(In no small part with [@MrDidact] . Thanks!)

Some weeks later, Daeron Velaryon arrived at the Ring. It was dangerous to travel with Velaryon colors, so the ship that had borne him to the mouth of the Mander had been a non-descript merchant galley that had been on it's way to Lannisport. From there Daeron and his companions had taken a river ferry to Tumbleton and then rode to the Ring. They bore no sigils or device, and wore no garments that signified house colors. To all of the world, they looked like a band of simple Hedge Knights. 

With Daeron was a bastard kinsman named Aurion Waters and a serjeant in the Driftmark garrison known as Longjon and a few other men-at-arms. The seven of them saddled the horses they had brought with them from Dragonstone and the group made their ways to the Ring, riding hard and fast. War had not started in earnest yet, but tension was in the air and the roads were choked with smallfolk seeking refuge and soldiers mustering. 

The group reached the gates of the Ring, riding slower through the castle town before appearing across from the portcullis and the moat. Daeron took off the helm that concealed his silver hair and violet eyes and called out, "We come to meet with Lord Frados Roxton. He has been anticipating this meeting for some time now. Tell him the Hand sends his regards." 

The gates slowly opened with but a hint of creaking, barely wide enough to admit the party one at a time. Thick fog, uncommon to the area, had settled itself around the castle, hazy torches at the top of the wall the only indication of people being up there. The insides were also largely invaded by the fog, and the thickness of it was enough to choke some torches into darkness. A guard rushed into the room, and reported in a hushed whisper the admittance of the delegates. The quiet bickering between Arillos and Ser Haraway died down into quiet.

"Where is Keles?" Frados asked, tapping Maester Serran on his shoulder.

"Apologies, My Lord," came a drawl from the far end of the room. A side door opened, admitting the Salt Dornish, holding up a reassuring torch. "But I had to make a detour. I'm sure you'd understand." Lindsay nervously walked out from behind him, and rushed over to her uncle's side.

"What are you doing?" growled Frados, pulling Keles aside. "What is the meaning of this? I remember leaving rather specific instructions to keep my niece out of this. She's only young."

"I was hoping you'd understand," came Keles' response, accompanied by an impish smile. "I thought it best that our future liege lady have a bit of firsthand experience in governing her future domain. We all want what is best for Lady Roxton."

"And I had thought that making a decision too quickly would make ruin said domain," whispered Frados. "I had thought you of all people wouldn't stoop to -" his tirade was interrupted by the host at the door making its way into the main room, flanked on both sides by Roxton guards.

The party had already surrendered their weapons to the Roxton garrison. But they hadn't found Daeron's dagger, hidden in a boot. Not that it would help should the Roxtons decide to turn on them for whatever reason. But he'd be damned if he was going to be captured alive and handed over to the Hightowers. 

But they had already partaken of the bread and salt as well, and Frados had a reputation of upholding his word. But it never paid to take too many chances. Daeron entered, this time with a Velaryon seahorse badge pinned to his dark cloak. He had hidden the badge but he needed the symbol to prove his status to any nobles they met with. 

His men walked in in two ranks behind him and the the party stopped before the seat of the Roxtons in the great hall. Daeron smiled at Frados and inclined his head in respect, "My lord, thank you for receiving us." He noticed the girl in the hall and putting two and two together, bowed at the waist in a chivalrous gesture, a wide smile on his face, "My lady, I was not told you'd be receiving us. If I knew, I wouldn't have been dressed so shabbily. Please accept my apologies for my appearance, this is no way for a knight to greet a lady." 

He addressed the hall as a whole, "I am Ser Daeron Velaryon, Knight of Driftmark. I come on behalf of my uncle, Lord Corlys. He regrets he cannot meet with you personally, as his position requires him to remain at court in Dragonstone to attend to a multitude of concerns. I come in his stead and speak in his voice." 

Lindsay looked on in wonder and confusion at the situation before her. Keles had promised, as he led her down the darkened halls, that today she would take a bit of responsibility for her little lordship. She had hoped for something along the lines of managing the servants in the castle. This threw her completely out of her comfort.

"Uncle," she whispered, standing up on her toes and tugging at Frados' sleeve. "Who are these people? What do they want?"

"Merely fanatics of a faraway cause," he whispered back, tousling his niece's hair. "Since you're here, it's best you quietly watch the situation. It will be yours to handle by fall, if Maester Serran knows his weather." He stepped forward, and adressed the Velaryon host. "May I remind you who you're parlaying with," he said. Sometimes, situations required a firm beginning, especially ones as serious as this. "I thank you for coming, and ask humbly that you make your statement known."

Daeron nodded, standing tall before the knight, "To the point then. My lord, my lady, I come to ask House Roxton to pledge fealty to Queen Rhaenyra. The rightful Queen of Westeros. By now my kin have flown to all corners of the kingdom to treat with other houses, and I come to ask you to join us. Join your strength to ours so we can stand against the usurper, and right this grievious wrong." 

