted by the sort of news I have acquired about Lord Daemon and his supporters." He spoke with all the sincerity of a serpent, and his attempt at conciliation rang more as sly scorn to Jena.
"Duly noted, cousin," King Daeron replied. He turned back to Jena. "You were saying?"
Jena smiled as she sensed Lord Rivers bristle at being dismissed. "I say that we have nothing to lose and everything to gain by closer ties with Tyrosh. The city is known for its trade, and it has always played a significant role in the Narrow Sea."
"And what of Tyrosh's enemies?" Lord Butterwell exclaimed urgently. "The balance of power in Essos is highly volatile. Tyrosh might be powerful one day and on the cusp of defeat the next. What should we do if we find ourselves the enemies of an alliance between Myr and Lys, and even Volantis?"
"Your Grace," Lord Commander Sebastion Cave interposed, raising his hand to get his king's attention, "Tyrosh currently has reason to support Daemon Blackfyre should there be a... question of succession."
Daeron paused, regarding Lord Commander Cave with a thoughtful expression.
Queen Myriah took one of Jena's hands into her own. "I believe that this arrangement is beneficial, and Lady Jena is wise to support it."
King Daeron's gaze turned to his wife. "You are confident that an alliance with Tyrosh would not harm us?"
"Mayhaps it will," Queen Myriah admitted, "I cannot predict the future. But as of now, what alliances do we have with the Free Cities? What harm would it do to wed Valarr to Kiera? It is a good match, and there is much to be gained from it. And moreover, the Archon will not take rejection kindly at this stage."
Daeron folded his arms and nodded his head in a casual way. "True enough. If I must choose to offend someone, I believe it is wiser to risk offending Myr or Lys tomorrow instead of certainly offending Tyrosh today." He put his hands together and gave Jena a nod, "I believe a response to the Archon is in order. Would you have them send Kiera to King's Landing or Dragonstone?"
Jena was elated at how quickly the matter was settled, but she was also unprepared for such a question. "I will stay in King's Landing for now, Your Grace, if it pleases you."
"It does, indeed," Kind Daeron remarked with that gentle smile which came so often to his friendly face. "I will always welcome time with my grandchildren."
Grandchildren? Jena was about to ask him what he meant, but then she felt a shudder go down her spine. She was reminded of how Daeron and Myriah had looked when she'd seen them after her first miscarriage. Her good cheer might as well have been made of ice, so quickly did it melt in the warm air of the Red Keep.