130 AL
Storm's End
"And the night rang with their cries; oh, the brave men of Nightsong. They fury ran bright, brave men of Nightsong." At times it seemed the world entertained a never-ending conflict, one which paused every now and again for the blessed wedding of some fortunate knight and his fair dame, or else the people wept for some brave soul lost too soon to the cruel twists of fate. Baring that, one might count on Lady Rowan Gold-Tree to break her heart and entertain them all. In a lighter vein, her sister, Florys duped the foolish men of the realm with an inviting smile and bore forth some new line of great lords. Lady Elenda, however, seemed to prefer war songs. Of the three she had sang for her rapt audience, the Fall of Nightsong and the Fair Maidens of the Marches gave careful account of battle. Between these two, the good lady had favoured the gathering with a rendition of the Marcher Lord's Daughter, a love song which tangentially touched upon the matter of conflict as the aforementioned marcher lord's daughter wept for fear of her lover's fate in the war, swearing to dedicate her life to serving the Stranger if he left her beloved untouched.
Jaehaera knew little of battle, but much of mangled corpses. One might wonder how she could so easily picture the carcasses littering the fields, limp and lifeless against the blood-soaked grasses. Looking up she eyed the lady of the house once more as the sun began to rise over the beleaguered Nightsong and its men once more found their strength. She seemed unduly proud of their feat. But then the Lady of Storm's End was a Caron by birth, which explained her nightingale voice. Aye, she sang prettily and was ever fairer to look upon. Tall and slender with hair as black as the raven's wing and wide dark eyes, she could never quite fade into the background. The song swelled with emotion and even Jaehaera felt a stirring in her chest, despite having sworn she never would again. Her brother would forgive her. Jaehaerys knew how fond she was of music. Though she had no particular talent for it, harmoniously entwining sounds were one of the few ways in which one might truly understand feelings never before and nowhere else encountered. Only for a little while, she promised her brother, would she indulge. Might be she would sing to Maelor the Marcher Lord's Daughter. It seemed to be the easiest piece to master and the one which would not put too much of a strain on an already poor throat.
Lady Elenda finished with a flourish. Her second to eldest daughter, who'd offered to accompany her mother with voice as well but had given up in due time upon noting she could simply not compare to her dame, dropped her fingers from the strings of the harp she'd been plucking. Flushed with pleasure at the warm reception as evidenced by Lord Borros' effusive praise, the man's wife inclined her head to all those gathered in the great hall. Lady Maris rose, trailing in her mother's wake, reaping some admiration as well. Though not as comely as the lady of the house, too strongly resembling her father to pass for a beauty, Lord Borros' second-born nevertheless carried herself with pride befitting her station. She was, after all, a young lady of six-and-ten, who made up for whatever lacks one might perceive in her features with a fine dowry and a shrewd mind. Jaeheara had certainly heard mention of it several times. For her own part, she confessed to having no original impression of her own in that regard. Lady Elenda's daughters, baring the youngest with whom she was somewhat closer in age, spent but little time with her.
Even Floris, the aforementioned youngest, begrudgingly shared her hours with her. Jaehaera could guess the reason easily enough. Darting a glance towards the comeliest of the Four Storms, she clutched her doll harder. They were not all that different, the young lady and Jaehaera's doll, except that Lady Floris was far taller. Her gaze slid back to the doll. Uncle Daeron had gifted it to her. A present for her nameday, one amongst many others. Jaehaera had called the doll Lady Jeyne, after some deliberation. The dark hair, curled in Lysene fashion, and the dark eyes, a very deep blue, near to black, put her in the mind of the Jeyne. She should have done better to call her Floris, however, for that seemed the greater likeness. One of her uncles was bound to bring her another one, someday. Might be for her upcoming nameday. She would call that one Floris, for it was a pretty name.
