Hey people, this is a prequel spinoff to ASOIAF with original characters out the wazoo. Much like the main series it is gothic, political, and deals with family secrets and quests, combat and adventure, war and love. However, it is naturally smaller in scope, focusing on one family and the Westerlands itself. I've posted it to SpaceBattles and Ao3. Look forward to your feedback!

"Power resides where men believe it resides… It's a trick, a shadow on the wall."
-Varys

LEURA
-^*^-

"How in seven hells was my plan to work without this?" yelled Leura Godrow as she stormed into the room, long golden hair swaying and bouncing, clutching a gleaming gauntlet. The sky parlour was shuttered and private, a study cropping out from the roof of the central structure. The odd clunk it made as she tossed it on the desk emphasised that nothing about the gauntlet was at all normal, not least of all its deep cobalt body trimmed and crossed with thick gold ribbons, odd digits heavily filigreed with platinum.

Cynthia's placid eyes looked up from the enormous book, regarded the gauntlet, and then her sister. "Your plan did not involve doubling its original value for our dusty coffers, so I made my own." She returned to her neatly-penned entry. "I have marked it down for Brennan of Stoney Sept to collect in a week."

Placing her hands on her hips, Leura shook her head, "You were there when Father said I could use it as my dowry for Ser Maxwell!"

"I was there. I believe his words were "Fine, take the damned thing, cursed Roxburgh rubbish!'" Then Cynthia paused, put her quill down, and leaned back in her chair, "You actually crossed father. Not only did he forbid entrance to the Roxburgh room, even talk of its purpose put the grey into his hair."

Leura rubbed the table with her thumb uncomfortably.

Cynthia continued, "All these years, all I heard was 'Father said this, father says don't go there, father said marry that lord!'"

Leura turned away and felt self-conscious again, like she had been several nights before, when she brought the gauntlet to dinner. Years ago, father had humiliated her by betrothing her to the awkward and weak-minded 'Weedy Werris' Brax. Cynthia had been pressed to marry a Fossoway of the green-apple line, but doggedly resisted her father's efforts, causing him to eventually give up. Leura complied with her betrothal, but it did not last, not least of all because Werris was a loud fool and shamed both hers and his own house. It had never been quite so easy to follow Father since but going behind his back and disobeying the staunchest of his rules still felt unnerving.

Cynthia held the gauntlet up close to her face, "I am just curious how this enraged him so..."

Leura spun back, "You would have us offer nothing to the Tallhammers! Does Asten's life mean so little to you?"

With a glare, Cynthia motioned Leura to take a seat. She shifted the tome across the broad desk to clear space, to inspect the gauntlet in better light. On the knuckle lame was a gold hawk with its rampant claws clutching the two big knuckles. She traced her thin finger gently along the edge of the hawk's wings, parting them from a four-generation layer of dust.

Leura averted her gaze and stood up. She sauntered through the dark room towards a shutter, her sister's eyes following her.

"A Roxburgh trinket. Crafted in King's Landing by Edol Zenthar for a hundred golden dragons, buried with Reese Roxburgh after it failed to prevent him being slain, recovered by Cedric Roxburgh out of sentimentality, and kept locked away by father for reasons he will not share with us."

Leura tilted her a look as if to say 'You had the same idea?', then admonished herself for failing to anticipate her sister. The Roxburgh room had been locked up tight and acquiring the key had not been easy. Cynthia must have spied on her. After the mysterious room was opened, when Leura carefully returned the key, she must have made her own visit. Leura glanced down at the small, gilded brooch Cynthia wore. It was the twin mountains, like their house sigil, only carved in ruby and onyx. The beating heart of the mountain, father called her.

Leura cast open the shutters to the balcony. Sunlight made an attempt on the study but managed little on account of its size. Moreover, dawn was still basting the Riverlands and had yet to fully break over the foothills of the Westerlands. "It's not fair," She whined. "The Bronwyns are practically impoverished – in rank, renown, in riches – how could you expect Father to match me to one of them?"

"It's not what I expect, that's simply the alternative within our means." Cynthia responded loudly, still at her desk. "I've explained this to you." This was a feature of her twin Leura had long been accustomed to, for Cynthia would always cringe away from large openings. Ever since her seventh nameday, she found the outside world deeply upsetting. "Regardless, I haven't spoken to father about that yet-"

Leura cut in "Don't you want to know how I uncovered your attempt at thrift?"

There was a pause. "The Little Bastards?"

Leura shook the smirk off her face "No, Maester Oedwyn." She forcibly exhaled through her nose. "Toadwyn..." Leura faced her sister "...accidentally mentioned 'what a shame it was about the gauntlet.'"

Cynthia's face revealed little, but she blinked severely.

