Who: Jahaerys, ? When: Day 48, morning Where: Red Keep, Elia's chambers just after the episode post Status: Open Rating: PG13
Jaehaerys' hands were curled in fists as he listened to the exchange outside the door. He did not miss the lack of conviction in Polonius' voice but the Master of Whispers was a skilled mummer. Questioning. That could mean many things... And he didn't like the idea of any of them. Gods above, his uncles would be pleased. Jaehaerys steeled himself and exchanged a look with Elia's maid Syrah who stood petrified by the door to the bedchamber. "She'll have need of you if they put her in the nobles' cells," he said quietly. "Go gather some things and be ready." The girl looked for a moment as if she would cry or argue or both but she nodded mutely and turned away to follow the instructions.
The sound of the goldcloaks' footsteps and the echoes of the voices receded until all that remained was Ser Dymon's muttered curses and Derran's mutinous demand to know why they hadn't drawn swords to defend Elia and then Ser Dymon's gruff answer as the knight hurried off to inform the Prince of Dorne of his sister's whereabouts.
He paced the room and went to the window to look out. Below the array of goldcloaks crossed the yard, with Penrose and Haine on either side of Elia. The heat of anger washed through him and his eyes narrowed.