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153 A.C.
They say that the eldest son is often dearest in the hearts of his parents, and an only son is even more cherished. At least that is what she has always heard.
Lady Jeyne Bulwer is neither the eldest boy nor an only son. She is a girl, and the only child the Mother gave her parents within their eight years of marriage.
She will remain that way, as Queen Alicent Hightower no longer bled. So Jeyne will one day be the Lady of Blackcrown, as Father gently explained to her. It is not so much a promise as it is simply the law. It is simply what is owed to her, as his trueborn daughter and only heir of his body. She has no brothers, all three of her aunt’s children are girls.
Father would be completely witless telling her the same thing if he ever sired sons.
But that is unlikely to pass, although is certainly not unusual for men to take a second wife when widowed. Jeyne’s lady mother was once a second wife. But Jeyne would be more ready to believe that Mother will be the one to outlive Father.
After all, she has outlived so many of her family already.
Jeyne’s family.
Could you still consider yourself an only child when you did have siblings, even if they were dead?
Jeyne sometimes dreamt of them. Aegon, Helaena, Aemond, and Daeron.
Sometimes she dreamt she flew with Helaena or Daeron on their dragons.
Not Aegon, though. Aegon had been a king. If she accompanied him on Sunfyre.... it would be like…. like trying to sit on the Iron Throne. It would not be right. And Vaghar… Vaghar was probably always destined to die in battle to make no matter, anyway.
But Jeyne liked to imagine Helaena and Daeron indulging her once or twice, their adoring little half-sister.
Warm pride often stirred in Jeyne whenever she remembered how the egg that hatched Dreamfyre belonged to a queen, so it was no wonder the she-beast had accepted Jeyne's sister, the true queen, as her rider when the time came. Aemond was the last rider of a dragon that was once Queen Visenya’s, the wife of the Conqueror, the same dragon that his grandfather was once worthy of, who was the rightful Prince of Dragonstone when he died.
That had to mean something. And if it did, then the Princess’s sons were fortunate that their eggs hatched. Because their trying to claim a riderless Dreamfyre or Vaghar would be almost as big a disaster as it had been for the Princess when she refused to relinquish her grasp on the Iron Throne.
Although truthfully, the war was such a disaster for almost everyone.
If things had been different, it is unlikely that there ever would have been a Jeyne Bulwer. Aegon was already past his majority when King Viserys died. There should have been no need really, for Alicent Hightower to ever remarry.
But remarry she did, and it was not during her son’s reign. It was after. After Jaehaera. Jaehaera was the last of Aegon and Helaena, and when she died, the court had expected that it would be the last of Alicent Hightower.
Jeyne could understand why. Her mother had not been… well in the days leading up to her granddaughter’s death. For that reason, she was confined to her apartments.
When Jaehaera died, some of Aegon’s council had not wanted to tell Alicent. But the rest dissented, and Alicent Hightower’s septa took her gently by the hand and told her the little girl was with the gods now.
The Hand came to her as well. “Nobody wishes to bar you from your dear granddaughter’s funeral,” Unwin Peake had said gravely as Alicent refused to look at him. “But there are some concerns…” He let the word hang in the air between them.
The Dowager Queen then raised her head, and stared at him blankly, “I do not wish to attend,” and Septa Margaery inhaled sharply at her words. “I only ask to sit vigil with Her Grace’s body the night before.”
The Hand granted her request, so Alicent spent the eve of the funeral in the Great Sept. She would not sleep that entire night, as she knelt before the body of Jaehaera. I’m sorry, Alicent offered with every prayer.
When it was time for her to leave, Alicent took out a knife and cut a few strands from Jaehaera’s silver hair. “Do not worry,” She whispered in the dead child’s ear. “Your mother will still know you.” She then placed the strands away and went with her awaiting guards. The service would commence soon.
With the Crone’s view, everyone saw how foolish it was to attempt to take Alicent’s life as they traveled back in a procession to the castle. It was too suspicious, everyone said. A necklace was torn from Alicent’s throat as if to make it out to be an act of thievery before he pressed a knife against her pale throat, and for a moment Alicent thought how sweet it felt.
Even if they were genuine thieves, there would have been less conspicuous targets to choose from.
If Unwin Peake had truly been guilty, perhaps he should have waited longer to avoid such suspicions before proposing his daughter as Aegon’s new bride. There were already whispers about Jaehaera. Perhaps he had nothing to do with it all, but he still had the nerve to present the match when poor Jaehaera was barely cold in her grave, so to Jeyne he had deserved to die for that. She was glad that Mother was able to watch.
After Peake was dealt with, there had been another surprise when Alicent accepted the hand of Lord Bulwer. Jeyne could not understand why that was so shocking. Of course, she would leave. Some thought it easier to understand if she departed for a motherhouse. Once Jeyne asked Father why Mother didn’t become a septa instead of marrying him, and Father told her that one day Mother would explain it to her, for he would not speak for her.
But Mother never got the chance, for she died when Jeyne was only ten.
