Cassana
"Did you ever hear the origin of House Dondarrion?"
It took all of Cassana's effort not to laugh at her fool of a husband, even as she ate another spoonful of pheasant stew.
"Nay," answered Lord Abell Graceford, speaking for all the other lords in attendance.
"It's an old story," Baldric began enthusiastically, "and it goes back to the time when Durran Godsgrief's line were Storm Kings."
He was so desperate to appear the true Dondarrion lord, and it was entirely unnecessary. These lords may or may not have known the truth about his having inherited Cassana's name, but they would not be so foolish as to draw attention to the subject. Cassana resented Baldric's attempts, for they only made it easier for these other lords to laugh at him. Just as these men are doing. They all smiled and nodded between mouthfuls of food. At least he was the one who brought down that aurochs. He's proved his manhood enough to these oafs, so now they must hide their scorn from him. They should have tried harder to hide it from me.
"See, there was an errand rider," Baldric continued eagerly. "He was a renowned warrior, descended from men who'd lived in the Dornish Marches ever since they'd come over the Arm of Dorne."
One time, when he'd told the story, Baldric had mistakenly called the errand rider a hedge knight, even though the story was set long before the Andals set sail for Westeros. Cassana had punished him thoroughly for stupid mistake, and sometimes he made the mistake again for a similar treatment. He wants to impress these men more than get a punishment from me, it seems.
"This errand rider, now, he had word of a Dornish army coming up the Boneway, too much for the marchers to handle by themselves. He was sent to warn the Durrandon king, to beg him for aid before the Dornish overran the Stormlands."
"I thought it was an army from the Reach?"
The interjection was slyly given, and spoken quietly so that only Cassana heard it.
She leaned towards her younger cousin, Falia, and whispered back, "Next time it will probably be an army of giants riding aurochs."
At seventeen, Falia Dondarrion was a proud young lady, beautiful and clever. Four years before, Cassana had appointed Falia and her twin sister, Jocelyn, to be her female companions. She had never been very close with the twins before they'd come of age, but with the departures and deaths of all her siblings, and the disgrace of House Dondarrion, Cassana had needed confidantes whom she could absolutely trust. It did not hurt that the twins were entirely dependent on her and Baldric for their livelihood until they were wed.
"He was riding along," Baldric continued after drinking from his tankard, "and it was storming above him. As usual, really, when it comes to these lands." He smirked at his own joke, but he did not wait to see if his guests would laugh. "Anyway, he was ambushed by two Dornish raiders. They loosed an arrow at him which killed his horse. And when he fell to the ground, he broke his sword beneath him!"
"Thank goodness that the age of bronze is behind us," Cassana interjected in a saccharine tone to match Baldric's. Let them underestimate me too. The lords nodded and smiled condescendingly, even as Baldric flashed her a nervous smile before continuing.
"As I was saying, those raiders were about to finish him off where he lay on the ground, but then a miracle occurred! A bolt of forked lightning flashed above this rider and killed both the Dornishmen stone dead!" He thumped the table to emphasise his point. "He was able to reach Storm's End unharmed! And in his gratitude, the Durrandon king granted this rider a castle of his own. We Dondarrions have carried that lightning bolt on our sigil in honour of that miracle to this very day!"
Lords Florent, Crane, Graceford, and Fossoway raised their horns and tankards to toast Baldric's words. Cassana could tell that Lord Fossoway hadn't been listening, as he was the last to raise his drink, merely imitating the others.
On the surface, these Reach lords had been invited to participate in a rare aurochs hunt out in the Dornish Marches, but the real reason for their visit was that Baldric was looking for potential wardships or fostering. He would not normally look beyond the Stormlands for such arrangements, but House Dondarrion did not have the standing which it used to amongst the stormlords.
Cassana looked down the table to where her sons were sitting. Manfred was six years old, and he was every inch a Dondarrion in the making. He was already growing to be a lean, fit boy. His hair was red-gold in colour, just like his mother and late grandfather. Not far from him, his younger brother Caspor was throwing another fit. He had newly been weaned, and he was still resentful about it. It did not take long before the squalling three-year-old was swept into the arms of the maid Priss and hurried away from the table. He was too young to have a whipping boy, but old enough to be punished for misbehaving; Cassana would deal with it later.
