Cassana
After more than a week of sunshine, and just a day after the boar hunt, the storms returned to Blackhaven.
Blown north-west from the Sea of Dorne, great rain storms swept over the marches, drenching everyone and everything beneath them.
A day of rainfall became two, then three, until five days had passed. The rest of the Dornish visit was spent beneath roofs. Boredom prevailed, and it became clear that the Dornish would leave at the first opportunity. Good riddance to them.
Cassana had grown quite tired of playing hostess; during the last two days of rainfall, she had feigned illness just so she could stay in her chambers in the Heir's Tower, along with several books from Blackhaven's modest library. Whenever she wanted the books exchanged, she had summoned Priss.
At present, she was too restless to read. The council was meeting for the last time before the Dornish host was set to leave. There were many important questions to be answered, but she would not find out the truth until her husband returned.
She paced in increasingly elaborate patterns in her chamber, listening to the torrent outside. Thunder rumbled dully overhead, as if it was a long distance away. Where will this storm go? Towards the Westerlands? The Reach? King's Landing?
The door opened so suddenly that Cassana almost gasped. She turned towards Baldric, who was in the middle of a yawn.
"Gods, I thought it would never end," he exclaimed.
"On that much, we agree," Cassana observed, "So, what news?"
Baldric shrugged, "There's a group of sailors come in from the coast. They needed shelter from the storm, but they also say it will probably be finished tomorrow."
"May the gods prove them right," Cassana muttered, "Does that mean the Dornish are preparing to leave?"
"Aye," her husband replied, "And some of us are going with them."
Cassana waited for him to elaborate, but instead he went to sit down on their bed and take his shoes off. Cassana approached him and put a firm hand on his shoulder, "Who?" Gods, he is doing this on purpose.
"Titus, for one," Baldric answered, still holding his shoe in both hands, "Baelor's invited him, and Jena too."
"Of course he has," Cassana shook her head, "Jena's as hot-blooded and willful as any Dornishwoman. I thought he might take to her when he saw fit to applaud that song of hers." She still cringed inwardly whenever she thought of her younger sister's stupidity. She had noticed how many of the Dornish had taken ill to that choice of song, especially when Titus' lordling friends had joined Jena. She is almost worse than Titus, in her own way.
"Who will go with them?" Cassana asked as she released Baldric and resumed her measured pacing.
"Maegor Toyne, Willem Wylde, Orys Trant," Baldric replied, now taking off his black-and-white doublet with the swans of his family sigil emblazoned on the front and back, "Jena will be bringing that Bolt girl, too. I believe they will be taking an escort as well.
"Ser Lomas will remain here as castellan. Gulian Straw and Gerold will stay here too."
"Oh good, I was wondering if the maester would depart Blackhaven," Cassana remarked sarcastically, "Though perhaps I spoke too soon. I would not put it past Gerold to follow his precious Titus all across the countryside. And Titus would surely enjoy it."
"You don't mean to imply..." Baldric frowned, but he did not finish his question.
Cassana laughed, "Did I never tell you? I once caught Titus with a page. Two stupid boys playing kissing games with each other." She shook her head.
"What happened?" Baldric asked.
"Nothing, far as I know. I did not stay to watch."
"Did you tell anyone else?"
I might have done. Tyana would have been in my debt for life if I had. "Of course not! What do you take me for?"
"Nothing!" Baldric was quick to back down from her challenging tone. When he faces men, his spine is iron, but it melts like ice before me.
Cassana began undressing, enjoying the expression change on her husband's face. He had always been enthralled by her, ever since they had met. She might have expected an heir, given that she was a daughter of one of the most powerful houses in the Stormlands. Indeed, several powerful stormlords had visited Father to try and arrange a betrothal. She had grown up eating side by side a seemingly endless line of richly dressed boys with old names: Wylde, Fell, Tarth, Penrose, Errol. Other houses from the Crownlands, Riverlands, and Reach had appeared. Ser Lomas had invited his Tarly relatives to send their sons to Blackhaven for visits. Even House Hightower had sent a young man who was ten years her senior.
"What are you looking at?" She asked him.
"You, my lady," He murmured, smiling that same stupid smile he'd worn when she'd first seen him.
"And what makes you think that you'll have me tonight?" she asked scornfully, walking about their chambers naked, flaunting herself before him as he sat on the bed. "Look elsewhere."
Baldric looked crestfallen for a moment, but he obeyed. He always did.
"Tell me what else happened at the council. What will come of Titus' place on the council?"
Baldric shrugged, facing the wall, "He insisted on the right to nominate a successor to speak for him. Ser Lyle and Gerold supported it, Tyana and Ser Lomas didn't."
"Of course," Cassana shook her head, "But I expected such a discussion would take so long to resolve. Did you do as I told you?"
"Aye. I said nothing till they asked, then I voted with Titus."
Tyana won't like that. Perhaps she'll think she can get revenge. I hope she does. "Who did Titus nominate?"
