HOUSE: Eriador

ORIGIN: King's Isle, the South

AGE: First generation

SIGIL: Black beaver

HOUSE WORDS: Endure, Establish.

LORD: Domitian Eriador; heir is his youngest child and only son, Jamett

Honore

"Soren! By all gods, HURRY!" The command echoed through the freshly-emptied halls of King's Isle followed by a sharp thud! as a heavyweight boot with a metal heel clamored in the direction of the voice. "Hey! That could have killed me!"

"Gods curse me for missing," was the only response Honore Eriador of King's Isle received from her sister who seemed to think she had all the time in the world to gather her belongings. Honore's drawn-out breath escaped her lips just as her sister escaped her commands. With a heavy gait and an endless list of colorful swears directed at nothing in particular and everything she could think of, the eldest daughter of Lord Domitian departed from the chambers of her lost-cause sister.

Although she donned her circlet nestled in her intricately-braided tresses, some loose curls, with the help of the sea breeze, found their way into Honore's eyes. She irritably swatted at them just as her already-tiring feet guided the girl of 24 years outside of the castle, where the Lord of King's Isle was awaiting she and what would have been her sister at her side, but alas, Soren remained in her chambers wasting precious time. Donning a calm façade, Honore stole a calming breath and approached her father.

The man's shadow met Honore's feet before she was within arm's reach of him – he was nearly as tall as their great friend and King, Robert Baratheon – his own tinted blonde curls, Hono noticed, were whisking into his squinted eyes. At the sight of only one daughter, Dom's eyebrows quirked in a questioning angle and before he opened his mouth to ask where his second daughter was, Hono answered.

"She is, of course, residing in her chambers doing gods-know-what," Honore complained. She was well aware that she was too mature to grumble, but based on the day's events so far, (beginning with an awakening from Soren's rotund white kitten, Stella, purring directly into her ear canal and kneading viciously at her cheek, having her bodice laced beyond too-tight by a nearly-deaf lady's maid, walking up and down, back and forth, and to and fro carrying her belongings to the ship, and lastly, being granted responsibility of her 21-year old sister,) Honore was too tired to give a rat's arse who heard her single complaint. Her father's sigh was accompanied by a roll of his golden eyes.

"Very well. You can go get the last of your things, I'll get your sister. We leave before daybreak," Dom planted a gentle kiss on Hono's stress-creased forehead and pursued Soren's chambers. She wondered what her father did to eliminate Soren's procrastination.

Perhaps shouting? No.

Perhaps a slap? No, Father never hits women.

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps…

Honore's thoughts were interrupted by a feminine throat clearing behind her. She turned and was instantly blinded by the sickly-orange sun seeping lazily behind the mountains. It reminded her of the egg yolk falling through her sister's ever-busy fingers as she fed Stella on the foot of Honore's bed one morning. Honore made sure to throw an egg right at Soren's stupidly-snickering face. Once again, Honore's thoughts were interrupted by the annoyance that was throat-clearing. Disgusting.

She blinked once, to rid the sun's remaining silhouette behind her eyes. Only her peripheral sight would be available for the next few minutes. Brilliant. From the uncomfortable use of a side-glance, Hono made out her father's recent wife, Elene, who had approached with some way to make Honore's day worse.

"Yes, my Lady?" Honore greeted with a curtsy and a forced grin. Elene had requested that the two daughters of her husband address her formally.

"Help your brother," was all Elene said, and yet, Hono couldn't help but feel infuriated. Her condescending tone, her crooked nose in the air, and the deeply troubling fact that the woman had the ability to command her daughter-by-marriage repelled Hono so easily that she scurried away as readily as she could once the last syllable of her command left Elene's lips.

Although he had a witch for a mother, Jamett was a very favored family member of Honore's. The boy was born five years past and had never seen a winter. His hair was not blonde and his eyes were a standard color, unlike trueborn Eriadors. Honore, Soren, Domitian, Zelde (the late wife of Dom,) and all the descendants of House Eriador had unruly manes of blonde springs that corkscrewed in every direction and an uncommon eye tint. For example, Honore and Dom were born with deep golden eyes – "like golden dragons!" the King would often shout with a chuckle – while Soren was born with pale eyes, just the slightest tint of red behind a mist. Honore could not remember her mother's eyes, as she was only a toddler when the life left Zelde's body. However, Soren claims to remember their mother's eyes, but she would never enlighten her sister without a price, often 5 million dragons, another kitten, or a handsome prince to fulfill all her desires. Dom had never spoken of Zelde, with exempt of only three words: "she loved us." 15 years from the death of Zelde, Dom had remarried a Southern woman he had met while travelling with Ned Stark and the King. Elene and Jamett had hair and eyes of burnt wheat: black and harsh. Although the two shared dusky, piercing eyes, Elene's were cruel and ever-criticising towards her husband's daughters, while Jamett's, although harsh in color, were soft, observant, and loving. Often Honore found herself wondering how the wench that was Elene could raise a boy as loving and honest as Jamett.

Three taps, each one second apart upon her younger brother's chamber door identified herself as a sibling - the three would often sneak out of their chambers in the night and explore, sleep with one another, or to simply enjoy the company of one another. The light, quickened footfalls of King's Isle's heir were heard on the other side. Honore's grin was spread across her face before she was aware of it.

"Hono!" was the only peep she heard before the 5-year old barreled into his sister's torso, gentle enough not to knock the wind from her delicate lungs.

"Good evening to you too, Jame," Honore greeted with a chuckle bouncing behind her words. The two were interrupted by the grumblings of an irritated Soren trudging past them with her leather case and father behind her. Her featured were nowhere to be seen past the thick blanket of curls the shade of clouds that tented in the center every time she exhaled. "Looks like someone faced Father's wrath," Honore jested as she pushed Jamett into his room to avoid a demolition from their sister. "Let's be sure to avoid her for the next few hours, yes?" Her golden eyes met those of crow's wings.

"But we'll be on the boat soon, Hono, we can't be away from her," Jamett stated.

Jamett's words echoed in her ears,

"We'll be on the boat soon…"

The boat that will take me from my friends and family for the rest of my days. Soon.