Chapter Text
Septa Maris was snoring loudly.
Even Elen, little Cassie’s normally pleasant nurse had seemed annoyed earlier, when she’d dropped herself onto the lumpy straw mattress near the door, which she was to share with the septa that evening.
This had caused Maris to snort and quieten long enough for two of the three occupants of the larger bed under the gable window to find their dreams. Jocelyn, the third, had watched Ramona rubbing circles onto her sister’s back until her hand stilled and both girls were breathing heavily.
She herself had not followed them into sleep, and very quickly the septa was snoring again.
If they were at home, there would be roaring winds and crashing waves to drown her out. Even high up, nearly at the top of the drum tower, through layers and layers of stone, Jocelyn could always hear the waves. They were a comfort and a constant.
And while the sounds of a rushing river did reach her now, it was faint. The air here was also too still.
Besides, if they were at home, Jocelyn would not need the distraction. She would be sleeping in her own chambers. In her own bed. Without her cousins and their septa and the nursemaid. And the man standing guard outside the door would be much further away so she wouldn’t be able to hear his armour clanking every time he shifted his weight.
She wondered vaguely when she would see her rooms again. She’d missed her bed these last days.
Ramona was laying perfectly still now, with Cassie tucked into her side. A small mercy. Sometimes back at home, when Ramona would sneak past the guards into Jocelyn’s rooms and slip in next to her, which she did more and more often of late, Ramona would thrash about something awful.
Jocelyn’s bed was large enough where they could both stretch out and never touch so her cousin’s nighttime movements were never a bother. She would just turn over and close her eyes.
No, she never had trouble sleeping in her own bed.
Surrounded by pillows and cushions aplenty atop her soft featherbed – something this dark and damp room lacked – she always went right to sleep.
Cassie stirred and Jocelyn watched as Ramona cradled the small girl further while remaining unconscious.
Maybe, she thought, if she had a sister of her own to rub her back and hold her close...
Jocelyn quickly dismissed the idea. It was already too hot, and she was already fairly sticky from days of travel. Far be it if she were being held in someone’s arms. She imagined that would be very uncomfortable indeed, especially in this heat.
She hoped she could have a bath on the morrow before their party continued onwards. Tomorrow would be their final day of travel and it wouldn’t do to appear lacking before-
Jocelyn rolled over, careful not to disturb her sleeping cousins.
She knew that just outside there was a port with several ships moored on the river. Septa Maris had said so and Jocelyn vaguely recalled the same from the last time she’d made this journey three years prior when she had been just a bit older than Cassie was now. Their current room however faced the Kingswood, so there was only inky blackness to be found outside their window.
Cassie had been frightened earlier when the darkness caught them in the woods, but Jocelyn wasn’t afraid. She was almost seven after all, a special age. And far too old to cry like a baby whenever it got dark. A girl of nine, Ramona never cried so Jocelyn wouldn’t either.
Besides, her lord father and his men would never let anything befall the girls. Surely no one would even dare try to harm them. So, Jocelyn decided, it made no sense to panic.
Safe though they were, as night fell, Lord Rogar had seemed a bit wary back then in the woods. It was already difficult traversing the forest, even in the daytime – slow as they were moving with women and small children to contend with – but the darkness lent it an eerie quality.
The group travelling from Storm’s End had not made good time so could not cross to the north side of the river until the next morning. There was no other option but for them to pause their progress and settle at a familiar inn for the night.
Though not the most comfortable of places, Jocelyn was grateful for the inn as she found herself secretly glad for an extra night away from their destination.
For one, she wished to approach the city in the light of day. When she had last travelled to King’s Landing with her father and brother for the king’s tourney, the trees were awash with russets and golds. She had never seen so many people! There were merry vendors everywhere which had delighted the young girl.
She'd been gifted all sorts as they made their way into the city.