"A fine tale," Lord Graceford was saying. "It is good to know one's roots, and honour them."
"Hear hear," Baldric answered cheerfully, raising his tankard to that. Cassana felt a surge of protective pity for her sweet, stupid husband, even as she forced herself to smile pleasantly at Lord Graceford.
"When you get the chance, tell Abigayle to rub Lord Graceford's undergarments with nettles." Abigayle was a young maid who had begun selling her virtue to Lord Graceford, on Cassana's pay. She had already promised Abigayle a the hand of a landed knight who lived far enough away from Blackhaven to hear any gossip.
Her gaze shifted from the lords around her husband and casually scanned the great hall of Blackhaven. Baldric had generously invited all the smallfolk to his hall for the feast, and so she beheld almost all the men, women, and children who served her family. Ser Maynard Kellington, the master-at-arms, was sitting with Ser Lyle Bolt, the foremost of House Dondarrion's bannermen. Beside Cassana, Falia and Jocelyn Dondarrion giggled and gossiped with her longtime companions, Kyra Penny and Bella Sawyer. As the former were her cousins and the latter two were daughters of her bannermen, Cassana was personally invested in securing good marriages for them. It has already been drawn out for too long.
Septon Tam sat apart from the others. He was tall and comely, but he was burdened with a clubfoot and a solitary disposition. Elwood was the best archer in the garrison; his sister Priss had once served House Dondarrion until she'd left the castle in the company of knights riding for Oldtown. The blacksmith, Aethan, had just married Manfred's former wetnurse, and she was herself pregnant now.
The captain of the guards was a short whitebeard named Royce. He was referred to as the Old Runt by his men. He was on duty today, watching over the revelers along with several other guardsmen. Lister, the hunchbacked kennelmaster, drank uproariously with Simon, the master of horse. Gulian Straw, the aging steward, sat beside his second son, Branston. Branston had been squired to Ser Baldric for years, and had just earned his knighthood the year before. He was already being groomed to become Royce's second-in-command, and one day he might even replace Ser Maynard. Unless he follows in his older brother's footsteps and goes his own way.
Septa Perianne ate sparingly and modestly, exuding a quiet sense of superiority which Cassana had always thought absurd on her. She had argued fiercely that Tyana deserved mercy, even writing to the Starry Sept to beg them for clemency. Cassana had taken care to send a letter or two of her own, reminding them of the way Tyana had slit Gerold's throat, how she had hidden her sadistic cruelty from everyone for so long, urging that Perianne was a gentle soul who could not see evil when it was before her. Thus, the Faith had ordered Perianne to remember her teachings and accept the gods' judgment. Whether Perianne knew that of Cassana's involvement was something that she neither knew nor cared to know; the septa had ceased her quibbling and raised no further noise, except when she had walked Tyana to her execution and sobbed even before the headsman had raised his axe.
Cassana had already forgotten how long it had been since Tyana's death, but she knew that she would recall the events of that day until she breathed her last. Tyana had still been weak from her birth, and had leaned on the septa. She had wept silently throughout the entire proceeding, yet refused to look away from those in attendance. It had been the first time that Cassana had ever felt intimidated by Tyana, when they'd looked into each other's eyes as Septon Victor had prattled away.
Two cursed murderers, with not a shred of regret between us. Titus' words had come back to her as she'd watched an innocent woman killed for her own crime. It was true enough; Tyana had been an arrogant interloper, so desperate to take Blackhaven for herself that she'd rutted with a Dondarrion bastard. If she hadn't been so stupid, she might have succeeded in her plan.
Had it been enough to justify her death? Cassana had not intended to punish Tyana at all, truthfully; Royce made a far easier scapegoat for her crime, but he had proved too good a warrior to die quietly. Instead, Cassana had ensured that the murder weapon was found in Tyana's chambers; coupled with Royce's accusations against her, it had been proof enough for the Faith.
