Chapter 2
LADY JENA DANDARRION
The journey to Storm's End was a short one, and the roads built by Baelor's ancestors made it so that they reached Storm's End on the tenth day. While the carriage was comfortable enough, Jena had chosen to ride a horse herself for the latter part of the journey as she wished to feel the air in her face.
Jena was from the Marches, and before peace had come to their lands, even the women of the Marches were taught to ride a horse and wield a blade so that they might fight against the Dornish vultures, in case the need arose.
Still, her lord husband was one of the most fabled warriors in the land, and what kind of a wife would she be if she could not even ride a horse? Still, the little venture caught her youngest by surprise, who frowned as she rode beside her.
"I never knew you could ride a horse," and he was young, and yet he was Baelor's blood, and he already had the makings of a good rider.
"Well, at least there is something that you don't know," she teased, and of her two children, Matarys had taken after her, with his light hair and blue eyes. He had his father's face, though, and his charm, yet his most famous trait was his intelligence.
Jena was smart, and Baelor was well-read as well, and yet none of them shared their son's mind, and Baelor whispered that he had taken after his uncle, Aerys, in that, and she could only hope that he would not take after him in anything other than his love for books.
Still, as they rode forth, the Drum Tower came into the view, and one could see a host of tents and pavilions that had been raised around Storm's End to accommodate all the guests for the celebrations.
Her husband rode in the front, and she heard the castle horns as the doors to Storm's End swung open and a retinue of guards departed to escort them to the castle.
"Matarys," Baelor called out, as he slowed down his horse.
"Yes, Father," Matarys answered diligently.
"I do hope you remember the promise you made to me," and Matarys rolled his eyes.
"What do you really think of me?" he asked, as if Baelor had made an indignant accusation over his honor.
"I am not a child anymore," Matarys countered, and she could not help but chuckle at that, as Baelor's lips turned up at that as well.
"Still, I want you on your best behavior," and Matarys nodded.
"Honestly, I just might forget my manners with all your badgering," and before Baelor could say anything more, she decided to cut in.
"He will be fine," she vouched for her son, who had a rather sharp tongue for his age.
"I will make sure of it," she added, and the men came and joined their retinue as they were escorted through a horde of tents and pavilions. Lords and knights from all over the realm had come to get a chance at glory, and she recognised most of the sigils, though some remained a mystery to her.
They had all come here in hunt for glory, and yet they would have to return empty-handed, for there were very few knights in the realm who could stand their own against Baelor Breakspear.
"They are all eyeing him," Matarys observed, and she nodded.
"Just as they should," she answered back, brimming with pride as Lord Barathon's heir came to greet them himself.
Baelor jumped down from his horse, and the Kingsguard placed stairs beside her horse for her, lest she dirty her dress with dirt, as they were offered bread and salt.
"Welcome to Storm's End, my Prince," Lord Lyonel, she remembered his name finally, as the man knelt infront of Baelor, and the rest of the castle followed suit.
"Rise," her husband said, and the heir to Storm's End rose, and his castle rose with him.
"You have the Crown's congratulations on the birth of your son, my lord," Baelor added, and the man nodded as he shook her husband's hand.
"I am grateful that you decided to deign us with your presence, my Prince," Lyonel Baratheon added, as they were led into the castle.
"Of course I came. I was told that there was a tournament waiting to be won," and the two men laughed, as Lyonel finally turned towards her son.
"And you must be the little Prince," Lyonel Baratheon added, and her son nodded.
"Indeed, my lord. I am Matarys, and may the mother bless you and your son," and the man nodded.
"He takes much after you, my lady," the man added, and Jena nodded.
"He does," she answered, as both Baelor and she looked at one another for a brief moment.
"The servants will lead you to your chambers. I have organised a feast for you, my Prince. We eat today, and tomorrow we joust," and Prince Baelor nodded.
"I would not have it any other way," and the guards led them through the winding Halls, as Matarys trodded towards Baelor.
"Does Lord Baratheon have a squire?" he asked, and Baelor rolled his eyes.