Leura weaved gently back through the room, explaining. "I was woken by bad dreams, and I couldn't return to sleep, so I went to see the maester for some dreamwine. I was about to leave when he explained to me his steel link and told me how he would have given anything to study such unique craftsmanship back at the Citadel." She stood before the table again, then reached over and picked up the gauntlet. It felt heavy.

"I conferred with his expertise to better understand what we were looking at." Cynthia eyed the trinket. "Obviously, I would never short sell our valuable possessions."

Leura wanted to put her in her place. "It's not yours to sell," she muttered. Neither is it mine, she remembered.

Her thoughts fell back to the room in which she found it. There had been a statue of a man atop a wide plinth in the centre. The resplendent gauntlet had been slotted into a pale white groove, leading up to a hawk's head. The figure was poised as if striking a cockatrice from above, the tail for which was curled around the plinth as stairs. Missing from the statue was its armour, and the weapon from its hand. The round room could be well lit by torches, although Leura had had only the early morning sunlight filtering down from an upward recess in the middle of the ceiling, inside which many small windows ran around. It somewhat resembled a sept, although the wall had frescoes of a Roxburgh family tree, a collage of scenes that must have been important moments of their history, and between them a magnificent portrait of the twin mountains with castle and villages from afar. They were separated by elaborate borders of thin mountains adorned with floral iconography, topped by the old coat of arms – a golden hawk within seven white rays on a blue field. Furthermore, the wall was lined with tables and chests that gave the impression of a maester's office. Across them were sprawled maps and old documents, darkened quills and magnifying glasses, inkpots and leathern books.

Leura had made the briefest of glances over the various documents, mainly at the pictures and maps, which charted lands both familiar and alien. All of them were marked, and the map titled 'Qarth' was the most heavily scrawled over. She lingered on it with wide eyes. It was a world away, maybe several. She wondered who she might be, what manner of people she would meet, and realised she knew too little to even picture what they looked like. She had briefly forgotten about the gauntlet, about the forbidding Roxburgh coat of arms that had stood above the chamber's entrance since her earliest memories, about her family and servants and guards and friends.

"Leura." Cynthia broke the gloomy silence. "We are due to make our repayment in little more than a week. We have not once wavered in the timeliness and composition of this." She leaned forward, and the candlelight drew her face starkly. "When Father warned us of the mines running dry, could you see it in his eyes?"

Leura listened, frowning.

"The uncomfortable truth?" Cynthia clarified. Leura knew what she was talking about. "He may not wish to see it, but he does." She reached out and reclaimed the trinket, and Leura's eyes flared. "That reliance on rocks makes houses crumble." She set it on the table.

Leura had no reply as she pondered her sister's words. Cynthia hauled the tome back in front of her.

Our house is built of rocks, upon rock… thought Leura. Does she not listen to the metaphors upon which she relies?
Cynthia elaborated for her, "True wealth is not borne to the surface on carts, it comes from the bearing about of carts themselves." She picked her quill, saying, "And I tell you again, this cart's journey to Stoney Sept is worth far more than the stale company of its contents. And that wealth is going straight to where it should be." Her eyes lazily dropped to a point on her ledger, and her nib followed.

Leura took a moment to prepare her next sentence. The only tone she buffers is one of pragmatism, she thought. "We are in agreement, sister. I did see it in Father's eyes." She glanced up at the house coat of arms tapestried across the wall. Under it read the words 'We See the Value'. "He does not see how to lead us out of this mess. But I can see our fortunes intertwined with another house, one that possesses not only our brother and father's only male heir, but also fantastically underexploited riches in mines – did you know? And folk speak of a miscreant lord whose grave lies open, and whose nephew is a youthful successor as respectable as his father. Such an ally would be mercy from the gods. Your plan might fix half our predicament. Mine will recover everything we've lost, and more." She took a nervous breath in and took up Cynthia's quill. "And if anyone sees us now for what we really are – an isolated family with no wealth left..." She leant into Cynthia's ledger, at the top where the name of Godrow was written in splendour, and drew a line through it.

Cynthia looked annoyed. "You may be right," she replied. Then she poked the gauntlet, "I hope you find another piece someday and Father still lives to grant you its use."

Leura felt her temper flare up, and without properly thinking she retorted, "Perhaps you could marry Joffrey Bronwyn; Do you not think Father would grant him your use?"

"Fine." Cynthia turned her head. "Get out of my study." She dragged her chair back, picked up the gauntlet, and opened a drawer to stash it in.

Leura considered trying to snatch it from her sister. Instead, she screwed up her face, twirled around and stormed off towards the stairs, fighting off tears.