It had not been enough for everyone else, however. The Cafferens and their allies had insisted that House Baratheon should have been the ones to mete out punishment for such a serious crime. Cassana suspected that the Baratheons had also resented the fact that not had House Dondarrion managed to secure a marriage with House Targaryen, but Baldric Swann had also gotten his lordship over Blackhaven whilst stepping over his liege lord. Jena's marriage to the Crown Prince had ensured that House Dondarrion could not be directly assailed, but there had been enough snubs for Cassana to see that there would be severe consequences for their house.
"*" *"* "* "* "* "* "*"* "*"*" *"*"*"*
"How many more aurochs can we hunt this year?"
"Only one more," Baldric answered, "but I'm sure that will be challenge enough. I've also a mind to take them on a boar hunt if the time allows."
Cassana nodded as she ran a hand through Baldric's hair, softly scratching his scalp. She had worked up a great amount of anger at dinner, and let out most of it against Baldric, much to both of their satisfaction. Now they were both so spent that they could only lie demurely together in their bed.
"Did they tell you anything?"
Baldric sighed, "Nothing which I would call certain. The closest match I found was Lord Florent. He is of a mind to marry off Jocelyn or Falia to his third son. His heir and spare are already betrothed."
"Then why did he even come?" Cassana hissed furiously.
"He was most enthusiastic about the aurochs hunt," Baldric explained apologetically. The marchers were very protective of their aurochs herds, keep close count of their numbers and only allowing hunts on a rare schedule. As a result, the marches were one of the few places left to have any aurochs at all.
Cassana was still making a mental note to have nettles rubbed into Lord Florent's clothes too when there was a knock on their chamber door.
"Lord Baldric?"
It was Maester Halys. He had been born a Manderly in White Harbour, far off in the distant North. Cassana was confident that such a man would be honest and dutiful, not like the man whom Halys had replaced.
"A message from Stonehelm, Lord."
Cassana felt the hairs on the back of her neck being raised. Not again.
She looked to Baldric, who was already struggling to sober up from his feasting. He looked anxiously at her, belying his fear. She had no good answer for that, so she simply got up and robed herself, handing one to him as well.
"Come in," Baldric called reluctantly once he was covered up.
The burly young maester came into the room, holding a rolled-up message which was still sealed with wax. it was bound with a black-and-white ribbon, in keeping with the sigil of House Swann.
Baldric opened the scroll and read it quickly. With a sigh, he handed it to Cassana, oblivious to the maester's presence. She felt the hairs on her neck stand on end as she finished the message.
Before he became the Lord of Blackhaven, Baldric was born a Swann, the fourth son of Lord Gawen. Although he had always been an acclaimed jouster, he had never been well-regarded by his father and older brothers. They had been more shocked than anyone when Cassana had chosen Baldric to be her husband, but it was his ascension to the lordship of Blackhaven which had stirred new animosity within them.
It was one thing to try and avoid interacting with the Swanns, but several functions and formalities could not be ignored or brushed aside without serious consequences. Thus, when the time came to invite or accept invitations, Cassana and Baldric had braced themselves and gone ahead, knowing full well how things would play out and being helpless to stop it.
It was an offering - nay, a demand - to arrange some sort of marriage agreements with House Cafferen, graciously brokered by House Swann, who had also offered Stonehelm as a neutral place where both parties could meet and discuss matters.
Curse their generosity. The Others take them all. Cassana wanted to rip the scroll to pieces, or burn it, but she kept her composure in front of the maester.
"I suppose there is little choice in the matter?" Baldric shrugged helplessly.
Gods be good, thought Cassana, have you ever felt as though your father gave you a choice?
She had been given a chance by her father to choose her own husband, and choose him she had, surprising all by selecting Ser Baldric. She had smirked at the shocked and infuriated expressions on Baldric's brothers, and the resentment on his father's face because a woman was allowed to have a choice in whom she married. They had never forgotten that moment either, and Baldric had used the deaths of Armond and Arlan Dondarrion as an excuse to move out to Blackhaven. And we are still here now. That I can never regret, not for anything. Baldric is lord, and we are safe here.
"Darling?" Baldric had spoken again.
"Nay," Cassana answered, speaking softly so that she might conceal her rage towards the invitation, "I would gladly leave the pack of them in a burning hall to save a spider, but we must not antagonise them further."