Collab with [@Ruby]

[h1]The Red Keep[/h1]
[hr]

Tapestries hung from the walls softening the rooms given to House Harroway, they were frippery. Unneeded finery that was foolish, but paying for them kept the women of Lucas’s House happy, unlike his study, this room was theirs in that right. Had he done anything else, their mother Catelyn would have been beside herself. Hanna was under no illusion that her parents had a pleasurable marriage. It was simply a fact that a lord of the Realm must wed a woman and she would bear him children for his heir and spare. Past that? Generally, the more children the better and Hanna could recall stories of some lords who had pressed too hard for too many children and caused their wives’ deaths. It was perhaps cynical of her, but Hanna could image a few of the lords in the Riverlands who fit the particular bill. So it was to her benefit that her father sought to marry her out of the Riverlands and to a House that stood high in the realm.

It only made sense, she was sister to the Queen now. Men would want that access to King Maegor. She was rather stunned they weren’t already at the door bidding for her and her sister’s attention. Urging their father for fast and fruitful marriages.

Her needle flashed silver as she darted it through the cloth of her embroidery as she sat in a gown of light blue. Her hair left to fall in soft curls down her back, held back by a crest of her house’s sigil. The towers of Harrenhal, she would say with pride. Not even a lie, her father had taken the sigil upon receiving Harrenhal for his own before her birth. Her delicate lips thinned as she considered the lack of the indolent younger brother in their rooms. Usually, about now he was complaining, wanting to avoid the scheming of the courtly function to go and drink and practice his sword play.

Usually.

Not now, her brother was gone. Exiled from their rooms as he had declared for Maegor. Their father had said the lad had taken up a man’s arms and thus should stay the night where there could be no distractions. In truth, Hanna thought it was because Lucas could not bear to look at his son. Which was reasonable! Horas had been an utter fool to present his sword so! There were knights, full knights and not overgrown squires, aplenty! A flicker of fear entered her eyes as she recalled her Lord Father’s rage when they had reached their private quarters. It was the one time all the women of Harroway had fled and stayed in their shared room without complaint as Lucas dressed down his youngest son in the other room and proceeded to fume for the better part of the night.’

She yanked a particularly stubborn thread, dismissing that horrible thought that her father could so easily dismiss her. He would never, could never, as she was a useful bargaining chip. A future marriage alliance could be bought if she was offered thus securing their House in the Great Game that was their life. As if to secure herself in this thought she looked over the delicate chairs and the ornate tables and shelves that held books, and odds and ends for their pleasure. A thick rug before the hearth, which now laid empty and clean of soot that could stain a lady’s hand. Her sister, Jeyne, in another chair ‘reading’. The woman was doing nothing of the sword as she twisted and broke thread as she attempted to spin it into a thicker cord with the drop spindle. Perhaps it was fury, perhaps worry, Hanna supposed as she studied the sister decked in the dark green gown that was fitted more like her own than the sort that Jeyne preferred. It was an Occasion and as such, they must be presentable. Able to prance about like fine mares and show their lines had bred true.


Not that [i]she[/i] had that problem. Hanna was beautiful and she knew it. It only irked the woman that she must share that designation of beauty with a bastard. Elayne for her part was dressed in an old gown of Alys’s. Out of date, it had to be from before her eldest sister married the Prince, now King. The color had faded from a deeper green to something softer. Yet for all that, it was not overly worn from age or cut badly on Elayne. It was one of those dressed when the entire household was to see an event. Even the servants Hanna supposed. In the room just off their solar, her father was muttering and shuffling in his private quarters, the noises leaving the place feeling slightly chilled despite the fact the sun still shone. That everything would be well.

It would be well, all would go well.

Elayne was all too aware of the trouble the Harroways faced, her number among them for this count. Horas had brashly charged into the Trial of Seven when knights had paused. Lord Lucas himself had looked hesitant at stepping forward to defend the honor of his son by marriage through Alys. That a squire should shame them all? It would be a miracle if he survived and a cruel, yet expected, twist of fate if he died. For with his death, House Harroway would lose two members in a single year. Both candidates to increase their standing. Elmo going to the Maesters had been a hard blow and one that had been turned to the benefit of the house, but Lucas losing his third and youngest son? With only two grandsons and his brothers having sons of their own, his line would be less secure.

