Cassana
The Dornish lord was a haughty-looking man dressed in loose and flowing garments of garish-looking gold. Embroidered on his clothing was a bright red cockatrice that clutched a black snake in its beak.
He and two dozen horsemen had arrived that morning, requesting an audience with Lord Dondarrion.
"Welcome to Blackhaven, Lord Gargalen," Cassana declared. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?"
"The pleasures of war," Lord Gargalen answered curtly. "I am answering the king's summons, and I must march my men through your lands."
That will certainly please the marchers, Cassana thought sourly. For her part, she saw that there was nothing to gain from maintaining a grudge against Dorne, but she knew full well that most of her subjects would disapprove. If only he had arrived a few days sooner, he could have marched north with Baldric. That might have softened the blow.
"I thank you for your notice," Cassana told Lord Gargalen. "Do you wish to purchase any supplies while you are passing through?"
"No need, Lady Dondarrion," Lord Gargalen replied. "I would only ask for advice on the speediest route to King's Landing. I am rather unfamiliar with this terrain." His voice made it clear that he misliked having to set foot in the Dornish Marches almost as much as the marchers would mislike hosting him.
Cassana turned to the small throng of people who were standing in the hall, then glanced back at Lord Gargalen. "The swiftest route would be to take ships from the Weeping Town. You need only pass through House Swann's land to get there. My steward will provide a map. I will send someone to Stonehelm to let them know of your arrival. In the meantime, Lord Gargalen, you can be our guest until the rest of your troops arrive."
Lord Gargalen gave a respectful nod, even as Cassana motioned for a servant to provide bread and salt.
"Ser Maynard," Cassana addressed her master-at-arms. "Arrange for riders to inform House Swann of Lord Gargalen's approach."
Ser Maynard gave a bow and departed the hall.
As Lord Gargalen and his escort were led away to guest rooms, Gulian Straw approached Cassana. "I have assembled the figures you requested, Lady Cassana."
"Go on, then," Cassana answered. It was a remarkable thing to hear this man, who had been Blackhaven's steward for as far back as she could recall, addressing her with the same tone that he'd used to address her father and mother.
"We require a new master of horse," Gulian remarked, poring over a sheet of notes in his hands. "Lord Baldric took our best guards with him, so we will need to find replacements. Aethan the blacksmith is also short of supplies. He has provided a list of what he requires. He is also bereft of his assistants..."
Cassana heard him out patiently. When he was finished, she nodded. "See to it that the supply requests are met. And present me with a list of candidates for all the positions we need. We will go over them together."
The aging steward nodded his head deferentially. "As you will, my lady."
As he shuffled off, Cassana was struck once again by the fact that Gulian Straw was not the man that he used to be. Age was only part of it; both his sons had left Blackhaven now, and now he was alone. Cassana did not know when Clifford had last sent his father a letter, but Branston was now sailing north with his former master.
Cassana had been shocked when Baldric's anger towards her had not abated, even after they departed Stonehelm and returned to Blackhaven. He had slept in another chamber, and though Cassana was livid at the prospect of what sort of gossip this would inspire, she was too proud to beg Baldric's forgiveness. She was resolved to call his bluff and wait until he relented. She even expected him to repent of his vow to leave Blackhaven for the North.
Much to her continued astonishment, Baldric proved as stubborn as she. He had continued to spurn her bed, spoke to her sparingly in public, and more often than not avoided her to oversee tasks which any lord might have delegated to their household staff. He oversaw the calling of House Dondarrion's banners, discussed which men would go north with him, supervised the assembling of supplies. He often took Manfred with him on these endeavours, even though Cassana could sense her young son's boredom and irritation.
The bannermen had assembled promptly to Baldric's call. Ser Lyle Bolt was too old for war, but he sent his second son, Enoch, with several dozen men. Ser Lambert Penny was also too old to fight, but he had sent his heir, Ser Karl. Ser Garvey Sawyer was already the head of his household after the death of his father six years prior.
Many men who lived in Blackhaven had joined Baldric, but he had left Ser Maynard Kellington behind. Cassana had expected him to appoint a castellan over her, but he was too smart to provoke her that far.
"Blackhaven is yours," Baldric had told her, but she was perceptive enough to see that he'd meant those words as a reproof. Rule without me, he seemed to say, and see how you like it.
