Cassana
She was astonished by how much grey was in his hair and beard. It gave him a dignified air which he did not deserve. He had sat upon the small council for ten years, and while he had always been high-minded and arrogant, now he spoke with someone who was confident in the power he wielded. It was almost dismaying how he could find new ways to enrage her.
Such was her vexation that she resented Baldric for his courtesies and kindness towards Titus. She understood it, of course; Baldric's sentimentality had increased tenfold since that dreadful war, and he held an inexplicable soft spot for Titus after the latter had charged the Redgrass Field under Baelor's command.
Thankfully, when they sat down for the council, he had the decency to sit as far from her as he could. Aside from one exasperated glance from Baldric to the both of them, he made no protest.
Manfred sat on Cassana's other side, eyeing his uncle with suspicion. Cassana had never told Manfred the worst crime that Titus had committed. She never needed to rely on that to turn her children against Titus. They had learned more than enough from rumours which their mother had been happy to confirm.
At present, Baldric regaled Titus and his commanders of what had transpired on his failed attempt against the Vulture King.
"This is a strange tale," Ser Baelon Massey commented. "How can these smallfolk be so well trained that they can massacre companies of knights?"
"These are the marches," Titus commented dryly. "Men were trained to hold swords before they hold spoons."
"What I still do not understand is where this Vulture King found such support for his cause," Maester Walys added morosely.
"Blackfyres," Baldric pronounced. "There is still much ill will from that terrible war. House Dondarrion was foremost among the royalists." With that, he gave a respectful nod to Titus, who returned the gesture.
"All the same, Father," Manfred interjected, "we were not the only supporters of House Targaryen. We were not even the only marchers. Why should the Vulture King only attack us?"
"Mayhaps this Blackfyre rebel has a grudge against us in particular," Baldric replied. He looked at everyone around the table. "Do we know of anyone who fits that description?"
Cassana knew of one, but to say his name would mean explaining why he would have a grudge against House Dondarrion. Besides, she did not know how much Royce knew about her own role in that regard.
While she pondered, Manfred spoke up first. "Someone who served the Swanns?"
An uncomfortable silence descended upon the table. Cassana quietly held Baldric's hand under the table. "My brothers and uncle died during the rebellion," Baldric declared thickly, "and my father has been sulking in Stonehelm ever since. And I do not believe an ordinary peasant could rally and train men as this Vulture King has done. This man has received martial training, and he must have some kind of authority."
Titus stirred. "The Dalts."
Cassana glanced at her brother, who looked as though he might be ill.
Baldric was looking at him too. Much to Cassana's surprise, he was growing visibly alarmed. "Can you explain your meaning?"
"House Dalt has a grudge against me," Titus replied. "Edgar Dalt's brothers all resented my presence. They joined the Blackfyres, and I never learned what became of them all."
Baldric gave a long sigh. "It will not be Uthor. I know full well that he is dead."
Cassana shuddered. She knew all the details of what had transpired in Gulltown. Baldric had wept when he'd first told her how he had ordered Uthor Dalt thrown into a burning building, standing by until Uthor's screams had finally ended. For her part, she had thought he was entirely justified in giving Uthor the same grisly end which he himself had helped inflict on thousands of sailors in Gulltown's harbour. She had told him as much, and he had seen the sense of it, but it hadn't stopped the nightmares.
"That leaves Celio and Azul," Titus observed. "I never came across their bodies. Mayhaps they survived?"
Baldric shot Cassana a glance. A flash of fear was in his eyes. She could sense what he was thinking, and she gave his hand a firm squeeze to help him compose himself.
Tudur Selmy leaned forward. "Shall we send a raven to Lemonwood, then?"
"Why?" Titus frowned. "Edgar remained loyal to House Targaryen. He took wounds at the siege of Wyl, fighting against his own brothers. If anything, they would be killing him first."
Cassana suppressed her anger at Titus for presuming to speak to her steward. She had a more important matter to address. "Presumably these two Dalt brothers will know of House Dondarrion's loyalties, but would they know of Baldric's role in their brother's death?"
Titus shrugged. "How could I know that? How many men could tell them that?"
"No one who would betray me," Baldric interjected quietly. "Enoch, Karl, Garvey, all those men, they all bled for me a hundred times over. Why would they betray me by speaking to these Blackfyre supporters?"
That was a relief for Cassana, though now she was growing curious about how Titus had offended the brothers, especially when he'd defended Uthor in King's Landing just before his exile. I suppose it could be any number of reasons, and he certainly won't give the truth before us now.