Her musings were interrupted by a soft touch to the shoulder. Jaehaera gazed over her shoulder at the standing form of Ser Willis. "Your Grace, you've yet to eat a single bite. Did you not promise me you should do so when the soup arrived?" She had eschewed the cold meats, for the look of them troubled her. She could not say why with any amount of certainty, but there they were. She'd sworn, when pressed by the White Cloak at her side that she would have her fill of the soup and whatever came after.
Seating Jeyne on her lap, Jaehaera reached out for the spoon and dipped it into the contents of a rather large bowl, dragging up besides brow beef-stock bits of carrot, onion and a goodly number of peas. Despite her best efforts, only about a quarter of the spoon could she fit in her mouth. The taste was strong. She had learned when first coming to Storm's End that Lady Elenda was a great believer in the curative properties of certain spices, which translated into those being introduced into every food when possible. Salt was plentiful in the kitchens as well, if she could venture so far as to trust her tongue. Forcing herself to swallow, Jaehaera glanced expectantly at the knight, waiting for some sort of response.
Unlike mother who had been in the habit of praising her efforts at neatness and decorum, the man by her side merely gave a nod, his stern expression enduring. Naturally, mother had no longer wished to look upon her after Jaehaerys was taken from them which in turn meant that no more praise was forthcoming from that quarter. Jaehaera had been saddened by that at first, clinging to her grandmother's skirts so she might be brought before mother with the hopes of rousing the woman's interest in aught other than tears. But she would have none of that and in the end grandmother had stopped brining her along, instead giving her in the keeping of her own women who'd been instructed to entertain the child.
Only Maelor had not changed his treatment of her. He still mumbled happily at the sight of her and held out his arms to be picked up. He demanded lullabies and forever wishes to sleep with her. Grandmother had allowed they might, which was how Jaeheara found herself expanding her repertoire of songs, for her brother grew bored rather fast and would not sleep unless she brought him a new piece to enjoy every now and again. For herself, she grew to increasingly depend on the purpose fulfilling her role had gifted. At Storm's End she had neither purpose, nor fulfilment, nor even praise. Lord Borros might have taken her in and Lady Elenda did not begrudge her any comfort, not for the time being, in any event, but she could easily guess what they thought of her. She was an intruder who could be of no aid to them, except insofar as her father indisputably won the crown. The Seven only knew how much longer that would take. All she wanted was to return to familiar waters and safe harbour.
In due course, soup gave way to roasted meats. In spite of war conditions, Lord Borros' table boasted venison and fowl smothered in gravy. Chunks of vegetables rose to the surface, like small islands in a dark spiced sea. At the behest of her knight, Jaehaera ate of that as well, her eyes watering slightly at the sting of what she came to know were Dragon peppers. She continued to chew without complaint, habitually glancing at Ser Willis for she knew not what. Eventually, she abandoned that pursuit in favour of cooling her burning tongue with some mint tea from which the winter's chill air had driven away all warmth. Once satisfied she would not be weeping for want of soothing, Jaehaera turned her attention to the ragged and famished Lady Jeyne who had had to wait her turn. The doll was obliging enough to observe all rules as she sated her needs and it could only help that Jaehaera guided her throughout the whole of it. Both mistress and doll were done ere all other occupants of the table and had thus only to wait.
In some respects, 'twas a good thing none paid her too much mind. It left Jaehaera the time and space to observe at great lengths the behaviour of her fellow man. She had gleaned, for instance, that despite her great beauty, Lady Floris envied her sister Cassandra the place of firstborn and the deference which came with it. To Jaehaera's face she had only said it was great lark Prince Aemond had pledged his troth to her, what with being the youngest. She relished also in the distress that had caused Lady Maris. The Four Storms seemed quite at odds with each other, every single one of them bent to outmanoeuvre and outshine her sisters whenever possibility presented itself. Whether Uncle Aemond would be pleased with such a wife, Jaehaera could not guess. She thought of her own mother, however, even-tempered, sweet of disposition and proud only in proper fashion. Uncle Aemond would have done better to guide himself after such qualities.