Her needle neatly slipped in and out of the embroidered hem she was fixing to a gown’s cuff. Her thoughts far and away from the present. There was nothing she could do but maintain the silence for to break it would attract the ire of the Lord of Harrenhal. Once that title had belonged to the man who had sired her, now to the one who had seen to her rearing. A small fact, but one she desperately despised that they were not one and the same man for her own sake. Had she been a trueborn daughter to Lucas? She would be in a slightly better position. Who knew of Gargon, the Qoherys lord had died before her time. An act of providence perhaps? Either way, she waited and one eye was kept on the Jeyne. The girl was planning something though Elayne knew naught exactly what that something was.

Vhandyr’s arrival was late enough that there was talk of a Trial of the Seven already within the corridors and vaults of the Red Keep. Red Keep, they called it, because of the red stone, some under steward had explained…as if it needed explaining. Vhandyr smiled, remained silent, and just let the older servant talk. And talk. He asked some questions about Terrax, to which Vhandyr finally gave some audible answer.
“He is, like Balerion, from before the Doom.”

[i]”Oh.”[/i] The man seemed surprised by it, and no doubt, he was. Vhandyr was known as the Lord of Volantis, and in that capacity he was well enough known. Outside of that House Balaerys was little enough known outside some of the higher nobles and the Maesters of the Citadel. They were just Valyrian blooded, like so many Volantene, to those that didn’t know better…such as this under steward.

The chambers awarded him were large, and still smelled of fresh paint. He was, the servant explained to him, the first to stay in the quarters since its construction and furnishing. Vhandyr thanked the man with gold, and off he went. He bathed, he brushed out his hair, and spent the next few hours reading one of the tomes he had requested: the most current book on noble lineages of Westeros they had.

Surprisingly, very up to date. Surprisingly only because he had heard that despite the Citadel in Oldtown, too many in Westeros neglected knowledge and information. That included the Targaryen dynasty, and Maegor hadn’t exactly been bookish during their time together. He considered riding out, demanding a place at this Trial of Seven…but Maegor would know he had arrived. Terrax was hard to miss, even if the old dragon did immediately take off again after their arrival—Terrax never liked cities too much or staying in one place for too long. The oversized lizard was made for flying, and Vhandyr would never begrudge him that freedom. Terrax, like Saeryx, had a way of knowing when to come back.

The sun was just starting to begin its tumble towards the horizon, still hours from sundown, when Vhandyr finally stirred, checking the journal and notes in the bag he’d taken with him. It was Vaera’s last note that perked him:
[i]Valyrian girl, Elayne, House Harroway. They’re treating her badly, see to her once in KL.[/i]

It was typical Vaera. Was this girl Valyrian? Possibly. Was she being mistreated? Also possible, but he knew full well just how much Vaera could exaggerate a tale, or twist the truth of something into her convenience. A message arrived by way of a runner, but it wasn’t from Maegor. It was from the Master of Coin upon the Small Council. Vhandyr only chuckled at it because it didn’t surprise him…if Volantis was known for one thing, it was wealth. And trade with Volantis was always something people were keen to talk about, wherever he went…even when he was still in Volantis.

He gave no response to the runner, only dismissed the young lad with a friendly nod and silver. The Master of Coin would try again, and in the meantime, Vhandyr was in no mood for trade talk. He dressed in black and bluish green of Balaerys, the color of Terrax, and was certain he looked the part of the Lord of Volantis. A silver dragon pin held a half cloak hanging from his massive shoulders as he left the room and asked the first people he saw about the Harroways. Directions were given, and he thanked the servants with words and silver. The directions were clear, concise, and easily followed…a rarity within castles, especially new castles, in his experience. He nodded to guards outside the door, and they confirmed he was in the right place.

“I am here to see Lady Elayne.”

“Aye, m’Lord, we’ll get Lord Lu…what?”

“Lady Elayne,” he repeated, almost smiling.

The two guards exchanged a look. “Yes, uh, of course.”

Three heads turned at the sound of a door opening. One quickly with a whipped braid, the other with slow disapproval, and the third with a subtle interest. They had expected the door to Lucas's study, not the door that led to the rest of the Red Keep. A guard stepped through, and his eyes were nervous. A good thing when intruding upon one's lord when his mood was sour. It was the glimpse they caught of the man behind them that perked interest. Tall, silver-haired and certainly not Maegor. Elayne would expect that man to just walk into whatever room he chose and any who hampered him would turn the stone all the more Red.