"You may not like his choice," her husband warned.
"If I wanted a warning, I would ask for it," Cassana admonished him with a sharp tone. She could see him shudder for a moment, "Who is it?"
"Ser Baelon Massey," Baldric mumbled.
Oh, you have some nerve, little brother. Cassana couldn't help but laugh in her astonishment, "You must have regretted voting for him, didn't you?"
"N-no," Baldric insisted. Even with his back to her, Cassana could see him reddening.
"You are such a terrible liar," Cassana mocked, glad of this excuse, "You must have thought I would end up marrying his older brother, didn't you?"
"Why would Titus nominate him?"
"Because, you dunce," Cassana explained, "he wants to put someone on the council who will not appeal to either me nor to Tyana."
"But then, is that not ingratitude?" Baldric asked, as if he was trying to prove that he could think practically as well.
"Of course it is. Titus flaunts his ingratitude, he always has. He strove to take nothing from our father, he threw away any trappings that might have still been his. He even abandons our family legacy to curry favour with our ancient enemies. All to spite Father. And now he is trying to spite me instead, to show he cannot be bought."
Baldric said nothing, but she could tell that he was still confused.
"You mustn't think much of my brother's idealism. He is so farsighted that he stares into the clouds all day, and he is also too shortsighted to see how he unites his enemies against him."
"As you say, my lady," Ser Baldric.
Cassana approached him, folding her arms beneath her breasts, "Do you want me?"
"Yes, my lady," he answered in an almost hungry tone.
"Prove it."
Her husband was a handsome man; he trained every day with the other knights, and no man could doubt his skills with sword and lance. He had also learned how to shoot a bow, as any true marcher lord. It pleased Cassana to see such a tall, strong young man drop down to all fours and approach her with head bowed like a dog.
His lips brushed the tops of her feet, then her shins, knees, then her inner thighs. It felt good, almost too good.
Remembering herself, Cassana cuffed Baldric's head, "Remind me how much you lost to Ser Royce and his ilk."
"Four gold dragons," Baldric whispered, "Forgive me, my lady."
Cassana laughed at that, "Look at me when you beg forgiveness.
Ser Baldric of House Swann gazed up at her from where he grovelled beneath her, "My lady, I-"
He said no more before Cassana's spit landed on his face, "You think you have me fooled? I know what you are. You are a pathetic little imbecile. You enjoy this even more than I do, do you not?"
Baldric blinked as the spittle slid down his cheek, over a scar he'd earned during a melee, "Aye, my lady," he said with a quivering voice, "I do."
"How else will you prove it?" She asked him. She felt herself breathing faster as she looked down upon him.
Baldric duly gave the answer which he had learned to give whenever she asked that question, "What does my lady wish?"
"Take off your clothes, and lie on the bed," Cassana whispered.
She stood by and watched as Baldric hastened to obey her, nervous as a boy who is about to lie with his first woman.
Once he was in position, Cassana got onto the bed and positioned herself so that she was kneeling with her legs on either side of her husband's head. She knelt away from the head-rest, her seat hovering over her husband's face.
She could hear his excited breathing, mixing with her own. That he was actually eager for this, wanting her to sit on him so he could not smell anything but her unwashed musk... she could already feeling herself get excited.
Without warning, she lowered herself with a sigh. Immediately, she felt his broad nose between her cheeks and his tongue lapping eagerly at her womanhood. She clenched herself to trap his nose in place, but making sure that her legs did not cover his ears.
"What a brave and dashing knight you are," she taunted, pressing herself down on him so that he gave a low moan, "What would all those other fools think of you if they could see you now!"
He groaned a second time as he struggled to push his tongue inside her, even as she gasped and reached down to grab his bollocks with one hand.
"Faster!" she called out, giving him a squeeze.
He was quick to obey, and she felt herself drawing closer and closer towards climax. When it arrived, she gave out a small cry of pleasure, squeezing him harder as she came. Although he whimpered as if in pain, his shaft stood as erect as it always did when she put him in his pitiful place.
Cassana gave his shaft a few hard slaps with her other hand, lifting herself from his face so that he could take a gasp of fresh air.
She allowed him just three seconds' respite before smothering him once more. She also gave the tip of his cock a few hard flicks with her finger, "Again."
His tongue began its work anew, hurried along by her running a hand up and down his shaft just enough to please him but not enough to allow him release. She would drag that out for as long as she liked.
" * " * " * " * " * "
The next morning, Cassana awoke first, feeling well-rested and well-pleasured.
The sun was high in the sky, the first time it had been seen for days. Those sailors should change their line of work, they would make a fortune as prophets of the skies.
Trumpets were sounding below, on the grounds. All the Dornish host was preparing to leave. She leaned out of the window, peering as if she were watching a colony of ants crawling amongs each other.
