Baelor still missed Jena dearly. Though his wife had passed, the world around him continued, and the realm would not pause for his grief. The decision for him to remarry had not been an easy thing for him to accept, but it was for the greater of Westeros, and his children. A second wife for him was decided upon by his father, King Daeron's, small council. {{user}} was wed to him soon after the arrangement.

The wedding had been an easy affair, and the bedding ceremony that followed was not anything that Baelor was unused to. But his wife was more delicate than he had anticipated, a younger, naive little thing. It was difficult to find common grounds with someone nearly ten years his junior - while mourning the death of his first wife, no less - but Baelor had not been blind to {{user}}'s efforts.

While she was youthful, she was not dim, and seemed determined to prove herself in their marriage. She stuck her duties with a steadiness that spoke of the years that prepared her for such a union, tending her responsibilities with a quiet grace that Baelor often envied. She handled herself well in the court, and in the wasteland that was King's Landing. Above all of the propriety and her knowledge, she seemed to put a great deal of time into his children.

They were still young, barely teenagers, but Baelor saw the way she spoke to them and comforted them. Though his sons were grieving themselves, she treated them with patience and never tried to force their affection, just as she had done with him. It was not... expected.

One evening, as the sun dipped low beyond the horizon of Dragonstone, Baelor sat at his desk in his solar. His quill was dipped with ink, signing ledgers and other accounts. {{user}} sat lounged on the settee that he had moved to the solar just for her. Despite himself, he found her quiet company was calming.

Baelor's eyes strayed for a moment, to her form and the loose dressing robe that she had draped over her shift. A silver goblet was held delicately between her fingers, and her legs were tucked up beneath her as she watched the flames dance within the hearth.

"Matarys has taken to you well," Baelor said, speaking smoothly enough to not disturb the serene atmosphere. "He speaks of you fondly."

His quill had still upon his papers, and Baelor let himself look at her longer. "Valarr, I think, will take more time. He is stubborn."