It was the guard though, a man who was nervous and seemed debating upon what he was to do. By rights, he should alert his Lord, and yet this Lord of Volantis, for there was no other Targaryen man aside from the newly crowned king, had asked for [i]Lady[/i] Elayne. Clearing his throat he spoke perhaps more loudly than necessary. Not daring to intrude on Lord Lucas and not wanting to leave the man unaware of what was happening. He had served under the Lord since the time of his first wife. While Lucas had only been a man with means and a knighthood, the guard had stayed with him as the coin was good and his honor was better than what a man could find when Gargon Qoherys ruled from Harrenhal. “Lord-” What was the name of those Volanteen dragon riders? This was one of them. The appearance of something that could match Balerion had been evident and someone had to be riding it! “Balerys?” The name came as a question before he hurried on. “To see the Lady Elayne?” That was even more of a question but it was a reasonable question.

Elayne herself was not among those who took this change in stride. Jeyne was gaping and looking startled while Hanna merely scanned the entrance to their rooms with a calculating expression. The girl was plotting a match, always looking for a better opportunity. The richer, more powerful husband. It was an easy thing to understand when you took into account they were raised at Caitlyn’s knee. Already Elayne had moved to stand, setting aside her work into its basket as she hesitated. A second of delay allowed the Lord of Harrenhal to step forth from his quarters. His clothing looked orderly, but there was an unkempt look to his hair as if he had been running constant fingers through it. Striding to the door he stiffened upon seeing who the visitor was. A man known to him through the odd letter he received from Alys. Vhandyr Baelrys. “Lord Vhandyr. A pleasure to see you on this side of the Narrow Sea. Though I must wonder what brings you to my door?” And with an interest to see her? Elayne could only imagine that this was some ploy of Damon’s. Had he finally done as he had threatened? She moved to be just out of reach of the Lord of Harrenhal but there should she be summoned and near enough to the women’s quarters if she was told to go.

Vhandyr’s cool lavender eyes gave the Lord a purposeful gaze, his voice as firm and even as the foundation of the Red Keep itself, “My sister, Vaera Balaerys, met these ladies.” Then, in that moment, Vhandyr did something he rarely did so openly…he smiled. Wide and warm, as his mind worked the room and the various circumstances dancing within it. “She bid me to come and meet Lady Elayne. Lord Lucas, is it? Lord of the great fortress Harrenhal? I’ve read your seat is nearly the equal of anything the Freehold created, you must have done quite well. Permit me a walk with Lady Elayne? Even I don’t tell Vaera Balaerys that I ignored her direction, though I wonder what her mind was when she made this request to me…”

His voice trailed, his eyes finally finding who had to be Elayne. 

The Lord of Harrenhal had not expected that answer, nor did Elayne. That Lady Vaera had a hand in this arrangement was as good as a shouted command from the Iron Throne. The woman was implacable from the little Elayne who had known or interacted with her. Lord Lucas stepped away from the door, allowing the smaller woman to be seen. Dipping a curtsy, perhaps a bit too low from the frown her ‘father’ produced, the silver-haired woman straightened slowly. Would he dare to insist upon a guardian to escort her? It would be proper, but it could also be perceived as a slight on Vhandyr’s honor.

“You compliment me overly much, My Lord. The Keep of Harrenhal stands still, but its completion was marked by dragon fire.” Melted stone like half-used candles. The keep was not so grand as the tall lord seemed to make it. “Elayne will most pleased to walk with you, though I would like an answer as to your sister’s interest in- the girl.” Not his daughter, even now, he could not claim her as such when her mother’s dishonor at the hands of Qoherys stuck in his throat.

Elayne said nothing but she moved with the Lord’s gesture to take a step between them and towards the Essosi lord. “It would be a pleasure. It would not do to go against Lady Vaera.” She whispered, her voice as soft and willowy as the rest of her. Her silver hair fell about her shoulders as she glanced up at the man. Tall, and looking like a storm. A handsome one. She returned his smile with a small uncertain one worried that she was perhaps too forward with the reaction. “My Lords?” The question in her words lead her to wonder if they would head out now or if the two meant to talk. Elayne for her part was hoping the comment about the Lady Vaera was not too forward, but then the woman was forward enough to run over a herd of oxen and leave them stunned. She also did not wish for the Lord of Harrenhal to anger another dragon. The castle did not have much left to burn.

Vhandyr just stared at the man. “Does it not enrich your family? Does it not provide? Is it not the reason we are here, together, in this very room? Are the walls any less thick than they were when it was completed?” His eyes glittered across the room to Elayne, as he began to feel the burden upon the girl in which Vaera had warned him about. This was Vaera’s way: do good in the world, but do it randomly, usually aiming such good intentions towards someone Vaera thought worthy but overlooked.
His shoulders rose and fell in a self-defeating motion that might have matched too perfectly the tone of the Lord of Harrenhal. “True enough, I am young, and true, too, I am not as wise as some…but it seems more blessing than curse. I suppose I could be overthinking it…oh. My sister? You speak about the woman who has seen more of creation than any other living soul. She borders madness and brilliance, straddling the two as deftly as she does her dragon. I, personally, would not speak to her designs. I could never make scripture from chaos as she does. I would never pretend to.”

