Jena

Her brother was certainly old, but he was far from decrepit. He was well-fed, but not plump. His hair was white and his skin was leathery, but he was still straight-backed, his voice was clear, and his green eyes still had a fire in them.

Jena led her brother and his children through the castle. Out of courtesy for her, they maintained a slow pace so that Titus walked beside her and the others stayed behind.

"How are your grandchildren?"

"Choyal and Lobelia will turn five this year," Titus answered. "Titanus will turn two."

There was a clear caginess in his voice as he spoke of them. Does he miss them? Does he fear what the walls might overhear? Does he fear telling me of his own familial bliss?

"I hope their mother is in good health," she observed.

"Chatali is very well, last I saw of her."

Jena felt a restless discomfort in the air, but she was not sure from whence it spawned. Was it coming from Titus? Herself? Titus' children? All of us, no doubt. What sort of small talk can there be after twelve years?

By that point, they had reached Maegor's Holdfast. Ser Sagramor Toland stood before the lowered drawbridge. Born of sandy and salty Dornish stock, his teak-coloured face was half-hidden by a black beard.

"Princess," he muttered as she passed him by. He merely nodded to the others; it was only after they'd passed the Kingsguard knight when Jena recalled that Sagramor had only been a Kingsguard knight for five years, the second youngest apart from Niall Crane. And since he'd only come to the capital eight years ago, that meant he had never seen Titus before. Gods… he wasn't even born when Titus was Master of Laws. Who does he think Titus is? What does he think of Baalun, Leroya, Miru, Sadog, and Matthias?

"A castle within a castle," Baalun suddenly observed. He seemed amused by the notion.

"A necessary precaution, young man," Jena called to him. "You ought to read about the history of House Targaryen. The holdfast has proved essential to this family's survival."

"Especially when they ran out of dragons," Matthias quipped.

Jena shuddered as she glared at Titus' son. "You've been away from Westeros too long, else you wouldn't make jokes like that within the Red Keep."

"Sage advice," Titus commented. "Did I not warn you to mind yourself, Matthias?"

"We're alone, aren't we?" Matthias protested as they went down an empty corridor.

"In this castle?" Jena gave a hollow laugh. "The walls have ears! Did you not know?"

"Speaking of that," Titus interjected, "where are we going?" You said you did not wish to put your business into words. So where will we speak of them?"

"My chambers," Jena replied.

Leroya frowned. "It would be safer to talk aboard my ship," she suggested.

"You expect me to drag myself all the way to the harbour?" Jena glanced up at the tall woman. "We're not all as agile as you."

"But you just said the walls-"

"I know what I said," Jena interrupted. "And never you mind what I'll do about it. Just come along."

When Baelor was still alive, he and Jena had been given a luxurious apartment in the holdfast, near the top of the castle. After Baelor's death, Jena had continued to occupy it with Matarys until his passing. Daeron and Myriah had allowed it until their own deaths, and Aerys had been either too apathetic or too indifferent to move her out. When Maekar was crowned king, it was assumed that the luxurious heir's apartment would go to Daeron and Kiera, but Maekar hadn't been able or willing to demand Jena vacate the apartment.

For their part, Daeron and Kiera made no complaints; they allowed her to remain in that apartment. Servants continued to clean and arrange Baelor's clothes, as if he might come back from the dead to use them. One by one, though, the garments became threadbare and worn out, as did the clothes worn by Valarr and Matarys. When the last of these was gone, Jena was forced to accept the inevitable, especially after the fall which had broken her hip.

Stairs became much more difficult for her after that injury, and so she had moved into an apartment on the same floor as the holdfast's gate. After Daeron's death, Kiera had anticipated Aerion's wish to take the heir's rooms for himself. Jena had suggested that Kiera and Vaella move in with her instead.

Customarily, both Jena and Kiera were entitled to the protection of a Kingsguard knight. Since they were living together in the holdfast - and also because both had outlived most of their relevance - a single knight served them both.

Ser Niall, the newest knight to wear the white cloak, stood outside the door, standing to attention in his heavy armour. When he saw Jena, he gave her a formal nod before opening the door. Just like Sagramor, he was surprised at the company she'd brought. His bewilderment was doubled when Leroya winked at him and murmured, "Don't mind the noise we make in here."

You mischief-maker, Jena thought amusedly. Titus' daughter through and through. And you're far more correct than you realise.

As she often did, Vaella was seated by the hearth, basking in the fire's warm glow. She clutched an otter pelt close to her chest, letting both her hands rub up and down the soft brown fur.