Wooden stairs clopped in stony echo, as Leura bundled her way down. Her mind was clouded, and she did not know where she would head once she had rounded the final corner. Cynthia read the documents properly, she thought, cursing the fact she had not done so. The Gods only knew what Father had been up to. It must be necessary to explain such a unique dowry to the family it was meant for. Not that it matters any more. Cynthia may pass herself off as wise and cunning, but it was instances like these that proved to Leura she was nothing more than a short-sighted boor.

All Leura wanted to do was marry a good-natured and lusty knight, like the ones she had seen come to her father's court. They jested heartily with each other, were serious in discussion with Father, and polite whenever she would approach them afterwards. Instead, she was bound to a father who barely listened anymore. And her mischievous baseborn cousins. And my contemptuous and self-centred sister. Near the exit now, she stopped and pivoted, wanting to go back up. She decided against it, and spun back around to continue, until she tripped on her crimson gown. For a moment, she was going over, and let out a short cry. Instead, a firm pair of arms caught her. Leura's eyes were filled with a quilted doublet, blue-grey with yellow silk, and her nose with a man's lemon-tinged scent.

Leura looked up. It was Caspyan Sephare, a lord in service to her father as a permanent guest. A slender and upright man, his dark hair sprung and curled softly behind his ears, and with his thick brow did it gently shimmer.

"Careful there, my girl. One can fall a long way down in a place like this." His voice was warm, and he looked at her with muted eyes.

Leura blinked up at him. "I'm sorry, my lord, I-... Thank you."

"I beg your pardon my lady, but you seem a little bit flustered," he offered as he helped her to her feet. "You know you can tell me if something is troubling you, Leura."

Leura suddenly realised she had been loudly arguing about sensitive business and wondered if anyone might have heard it. She composed herself and straightened up her gown, gesturing ahead to continue walking. She had to get somewhere private.

"Perhaps we could talk in my own office this time?" He offered. They walked abreast of each other. The stairs had opened out onto a high gantry, with the welcoming hall two stories down to the right and a wall decorated with tapestries and swords and shields along their flank.

Leura found she could not wait in silence. "I cannot believe she would do this," she blurted. Sephare turned his head, mildly taken aback. "She has always been..." She pondered for a moment. "Unmoved,"

Sephare nodded hesitantly.

"But recently she has become-"

Sephare finished her sentence, "Immovable?" They looked at each other. "I guessed it was Cynthia you talk of." They turned the corner, crossing the building. Beyond the wall to their left was the great hall where family and guests were feasted. It made Leura feel bad to no longer imagine it filled with wedding guests. Or worse – filled with Bronwyns, who had never even seen a hall this large.

"She used to listen to me," Leura recalled. "Never got in the way, but now she thinks she is the lady of Hollowtop."

Sephare lowered his voice and leaned in, "She is quite the eccentric creature, isn't she?" Despite her state, Leura had to stifle a giggle. They turned left and led on past the longer great hall. "Forgive me, but I would think that the lady of a house should have some experience in marriage before dictating such affairs to others."

"Father relies too much on her. He has had his mind distracted by something else, and I believe I know what it is." They passed up a small flight of stairs (for Hollowtop was divided into four terraces, rising as one ventured further in) and after entering a true hallway with doors, approached Sephare's chamber.

"This wouldn't happen to be about that room, would it?"

Leura bit her lip and looked around. A servant passed far back the way they came – Melvyn perhaps – but he was the only one. It was still early. They entered the room, which looked subtly different to any other room in the castle. The same dark wood and light stone provided the base, but much of the furniture, decorations and personal items were nearly exotic to Leura's eyes. Sephare had been the son of a very minor noble lord south of Starfall along the coast. With no siblings and a secure inheritance, he had married a lady from the Reach, but tragic events took his wealth away when she ran off with another man to Essos. He had arrived at Hollowtop when Leura was ten years old to offer her Father his services. He went straight to his desk and folded away some letters.

Leura sat down on a teak chair and began, "I must confess to you, after our last discussion, I took it upon myself to investigate the Roxburgh room."

He headed her a look of approval and sat down opposite her.

"It behoves me not to be candid about the room, my lord, for I still wish to respect my Father's wishes. However, it was there I found what I secretly hoped for yet did not expect to find – a most resplendent piece of armour, that is surely worth a minor fortune. You were right, my lord, in a way, though you could not know it. I acquired the key with immense difficulty, I am sure you could understand, but it was worth the effort to secure something I could offer as dowry to Ser Maxwell."

Smiling, Sephare replied in his ever-calm voice, "This is excellent news, Leura. I have discussed before to your Lord Father the need for a Tallhammer alliance-" He interrupted himself with an open palm. "I will not press you to tell me what else you found, but I am glad I could help you show our Lord Harold to be fit-minded, to carry out a wise course of action like this."