When Elayne spoke up about it would not do to go against Vaera, Vhandyr truly blinked at her. [i]Smart girl. Reads people quickly. Moves to subtly manage a room.[/i] It was perhaps the worst part of it all…that Vaera was rarely wrong in such matters.

“Shall we, Lady Elayne?”

“It’s history enriches us and provides.” The reply was formal, the words not subtracting from the prior statements. The castle that Harren the Black had built was indeed a noteworthy seat, though one that Lucas could not feel at ease claiming for his own. There was a taint over those half ruined towers. It would be his success of his doom if he played the great game that ruled Westeros correctly or not. “A wise and clever lady.” The woman was trouble as far as the Lord of Harrenhal was concerned, yet to say as much before Vhandyr was asking for trouble he did not want.

One did not need to bait a dragon when it was at your doorstep after all.

There was a mental bit of relief from the Lord as Vhandyr seemed intent on walking with the bastard child of his wife and the former Lord of his land. In truth? He would have rathered the man seen fit to take Jeyne. It would have solved more problems than not. This was not in his power to request and if the Baelyrs man, a noble of Volantis, wished for the wench? So be it, it would take another headache from him, though he could hear the nagging from his wife that Hanna had not been chosen. Stepping back, he let the pale girl pased. He wanted to warn her to do nothing to put his House at risk, but did he really dare with the dragon rider so near?

The pale woman curtsied to the Lord of Volantis her gaze having dropped significantly as she followed his lead. “If you wish, My Lord.” What was it this man wished with her? If he was acting only on the information of his sister… Well that led to more questions that the woman only dreaded. The Lady Vaera had some very strict notions on what was, should be and should not be. It seemed you were either on one side of the stone or the other and if she didn’t like where you were, why then she would see you moved. If the stone between the destination and beginning proved a problem? That stone would be cleaved in two, or tossed into the Blackwater Bay and be done with. Elayne’s pale cheeks flushed slightly at the memory of Osric’s flight. The man she was still avoiding while Vaera had since flown off. She didn’t condemn the woman for leaving her to deal with the Arryn, but it would have been nice to know that Osric had another potential woman to snap at other than her. Damon had long instilled in her that men would often blame women and usually the closest one at hand.

The thoughts went in a circle and led her back the problem. Which was that she could not tell what this Lord Vhandyr Baelrys wanted with her! To walk, he had said. Something that often pertained to talking and usually about a potential marriage or political alliance, neither of which was something a man of his standing would want with her! Then there was the simple answer that he was acting on Vaera’s behalf, which made Elayne wonder what the woman wanted, a she-dragon if ever she had thought to see one, and the poor lass had not a clue as to what Vaera wished! The woman was a meddlesome storm and she apparently was the storm’s latest project!

It was only outside of the chambers and far enough down the vaults of the Red Keep that Vhandyr stopped, took in a deep breath, and looked sidelong to the girl next to him. “Well…that was horribly depressing. I can see why my sister told me to check in on you. The man despises you, you know?”

Of all the things Elayne expected, that was certainly not it. The woman’s sea gaze flicked to Vhandyr in utter shock. He noticed? Well it was hardly like any of the Harroways tried to hide their scorn for a bastard that had been foisted upon them. Her lips thinned as that open gaze dropped again from the handsome face of the man beside her to the stones beneath her slippers. “I do.” Her voice was soft, though her fingers twisted in the cloth of her gown. “He has every right to. I was not… What should have been.” What should have been was her born with dark hair and eyes, even if she had not been his trueborn child, there could always be that doubt. A bit of a whisper that could be played upon for the benefit of the family, rather than Lord Lucas being slapped with his inability to stand up against the ancient laws of the land each day. “I hope you have not been inconvenienced? I told your sister all was well.” That had been and was a lie, but Elayne didn’t want to cause more trouble.

Vhandyr Balaerys chuckled, sadly, “None of us are what we should have been, Elayne.” At her insistence upon what she told Vaera, Vhandyr only regarded the girl as if she seemed to twist uneasily before him. Slowly, gently, he finally nodded. “If you told Vaera that, I highly doubt she believed you.”