She managed to discern Titus amongst the crowd, already mounted on a horse close to Prince Baelor Targaryen and his aunt. The banners of Dondarrion, Martell, and Targaryen flew together, as if that alone could end the enmities of the past. Cassana could see the wisdom in ending such conflicts, to be sure, but she doubted whether it could be done, least of all by a man such as her brother.
As usual, Baldric was so worn out from the night before that he snored on as Cassana put on a robe, summoned a maid, and ordered her to run her a bath.
She watched her husband sleep as she waited for the bath to be prepared, smiling to herself.
Lord Swann had brought all four of his sons to Blackhaven for feasts; he seemed not to have had any preference for her; any of his sons would do. But even then, he had never imagined that it would be Baldric, the fourth. He was the most gifted lancer, admittedly, but he stood to inherit nothing in the way of lands or titles, especially with Dorne's inclusion into the Seven Kingdoms. His older brothers had not expected to be passed over for Baldric either. Cassana had greatly enjoyed their dumbfounded stares, their purple faces... that alone had made her choice worthwhile, let alone the sight of Baldric blushing so much that he smiled down at his shoes.
Truthfully, he had been the most irritating of her suitors, spouting such empty courtesies that she'd heard from a dozen mouths whose wits had all been quicker. And yet, nothing Cassana could do to mock him seemed to undo his interest. It had only seemed to inflame his pitiful campaign for her hand in marriage. She had tested it as ruthlessly as she dared. He performed menial tasks for her, had lain his cloak down on muddy patches to keep her shoes clean, had knelt and kissed her hand as if she were sitting on the Iron Throne. One time, when they'd had a moment alone, she had ordered him to play with himself in front of her. He had duly undone his breeches and knelt before her, hand on his cock as she'd laughed at his size. But nothing she said had daunted him. The worse she scorned him, the harder he became, until he'd lost control and made a mess before her on the stones of the corridor. She had never expected to have found someone like him, but she had known that instant that she would marry him.
By the time she emerged from her bath, he had awoken and finished dressing himself for breakfast. He was in a weary but satisfied mood, almost like the puppies which she'd used to keep as a little girl. Would that I could lead him around on a leash...
Together, they went down to the main hall, which had already cleared of their Dornish guests. The only ones still breaking their fast were sitting at the high table. Maester Gerold, Ser Willam Sawyer, Ser Lyle Bolt, Tyana, Gulian Straw, Ser Lambert Penny, and Ser Lomas Tarly.
This is strange, Cassana thought to herself. She approached the table and sat down, noting how nobody was using the chair of Lord Dondarrion, now that their royal guests were gone.
"Good morning," Cassana declared, "I hope we are not intruding on today's council."
Tyana shot a glance at Ser Lomas, who ignored it and to look Cassana in the face, "We would not exempt your husband from any council meeting, Lady Cassana."
She believed him; he was not a man made for deceptions. His face revealed the truth to anyone clever enough to look.
"Really, Ser, you had best learn when someone is making a jape," she said dismissively, "on another matter, has my dear brother departed?"
Lomas had already frowned at her reproach, but at the mention of her 'dear brother', he almost grimaced.
Gulian was far more receptive to her question, "He's left, aye, with the Prince of Dragonstone. He took Jena Dondarrion, forty of our best guards, Lady Gwenys Bolt to serve his sister, and mine eldest son as a squire."
"My congratulations," Cassana said earnestly, deigning a smile for the loyal steward. She knew what it meant for him that his sons could earn a knighthood, "I have no doubt that Titus will be in good hands."
Despite her good wishes, she could not fail to see what Titus meant with that gesture. Even though he was absent from the castle, his influence remained. Maester Gerold and Ser Lyle Bolt were reliably his men, and now he wished to make Gulian another. Clever, but two can still play at that game.
"You know," she added, almost as an afterthought, "you were speaking of taking on a squire of your own, darling."
Baldric gave her a look of surprise, quickly suppressing it as she pressed on his foot beneath the table, "Aye, that's true, yes. I-I just thought to bring it up after breakfast."
"Very thoughtful, my dear, but there is no need to be modest," Cassana replied, "I'm sure that our steward has a long day ahead of him."
"Well, in that case," Baldric said, trying to keep up with her pace, "Master Straw, I believe your younger lad has also been a page?"
"Indeed, yes," Gulian answered, seemingly surprised but well pleased with this new good fortune. He is a calculating man, but smart enough to hide it.
She wished that she'd thought of that sooner; Titus had stolen a march on her, just as he'd done with his mummer's farce before the Dornish arrival. He does have his moments of mad genius, I'll give him that.
Meanwhile, Tyana was looking sour, but that could have also been due to her condition. Ser Lomas seemed melancholic as he picked at his food, while Ser Lyle was too busy speaking with Ser Lambert to notice anything amiss.
Surrounded by enemies, Cassana thought to herself. They may be fighting amongst themselves, but that is no matter. They are enemies all the same.