Truthfully, Cassana did like it. She had spent years of her childhood listening in on her father's administration and advising Baldric on managing the Dondarrion lands. She was quickly growing accustomed to this position, and it troubled her to imagine what would happen when Baldric returned.
Lord Gargalen made it clear that he would depart as soon as his levies and baggage train caught up with him. They were already late to the muster, and while he sat with Cassana for dinner, Lord Gargalen swore he would not be left behind from the second contingent.
"It's bad enough that the damn Dalts made me look a fool in front of Prince Maron. And after what they..." he stopped and gave Cassana a wary glance. "What is your relation to Titus Dondarrion, if I may ask?"
"I do not see why it should matter," Cassana observed, "but he is my brother."
Lord Gargalen used one finger to straighten the hairs of his goatee. "You are estranged from him?"
"I cannot remember a time when we were not estranged," Cassana replied earnestly.
"I should not be surprised," Lord Gargalen quipped, seemingly sighing with relief as he took another drink. "Admittedly, we in Dorne are less inclined than the rest of you to judge a man for his appetites, but what your brother has done with Garrison Dalt's widow and daughter... It is unacceptable degeneracy."
"Such a pity," Cassana remarked coolly, "Men say many things about the Dornish, but I did always admire them for their tolerance of women and unique appetites."
The Dornishman frowned, "But you said... your brother..."
"My concern with Titus has never been his desires, I promise you," Cassana interrupted. "They are, perhaps, the only part of him that I do not find repugnant."
The Dornishman had sipped at his wine and shook his head dismissively. "Well, in any case, Aliandra Dalt will not find a husband now, not unless she sends for one from the Summer Isles. Not that it matters to her. She has proved willing to turn her back on anyone who voices their distaste. Even her own brothers."
"Is that so?" Cassana was growing bored of this subject, and she motioned for a servant to refill his goblet. Let him drink himself to sleep.
"Three of them were staying with the Yronwoods," Velasco replied, "I spoke with two of them, but the third has already gone to King's Landing. Strangely, though, the Yronwoods seem more concerned about securing their own border than going north."
His voice was beginning to become slurred, and he seemed to be speaking aloud any thought which entered his mind, but Cassana did not let his last remark pass.
"Did you just say that House Yronwood is fortifying the Boneway?"
Lord Gargalen glanced at Cassana, shrugging his shoulders. "They did not say so, but I noticed they had kept a good number of men home. I did not inquire, of course..."
"No," Cassana agreed, "I would have done the same as you."
"They're a strange lot, the Yronwoods," the Dornish lord had nodded into a stupour after that, but his words were not forgotten by Cassana.
After Lord Gargalen had left Blackhaven with his men, she had sent several riders south to watch the Boneway closely. But as the days turned into weeks, and no other armies emerged from Dorne, she was all the more bewildered by what was going on.
"*"* "* "* "*"*"* "*"* "* "* "*"*"* ""*"*"*
When the morning weather was good, it had become Cassana's custom to go riding in the company of her twin cousins and children. She never took any guards with her, for this was her opportunity to speak frankly with Falia and Jocelyn.
It was on one such day when she thought yet again of Lord Gargalen's words. They had clung to the corners of her mind like cobwebs, never fully forgotten. Even after there was silence from the Boneway, she was convinced that there was something happening.
"Would that I could send a spy down south," she mused after informing her cousins of her concerns.
"Mayhaps there was nothing amiss," Falia ventured. "Lord Gargalen seemed drunk to me."
"Of course he was," Cassana answered, "and that is why I am certain he was telling the truth. What reason would he have to lie? He was speaking more frankly than he would have done."
"Then perhaps he was mistaken," Jocelyn broached, "for what purpose would the Yronwoods have to close the Boneway? We are at peace with Dorne."
Cassana thought about it. It was a good question, but a frustrating one because she had no good answer.
"There are two possibilities," she finally responded. "Either they are trying to keep us out, or the rest of Dorne in."
Neither of the twins replied to that. Cassana could tell that they were both skeptical of her suspicions, but they were too discreet to deny them directly.