Not far away, Kiera sat upon a couch, reading aloud from a book. Jena was not sure how much Vaella could understand, but she was always at her calmest when listening to her mother's voice.

When Jena and the others entered, Kiera halted and arose to her feet. "Oh," she exclaimed softly when she beheld Titus. "So, you have come back."

"Princess," Titus replied. "It's been a long time. My sympathies for your terrible loss."

Kiera's face fell, as it always did when she was reminded of Daeron. Still, she allowed Titus to kiss her hand, as well as his sons. She was about to withdraw her hand when Leroya took it and cheekily made the same gesture.

"And this is Vaella," Jena declared, gesturing to Kiera's daughter, who was staring wide-eyed at the newcomers without uttering a sound.

Miru knelt down so that she was eye to eye with the girl, giving her a friendly smile. "Hello there, Princess," she cooed.

Vaella quickly turned her face away.

"She'll come around," Jena told Miru, then glanced at Leroya and Baalun. "I don't suppose you two can give us a good sea shanty?"

Baalun was astonished by the request. "Without any drinks?"

"I can arrange for you to ingest some courage," Jena replied pawkily. "What sort of courage do you prefer to drink?"

"You mistake my brother, Princess," Leroya interjected, "the drinks are for the rest of you. That way, his singing will sound good!"

The others laughed, even as Baalun gave his older sister a shove.

It took some time for food and drink to be brought to the apartment. Luckily, the table in Jena's apartment had been made to host private meals within the royal family. It was large enough to accommodate the nine men and women, as well as the meals they ate.

The castle's cooks had prepared green beans cooked with garlic and lemon juice, roasted capon and quail, oxtail soup, and pies stuffed with mushrooms and turnips. To wash it down, casks of Arbor gold, cider, and lemon water were placed beside the table to fill goblets as needed.

After he'd had four helpings of Arbor gold, Baalun needed no further encouragement to sing. His voice wasn't quite as bad as Jena had expected, but it was exactly as loud as she'd hoped.

"Farewell and adieu to you, Dornish ladies,

Farewell and adieu to you, ladies of Dorne;

For we've received orders to sail for King's Landing,

But we hope in a short time to see you once more!

Matthias and Leroya, who'd also had a considerable amount of wine, laughed and clapped their hands as Baalun swayed where he stood.

Jena recognised the tune. Many a sailor from the eastern Stormlands had sung some version of it. Michael Manwoody had sung it as well, as well as "Poor Isidore" and other such shanties. Jena and Elaena had always found them amusing.

Gods… She felt herself growing melancholic again; she had outlived so many of those whom she'd loved. But this was no time for her to dwell on that; she had important matters to discuss.

Speaking as loudly as she dared, Jena leaned forward towards her brother and nephew. "It is my and Kiera's intention to fight for Vaella's right to the Iron Throne."

Titus' eyes widened; it was clear that he hadn't expected that. He turned from her to the girl who had eaten as much as Kiera could persuade her before retreating to the hearth.

He said nothing, but Jena could sense Titus' thoughts from the look on his face. Vaella did seem a fitting candidate for the Iron Throne. She was frightened by the loud noises, and she'd been making sounds of distress ever since Baalun had begun belting. Miru had tried to be friendly to her, but Vaella seemed to be half-afraid of her as well. Jena hoped that it wasn't due to the dark blotches across Miru's face; if Miru suspected that as well, she didn't show it, nor did she hold it against Vaella. Instead, she'd gone to sit beside Vaella with a bowl of food.

We'll rant and we'll roar like all true Crownlanders,

We'll rant and we'll roar on the Narrow Sea!

Until we strike soundings at the mouth of Blackwater;

And share all our stories of Dornish ladies!"

Titus, meanwhile, looked uncomfortable. "You think Vaella is the one who should become queen, then?"

You certainly don't, Jena wanted to snap, but Titus was her only sure ally. "She will grow into queenship."

"As you say," Sadog intervened, "but the lords will be predisposed to choose someone else. After all, the last time a Targaryen king had declared his daughter as heir, the realm plunged into war."

"You ought to read your histories again," Jena warned the banker. "The realm plunged into war because that king was fool enough to have more children with an ambitious bitch."

"The first land we sighted was called the Greenstone,

Next Rain House twixt Cape Wrath and Shipbreaker Bay,

We sailed around Tarth, past Parchments and Stonedance,

With all of us reeking of salty sea spray!"

Sadog might have retorted, but Titus waved him down. "You truly believe that Vaella is the worthiest claimant?"

"I do," Jena insisted hotly. "Who else would you have? Aerion's son? The one named for the Cruel?"

