It had been quiet when Jace got back to his chambers that night, Rhaena had been sitting by the fireplace, a piece of embroidery in her lap though she was not stitching - he assumed Baela had retired early. It had been their habit so often before their marriage to sit together that it was easy to act like nothing had changed. But she seemed more settled he thought - her braids loose about her shoulders and her stockinged feet up by the fire. 

She stood when she saw him, set aside her work, folding it out of his sight and poured them both a cup of the cider that was mulling over the fire. 

“Thank you,” he breathed and then drank half the cup in a single swallow, biting back an exclamation as he burnt his mouth a little. He took the seat opposite slumping in the chair, glad to be with family.

“That bad?” she asked, her tone gentle. A late council meeting was never a good sign. 

“Fuss over nothing,” Jace said. More posturing from the Reach lords. They were testing him and he was heartily sick of it. They could provide the grain they had promised when he gave them terms or he’d tax them and use the money to buy it from Essos. He drained the rest of his cup and then noticed Rhaena had not touched hers - she preferred wine he knew, he liked cider and Baela currently hated both. “I’ll send for wine,” he said. 

“You will not,” she said taking a sip of cider.  “You will sit down and relax for a change. Or I’ll tell on you to Baela.” This made them both laugh. 

“A grave threat,” he said “I am not sure I deserve that.” Rhaena got out of her seat and wrestled his cup from him to refill it. She pressed him back into the chair, one-handed before she handed over the cider. She leaned in close and he could smell the cider on her breath, the softness of her braids brushing against his face as she leaned in. Her violet eyes were serious and wide as she looked him over. 

“I will be the judge of that,” she said. He could feel his pulse quicken under the press of her hand on his chest as he caught her gaze. She handed over his cup and then quickly before she straightened up, her lips were on his skin, the quickest press against his cheek which heated as she kissed it. “You work too hard. You will have to let at least one wife look after you.” 

Rhaena already had her work cut out with Baela - who resisted all aid from both of them as hovering. But he could not find the words to deny her when she had been so plain-spoken. 

“I will endeavour to not need much looking after,” he offered - he did not want to be a burden. But this promise did not seem to reassure Rhaena at all.