Jocelyn had been presented with bunches of flowers with petals of purple and orange and red, all with queer and interesting shapes the likes of which she hadn’t seen since. She’d also had the most marvellous sweet bread made of some sort of squash which she’d told Ramona all about upon her return home.
She was curious what the city would be like now. Not as lively, but surely still exciting? Her father had made an effort to temper Jocelyn’s expectations so she would do her best not to be too overt in her reactions. She mustn't disappoint her father.
More secretly though, she was frightened of what the next day would bring. The thought of tomorrow made her chest feel like the little bird she used to keep was caged within. It wasn’t that she wanted to be apart from her lord father, but she did not wish to face rejection either.
From the time Lord Rogar had shared his intentions, Jocelyn’s head was full of wonderings. Would the king and queen accept her? Would they ask her father to return her to Storm’s End? If they did keep her, would Cassie and Ramona be allowed to remain by her side?
“Would you like me to fetch you some warm milk m’lady?”
It would seem that Nurse Elen was also awake.
“Only, you’ve been pantin’ an fidgeting m’lady and the milk might help you settle.”
“Yes, please,” Jocelyn whispered.
She listened as the nursemaid departed the room accompanied by the clank of metal meeting stone as the knight at the door shifted about, then low voices and footsteps which she counted as long as she could.
She never drank the milk that night as Jocelyn was asleep before Elen’s return.
There was an axe on Jocelyn’s handkerchief. The stiches were a bit loose, but this was only one in a series of trials.
For many a fortnight she’d practiced her embroidery to gift to her father and brother; mementos to remember her by when they were apart. Septa Maris hadn’t been much help as she wasn’t very fond of embroidery herself.
The practice kerchief was now strongly scented with mint oil from the small vial which Elen kept up her sleeve for Cassie.
Cassie had needed to sniff at the oil many times along their journey from Storm’s End. The latest being that morning during the trip across the Blackwater Rush, as traversing the river made her greensick. The sight of the deck painted with the contents of the toddler girl’s stomach was not enough to turn Jocelyn’s own. But in the end, the stench from fishmonger’s square wafting over to her as they passed through the River Gate was what did Jocelyn in. Only Ramona retained her morning porridge.
Jocelyn twisted and untwisted the scrap of cloth. She wished she’d had a chance to rinse out her mouth. The girls were now standing in a row behind Lord Rogar as they waited in an antechamber of the Red Keep’s throne room.
Ramona, who already held on to her small sister, took Jocelyn’s hand and together they followed Lord Rogar into the large hall when they were announced to King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne.
Back straight. Hands folded. Chin tilted. And eyes down.
Jocelyn recalled her lessons as she sank into her best curtsy before her royal brother and sister.
She panicked slightly when she raised her head and noticed her father kneeling still. It was against etiquette to rise before the head of her House. Would they think her coarse and ill mannered? Had she ruined her chances already?
Ramona took her hand again and she calmed seeing a large knight caped in white helping her father to his feet.
“In these times, it is good to see you looking healthy your Grace,” said Rogar, addressing the king.
Jocelyn was proud of herself. She didn’t even flinch on hearing the king’s response. She had not heard her royal brother’s voice this close before. She tried her best to keep focused on her father’s back. She didn’t want to know whether the king or worse the queen was glancing in her direction as her father made Jocelyn herself the topic of conversation.
“I crave a boon,” he was saying. “I am no longer sufficiently equipped to look after my daughter. She has never known a mother. My brother’s wives looked after her as much as they were able, but they favoured their own children as mothers will, and now both of them are gone. If it please you, sires, I would ask you to accept Jocelyn and her cousins as wards, to be raised here at court beside your own sons and daughters.”
She held her breath. All this time she’d thought he hadn’t noticed.
For a long time after the Shivers took both her good-aunts, Jocelyn felt only guilt. Before, she’d often felt pangs of jealousy seeing Ramona and her other cousins who were no longer, being held and cherished by their mothers when she had not one of her own. That was why she now always let Ramona who rarely complained or cried – and then only ever in her sleep – into her bed without question.