By this point, they were riding close to the copse which lay directly south of Blackhaven. It was Manfred who saw them first, and gave a cry of alarm. Cassana, Jocelyn, and Falia were armed with bows and knives, but they were too stunned to draw their weapons. And in any case, there was no need for them to arm themselves.
There were five men, and it was clear that they had all been dead for at several days. Their skin was pale, their bodies were stiff, and a horrific smell was in the air. Flies covered them, and it was clear that animals had begun to feast on them. Cassana was surprised, but what alarmed her most of all was the fact that all five men were still dressed in clothes which bore the sigil of House Gargalen.
"Gods be good!" wailed Jocelyn, even as she covered the eyes of Caspor, who sat in front of her. Falia tried to do the same thing for Manfred, but he was already screaming.
Cassana was unable to look away, nor did she bother to calm her horse, which was whinnying in alarm at the smell of decay. She stared at the dead soldiers, fighting an urge to retch at the pungent odour, and the sight of maggots and flies consuming their rotting flesh.
"We should go," Falia urged panickedly.
Snapping out of her shock, Cassana wheeled her horse away. All three mounts cantered back the way they'd come. For a time, everyone was too horrified to speak, except for Manfred, who wept in alarm at what he'd seen. Cassana barely noticed her son's distress, for she was too distracted by the memory of those corpses. She had not failed to note that three of them had borne wounds which had putrified. The others had either died of some other cause, or their wounds had already become unrecognisable.
She gave a voice to her thoughts as Blackhaven finally came back into view, "What were those men doing here? What happened to them? And where are the others?"
"I don't know..." Jocelyn whimpered. Only then did Cassana turn to look at her younger cousin and see that she was wide-eyed and trembling, with tears running down her face.
"We cannot lose our heads," Cassana insisted brusquely, looking from Jocelyn to Falia. "We must raise the alarm and discover the meaning of this."
Thus did they hurry their horses onwards, until Cassana started and reigned her horse to a halt.
Blackhaven was closer enough that they could make out the front gates, where the black banner of House Dondarrion, with its purple lightning bolt, always flew in the wind. This time, however, there were two flags. One bore the sigil of House Dondarrion, while the second flag bore a black swan on white and a white swan on black.
This was the last straw for Cassana. She made a decision in her mind which she could not justify with any good reason other than her suspicions, but she was resolute that it be carried out.
"Do not come with me," Cassana ordered her cousins. "Take yourselves and my sons to Ser Lyle Bolt's estate. I will send a raven when it is safe to return. Make haste!"
The twins might have asked questions, but they were both still very subdued from the grisly sight at the edge of the copse. Although Manfred and Caspor protested, Falia and Jocelyn turned their horses to the west, where the Bolts ruled a portion of Dondarrion territory.
Cassana, meanwhile, rode back to Blackhaven. Her stomach twisted in knots as she stared up at the Swann sigil. Why did they give us no notice of their arrival? What do they want? Who let them into Blackhaven?
Things went from bad to worse once she rode beneath the gate and entered the castle grounds. Dozens of men in House Swann livery were positioned at key places, as if they were occupying Blackhaven after a siege. Except there was no siege. They were welcomed in, no doubt. What is the meaning of this?
"Lady Dondarrion?" It was a burly-looking man who stood at the main entrance of the keep. "Welcome back."
"I do not feel quite so welcome any longer," Cassana countered warily. As she dismounted, a Swann soldier grabbed her horse. On impulse, she turned, drew the riding crop from her saddle and struck the man across the face. "You will keep your hands off me and my horse! Where are mine own servants? Where are my guards?"
"You had best go inside and find out," the soldier quipped, stepping beside the door and giving an ironic bow. The others laughed as she walked past their companion with her head held high. They won't be laughing when I have their tongues pulled out by fiery pincers.
Her worst fears were realised when she stepped into the hall and beheld Ser Alfred Swann. He stood to the side, speaking abrasively to the club-footed servant called Kresimir. A few men wearing the Swann sigil were also in the room, standing beside a distraught-looking Maester Halys. Septa Perianne was also in the room, but Cassana could not read her expression. Royce the Runt was absent, as were Ser Maynard Kellington and Gulian Straw.
When Alfred beheld her, he gave her the most unfriendly smile which she'd ever seen on his face before. Kresimir turned away and limped off on whatever errand Alfred had given, but before he turned his back, he glanced at Cassana with a doleful countenance.
