The Black Dragon

by Stanley Marlowe

It is the end of 195 AC, and a new year of summer is set to begin. But when it does, the Seven Kingdoms will slide into the most dreadful war they've seen since the Dance of the Dragons. House Targaryen will clash with House Blackfyre across the realm. Lines will be drawn, and everyone must choose where they stand. Book 2 of the Titus Tetralogy

35. Chapter 35

Jena

My love,

Valarr has a brother. The maesters and septas all agree that he is a healthy child. I have not named him yet. I do not wish to make that decision without you.

The Archon has also sent his niece Kiera to King's Landing. She and Valarr are making their acquaintances.

I pray to the gods that I will see you again, and that you may be reunited with our sons.

After thirty attempts at writing a message for Baelor, this was the message which she would send. It felt deeply inadequate to how she felt, but she dared not put her heart on a scrap of paper which other men would certainly read.

If she had dared to put her concerns onto paper, Jena might have written all about her first impression of Valarr's betrothed. Kiera of Tyrosh was a girl whom all agreed would grow to become a great beauty. Her hair was dyed a bright vermillion colour, her skin was unmarked and clear, and her eyes were a shade which almost seemed indigo in a certain light. They almost looked more Valyrian than Valarr's clear blue eyes.

Kiera had been escorted by her father, whose elder brother was the Archon. Thorondo was one of the tallest men that she'd ever met, with maroon hair poking out beneath an absurd-looking hat.

Jena and Valarr were present when the Tyroshi delegation entered the Great Hall. King Daeron and Queen Myriah were there, as were all their children and their wives. Aerys stood apart from Aelinor Penrose, irritated that he was called away from his studies. Prince Rhaegel was kept in check by his patient wife Alys Arryn, even though she was heavy with their first child. Prince Maekar and Princess Dyanna Dayne stood apart; although they had married young, they had two sons of their own. Daeron was five, while Aerion was only two. Valarr had been encouraged to play with his elder cousin, but Jena did not notice any sign of affection between them. Moreover, she suspected that Maekar had schemed to name his son after the king in an attempt to come from out of Baelor's shadow.

Jena might have thought Kiera graceful and lovely if only she had not been so sullen. She had spoken words of courtesy, albeit haltingly through a thick Tyroshi accent, and she had knelt before Jena and called her "Mother", but there was no warmth or pleasure in her eyes. She had flinched when Jena leaned down and kissed her cheeks.

"She is shy, Princess," Thorondo assured Jena. "She has been in Tyrosh all her short life, it will take some time for her to adjust. We are hoping that her cousin will be help her in that matter."

It was as though winter had fallen upon the Great Hall. Daeron's genial smile had fallen from his face, Myriah had sighed wearily. Jena resisted the urge to look at Gwenys Bolt with despair.

"Unfortunately," Daeron answered slowly, "Lady Rohanne is no longer welcome in this court. Her husband has begun a rebellion against me, and we are in the process of putting it down."

The Tyroshi were astonished, and greatly displeased with the turn of events. Even when Daeron assured them that Kiera would be safe, their countenance became grim to look upon.

The worst had been when Valarr had been introduced to his future bride. Kiera and Valarr had regarded one another warily; she was two years elder than he, and it would be years before they would marry. Until then, they were children, and it was clear to Jena that neither children wished to think of marriage. What have I done?

It was Valarr's duty to present gifts to his betrothed. As Jena and Daeron had instructed him, Valarr stepped forward. He was dressed richly in black and red, his hair was immaculately combed, but his eyes were cold when he held out the gift. It was a gold figurine of a dragon, with rubies for eyes and a necklace of sapphire, emerald, amethyst, pearl, topaz, and opal.

"Welcome to King's Landing, and the Seven Kingdoms," Valarr declared. "It is a pleasure to meet my future queen."

The words were correct, but Jena squirmed at how her young son did not have the tact to even feign delight. It does not matter what these children think, others might say, but Jena hated the sight of Valarr looking so unhappy.

Kiera was disinterested in her gift; she immediately handed it to a servant to hold. At first, Jena was incensed that she would show such ingratitude, but then she remembered the wealth and power of Tyrosh, and doubtless such gifts as Valarr's were considered mere trinkets to one as wealthy as her.

Kiera wept bitterly when her father departed the following day, and spent the next week refusing to leave her chambers except for meals. When she sat at the table, she did not so much as glance at Valarr, who returned her indifference. He much preferred to sit with his cousin, Daeron.

Although Jena was wracked with despair over her son's betrothal, the rest of the capital were preoccupied with the war. Whether it was amongst the smallfolk or those in the Red Keep, King's Landing had become a place of quiet despondency.