"You are not going to squire under him," Baelor countered, and Matarys' shoulder sagged.
"But why? I have heard great things about him. I am told the man has a moniker just like you," and he did indeed.
"The Laughing Storm," and that was indeed one of his names.
"I will find you a knight to squire for," Baelor countered, and she raked her mind and remembered something.
"But didn't Lord Brynden offer to take you in as his squire?" she asked, and Brynden Rivers was one of King Aegon IV's bastards, born to him and his Blackwood mistress. He had been legitimised by his orders, and though the bastards were not well favored by the laws and the Seven, Brynden had done their family a great service.
He had shunned his own half-brother's call for rebellion and instead had raised his banners for King Daeron and had played an instrumental part in putting down the Blackfyre rebellion.
He had made great contributions during the battle of Red Grass field and had even lost an eye in a duel against Bittersteel.
"I would much rather die than squire under that bastard," and Matarys was not usually the kind to use such foul language.
"Matarys," Baelor was quick to censure their son.
"You will not speak of your family like that," and he was a bastard, but Lord Brynden Rivers had only ever stood beside the crown, and was well respected enough that the King had offered the man a seat on his Council.
"He is a creep," Matarys countered, still defiant in his opinion, and he was not wrong. There were many distasteful rumors about the man, though she had only ever heard him whisper praise of her youngest.
"He is a Lord who has made great contributions to the Throne. I will not have you disrespect him like that," Baelor warned, as Matarys simply shrugged.
"I am afraid I am not convinced," and he could be rather stubborn, and Baelor looked to her for support.
"You know what they say of him, don't you, Matarys?" and she hoped that fear could compel him into subservience.
"How many eyes does the Bloodraven have?" she asked, and Matarys rolled his eyes.
"A thousand eyes and one," Matarys countered, before he stopped and turned towards the window.
"That is why I would never hesitate to say these words to his face either," and she saw a few crows pass through the air, as Matarys shouted.
"You are a bastard, you hear me, Rivers," and Baelor had finally had enough.
"Matarys!" he warned, and she had no choice but to pinch his ears lest he anger Baelor anymore than he already had.
"Ouch," her son winced as she pulled him away from the window.
"I will take him to his room," she added, and Baelor nodded.
"You promised me Matarys," he said, turning to their son, who raised a brow.
"I promised you to be respectful to all the lords and ladies at Storm's End. I don't see Lord Brynden here," and for some reason, he turned to the window again, where the crows were flying around rather suspiciously now.
"That tongue would be more suited to a swindler than a Prince," Baelor countered, and this was Matarys. Their son, and few could ever win in a duel of words against him, even at such an age.
"Isn't that what most of the monarchy is?" Matarys countered, and suddenly the hallway was filled with silence as Baelor and Matarys stared at one another in absolute silence.
"Come, I want to see my room," Matarys broke the silence as he turned towards her, and freed his ear from her grasp.
She followed after him, as they made their way through the Halls, and they were led to his chambers first, and they seemed appropriate enough, and as she was about to leave, she could not help but wonder.
"Matarys," she whispered as she stood at the door.
"Yes," he asked, turning towards her from the window, looking down at the yard.
"Why did you want to come here?" she asked, and Matarys gazed back at her, and he had never been one for lying, as he gave her a bright childish smile.
"Because I wanted to meet someone....".
.
.
.
Back at the capital, a pale-haired young man laughed as his sole eye turned a bright red from a pale snowy white, while a naked girl slumbered away in the bed beside him.
"You truly are an interesting child, Matarys," he whispered, as the girl pushed herself up and opened her mismatched eyes, one dark blue and the other bright green as she gazed at the pale-skinned man.
"Why are you laughing like a madman, my dear Brynden?" she teased, as the one-eyed man turned to face the ethereal beauty lying naked in his bed.
"Nothing," he lied, and the woman knew it as well.
"Liar," she called him mischievously, as the young man raised a brow.
"Marry me, and I shall give you nothing but the truth...."
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