Elayne, no longer a lady. It was something of a relief. He no longer was paying her pretense. Though she felt a flush rise across her cheeks and over the delicate bridge of her nose, a trait inherited from her mother, as he commented that Lady Vaera most likely did not believe her. Or was it his laugh that caused her to do so. Did he not as well? Apparently so. Her fingers smoothed at the gown she wore, her eyes stealing glances of him. How could she not? It was rare she got the chance to look upon a man as handsome as he. It was interesting, Elayne thought absently, how she despised her own silver locks and yet could appreciate them on another. “She did not, My Lord.” Her voice was regretful, hesitating slightly before continuing. “The lady believes I do myself a disservice, yet…” She fell silent. How could she point out that given who she was her lot in life was to be expected? It was not as if she could simply walk away. Damon had made her well aware what the life of a whore or a commoner’s wife was like. For all she was used to being a servant for her sisters, she did not wish for such a life if she could avoid it. “There are worse fates. Such as married to Ser Osric Arryn.” She whispered with a flash of uncharacteristic anger in her eyes. Vaera, for all her intended aid, had left Elayne with that very possible fate if the Ser would resign himself, as Lord Lucas saw it, to content himself with such a wife as she. Her blush grew as she stiffened slightly, her anger replacing with startled alarm as her gaze shifted nervously to Vhandyr. A powerful lord and here she was snipping at a worry like the nattering nursemaid that Caitlyn employed. “My Lord, forgive me. I spoke without thinking. I meant no disrespect by it.”

For a moment, he just looked confused by her, “Is there another way to be plainly, honestly, spoken? I hadn’t thought so.” There was no window that opened for her to be able to respond. He simply moved on, shaking the confusion from his eyes, “You do, Elayne, do yourself a disservice—I admit, I do myself some disservices, as well. Sometimes it can’t be helped, sometimes it can be helped…if you see it. I don’t always see it. Perhaps my sister simply wanted you to see it. Men and women react differently to us, my sister and I. Women react much better to me, for…reasons,” he said, flatly, plainly, “Men react much better to her. I think this is why she sent me: to tell you that you do yourself a disservice. Whyever you have the blood you have, the way my sister sees it, it is a thing to be proud of. There's no reason to be a hostage. My nature is good, my nature is to be helpful, so when she asked me to come and see. I see shame, I see dread, and mayhaps self-loathing?”

For a reason only he knew, he chuckled, though he was kind enough to share, “I have no shame in my blood. I have dread, a dread of what comes next for creation, a dread of what could happen because of the blood we share. I cannot admit I hold any self-loathing…no, I suspect the Valyrians got what was coming to them. From what I’ve read, from what I’ve seen, from tales I’ve been told by those who heard it directly from those who lived in the Freehold…they got greedy, they overreached, and in their desperation to maintain, the fire they thought couldn’t burn them anymore, burned down their homes and sent it all crashing down on their heads. But shame? I don’t abuse the blood. I don’t wish to exploit it for power. I just hope to remember the faint echoes of fire and magic, enough that one echo might reach another, which might reach another, so that one day people might hear Valyrian music again, the way I do.”
His eyes had drifted from her, to nothing, to his own thoughts. Upon their return to her, he smiled, small and genuine, almost sheepish. “You have no control over the acts of a Valyrian blooded, dishonorable, Westeros Lord. You have no control over your mother’s fate. You have no control over how your House treats you…you DO control how you see yourself, how you see your silvery hair, and your magic-touched eyes. Go easy on yourself, your past, and determine what you want and how to get it. In the meantime, would you attend this melee with me? I must go to support my friend, and to ensure he is treated fairly.”

For her part Elayne listen. Her gaze fixed on him through lowered lashes. He spoke of many thing and far too many of them hit too close to her heart for the young woman to deny the blush that rose across her pale cheeks. It was no pale rose but crimson as she gave the Balerys lord a considering look. Who was he to speak so openly? A lord and one of high rank. A rider of a dragon for she had seen the great beast wing over this keep of red stone.

“You speak wisely,” She answered softly. “And kindly. Though I fear that while I wish to find your words to be truth, that circumstance holds me to remain as I am. There are few places a woman can go with no family or husband.” She admitted, it was that more than anything that had held her prisoner in the fortress of Harrenhal. For Damon had explained those perils, and taunted her with the Nightmares they conjured. “If you wish, Lord Vhandyr, I would be pleased and delighted to join you.” The silent ‘though I am only a minor woman’ in her mouth unspoken.