"I wish it had not been necessary," Leura brooded earnestly. "This ordeal has been contentious. I am just eager that Father and I may share amicable relations again." I hope.

"You show your quality too, my lady."

Leura smiled shyly, looking away. "Thank you, my lord." She made herself look at him again. "I esteem praise from one so percipient as yourself very highly."

He bowed his head in acknowledgement.

Filling the silence, Leura had another look around the room. Caspyan rose and went to the window, which presented a lightly warbled view down the side of the mountain, to the slightly smaller adjoining Mount Agryn and to the great valley alongside. The light caught his hair in faint fractals, and Leura studied the details; the thick flow like rippling tributaries at dusk, the strands creeping nearly to his temple. This was unlike the salt-touched wood of Father's, who was of an age with him; nor had he a moustache to squeeze, but gentle stubble and glowing skin.

He gestured Leura to come over beside him.

She abided, and they stood together in silence for a while. Leura picked up a cup from the windowsill. It was copper, a metal Leura saw scarce little of in her day-to-day life. She ran her fingers along the pressed design, along Rhoynish children dancing across the Narrow Sea towards Dorne.

She heard him say, "Have I ever told you the story of how I came into your father's service?"

"You were once married, my lord." Leura offered with a sensitive tone.

He looked taut, as if scrutinising the face of Mount Agryn like a prowling hawk.

"Eleyna," He let out finally. "She was not the most beautiful, Leura, you must understand, but she had a compelling way about her that all men noticed. No men more than I." He saw the cup, and from a table by his side picked up the matching pitcher. "I adored her." He poured into her cup a dark red. "I trusted her," he said quieter.

Leura began to feel awkward, swirling the wine in her cup.

He poured himself one. "My family had strong connections with a network of merchants, not unlike this family does. We had little wealth, but our investments were remarkably lucrative."

They both felt it to take a sip. It tasted sour across her tongue, which she was not sure if she liked or not.

"At dinner, what do you and your father talk about?"

"I'm sorry, my lord?"

"I would ask him where to find them..." He took a sip mid-sentence.

Leura stammered, "I - I don't think-"

Sephare finished his sentence, "... My father, where to find the best investments, who and what was reliable. His mind was a treasure trove in that way."

"Oh." She could not think of much to say. "So, he was like Helban Godrow, then?"

Sephare drew a finger up and smiled, "Yes, one could say he was like your primogenitor. The first Godrow and the first Sephare. You are very clever to recognise that, Leura."

She could not help but smile and took a long sip. She decided she liked the wine's strong taste. She spoke as her head buzzed, "You were talking about your wife?"

His expression dropped again. He turned back to the window. "She and I were inseparable." He took up the pitcher again. "Once, I was bound for Sunspear on important business, and she begged me to take her to the court of the Martells." Having refilled his cup, he continued as he poured hers. "She consorted with everyone she could seize upon, and in between it all she bounded back to me to share it all."

They leaned against the window's edges and drank. "Never had I seen her lustier or more delighted, until we returned home together. You see, I had introduced her to a Qartheen connection, a merchant lord of the Ancient Guild of Spicers. They must have been positively taken by each other, for she spoke to none other the rest of that visit, and her affections for me grew dismal thereafter."

Leura let heavy lips speak, "You must have felt betrayed, my lord."

He looked her in the eye and said, "You can call me Caspyan."

"Okay," she sounded quietly.

He looked up and spoke with a tone to conclude, "I spent a great deal of my family's wealth, buying her gifts to win back her attention. If maesters had a chain for love, I should think they would counsel against such folly."

Leura smirked at the idea of a maester trying to lecture her on matters of the heart.

He finished his cup. "I wasted half of it on her, and she took the other half with her to Qarth. The Lord Ashford, who had invited me to become his castellan, shamed me for estranging his daughter. Of course, whilst at Ashford, I had entirely by accident discovered his secret, about how he mistreated her as a child. So, I exposed it to the court on my way out."

Leura shot a hand on his chest. "You absolute villain!" She cried, astonished. "How did he take such a slight?"

"Not well." He smirked. "His guards all began to look startlingly similar to the man on the Tarly sigil, so I fled from his lands with all haste."

They laughed together, and Leura took a long while to bring herself under control again. Caspyan put his hands on her shoulders and stepped in close.

"Those you love will let you down, Leura." Though the sun fell upon their faces, the wine could have convinced her she was still in bed dreaming. "My lady, can you tell me what the Martell words are?"

She remembered, "Unbowed, unbent, unbroken."

He held her tighter. "Trust - my girl – is a weapon. It can sweep us, oppress us, even break us. Only trust the love you bear for your own destiny.