Indeed, he would have done far better to cast his eyes of Lady Ellyn. Four-and-ten, not quite as striking as her younger sister, the Lady Ellyn smiled a great deal however and was generally accounted as the most pleasant company. The knights of her father's household favoured her above all sisters with various attentions, might be because the young lady could be trusted to meet any and all gallants with the same enthusiasm, ever eager for their affection. She would have suited Uncle Aemond who was too bitter by half. Jaehaera looked to Lady Jeyne for support. The doll wholeheartedly agreed to the scheme. 'Twas not too late to exchange one sister for the other. Besides, Lady Ellyn could be induced to read with Jaehaera; aught which none of the other sisters could be convinced to endure.
Supper came to an end as all things were wont to. Predictably, the great hall saw further use beyond their attendance. Jaehaera was taken up by Lady Floris, who claimed she could see lines of weariness in her face. "Some sleep is bound to set your right, Your Grace." Jaeheara suspected the girl's true aim was to divest herself of the great burden that was herself. Much of it was confirmed once she had been undressed and made ready for bed. "I am not tired myself, Your Grace, and will sit a short while longer with my sisters."
"Floris, the poor child cannot be left alone," Lady Ellyn intervened. She turned expectantly to her sisters for support but Lady Maris merely expressed a great desire to play a game of cyvasse while her elder sister declared she would partner the other.
"And I mean to learn the rules," Floris added smoothly. For a brief moment, Jaehaera thought she detected a hint of guilt in those wide blue eyes. "But if you wish, sister, you may stay with Her Grace."
She could have pointed out no one need keep her company, for she had Jeyne. But Jeyne, despite the pretty clothes and porcelain face, gave little tangible comfort. Lady Ellyn frowned. "I shall," she answered after a few moments of contemplative silence. Jaehaera expected the relief of her sisters had to do with the night terrors which made her a particularly difficult bedmate. They came upon her then and again, as they had ever since her brother's death. Lady Cassandra had once told her she twisted about far too much and wept too loudly for a body to find comfort. Worse yet, shaking her awake only seemed to agitate her further. The sisters had agreed for the Princess to spend one night in each bedchamber.
"Would you?" Floris clapped excitedly. "I will use your bedchamber for the night then, so I shan't disturb anyone." They were presently left alone.
Ellyn disrobed down to her chemise and slid under the covers as well. She smiled at Jaehaera. "Well, Your Grace, shall we pray together this night as well?" The two took their time with each figure in part, asking what all maidens asked for, Jaehaera imagined. She was pleased when Lady Ellyn begged the Mother to bring her sweet dreams and comfort. In her turn, Jaehaera prayed the Maiden she give Lady Ellyn a knight as gallant as Galladon of Morne. Lady Ellyn blushed hotly and thanked her.
In the hours which followed, Jaehaera, after confessing she only knew Ser Galladon was a famed knight, was treated to the story of such a knightly specimen that the Maiden herself was struck by a mere mortal. Lady Ellyn told of his many adventures and unnumbered conquests over ungallant foes. It was that to which Jaehaera feel asleep. That night, she did not dream.
She knew she had not, for morning found her well-rested and with none of the usual pains which accompanied a tortured night. Lady Ellyn as well seemed to have found slumber restorative and woke with a cheerful smile. "Come, Your Grace, shall we break our fast in the library this morn?" When in a particularly pleasant mood, the lady could be counted upon to search out a song to read. "We can read of Durran Godsgief and his fair lover Elenei."
Swept up in her companion's enthusiasm, Jaehaera let herself be helped to a thick woollen tabard over a simple chanise. She clutched Lady Jeyne to her chest. "May I read a few lines as well?" she asked haltingly.
"But of course you must!" Lady Ellyn led her to the library, ordering her servant to bring a tray up to them. They searched out the tomes together, with Jaehaera reading out the titles in her usual fashion, stumbling over the words but managing to, in the end, give an accurate rendition of what the books contained. Durrand Godsgrief and his lady had been covered by several maesters. Jaehaera was somewhat surprised by the fact. She could not guess the reason for which that was, but Lady Ellyn kindly explained that some maesters concerned themselves with the historicity of the tale and cared little for its form. "All very dry reading we needn't concern ourselves with. Here is what we need."