Baelon Massey suddenly spoke up. "What about Royce Storm?"
Everyone turned to regard Titus' fat fool of a friend who had, for only the second time in his life, done Cassana a service.
"What of him?" Titus frowned. If anything, he looked as agitated as Cassana felt. What is Royce Storm to him?
"I was here during that whole mess with the murdered maester," Baelon explained. Royce was accused of murdering him. After he won his trial by combat, he rode off after accusing that one lady… Tana or something. And I think he dragged House Dondarrion's name through the mud too."
"That was sixteen years ago," Baldric remarked. "And besides, Royce Storm has returned to Blackhaven's service. He was in the castle when my son was murdered, and he remained behind when I rode out against the Vulture King."
"He's here?" Titus was staring at Baldric now.
"He is," Baldric remarked. "And I have seen no proof of his involvement."
You sentimental fool. Cassana felt a twinge of guilt for being so angry at husband. It was not in his power that the war had broken him. It was simply that he dreaded facing evil once more, especially if it was within his own home. If Royce had anything to do with our son's murder, I will find the proof of it, she swore, if it's the last thing I do.
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After the council was finally completed, Cassana made for Blackhaven's sept, where Maester Gerold had spent his last moments writhing on the ground, clutching his throat after Cassana had cut it. She had whispered "Traitor" in the man's ear, watching him die with the gods' judgment all around him.
It was vengeance for her father, and it was a memory which always warmed her heart. She did not doubt that Gerold had been the one to poison her father rather than Titus. Feeding the poison in our father's mouth would have been far too direct for him to stomach. Doubtless he stood by and watched, as if that made him less of a kinslayer.
Admittedly, her own guilt around Gerold's murder did sometimes mar her sense of triumph. Titus had been the one to point out the barbarity of her crime when she'd confronted him. She had been too hasty to confess her role, more's the pity. It had given Titus a chance to make his defeat look like a stalemate.
As she'd expected, Septa Perianne was attending the gods when she arrived. She was placing freshly lit candles before the statues when Cassana entered.
"My lady," Perianne murmured coldly, not even looking at her as she went about her tasks.
Cassana approached until she was within five paces of the septa. "Have the silent sisters finished their work with Ser Mychal and Ser Gilbert?"
"They are, my lady," came the austere reply.
"Good." Cassana approached the Father's statue, pretending to pray as Perianne continued to light new candles. Time seemed to slow down as Cassana waited to see whether Perianne would break the silence.
Her patience was rewarded. "Do you wish to light another candle for your son?"
"A bonfire would be insufficient," Cassana remarked. "But I will light a candle for Ser Royce."
Even with her back turned to Perianne, Cassana fancied that she could sense the septa pause what she was doing and turn around to glance at Cassana.
"Ser Royce?" Perianne's voice was calm, but she could not hide her curiosity. "What has befallen him?"
"It seems that he was the one who provoked Ser Mychal and Ser Gilbert to attack one another," Cassana explained casually, as if she were passing on idle gossip. "Someone has come forward to name Ser Royce."
She wished she could see Perianne's face, but she did not wish to seem too eager.
"May the gods judge him accordingly," Perianne remarked coolly. "It would not be the first time that he placed his fate in their hands. I imagine you well recall that day, do you not, my lady?"
"Indeed," Cassana replied, refusing to let Perianne get the better of her. "I believe Ser Royce named Tyana as the murderer that day, did he not?"
Perianne went quiet again, much to Cassana's satisfaction. She waited another few minutes before turning around. The septa had knelt before the Crone's statue, praying silently as Cassana had done.
"Praying for wisdom?" Cassana approached her. "Have you given up on forgiveness, then?"
"The gods will choose to forgive me, or they will not," Perianne declared, even as she placed the next candle by the Father's feet. "My own humble prayers may not play a part at all in their will."
"If that is true, then why do we bother seeking their favour?"
Cassana turned with a start. From the corner of her eye, she saw Perianne do the same.
Titus leaned against the doorway, wryly observing the two women.
Cassana turned away from her brother, but Perianne stood up from her position in order to face him directly.
"The gods are all we have to make sense of a cruel and unforgiving world, Lord Titus."
"But if the gods do not forgive us, and treat us cruelly," Titus persisted, "how is that any different from a world where the gods do not exist?"
"An excellent question," Perianne replied politely, but anyone could see the frustration plain on her face.
