Jeyne's Rooms

Baelor made his way up to his sister-in-law's chambers, rapping his knuckles on the door after the Goldcloaks step aside, "May I enter, Jeyne?" he inquires. He made a point to visit her somewhat regularly after Aenar died, just to keep her company on occasion, keep her from killing herself, that sort of thing. He wanted her to be comfortable here, but he wanted her to be comfortable with him, more importantly.

"I am afraid I must decline this time, Jeyne," he says, dismissing the servant politely. "You seem in high spirits today. Might I ask the occasion?"

"A dancing bear, hm?" Baelor muses, stroking his chin thoughtfully, "Now that would indeed be quite a sight. Nevertheless, you are undoubtedly going to be the belle of the ball." He sat down in one of the chairs near her dresser, crossing his legs, facing her.

Baelor let his gaze roam as was appropriate, saying, "It is a matter of who looks better overall. My cousin will undoubtedly be attempting to crawl into the bed of whatever Tyroshi she can, while you will simply be. Desperation does not reflect well on anyone, a lesson that Adara has not yet learned."

"More than a few," Baelor responds simply. "But I prefer to go about it with charm instead of sex appeal, though I daresay that I have neither in short supply."

"Oh, judge away if you must, Jeyne," he says with a wide grin in return, "I would rather one person tell me the painful truth than fifty tell me beautiful lies." He taps his chin in thought, humming slightly, "I do not doubt that I shall wed eventually... but that may be years down the road."

"Just polite conversation is all. Making sure that you are comfortable despite the circumstances, as always," He told her, rising and straightening his vest. "I will see you in the Great Hall later."

Baelor started making his way out of the room, but paused to say to Jeyne, "You're not a captive. You're family, and your children are the blood of the Dragon. We keep our own close, Jeyne, especially when there are so many that would seek to take them away from us." With that, he left, making his way down to the feasthall.

Jeyne had finished painting her face by the time her daughter showed up. She knew she looked her best as she smiled at her daughter.

"I pray that it is so. Once I dreamed only of Dorne but perhaps that is not far enough for us to escape the dragons' wrath. In Tyrosh we might colour our hair and eat off golden plates, and never fear for our lives."

"Perhaps. But I dare not risk stealing out of gate and sneaking you away down the Kingsroad to Dorne. It's much too dangerous with a war on, and the harbour would be no better either. We would be stopped/ So, I fear the only way we are living Kings Landing is if I am married. Even the dragons are watched." She sighed.

"Or maybe I will marry," said Visenya offhandedly, examining the red glass stones in her ears. "Or Elsey." She nodded in approval at the image of herself, the jewelry swaying against her neck.

She had.her mind set upon it; she would marry and then she and Silverwing need never be chained again. She would have real rubies, and have done with cut glass imitations. Most of all she would not have her mother, wringing her hands and glancing constantly over her shoulder. It was not from a lack of love for Lady Jeyne YRonwood, but a drsire to be her own mistress.

She glanced up at her sister. "Come on, Elsey, put on something clean, at least," she said disapprovingly. When her sister fled down the hall, She got to her feet and called after her. "Elsey? Elseyris? Come back!"

Visenya rolled her eyes and took leave of her mother properly before answering her sister. "It's a lovely outfit, for riding, perhaps, but not to meet important foreign dignitaries in. Don't you want to look your best for the Tyroshi ambassador?" She touched her sister's hair. "Your hair looks lovely at least. You should do it in ribbons more often."