The book had been found just as their food arrived. Jaehaera found herself obliged to take up a steaming bowl of gruel sweetened with a dab of honey. Lady Ellyn opted for crispy fish. For a little while the both of them were entirely caught up in the repast and had not as much as a moment for the exchange of words. Lemon cakes followed on the heels of that and then it was high time they set to work if anything was to be done.
A short while into their study, just as Jaehaera was reading her first lines of the tale of Durran Godsgrief, the peace of the library was disturbed by a joyful Gerald Wensington. Naturally, Jaehaera paused. "Do not stop on my account," the squire insisted, "else I shan't hear the story."
"You have not heard the tale either?" Jaehaera questioned, marking the spot where she'd left off with her finger, lest she forget the line.
"Not in such good company, I have not." He winked at her in a roguish manner, reminding her of Uncle Daeron in a buoyant mood. Turning, he aimed a half-smile Ellyn's way. "'Tis not oft I have the pleasure, so I pray you, kind ladies, do not banish me." It was agreed he could remain as long as he did not disrupt them, which were precisely the same terms he had been given before.
Jaehaera was pleased when her efforts were rewarded with several recognised words and very little stuttering as she puzzled over the writing. Who would have guessed such simple language would be used in the recording of the story. Lady Ellyn encouraged her to read some more. "I have just the tale to continue with in mind. Gerald, if you would be so kind, come help me reach the book. 'Tis far too high for me. Go on, Your Grace, keep reading; my hearing is very good."
Complying, she did her best not to let herself be distracted by the sound of swishing cloth or firm footsteps. Should she have pointed out there was a small stool her host's daughter might have easily used to reach her book? The shelves were tall, but Lady Ellyn was no short girl and certainly with a little boost she could have comfortably reached her goal. Jaehaera raised her voice to cover a small snorting sound which sounded out from somewhere behind her. She continued reading until no more words were to be had on the page.
Only then did the lady and the squire return, the both of them red-faced and smiling. Absently, Lady Ellyn picked up the tome and began reading. "But we have just read that one," Jaehaera pointed out patiently. There was aught about Gerald Wensington which fuelled the girl's inattentiveness.
"Had we?" She moved a few lines below that. Jaehaera herself had spoken those very words before, but she did not correct Lord Baratheon's daughter a second time, electing instead to confide in Lady Jeyne about the other's strange behaviour.
The snow storm made it impossible to see without. Jaehaera could make out the faint movement of snowflakes blowing in the wind, going this way and that, seemingly content in their aimlessness. She clutched Lady Jeyne the harder, struggling against the burning sensation in her eyes, wondering not for the first time what she was meant to make of the blow dealt to her. Were the Seven truly so upset with her? She swallowed past the painful knot in her throat. Another brother gone left only her; she was the last child, the most unlikely to live and yet there she sat, doll in her arms.
Maelor had been a mere babe and no threat to that witch atop her throne. Despite having promised Jaehaerys to always be brave, she found the prospect of returning to their parents beyond bleak. Without her twin, she could not hope to conquer mother's melancholy, nor would she be able to pleased father in the least. Without Maelor, she could not soften mother's grief or quench father's anger. She was plain Jaehaera, meant to sit by her brothers and smile. She couldn't possibly smile. Hot tears slid down her face. Her brothers would not be returning. They had left her behind.
It was the height of unfairness. The tears continued to pour. Her mind conjured up the image of Maelor's tiny head, free of his body. Bile crawled up her throat. Jaehaerys had been decapitated as well. But her twin had been fortunate, for he was spared a great deal of suffering by a firm stroke. Maelor had been torn apart. Lady Maris had told her; she had said, as well, that with her family's fortune, she too was bound to meet the Stranger sooner rather than later, thus it might be best to remove herself from the struggle altogether. If there was any fondness for her neck in that head of hers, Lady Maris had gone on, she would give herself over to the Stranger and become one of his Brides. They might remove her tongue, but many lives stood to be saved by it, including that of the Baratheon household. Better to miss her tongue than to miss her head and many others beside.