"They make a good case," whispered Lindsay, a little louder than she intended. Frados quickly touched two fingers to his lips, a stern expression coloring his face. Lindsay knew well enough when it was best to leave her uncle be.

"I applaud you and your house for your diligence, I truly do." Frados said hastily, trying to bring the conversation back into his control. "But I have . . . reservations. Imagine, if you will, you stand in my place. You ask a small lord, one who can field no more than two thousand arms, to join them in a battle they have little stake in. While at the same time, their strongest neighbors, liege lord, and liege lord's neighbors all clamor to join the opposing sympathies. Do you understand my hesitance? If we swear to you, we would be surrounded by enemies. Can you promise the protection of our castle, like the Tyrells do?"

Daeron tried his best to remain as impassive as possible and not frown, and he believed he did a passable job of doing so. He wished someone else had been sent. He was no politician. But he would do his duty. Daeron replied, "I understand your concerns completely, my lord. I know the Hightowers have pledged for Aegon and many Reach houses have already followed. But I will remind you that while many of the bannermen are flocking to Aegon, House Tyrell still remains undeclared as yet. And you are hardly alone in the Reach. We have already made overtures to the Beesburys, the Rowans, and several others. Since news of Lord Lyman's death, I am confident Honey Holt will join us." 

Daeron continued, remembering Corlys' advice as best as he could, "It is true that the Ring is far from Dragonstone. But I will remind you that we have more dragons than Aegon, and we are faithful to our friends. If the Ring is in need of aid, I am certain that aid will come quickly." 

He nodded at Lindsay, "If you have concerns for the lady's safety, I am also prepared to offer that she be fostered at Dragonstone with the royal family for the duration of this conflict. It is a strong fortress, that has never been taken and can withstand even dragon fire. And this fortress is in a strong position, commanding the high ground and the approach for miles around. You are far from helpless, my lord." 

"Furthermore, we do not require you publicly declare your allegiance. Just that if the time comes, you can stand with us. Either your political voice to forge peace or your soldiers to win in battle." 

Frados stopped himself from letting out a sigh. This man, with all his vague promises of dragons and fortresses, asks too much for his liking. It seems, that on this particular side, there are more risks to be taken, but Frados thought again, trying to put as much favor into the white-haired man as he could. Imagine, imagine if this high gamble pays off. The Tyrells are marked traitors, and their Hightower puppeteers along with them. And to whom would these vast domains jump to, after those families are gone? Perhaps it would be best to play the field for a bit longer, and use this seniority to his advantage later. Nobody has to know. Not only that, but the thought of such a large payoff excited him, calling to a primordial part of his mind that he has never been able to squash.

"You make very good points, Ser Daeron . . . if I may call you such," Frados said. "We do have certain ties to the Beesburys and Rowans, after all. My old father, may the gods give him rest, always said that having a friend was the reward for having a friend. And friends we have many, especially now. Perhaps, today, I will at least consider your queen's cause."

Lindsay saw the conversation reaching its conclusion. If she was going to take responsibility, now would be the time to do so. She stepped forward, and brushed her uncle's hand aside when he reached for her shoulder.

"Let it be known, honorable Ser, that House Roxton considers your case, and deem it worth thought. While it may be much to ask our house to put a bit of hope in your place, I believe that in the spirit of good friendship, you would do no less for us." She concluded her outburst with a curtsy, and stepped back to her uncle's side. He coughed, and she can see the sweat running down his face. Had she done something wrong?

Daeron had felt a pang of defeat as Frados replied to him. The lord would be hedging his bets. It was the smart thing to do. The right thing to do really, when one considered he had a niece to protect. But it stung Daeron still. The best he could tell Corlys was that Frados would consider it. He did an admirable job of keeping his surprise and delight from his face when Lindsay spoke. 

Daeron smiled again and once again bowed his head to the young lady, "You honor us with your kind words, my lady. Believe me when I say that House Velaryon also values the friendship of your old, storied house. All I can ask is that you at least consider our request. Even if you decide to remain netural, that would be of great help. And rest assured, that the Hand of the Queen will remember your friendship when Rhaenyra sits upon the Iron Throne." 

"Yes . . . " mumbled Frados, dabbing his forehead with a hankerchief. "You have traveled a long time, and I'm sure you and your people want rest, not talk. The servants would be more than happy to guide you to the guest quarters." He then pulled one of the servants aside. "Watch them closely," he whispered. The man he pulled aside, Arillos, nodded with a smile. 

"I will watch with harpy's eyes," he said, in broken Westerosi. He then walked over to Daeron's host, to invite them into the guest chambers.

Daeron inclined his head, "Thank you for your hospitality my lord. It has been a long journey and we would welcome a good night's rest." It was far from a yes, but they had made progress. More than Daeron had allowed himself to hope really. Ultimately it was truly up to Frados, but at least the seed had been planted. He had no doubt that the greens had sent someone to plead their case. But he had made a good impression on the lady, and that was a victory in itself. He followed the guards into his quarters, steps light and happy.