"Ser Alfred," Cassana called in a challenging voice, "Do tell me your reason for coming here."
"My family sends their regards," Alfred announced, ignoring her inquiry. "And I thank you for the message you gave us."
"Message?" Cassana frowned.
"Thanks to you, we were able to give Lord Gargalen the proper welcome he and his men deserved." The words were spoken lightly, and Cassana might have taken them at their face, were it not for the discovery which she had made that morning. Now, the words sent a shiver down her body.
"Indeed," Cassana answered calmly, "I cannot help but wonder why such thanks were necessary to give personally, and with such a large contingent of men in tow."
"Have you not heard?" Alfred folded his arms. "Your maester's ravens fly slower than I thought."
There was no mistaking the satisfaction in his tone, and it galled Cassana on principle to have him so smug. "I will not debate how birds fly with you, Ser. You did not answer my question."
"And suppose I do not wish to answer you?" Alfred sneered. "What will you do about it?"
Does he think he is being clever? "You are not the master of this castle," Cassana reminded him.
"Am I not?" Alfred gave a short, unpleasant laugh. "Whose sigil is the garrison wearing?"
Garrison... "I was not aware that my court was lacking a fool," Cassana snapped.
"It lacks a lord," Alfred answered. "I am here to administer Blackhaven as its castellan, on my nephew's behalf."
Cassana gave a burst of laughter, "I always knew you were a self-aggrandizing braggart, Alfred, but you really are a fool as well. Change out of those clothes and put on a suit of motley as befits your talents."
"The only fool in this hall is you, bitch," Alfred's tone was instantly wrothful. He stepped forward and struck Cassana across the face with his gloved hand. "You have always been so willful, so blind to what goes on in front of your eyes. But I'll make sure your eyes open."
Cassana wailed in pain as one side of her face seemed to burn. It was hot to the touch as she put a hand on her face.
"Now tell me, bitch," Alfred ordered, "where are my nephew's sons?"
Cassana struggled to control her breathing. She wanted to scratch his eyes out, hear him scream in pain, but she knew that Alfred would relish the chance to chastise her as violently as he pleased. And now his question filled her with dread for her children. She forced herself to stand still and speak calmly, "I do not know where they are, and neither will you."
"Stubborn as ever. Or mayhaps you're hoping to be convinced like the deviant you are." Before Cassana could register what he meant, Alfred turned to two men who wore the Swann sigil. "Escort the lady to my chambers."
Before Cassana could react, the two men took hold of her by the arms and frog-marched her towards the Lord's Tower. One was unfamiliar to her, but the other man caused her to gasp in shock. "Elwood!"
"Recognise me, Lady?" the archer grinned.
"Have you gone mad? Unhand me at once!" She attempted to wrest herself free.
Elwood held her fast with one hand, leading her along despite her struggles, "I don't take your orders no more."
"This is treason!" Cassana shrieked, "I will see you drawn and quartered for this!"
"Treason, is it? Against which king?"
What is going on? Cassana was so dazed by their confident words - so shaken by Alfred's use of the word 'deviant' to describe her - that she allowed them to lead her up the tower and into the bedchamber which she shared with Baldric.
A maid was waiting for them. Lana was in her twenties, having served both Cassana and her sister since she was a girl. Now she smirked at the sight of Cassana being pulled into her chambers. Alfred's chambers, he said. He is earnest, but how can he be so brazen?
"Where's the supplies?" Elwood asked Lana.
"Here," Lana answered, grinning as she loosened a plank of wood from the floor. "Milady thought herself so clever!"
Cassana was horrified; over the years, she and Baldric had expanded their bedroom play to explore the various ways in which Cassana could dominate him. She had devised a way to hide their equipment when it was not being used. Now Lana giggled as she extracted the toys and tools which Cassana had taken such joy in using on her husband.
"Gods, what an aberration," the Swann retainer remarked, leering at the ropes and chains which Lana piled on the bed.
"Best get her ready, then," Elwood quipped.
Cassana was too stunned to even resist. Her deepest secrets had been revealed by her own servants. She felt almost sick with embarrassment and impotent fury as they ridiculed and judged her.