"You are wasting your time, Septa," Cassana interjected. "My brother has always taken joy in asking questions which nobody can answer."
Perianne turned on Cassana. "A man who seeks truth is worth a hundred men who embrace a lie."
Cassana supposed that she should be wrothful at this attack, but the idea that Perianne should associate Titus with the truth…
Laughter burst from her before she could restrain herself. She pushed past Titus, shaking her head in astonishment at the madness of the world. She did not even care what those two would discuss behind her back. Let them gossip, let them conspire, they are already my enemies.
As she walked back to her chamber, however, she pondered her exchange with Perianne. Royce would soon find out about it, she was sure. But she had no intention of giving him the chance to do anything about it, or allow him to conspire with Perianne any longer. She had a better idea in mind.
She had spoken with Baldric, urging him to take the best guards with him on the Vulture Hunt. "You should take Royce Storm as well," she had urged.
Baldric had resented it, but he was weary of their disagreement. Nor had he found any fault with the notion that if he trusted Royce, he would take him into battle where he would be most useful. After all, she had pointed out, was he not of a mind to appoint Ser Jackers as captain of the guards?
Thus, Royce was ordered to prepare himself for the Vulture Hunt. Cassana had not been at hand to see his reaction, but she already felt safer knowing that he would be out of Blackhaven. Perianne will be alone, then. And after what I told her about Royce, she will not trust any of his old friends, in case they are revealed as the traitor.
She was in a better mood than she could recall, and she had greatly enjoyed giving Baldric a long night of humiliation before he set off on his campaign. He had grovelled, unable to speak through his gag as she had secured him to his own bed and withheld ecstasy from him until he'd writhed with frustration at her merest touch.
"I love you," he'd murmured joyfully after she'd finally released him.
"And I love you," she'd replied, holding him tightly for the rest of the night.
When sunlight roused them from slumber, they continued to lie where they were.
Cassana planted a soft kiss upon Baldric's cheek. "Will you bring him back alive?"
"If I can," Baldric promised.
Cassana sighed. "Keep our boys safe. Especially Manfred."
Baldric turned. "It is not too late, Cassana. Geraint and Kresimir need not go."
Not this again. It had been the same argument which they had been having since Daeron's instructions had reached them. Cassana had been loath to push the notion that her younger boys serve their father on the Vulture Hunt as pages. Baldric had refused to consider it at first; even after he had relented, he could not abandon his protests.
"They must begin their time as pages," Cassana reminded him as she propped herself up onto one elbow. "They are marchers, and they might have another Vulture King to slay when they are men."
Baldric shifted so that he lay on his side, looking out the window at the blue sky. "It is an evil thing. War will break them, even if they survive unscathed. You know that better than most women, do you not?"
"I know that I needed to be strong to survive it," Cassana whispered as gently as she could manage. "I have been strong for you all these years, strong for our children in these dark days. I cannot be strong forever. Nor can you. Our children will face a cruel world; we both know it."
"Aye," Baldric conceded softly. "How I hate it."
Soon, they were holding each other again, neither one willing to leave the bed which still held an assortment of rope, horsewhips, and other such toys which they had used the night before. It was not until a servant had rapped upon the door, calling for Lord Baldric, that they had reluctantly gotten up and hidden everything away before the servants could see it.
All were assembled, either on the castle grounds or beyond the outer walls. A mighty army had been assembled, some four thousand infantry and eight hundred cavalry, including Titus' own contributions. Titus had yielded primary command to Baldric, as if that had been his own decision. His false humility was plain to be seen as far as Cassana was concerned.
Manfred and his younger brothers were already waiting for Baldric and Cassana when they reached the bottom of the Lord's Tower. Kresimir and Geraint had been outfitted in leather, as that was the only armour they could be expected to wear. They seemed ill-at-ease in it, but that was to be expected. They will grow accustomed to it. As we all must. Despite their eagerness to go, they'd both been unable to stop tears from going down their faces as they'd bade her farewell. Cassana had wiped their shame away with her hand to encourage them.
Manfred, meanwhile, bore the finest plate armour which Baldric could provide, newly made and fitted to his frame. He curtly kissed Cassana on both cheeks. "This time, I won't come back without the Vulture King," he'd promised her.
Cassana held him then, so that she could whisper her response in his ear. "Just so long as you come back, my son." That had unsettled him, but Cassana did not care. Baldric's words in their chamber had not left her mind. "Look after your father," she'd added before breaking off their embrace.