Jena sensed it at every turn. Men and women would huddle together and whisper in small groups. Other times, Jena beheld them walking listlessly, carrying out tasks in silence, their minds on other matters.

Even the children sensed the dread of their elders. Whether it was due to the war, his father's absence, his resentment of his brother, or even his dislike of Kiera, Valarr was taking to long periods of brooding. Jena strove to keep him busy, even sending him to take extra lessons in swordplay. Members of the Kingsguard took turns training with Valarr, or else it was the master-at-arms. Howard Pyle was a young knight who had squired for Baelor on Dragonstone and Jena had suggested him as a worthy man to replace Quentyn Ball.

Daeron had also replaced the two Kingsguard that had fallen in battle. Ser Gwayne Corbray was promoted to Lord Commander and white cloaks had been bestowed upon Ser Lucas Rollingford and Ser Gram Lefford. Both of these young men had served as squires to the Kingsguard for years, and although they had yet to build a reputation for themselves, Daeron reasoned that their devotion was worth more than any strength of arms.

The training yard was also the new domain of Lord Folgrim Hayford. He had been the only surviving commander of the Battle of the False Godswood, taking an arrow in his forearm and losing his mount in the retreat. He had led the survivors back to King's Landing, begging the king's forgiveness for the defeat. At his own expense, Lord Hayford had re-armed the survivors with better weapons and searched the Crownlands for reinforcements.

It seemed as though the dreadful news would never cease. Bands and armies of men roamed across the land, supporting House Blackfyre or House Targaryen. The smallfolk were divided between the two, and often caught in the middle. Maidenpool had been razed by the warring factions, in which Daemon Blackfyre had led his forces from the front, routing the Mooton levies wherever they assembled. Other stories claimed that Maidenpool had declared their loyalty to the Black Dragon and it was loyalists who had razed the town in revenge. The Eyrie and Storm's End were besieged whilst Lord Leo Tyrell was forced to ride from one end of his lands to the other.

There was worse news still from the Reach. There had been two days of battle along the Mander and the Blue Byrn. Thousands of men were slain or injured, including all but one of Elaena's nephews by her husband, Lord Ronnel Penrose.

As she'd recovered from the birth of her second son, Jena had spent more time with Elaena. They sat together in the gardens, their chambers, or elsewhere in the castle, often while Michael Manwoody played music for them. Most of these music sessions ended with Elaena taking a long stroll with Michael. If pressed, Jena had agreed to lie that they had never left her sight. Thus far, nobody had challenged her on the subject, not even Elaena's daughters. Only her eldest, Jeyne Waters, was aware of her mother's transgressions, but she was only too happy to keep Elaena's secret.

As soon as she heard the news from the Reach, Jena hurried to Elaena's quarters in Maegor's Holdfast. When she was permitted inside, she found Elaena sitting with her younger daughters Jocelyn, Joy, and Laena. All four of them were teary-eyed, their voices hoarse from grief. There was a time when they would never have permitted Jena to visit them in this state, nor would Jena have deigned to make the journey in the first place, but times were changing.

Jena felt tears come to her own eyes as she stood in front of Elaena. "My sympathies for your losses, Princess. The gods are cruel."

"It is not the gods but men," Elaena answered harshly. Despite that, she wordlessly gestured to one of the couches in her considerable apartment for Jena to sit.

"Men are cruel," Elaena continued. "Men like Quentyn Ball."

"It was him?"

"That is what they say. He led a counterattack across the river and then fell upon our forces when they were held at the bridge."

Jena was dismayed; she had become acquainted with the hot-headed master-at-arms even before she had married into House Targaryen. There had been a conspiracy to murder Red Robert Flowers in order to place Quentyn in the Kingsguard. He himself had evaded any trial due to a lack of evidence. Maegor Toyne had been found guilty of the murder and had seemingly acted alone. All the same, Jena had neither liked nor trusted Quentyn.

"He spared Ellis," Elaena resumed. "It was a favour to Donella. He told Ellis as much on the battlefield."

Jena could not help but notice that she seemed utterly furious with Quentyn's mercy. Even more surprising was that she could understand her rage. Was it not enough to give a mother so much grief? Did he also have to poison it with his mercy?

"Will you return to Parchments?" Jena asked tentatively.

For a moment, the old Elaena returned as she regarded Jena. Then her expression softened, and she gave a sigh. "Aelinor will go back to see her mother. Ronnel is needed here more than ever. I urged him to take some time with his sister, that I could step in for him on the Small Council."