In between their taunts, Elwood and the other guard forced her to kneel on the bed, at the very end of it. They held her in place as Lana bound her arms to the bed posts on either side of her, much like she'd enjoyed doing to Baldric when they were alone.
As they bound her, Alfred walked into the room, smirking as he shook his head contemptuously. "Tell me, was my nephew always a degenerate, or did you make him one?"
Cassana's could feel blood filling her head, her heart beating in rage and fear at being so helpless in the hands of her enemies, her greatest pleasures forced against her in the worst way imaginable. "I will not discuss rank slander with you," Cassana hissed in an attempt at protest. Alfred merely laughed as he picked up something from the assorted equipment. It was a horse's bit which had been made smaller, and accustomed for a human to wear in its mouth.
"Did you have this made for Baldric? What a disgusting wretch you are." He held it up for the others to gawk at.
Alfred approached her and spat in her face. "You have made far too many enemies, bitch."
As his spittle and her own tears began to trickle down her cheeks, Cassana saw that another man had entered the room behind Alfred. Like Elwood, Ser Maynard Kellington had changed out of the Dondarrion colours, but he did not wear the black and white swans. Instead, he wore the black-and-bronze book and pale blue of his own house.
"Ser Maynard!" Cassana exclaimed, aroused from her shock, "What is the meaning of this?"
"Is the meaning not clear?" Ser Maynard folded his arms, leaning against the doorframe. "The time has come for the rightful king to claim his throne. You chose to side with the Red Dragons, just as your sister and brother did. Now you will all give way to the Black Dragon, the bearer of the king's sword."
"You traitor!" She might have shouted more, but Alfred chose that moment to jam the bit between her teeth and strap it in place behind her head. Cassana gave a shrill shriek, both at the indignity of being muzzled, and at the pungent taste of leather on her tongue.
"There is only one traitor in this room, bitch. Ser Maynard has always been loyal," Alfred taunted. "Loyal to his king and his kin." He grabbed Cassana's dress and slashed through it with a knife. When that was torn away, he did the same to her undergarments, until nothing concealed her body.
Cassana glared murderously, shrieking into her gag as she struggled against her bonds, unable to cover her nakedness from those who stared at her. Her vision was too blurred to make out their faces anymore, even as she felt Alfred's hands grab her breasts, digging his fingers into her flesh.
"Your husband was a lucky man," he remarked. "But fear not for your virtue. I'll not have it said that I am a slayer or raper of women. King Daemon punishes men who commit such crimes. And besides, the gods know that whatever you are, you are still my kinswoman. Consider this, instead, a lesson in humility." He released her and disappeared from sight behind her. Cassana had little time to wonder, for something struck her back with a loud crack.
Maynard and the others laughed as she screamed, eyes wide as her back burned with pain.
"Will you tell me where the boys are?" Alfred asked her. "Nod your head, and we can make an end of this."
Cassana was drooling as her teeth clamped down on the bit. Her jaw hurt, her arms ached, and her fingers were numb from the rough knots tied too harshly around her wrists. She could not keep her eyes open any longer. She thought of how satisfying it had been to secure Baldric, how much satisfaction they had gained from their sports in the bedroom. Caspor had been conceived whilst Baldric been bound to this bed, wearing the bit gag which now cut the corners of her mouth, for Alfred had tied it as tightly as he could. He will not desecrate this. He will not succeed. He will not... She growled and gave a definitive shake of her head.
The lash struck her back again, harder than before. Her screams drowned out the laughter of those who watched.
"Mayhaps this is what you really needed all along? Baldric was too weak for you. Now you have a proper man to teach you. And mayhaps this will make you a proper woman at last," Alfred scoffed, just before she was struck again by the lash.
After that, she lost count of how often he struck her, of the many names which she was called by the others in the room. She thought only of Baldric, how he had looked whenever he'd climax inside her after she'd withheld the pleasure from him. How he would always gaze up at her with such affection and such longing beneath his embarrassment while she'd taunted him. He'd been born last to his father and loved least, all the more so because he'd defied expectations and become a strong knight. She'd made him Lord of Blackhaven so that he might finally escape his family's shadow, even if he did not see it for what it was.
She thought of how he had looked at her the last time they saw each other, how hurt and bitter he'd appeared, how he had abandoned her to this evil fate. It was this memory which struck her harder than anything that Alfred did or said.