The solar of Lord Eirian of House Cassidy on the third day of the seventh month, year three hundred after Aegon's Conquest (A.C)
The Lord waved as his daughter, the Lady Ella was escorted away by a guard. Her smile was beaming; it was clear she believed she had equipped herself well in the meeting and that he would grant her the holding with the swift power of ink and quill. The brisk movement of her gate spoke of a confidence and self-worth that was lacking in his middle child, and far too abundant in his eldest. The simple gown was accented by a mere two pieces of gold that day.
His smile grew sad as he thought of the fact that he had already made his decision that afternoon; following the death of his betrothed there had been no reason to delay any longer. He had sat down with a few select members of his council and had attempted to hash out the best fit for the holding. In the end, however, he had chosen for himself after a meeting with his son; Jon's calm, level headed personality had assured him that though trouble would lie ahead, he could count on his heir to keep the holding afloat after his death. However, he was a father in addition to his other duties and so he had seen fit to give Ella the chance to change his mind.
He wished he could have told her that she had, when the time came. Yet the truth was that her zealotry had only convinced him more firmly that his precious daughter wasn't ready for the reign's of power and that it would indeed be quite some time before she had honed her skills into a personality that was well rounded enough for leadership. Indeed, her words had made him fear for the people: he shuddered to think of what might have happened if he had proven indecisive, and his heart had given way to her. If, possibly, he had given power to her, and after his death they had seen the rise of constant conflict on the border, sectarian warfare or external invasion. There would have been internal repression of oppositional religious thought, mass trials of ordeal and countless other things that he did not wish to think of.
No, he thought, the holding did not need a person with the personality of Her Grace to manage its affairs. He could not fault his King's marriage yet he would do all in his power to stop it's madness. The Queen's illness would do well not to spread beyond the royal chambers. It was doubtless that if he appointed his youngest to succeed him in twenty years time they would see micro-sized version of what they saw with the Queen Selyse; a deranged monarch listening to a siren who may or may not have been false. The fact that one of the genders had changed did little to ease him onto that course.
The Lord sighed, looking away as he saw the familiar shadow of Rona Grey approach from the expanding corridor. Her face was pressed into a practiced calm from years of experience in espionage yet the undercurrent of her walk held the air of intensity normally associated with anxiety. Her worn garments, patches of color, billowed silently as she stepped forward with purpose, intent on the mission which so preoccupied her mind. In hand was a letter with a broken seal; it was clear she had already read its contents. It appeared, however, as her hands appeared to shake ever slightly, that she wished to hide it from his view.
"My Lord." said Rona, bowing ever slightly. With a slow movement that was clearly meant to seem natural, and the notice of which itself made known her dread of the conversation that was to come, she handed the letter to him with slight. Before she spoke, she relaxed her shoulders and her jaw. In that instant her eyes were affixed on his own; her appearance was that of the formal business which they conducted every day. Her words were plain and were clearly meant to hide her chosen preference. Yet Eirian Cassidy was no fool; there was nothing his advisors could hide from their Lord.
"My Lord, I have received news from your eldest, Lady Jayne." Rona said "She is presently with Lord Baelish, bringing Lord Robin to his winter palace."
"I see." said Eirian "What has kept her? Have we gained anything from this long excursion in frivolity?"
"We have learned little, my Lord." said Rona in a despondent tone "She writes in a manner which would denote a lovesick child, and I must confess; we have gained little knowledge beyond that which were already aware of Sansa Stark."
Lord Cassidy nodded; it was as he suspected. He knew his daughter was not fit for an assignment of this nature, and his fears had turned into reality. He should have never listened to the whisperer; they had gained all they had needed to know months previously, when the Dowager Lady of Hawkhaven had still been committed member of their family. Now it seemed that despite her numerous opportunities to do so, she had failed to gain any insight into her subjects of observation. Her gaze had shifted from the external to the internal, and she had begun to confuse friend and foe. In the end, she was no longer any use as an agent of House Cassidy. Yet, despite his better judgment, his heart told him she was still too young to die.
"She shall have to be cut loose, Rona." said Eirian, his face resembling that of stone in its inability to move "She is…with him now. She is a liability to us. She is a threat to the realm."
"My Lord-" Rona stopped, pausing to take a breath "You do not mean-"
"I am not about to kill my own daughter, no." said Eirian "That is for Littlefinger to do. I am going to disown her."