Jaehaera was still mulling over the possibility. She had no desire to serve the Stranger. It was not to do with him depriving her of loving brothers. She had seen who dealt Jaehaerys the blow and heard as well as any other who tore Maelor apart. The Stranger had naught to do with it. But neither could be aid her. Nay, Jaehaera wished to serve the Father, so he might bring the hammer of justice down upon the heads of those who would commit these atrocities. Jaehaera would rather serve the Warrior whose strong arm might be counted upon to deal swiftly with the knaves of the world. She wanted father in that moment; not for comfort, but so he might assure her all would be done to avenge her brothers. She wanted the knives to be turned on the butchers and not the lambs, just for once.
Gentle rattling let her know Lady Ellyn had returned. Had she been in any doubt of the fact, the sound of that familiar voice calling her name would have surely dispelled all uncertainty. "Your Grace, I know you are upset, but you must come out of the chamber at some point." Jaehaera paid her no heed. Mother had done likewise in the wake of her brother's demise. The woman had lock herself safely away where none might witness her tears. Surely, she might do the same; at the very least until she managed to master her grief.
The second of her promises to Jaehaerys had been made to a headless corpse, bleeding over clean rushes. To that sad remnant of her brother, Jaehaera had sworn she would not let herself be broken. 'Twas the only way she understood to be brave. Only it seemed to have failed her. She felt entirely too much to remain unmoved. And it did not aid. What if, when once more she left the bedchamber word came that mother was gone as well? Or that father had perished? She did not want to know such things.
Lady Jeyne flopped upon the bed where she was discarded as Jaehaera turned towards the door. A loud boom rose above the howling of the wind. Another one followed. She scrambled off the creased sheets and soft mattress, dropping onto the ground and rolling beneath the bed. Wood groaned and screeched with every thunderous fall of whatever it was that mounted the attack. Jaehaera brought both hands over her ears and closed her eyes tightly, willing the noise to go away. She would happily take a world of darkness over the sickness in the pit of her stomach.
Lady Maris' words cruelly came back to her then. The evil crone atop the throne had finally decided to come for her. Fear flared to life with a vengeance. She did not want to be headless, pulled apart in pieces and left without even the slightest change of vengeance. But what could she do? The gentlest push from Ser Willis easily saw her budging. Without doubt the same might be said of any man. She began crying in earnest then, loud sobs wracking her body. Her much abused throat turned sorer not only from the cries, but as well from the screech she let out at the sound of splintering wood.
The door gave way and her assailants were revealed. Her last shield removed, Jaehaera fell silent, shrinking into the shadows. But her foes were clever. They reached under the bed, seemingly unbothered by her attempts at removing their clutch when her arm fell into their possession. She tugged backwards to no avail. Once more she found her voice. They dragged her out kicking and screaming. She would not plead, for begging hadn't worked.
Where was Ser Willis? Was he not supposed to protect her? He must have abandoned her. Despite the bitter whispers battering the last shred of hope she held on to, Jaehaera did not cease her flailing. Might be she could still escape their hold.
Lady Jeyne had broken her face. The chipped porcelain could not possibly be restored to former glory. A goodly chunk of her left cheek had not survived colliding with the edge of the bed in her mistress' mad scramble for escape. One of the blue eyes had been slashed in twin halves by a thin fracture line. The ruin of the doll's visage taunted Jaehaera with the knowledge that any day she too might get such a look about her. No door could bar the monsters and certainly no strength of hers could dissuade them. Jaehaera lowered her gaze from the doll, down towards the water.
In deep winter the sea lost its gay colours, becoming instead grey and silver when light chanced upon it. The waves broke through thin sheets of ice, finding their way towards jagged cliffs which they beat with unrestrained fury. The rock never gave way. It had withstood as many as a thousand years of abuse. What were a few more? Jaehaera wished she were as strong as stone. Then she would have no need to fear the future. Her arms tightened around Lady Jeyne. The doll, predictably still in her grasp, had little lament for the fate of either herself or Jaehaera.