Jena did not doubt it. She had long ago learned that the true master of coin was not Ronnel Penrose, but his lady wife. It was she who spent most of her time poring over lists and examining sums.

"That was the wrong thing to suggest," Elaena reflected ruefully. "He is already angry enough that women sit the Small Council. He would be infuriated if his own wife should supplant him. He also thinks it best that Robin rules alone."

Jena did occasionally feel guilty that she was helping Elaena to cuckold her husband. Sometimes she wondered whether it was purely out of her life-debt, but the truth was that she could well understand Elaena's predicament. She had not chosen her husband, and there was no love between them. Daeron had arranged the marriage out of convenience to bind the Stormlands closer to the throne, and it was a chance for Elaena to serve as his mistress of coin in all but name. For her part, Jena knew she had been extremely fortunate to have a husband whom she could adore earnestly, and who devoted himself to her in return. Besides, she much preferred the charming Michael to the humourless Ronnel.

Later that day, Jena sat on the king's small council. By now, it had become routine to discuss matters reports on skirmishes and battles, or the discovery of new Blackfyre spies infiltrating the capital. It was during the discussion of the Dornish rebels when Ronnel Penrose interjected with a shocking proposal.

"House Manwoody has turned traitor," he began. "Is it not past time that we remind them the price of treason?"

"What price would that be?" Daeron asked.

"Ser Michael is Lord Manwoody's third son," Ronnel reminded the king. "If we should try to force these rebels to bend the knee, Ser Michael makes for a suitable hostage." He did not need to explain what happened to hostages if rebels did not yield their treason.

Jena had been horrified. It was only two days before that she had listened to Ser Michael Manwoody's latest composition whilst sitting amongst the fruit-laden trees of the royal orchards.

Daeron had been no less appalled. "Ser Michael is not responsible for his family's actions. He has been a loyal man from the start."

"Nobody doubts his personal loyalty, I'm sure," Ambrose Butterwell had interjected pompously. "However, Lord Ronnel does bring up an interesting point, loath though I am to admit it."

For his part, Daeron regarded his Hand with a guarded expression.

"Your Grace," Jena hastily interjected, "I think it would be unwise to make such use of Ser Michael."

She felt Ronnel and Butterwell's hostile eyes upon her; they were affronted by her very presence, never mind her attempts to speak. Worse than that, however, was Brynden Rivers' response. He said nothing, nor did he glare as the others did, but Jena felt as if a snake were preparing to bite her.

Daeron's scrutiny was far more shrewd and benevolent. "What makes you say that?"

"Ser Michael is guilty of no treason against us. His family's resolve will only be hardened if you punish him for their crimes. They will see his death as another insult to avenge."

"And if you would indulge me, Princess," Brynden Rivers interjected, "do you imagine that this appeal to better nature will drive the Manwoodys to abandon their part in the rebellion?"

Before Jena could retort, Brynden was already looking at Daeron. "The rallying cry of these rebels is that Daemon Blackfyre is stronger than you. We must show our strength, and our commitment to law and order. King's Landing is safer for it, as you well know."

Daeron looked from Brynden to Jena, then gave a discomfited sigh. "I must think on this matter. But Ser Michael will remain at my court until a final decision is made. If he is a hostage, then let him be treated as an honourable one. And I will not tolerate any attack on him." He added the last part with a stern glance about the table, as if they were all plotting to have Michael killed.

Jena worried less about that implication and more by the fact that Ambrose Butterwell and Ronnel Penrose had seemingly made an alliance against Ser Michael. Brynden Rivers' support was less surprising; he had always taken a hard line against the Blackfyres, and he welcomed any opportunity to bring the hammer down upon them.

As soon as the opportunity came, she met with Elaena in private and told her what had been discussed.

"How dare they!" Elaena hissed. "I will not stand for this! They will not have Michael!"

Jena leaned forward and lowered her voice to a whisper, for a dreadful notion had entered her mind. "Does your husband know about you and Ser Michael?"

"If he does, he has not said anything about it."

That means nothing. "Has anyone else discovered you? Seen something?"

"No. As far as I know, anyway."

Jena dreaded that Daeron would be swayed to take Butterwell's side against Michael, and she awaited the next small council with baited breath. It was soon after her talk with Elaena, however, that a raven arrived at the capital from the Sisters. Titus Dondarrion was sailing south, with word from the North.

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

Jena did not have time to speak with her brother before the small council meeting, and she was stunned to see Ambrose Butterwell dismissed so brusquely. She might have expected it herself, given how incompetent he had proved in preventing the Blackfyre Rebellion. Then again, mayhaps I am also to blame. I could have seen the signs and tried to stop it.