Titus shrugged. "He is still a babe, and the lords will be tempted to choose a son over a daughter."

"Daeron was the elder son," Kiera snapped. "And besides, Aerion was loved by nobody. Half the realm knew that he was mad."

"We'll rant and we'll roar like all true Crownlanders,

We'll rant and we'll roar on the Narrow Sea!

Until we strike soundings at the bay of Blackwater;

And share all our stories of Dornish ladies!"

Titus had no answer to that. His hands fidgeted on the table. "That is true enough. But what of Aemon and Aegon?"

"Aemon is a maester," Jena replied. "He has no claim. And Aegon cannot be trusted."

"He seemed a fine sort when I last met him," Titus observed cautiously.

In her heart of hearts, Jena agreed with that sentiment, and that worried her. Aegon was neither cruel nor mad; Maekar had been fond of his youngest son, to the point that he'd taken Aegon with him to Starpike instead of Aerion. It worried her that he might succeed in becoming the next king.

"We cannot have him on the throne," she now told Titus. "He was a wild boy who got Baelor killed with his antics."

Titus winced. "I heard it was Maekar's mace that did the deed. And was it not Aerion's doing which started all this? And the hedge knight who struck him?"

"He only struck Aerion because Aegon went to find him." It had taken Jena quite some time and sifting through the lies and rumours to discover the truth of the matter. "Aerion was being cruel, it is true, but Aegon ran to summon a hedge knight instead of his uncle! Baelor might have been able to intervene without causing a trial of seven."

"Aye, well…" Titus trailed off, looking wretched. "It was evil what happened to Baelor, but Aegon was a boy. I did far worse than that when I was twice his age."

"Now let ev'ry man drink off his full bumper,

And let ev'ry man drink off his full glass;

We'll drink and be jolly and drown melancholy,

And here's to the health of each true-hearted lass."

Miru chose that moment to return to the table. She had clearly failed to win over Vaella, but she seemed unperturbed. She grinned at the antics of her siblings, so that Jena wasn't sure if she was going to listen.

Jena was alarmed at Titus' faltering. "You do not know the worst of it, brother. Since you last met him, Aegon has gotten married to Betha Blackwood. Brynden Rivers is his uncle by marriage!"

This revelation seemed to resolve Titus' hesitation. "That is grievous news. Aegon won't have the strength to stand up to Brynden. His father certainly didn't." He and Sadog exchanged a glance before he turned back to his sister. "Whatever else, we cannot have Brynden remain in power."

"Exactly," Jena urged, feeling relieved. "And Vaella is our best chance. With her, Kiera will be the queen regent, and she has no love for Brynden."

"Brynden is a dangerous man," Titus cautioned Kiera. "Are you prepared to make him your enemy?"

"He already is my enemy," Kiera answered coldly. "He and that bitch he calls a lover. They murdered the babes in my womb, then my husband and goodbrother."

"We'll rant and we'll roar like all true Crownlanders,

We'll rant and we'll roar on the Narrow Sea!

Until we strike soundings at the bay of Blackwater;

And share all our stories of Dornish ladies!"

"Very well," Titus ceded. He glanced at Vaella where she sat. "We shall have to place Vaella on the Iron Throne."

Miru reacted with shock at these words, but she kept her tongue after Titus shot her a warning glance.

Baalun suddenly stopped singing the shanty and switched to another one in another language. Leroya got up and joined him.

As they sang louder, so too did Sadog raise his voice to be heard. "First, we must needs discover who our allies might be. Who will be a part of this great council?"

A thunderstruck expression was on Miru's face. Jena pointedly avoided her gaze as she addressed Sadog's question. "Lord Daemian Velaryon will be there, of course," Jena listed off, "and Lord Massey…"

"Massey?" Titus interrupted. "Chester Massey?"

"The same," Jena affirmed. "He wasn't in the hall when you arrived. He'll be pleased to see you again."

Titus smiled sadly. Chester's uncle - who was also Baalun's namesake - had been one of his dearest friends, serving as the commander of his guard for the entirety of his service as Master of Laws.

"Anyway," Jena resumed, "Lord Farring is present as well, along with Lord Celtigar, Lord Darklyn, Lord Bar Emmon, Lady Buckwell, Lord Harte, Lady Stokeworth, and Lord Sunglass. Those are the only houses from the Crownlands that are attending."

"What of the Westerlands?" Sadog asked. He himself had originally come from that region.

"Lord Lannister is coming," Jena replied. "Truth be told, I thought he would stay home after he lost his son. Gerold has been inconsolable, it is said. But he's due to arrive tomorrow or the day after."