Jeyne had curled up in Mother’s bed, clutching her doll. It was one of several that belonged to Jaehaera, once. Mother took them with her when she left Kingslanding, as well as gifting the rest to an orphanage that Helaena had frequented. She gave them to Jeyne for her sixth or seventh name day when she began to be old enough to understand what was lost.
To understand that terrible things had been done.
That is why Jeyne has no desire to ever go to court. It might have been different if Jaehaera had lived. She would have gone for Jaehaera. Not some Velayron woman and her stupid brats.
But that is what Father wants her to do. In truth, it is actually more for her and her husband Aegon’s niece and nephew. Prince Aegon is to wed his younger sister Naerys, in the tradition of their house.
“He is not even the heir,” Jeyne scoffed. That was little Prince Daeron, a boy of nine. At least she thought he was nine. Jeyne certainly wasn’t bothering to celebrate his name days. “Why should I leave Blackcrown for him?”
Father sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Sweetling, Aegon- indeed none of the royal children- ever knew Rhaenyra and Daemon. That foul woman is rarely spoken of there I am told.”
“Being told something is not the same as knowing it.”
Father gave a half-smile at that. “Perhaps. But my point stands, Jeyne. And King Aegon’s claim derives from your half-brother, not his own mother. You are the closest kin to the last true king before him. You would honor them with your attendance. You would honor your mother.”
Jeyne dug her nails into her palm. “How?” She choked out. She cannot imagine Mother ever being happy about something like this.
“Because when you go to court, not everyone will know who you are at first. But when they do learn who you are, I know you will show them that you are a true Bulwer. Death Before Disgrace.”
“And a true Hightower, as well,” Jeyne whispered.
So, Jeyne went.
She is dressed in a glory of a gown and styles herself with her finest courtesies. She is asked to dance, although she makes sure that her ladies-in-waiting are asked as well. Jocelyn and Tanda were much shyer than she.
Soon, it was easy to forget how terrible this place truly was, and how much Jeyne longed to leave as soon it was appropriate.
And then she found herself dancing with Prince Aegon.
“My warmest blessings to you and your bride,” Jeyne tells him, as he spins her around. “I wish you and Princess Naerys a happy marriage.” To her surprise, she realizes that these were not empty words. Of course, all of Aegon and Viserys’ brood could die sudden and violent deaths for all she cared. But nobody deserved to be locked in a miserable marriage.
Aegon smiled. He did have a beautiful smile, Jeyne thought. But she did not like it.
“If there are any blessings, I will not be the one to enjoy them. I had not wanted the match.”
“You did not?” Didn’t all Targaryens want to marry their sisters, if they could? They were queer that way.
They continued dancing. “No. I had no wish to marry anyone, least of all Naerys.” She could smell the disgust in his voice. It was not disgust with the notion of marrying his own sister. It was disgust at Naerys herself.
Jeyne did not understand. She had attended the princess’ wedding breakfast and seen her. The gods had not been unkind to Naerys when it came to her looks, although she was thinner than she ought to have been. They said she was gentle and good and loved the gods. “She would have become a septa if Prince Viserys permitted it”, Tanda had told her. Perhaps Aegon knew this, and that was the cause of his objections.
“What did Princess Naerys think of it?”
Aegon’s lip curled. “What does it matter, what she thought? Or our darling brother. He thinks too well of Naerys."
Prince Aegon’s candidacy discomforts Jeyne. She does not want to be privy to this. But her discomfort is not alone. She feels anger, bubbling underneath. It is not as though she cares about Naerys herself being insulted or dismissed. Naerys is still the granddaughter of the vile man who helped destroy Jeyne’s sister, just as Jeyne will always be Alicent Hightower’s daughter to Viserys and Aegon, even if their mother was a usurper and if the rumors really were true, ready to advance the interests of her bastards over their true-born half-brothers. Nor does she feel sorry for her not being allowed to be a septa. Likely she will get over it, in time.
But she feels angry, all the same.
“Your brother,” Jeyne replies pleasantly. "He is older than you, yes?"
Aegon scowls. “He is my father’s second son.”
“Apologies, my prince. My mistake.” It was no mistake.
Aegon then pulled Jeyne closer. Too close. “A mistake easily remedied if I were to see you later tonight. After the bedding is done, of course.”
Bile rises in Jeyne’s throat. He does not mean to enjoy her conversation; she knows that much. She is a lady, not some common serving wench. How dare he?“I am not a whore,” She hissed, not caring that he was a prince.
“Really? I thought perhaps with...." He trails off.
Jeyne wants to knock his teeth out. She knows who is alluding to, the worm. “You seemed confused as to what a whore is, my prince. Are you also confused as to what to do with your cock? Perhaps you should postpone your bedding, so one can teach you.”
Aegon reddened and looked as if he wanted to say something, but before he could, someone tapped Jeyne on the shoulder and asked her for the honor of a dance.
Jeyne smiled sweetly at Aegon, thanked him, and let herself be spun away, out of his reach.