Titus' news elated her, but she felt uncomfortable in his presence. Elaena's words echoed back to her, warning her of what it meant to turn against one's own blood, but she feared what might come of an attempt to repair that broken bridge. Then again, if I can make a friend out of Elaena Targaryen, maybe it is possible yet.

When the small council was concluded, and the matters resolved, Jena lingered at the table as Daeron and the others departed. Titus seemed to sense her intent and followed her example. His

When the others had departed, Jena took a deep breath and addressed her brother for the first time since he'd departed for the North.

When the others had departed, Jena took a deep breath and addressed her brother for the first time since he'd departed for the North.

"Baelor wrote me on the matter of your children. My congratulations."

Titus gave a smile and inclined his head. "And to you, Princess."

Jena frowned. She had known Titus long enough to recognise when he was mocking someone. "Did I miss some sort of jape?"

Titus waved his hand dismissively. "You never used to speak that way."

"Was that not part of your wish? Did you think I would not change when I married Baelor?"

The smile left Titus' face. "Truthfully? No, I did not. I certainly did not think you would change as much as you have."

Jena felt herself flush. She knew exactly what Titus meant.

"Brother, I have also changed since we last spoke. My second son was nearly the death of me, and the war had thrown my entire life into chaos. I have lost so many of my friends and family already, I cannot lose you too."

Titus leaned back in his chair. "For my part, I have been reprimanded by my goodbrother."

Jena started. "What did he say?"

"It matters not," Titus retorted. "But I will say this. I cannot regret what I did. Not after everything he did to us and our mother. If that makes me a monster, then so be it."

"Mayhaps it does," Jena agreed, "but you are still my brother. It is not my place to judge you. I would leave that to the gods."

They looked at each other, uncertain of what to say next. Jena saw cracks forming in Titus' guarded countenance. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, as if he were suppressing some emotion inside of himself.

"You have two sons now?"

Jena nodded. "The elder is Valarr. I do not wish to name my second son without Baelor."

Titus shook his head. "You really have changed."

Jena surprised herself by giving a short burst of laughter. "Not as much as you think. I slapped Elaena Targaryen across the face and called her a bitch. She repaid that by saving my life."

Titus gave a laugh of his own. "Gods be good! I don't even want to know the details!"

"Princess?"

It was Willem Wylde. Titus' laughter subsided as the Kingsguard knight entered the room, and he gave his old friend a nod. Willem returned the gesture before turning back to Jena.

"Supper will be starting soon, Princess."

"My thanks, Ser Willem," said Jena, "but I think we shall have dinner here. Would you arrange for food to be brought here? And please bring my sons. Gwenys Bolt should accompany us too."

"As you say." Willem gave a short bow. "What of Lady Kiera?"

Jena paused. She was mightily tempted to snub the girl, but she feared what sort of precedence that might set.

"Who is this Lady Kiera?"

Jena cursed inwardly. She had waited too long to make a decision. She reluctantly turned back to Titus. "Lady Kiera of Tyrosh. Rohanne suggested her as a bride for Valarr, and we accepted before the rebellion began." She did not wish to say any more about the matter, but nor did Titus seem to require further explanation.

Titus shook his head sympathetically, but then his expression changed. "For what it's worth, my squire and I can speak Tyroshi."

"You can?" Jena's eyes widened. "Since when?"

"Well, Alyn speaks it better than I do. We both served alongside Tyroshi, and took contracts from them. If Lady Kiera lacks for those who speak her language, perhaps we can oblige."

"That would be welcome," Jena told him gratefully. "But I fear that she might look her nose down upon you when she finds out who you are."

Titus shrugged. "All the same, we can try."

Jena hesitated a moment longer before turning back to Willem. "So be it, then. Kiera is also to attend."

As the Kingsguard knight departed the room, Jena turned back to her brother. "Tell me more of your children."

"I cannot tell you much, for I was not aware of them until I returned to Westeros. But my daughter is Chayora and my son is Garin."

"Lovely names," Jena replied warmly. "Who is their mother?"

Titus' smile faded for a moment, then he gave a small shrug. "As it turns out, Garin is my child with Coryanne Dalt, and Chayora is the daughter of Aliandra."

"What?" Jena was flabbergasted. "You mean to say..."

Titus gave another shrug. "Come now, Jena, you cannot mean to start judging now."

Jena wanted to put her face in the palms of her hands. "Gods be good, Titus, but I suppose that is fair enough. I can hardly judge you after we've both slept with Gwen."

Titus started in his chair. "She told you?"

Jena began to laugh again, hard enough that she had tears in her eyes. In a castle of despair, she felt a surge of gratitude for her brother.