And it was only the squeeze of Ramona’s hand now which held her to this place, elsewise she might have missed the words she’d always dreamed of hearing.
“It would be our honour and our pleasure,” said Queen Alysanne. “Jocelyn is our own sister; we have not forgotten. Our blood.”
Their own sister. Their blood! She could cry.
She might cry, but later. Now, she would stand tall and poised.
A sister to royalty.
For the past three nights, Jocelyn and her cousins had been staying in spacious apartments below the Grand Maester’s chambers with Lord Rogar and the rest of the Baratheon household which had accompanied them to King’s Landing.
Jocelyn hadn’t seen her father at all the previous day, and only briefly the day before that. He spent most of his time holed up with the King, planning their war. When he did make it back to their quarters at night, Rogar was seen to by the Grand Maester. Jocelyn hoped that meant her father would recover some of his vigour soon.
Back home, she only ever saw her father when they shared meals together, but the man had long lost his appetite and lately Jocelyn only ate with her cousins and brother Boremund for company. Even now she broke her fast with Cassie and Ramona under the supervision of Elen and Septa Maris.
“Will you be staying with us?” asked Ramona.
“I’ve not yet been told m’lady,” answered Elen as she peeled a small orange for Cassie.
“I’ll only be staying long enough to see you all settled,” said Septa Maris though the question had been directed to the nursemaid only. “And I’m sure it will be the same for you, girl.”
Jocelyn knew Ramona was thinking of Cassie. The two-year-old was very attached to Elen, who had watched over her since she was weaned from her wetnurse. The girl had never known her mother, having been born just months before the Shivers arrived in the stormlands.
She resolved to ask her father to let Elen remain with them.
“Father said we’ll be moving to Maegor’s Holdfast when he leaves. They’re preparing our rooms there,” said Jocelyn. “We’re to share a tower with the little princess, Alyssa when she leaves the nursery.”
“Good for you,” said Maris.
Jocelyn was looking forward to the move, if only to be close to her sister. She had not seen her since that first day, but she supposed the queen must be very busy.
“What about the princes? Where do they live?” asked Ramona.
“They have their own tower, I think.”
She barely remembered the two young princes, her nephews Aemon and Baelon. When she was last in the city, they were too young to be without their nursemaids and she’d spent most of her time with Princess Daenerys.
Jocelyn frowned remembering the lively girl who had once braided her hair and dragged her around the Red Keep. It was odd to think of her now being no more than ash and bone.
As she put down her half-eaten bread roll, a page entered the room, and handed a note to the septa.
“Your lord father requests your presence in his room,” said Septa Maris, relaying the message.
Was it time?
Her father didn’t speak directly to her often, but her heart was filled with pleasure whenever he did.
As Jocelyn entered Lord Rogar’s temporary chambers, she saw that although seated behind an oaken writing desk, he was dressed for travel.
Rogar beckoned his daughter forward and she took a deep breath before going to his side.
“As you know, I have been unwell these last years and I am approaching the end of my life,” he said without preamble. “Like as not, I will not live past this war with my brother and his Vulture.”
It was always like this when he spoke to her.
She nodded mutely.
“I am leaving you in good hands. Your brother and sister will look after you for the love of the mother you share,” he continued. “I oft think of her these days, and I believe she would agree that this is the right decision for you.”
If Rogar spoke to his only daughter rarely, it was even more rare for him to mention her mother.
“I also think that she would want you to have these,” he said gesturing to a small chest.
As she peered under the lid, she saw pearls and precious gems, silver and gold jewellery. She picked up one necklace with a delicate Velaryon seahorse pendant and felt her eyes prickle.
“I also have something for you father,” she said, after promptly collecting her composure.
She presented him the handkerchief she’d retrieved from her trunk before coming here. The good one, with her neatest stitches of a double-sided axe in one corner and a border of black and gold.
In that moment, father and daughter shared a genuine smile.