Finally, she turned to Baldric. She could no longer hold back tears of her own, but they were easily smothered in the folds of his cloak. They had not needed to say anything more than what had already been said without witness.
Cassana followed them out, holding her weeping daughters' hands. They'd all waved as Baldric and Manfred had led the procession out of Blackhaven, closely followed by Kresimir, Geraint, Ser Branston Straw, Ser Karl Penny, Ser Garvey Sawyer, and Ser Cameron Bolt, Orryn's young successor.
It was then that Titus had spurred his horse forward, after Cassana had shooed the girls back into the keep. She had not even looked at him, so as not to encourage one of his impulses, but it had only caused him aggravation. "Have you no words for your own brother?"
Of course, she thought bitterly. Ignoring him does not always work. "I have every faith in my lord husband," she told him in a cheery voice. "He will protect my legacy."
He was refusing to depart; he was staring at her with a dark expression, even as his own men began to follow the others out of the castle. He ignored calls to him, as if he was transfixed by his own indignation.
"Have you lost your stomach for war?" She spoke those words loudly, so that some of the smallfolk that remained behind might hear her. She turned away from Titus, cursing as she heard him dismount behind her.
"You will not treat me like this," he called to her as they went back into the keep. "I did not risk my life for House Dondarrion to be branded a coward by my own sister!"
"Prove it then, and ride away," she snapped. "I have my family to look after."
"I am your family," he raged. "Or was it all a farce when you welcomed Andrew? Does your cruelty know no bounds that you would mock him with false kindness?"
"Cruelty?" She turned and faced him then. "You think me capable of being cruel to a child? I do not punish sons for their fathers' sins."
Titus' eyes were blazing, but his question was surprisingly quiet. "What will it take?"
Cassana frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I fought for our family against Daemon Blackfyre. I helped secure your family as rulers of Blackhaven. I liberated Blackhaven from the Swanns!" His voice had risen to a yell. "What will it take for you to admit that Father was a monster?"
"You think this is all about Father?" Cassana was flabbergasted. "All that and nothing more? Was everything you did simply an attempt to balance some sort of scales?" She was tempted to spit with derision. "Since you demand an answer, nothing you could do in a thousand lifetimes would ever change my opinion of you!"
Titus' anger faltered, giving way to astonishment. It goaded her to give full vent to those sentiments burning inside her head and heart.
"Since this might be my last chance to be honest with you," Cassana snapped, "then you ought to know it properly. I despised you long before I discovered that you murdered our father. Our bond of blood is the only connection that keeps us together, and I have always hated anything which ties me to you."
It felt good to say it to his face; she hoped it would hurt him as much as it soothed her to say it.
"You were always a stubborn, selfish child. Always doing as you pleased, questioning and challenging everything, laughing and sneering at anything which displeased you. And it only grew worse with age. Too stupid to see what an insufferable hypocrite you are. You judged everyone around you, set them to a standard which no man could reach, you least of all. You played at being an idealist, bringing Dorne into the fold, when it was always just an act of spiteful vengeance against your family. And all the while, you pursue your own pleasures without a thought to what you might give back. Truly, this aping of responsibility is too pitiful a performance for me to ever believe. I have always known what you are. In fact, it would almost be admirable if you ceased lying to yourself and embraced it wholeheartedly."
Surprisingly, Titus was smiling again. She felt the old urge to slap him, scratch him, do anything to wipe that insufferable smile off his smug face. Then she saw how strained the smile was, how the mirth did not reach his eyes.
"And truth be told," she added, possessed by a ruthless determination to break him down completely, "what irks me most of all is this posturing at fatherhood with those orphans of yours. Take in as many as you like, it won't replace the family that you threw away."
She had not been surprised by Andrew. She had heard the rumours by then, and she had loathed how he'd once again made a mockery of their family name. All she did to secure House Dondarrion, it was ever outshadowed by her princess of a sister or undermined by this vile oaf of a brother. Now he stood, swaying slightly on his feet as if he were drunk.
Titus began to blink. "I always thought you were an insensate bitch," he growled hoarsely, "but that was too generous by half. When this Vulture Hunt is over, I am finished with you."
Say whatever you wish. May you live a long and bitter life knowing how much I hate you.
Titus was not finished. "Not even Father would have used Garin and Chayora against me as you just did. I wish I'd poisoned you along with him."
That took her aback. She could not recall those names, or to whom they belonged, but she was not going to ask for clarification, not after he had blatantly spoken of killing her. She was still debating whether to have him seized and imprisoned as he turned and stormed out of the room.