"You know, Your Grace," Lady Maris picked up the thread of their one-sided conversation, "they say the life of a Silent Sister might seem difficult, but 'tis quite easy. You will have food and shelter and none should dare trouble you for fear of the Stranger." She had not put to rest her scheme that Jaehaera be given to the Faith. In fact, Lady Maris had gone so far as to suggest they sent her off immediately; for her own protection, the girl had added with an innocent smile. The realm ran rife with speculation as to the fate of the captured Queen. Some claimed the witch had fed her to her dragon. Others that she had been sold off for coin and jewellery. A few went as far as to say she had been given to the common soldiery, whatever that meant. In light of such, Lady Maris felt safe suggesting that the daughter of that unfortunate woman be given into the keeping of the devout. "His Grace would surely appreciate the need to pray for Queen Helaena's soul. And who better to do it than her own daughter. What say you, Your Grace?"
Mutinously, Jaehaera kept her silence. She might have disclosed she had no wish to join the Faith, but she feared exposing her reasoning to anyone might put an end to it all. Nay, she needed to somehow turn the Father's and the Warrior's attention to her plight. The Stranger could wait a bit. To that point, she knelt every day before those two and once every two days she went before the Stranger. Lighting candles at their altars, she was given peace to pray. Might be she should have absconded to the sept on this day as well; she might have been spared Lady Maris' insistence.
"Had your brothers joined the Faith they might have been spared." That got her attention. Jaehaera glared at the young woman. "There is no need to give me such an evil eye. I speak the truth. I suppose they might have joined the Night's Watch as well to the same effect. But the point is, they did not need to die. And neither do you. Listen to me, Your Grace, for I only mean to save you."
Jaehaera pursed her lips, contemplating the benefits of sending Lady Maris away. It would not be polite, and mother would have certainly frowned at such behaviour, but she did not think she could take much more of the pestering. Matters decided, she opened her mouth, about to claim a need for solitude; only an entirely different speech left her mouth, "If you are so devout, my lady, join the Silent Sisters yourself." She had spoken louder than was her wont, attracting a few eyes more than usual to them.
Lady Elenda shot her daughter a dark look. "Maris, do not inopportune Her Grace. Let the poor girl sit in peace and come finish your embroidery." Despite the lady's command, her daughter lingered a few moments longer, staring so deeply into Jaehaera's eyes, 'twas a wonder she'd not found her soul. But no matter, for in due course, the girl had settled down once more and, picking up her sampler, returned to labouring over summer flowers long gone. Only faint crackling disturbed the silence any longer, the occasional popping noise of fire splintering wood keeping lazy rhythm.
For one brief moment, Jaehaera glanced at her own sampler. Lady Elenda had kindly traced and even begun sewing the rudimentary lines of a rose for her. She'd managed in her own turn to fill precisely three petals with colourful thread before, overwhelmed by a sense of hopelessness, she had moved away to a window seat, concentrating on the half-seen sea without.
The keep had no windows that directly faced the jagged cliffs and the great waters below. For whatever reason one could only catch the barest glimpse from Lady Elenda's solar. But she had seen the vast expanse in all its glory when out walking with Lady Ellyn and her squire. They had put her to observing the waves and where they broke as the two of them walked a bit further to inspect the ground. Lady Ellyn had said in the night the waves might rise so high as to reach the keep. Jaehaera did not believe that; she suspected Lady Ellyn merely enjoyed the company of the squire. But she said naught of it. Lady Ellyn had been one of the few kind souls she had come upon during her stay at Storm's End.
She laid Lady Jeyne upon her shoulder, hiding away the broken visage and began humming softly. It was one of the songs Lady Elenda had sung in the past, but whose words Jaehaera could recall only fragments of. None paused in their tasks at the sound.