"My Lord." Rona said "She has done nothing wrong…"
"Rona." Eirian said "She has gotten into bed with a traitor. For now that sentence is only metaphorical. Soon it will be literal. We can not wait for that to pass."
Rona nodded, marshalling her defenses; she had always been a friend to his eldest and he could not find it in his heart to have her executed for her occasional outbursts of insubordination. Perhaps that was a trait he shared with the King. Whatever the case it was clear to him that she would not rest until she had convinced to go off the course he was on and onto a path she deemed appropriate. In that way she was like every snake in Kings Landing; her heart may have been in the right place, but her only means were deception. It would be up to the Lord of Ascent Hold to persuade her to make a break from that ill sought habit.
"My Lord." Rona began, pausing to make direct eye contact "If you disown your eldest….what would become of your window into the Eyrie?"
"Lord Baelish's crimes are pretty clear to me." said Lord Cassidy "The Dowager Queen most certainly committed adultery if not incest, and I have not a doubt in my mind it was her behind the late King Robert's death, but she is not guilty of the crime that directly started the war. Of that, at least, she can be absolved. The one we must blame for the blood which flows down the countryside is none other than the petty, money grubbing Lord of the Fingers; our dear soon to be son-in-law."
Rona did not need to hear the full accounting of his crimes; they had all been there when the meeting had been held to discuss the news initially. Instead she watched the birds as they flew by. It seemed there was little to be done about the situation of the eldest Cassidy scion. Yet she attempted once more, still, to marshal a defense for her old friend. It was surely a valiant effort, but a look from her Lord told her it would get little reward.
"What of potential alliances, prospects?" asked Rona "What shall we do now that there is one less child to be had for the sake of peace?"
"Come now, Rona." said the Lord "You talk as though you were a Lannister; if we were trading valuable monetary assets or if she were a hostage your tone would be appropriate but we are merely allowing a grown woman to make her choices in her own life. She has chosen to side with the enemy and that shall cost her dearly. Nonetheless, she has every right to make that choice."
"My Lord, she can come back-" Rona began
"She cannot." said Eirian "Do you not see, dear Rona? She seeks to seize for herself ill gotten gains. To enrich herself off of the backs of the suffering. She is little better than Cersei or the Tyrells."
"How…." Rona began
"Come now." Eirian said "Do not play the ill witted puppet for my daughter, Rona. You have played the part for far too long. You know perfectly well how; Lady of Harrenhal, Lady Protector of the Vale, Lady of the Fingers. All shall be hers, legally under the Lannisters, if she manages to just not screw it up. You know her well enough to be surmised she can manage at least that: after all, few are as ill equipped for life as poor Lysa Arryn was."
Rona nodded, her jaw seemingly stuck in what appeared be a permanently slackened position. She had never heard her Lord speak so frankly of his daughter before. Nor, did she believe, would she ever hear him speak in such a manner again.
"How do you believe she intends to advance herself, without a family?" asked Rona "It isn't very well advised."
"She doesn't particularly need a family at this point." said Eirian "She is the last surviving member of a prestigious House; the fact that that is only due to marriage matters little. What is more the Baelish's started with less than what she has, are only one person, and now control more than what we had at the beginning of my reign. Do you believe Petyr Baelish cares about family?"
"No." said Rona "I do not."
"Neither will she." said Eirian "Our Lady of Hawkhaven, Jayne Turner, shall be perfectly happy with her new titles. They shall keep her content until our forces come for her and her new husband. Hopefully she can find the time to occupy Harrenhal; I've heard dear Petyr has not done much with it."
Rona nodded once. Before she spoke, she rested her arm on the pedestal beside her. She seemed to have aged five years in the last few moments; she looked tired and wary.
"Is that all there is left to say for her?" asked Rona "Shall you not defend your daughter?"
"I shall defend Ella until my dying breath." said Eirian "But Jayne is no longer any daughter of mine, Rona Grey."
Rona nodded. With a barely contained sigh, she gave a bow to her Lord and walked away. Her gate was haggard and gaunt. Once she had passed a few pedestals, she slipped into the shadows which had so become her sanctuary. As she passed, Groat proceeded to wave at her in the nervous way which had become his habit: if only out a wish for a lack of disturbance, she did not wave back. Instead she walked through a door in the corridor, and moved on.