"And who will he bring?"

"Roger Reyne the Red Lion," Jena replied. "Lord Tarbeck, Lord Marbrand, Lord Payne, and Lady Lefford."

The river lords had already come to the capital. Lord Clifford Tully had arrived with his wife and two daughters, perhaps in the hope that weddings might be arranged whilst he was in attendance. Lord Bracken, Lord Blackwood, Lady Ryger, Lord Vance, Lord Whent, and Lord Mooton had joined their lord paramount.

"The storm lords are here too," Jena went on, focusing on Titus and Sadog. "Lord Lyonel Baratheon and his retinue were among the first to arrive after the crownlanders."

He was better known as the Laughing Storm; he had also been one of the men who'd fought alongside Baelor and Ser Duncan during the trial of seven. Jena might have respected him for that, but Lyonel was also sure to be a supporter of Aegon.

If Titus worried about that, he gave no indication. "Aside from Geraint, who else came with him?"

"Lord Swann," Jena rattled off. "Lord Morrigen, Lady Fell, Lord Connington, and Lord Caron."

"What was his son's name?"

"Whose?"

"Geraint," Titus replied. "He said that his son died at Starpike with Maekar. Who was he?"

Jena sighed. "His name was Cassus. A brave young man, it was said. He was squiring for Lord Ashford, from what I heard. They were both slain during the storming of Starpike."

"Gods," Sadog exclaimed wearily. "There's always something, so there is."

"Welcome back to Westeros," Kiera suddenly quipped. Jena could sense the lifetime of disappointment and dolefulness which went into those words.

On the subject of melancholy, Titus leaned heavily on his elbows with a glum expression on his face. "I should have known better," he admitted. "Galling as it was, I'm beginning to think that Geraint was right to chastise me. What love or allegiance would he have for me? I never came back to pay my respects when Baldric and Manfred died."

"Leave it be," Jena advised. "Geraint has little love for me either, and I was there to lay Baldric to rest. The plain truth is that he's lived a cruel life, and it has made him bitter."

Titus silently scratched one side of his face; he did not argue with Jena, but nor did he seem reassured by her words.

"If I might ask, what of the Vale?" Sadog pointedly interrupted. "The northmen said that Lord Arryn had already come to the capital."

"Indeed he has. Lord Jasper Arryn is here, along with his heir," she explained. "He's brought along Lord Royce, Lord Belmore, Lady Corbray, Lord Redfort, Lord Waynwood, and the Knight of Wickenden." She went back to Sadog's earlier comment. "Did the northmen say if more were coming?"

"Nay," Titus answered. "Manderly, Flint, and Locke will be the only attendees from the North."

Jena shrugged. "Truth be told, I'm surprised they sent anyone at all. But then again, I've heard that even the ironborn have sent delegates."

Titus and Sadog were instantly incredulous. They might have been out of Westeros for decades, but they still recalled the pugnacious position which the Iron Islands so often held within the realm.

"Lord Stonetree and Lord Harlaw," Jena revealed. "They're sailing around Westeros with Lord Rycherd Tyrell and Princess Dido Martell." She could only imagine what a cheery voyage that would be; from the look on her brother's face, he shared in her amusement.

"Speaking of the Tyrells and Martells…" Titus began.

Jena did not need him to continue. "Lord Tyrell's bringing Lord Hightower, Lord Florent, Lord Oakheart, Lord Rowan, Lord Tarly, Lord Caswell, and Lady Merryweather."

"And the Dornish?"

"Lord Blackmont and Lady Jordayne are already here," Jena explained. "Princess Dido wrote that she'll be coming to King's Landing with Lord Allyrion and…" Jena suddenly trailed off.

Titus frowned at her reticence; realisation struck him as if he was struck across the face. "No," he murmured. "Edgar Dalt still lives?"

"Nay, brother," Jena answered. "It will be his daughter, Lady Nisba."

Titus looked even worse than when he'd spoken of Geraint Dondarrion. Miru and Sadog's faces were full of concern as they tried to comfort their father.

Jena might have pitied her brother if she weren't so desperate for his aid. As he sat there, numb with misery and anticipation, Jena forced back the pang of guilt which was pushing her to suggest he go back home. She needed him too much to worry about how Lady Dalt would react to him.

"This is important," she reminded her brother, though she couldn't look him in the eye as she spoke. "We must not forget why we are doing this."

"Fear not, sister," Titus replied dolorously. "I have not forgotten, nor will I forget. Brynden Rivers' reign must be stopped once and for all."