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House Lothston
[/h1][h2]Shield in the Darkness
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The servants were scattered and their ceaseless clucking over their appointed tasks. There were days when Danelle felt like she was a farm wife with hens and herding cats, though there would be no worse fate than that if her father found her unfit to find a husband to suit his needs. They did a delicate dance about each other with Elayne in the middle. The woman ran a hand over her dress of dark green silk and light blue, attractive colors that suited her well she thought. Of course, she would rather be in armor and snapping men down to their knees. “Oh, isn’t it lovely! All the dashing knights and the fashion!” What little peace was shattered as her reason for galavanting about sighed dreamily at a rather large man in armor passed. The armor was well made and the man a knight Danelle had heard of before, but not one suitable to take Elayne for wife and the Lothston’s name.

“Sister.” Oh, how she had to keep her tone even and away from that sharp edge that was so natural. Light and lady-like. Several of their guards shifted about them and the women watched as a group of Northmen rode by. Stark men if she was any guess. “We will see these knights thump each other with sticks and try to bash their brains out while they drown in drink and women. We are to stand out among the women so that we might be approached.”

We, being Elayne as both women were aware. The younger sister, adjusted the lilac gown that hung on her, a slightly dated gown but no less beautiful. Danelle approved. It had been one of Jeyne’s that the woman had urged Elayne to take. Suitable for the end of summer and Elayne’s coloring, it accented all the parts a man would look at while being perfectly modest. An alteration that had been discussed lengthily before Elayne had set to altering it. Snapping a fan open, Danelle crossed an arm under her chest and eyed a lad wandering the crowd. A Northman with a feckless charm. A rogue, though his clothing spoke of someone highborn.

“Danelle?” The small voice of Elayne trailed off as she studied the unwary Ashe Stark. A handsome fellow to the younger sister, though hardly comparable to some of the knights in their impressive armor that spoke of victory in the lists. “Oh, he is impressive.” Her light voice did not reveal her true feelings of ambivalence. She was to charm and simper over any man who seem to meet approval in Danelle’s or their Father’s eyes. She privately hoped for a young man from the Reach, a place with more even weather, there was little to do in the North except wade through snow and wish for the winter to end according to her books. No, all the great love stories came from the South. Skittering about a puddle in the ground, Elayne swallowed as she saw Danelle snag the arm of a servant carrying a jug of wine. There was little worse than Danelle drunk, and she hoped the woman was not annoyed enough for that.

Danelle, for her part, had seized the arm of the servant and with a skeptical look gave a sharp bark of command. “You there, where can I find the camp of House Bracken?” Ignoring the questionable look that Elayne sent her, their mother had been a Blackwood after all. The man looked startled at being accosted by a Lady and stammered his reply even as Danelle leveled a far more chilling smile at the man. “What about the Blackwoods?”

“Blackwood? Aye. They have arrived and set their tents over on the western side, Mi’Lady, but the Brackens have not yet-” Anything else was cut off as Danelle turned away, abruptly dismissing the man who glowered at her back, the information she needed was there and that was enough for the woman. Elayne winced at the servant’s black mood and could only emphasize. Danelle was no easy woman to get along with and especially so as a servant. Sliding a coin onto the man’s platter and hoping her sister did not notice, the younger sister moved to catch up with Danelle’s stride.

Whatever plan she had going on, Elayne felt a worry stir in her. Danelle had been whispering the private corners of Harrenhal with Jeyne, just as Manfryd had been staring at maps and writing letters. Plans were being made about her, plans that keyed on her and if she leaned one way or another, the devastation would crash down on House Lothston. Elayne tucked her hands into her gown to hide the trembling. A bright smile fixed on her face as she focused her attention on the tents, the flags that snapped in the breeze, and the gallant knights. Things that could be smiled at, an enjoyment that was rare in Harrenhal. Hopefully, she would leave promised to a man and be far from the drama of her father and sister.

Spying the black ravens bordering the white tree, the flag of House Bracken, Danelle smiled coldly. Quentyn Blackwood, her cousin through her mother’s side was the current lord of Raventree Hall. A proficient man in jousting, she could see the smaller tents of his four sons. They would hardly miss an opportunity to grind Bracken noses into the dirt of the tourney ground. “My Lady Danelle!” The booming voice of Bennifer Blackwood, the second of the sons, crashed through the din of the tourney. “And this must be Elayne, well met little cousin.”

“Ser Bennifer.” Danelle bowed her head slightly as her red hair cascaded over her shoulder. “Is Lord Quentyn inside his tent?” Their mother had kept close ties to her House and Bennicott had been urged to do the same as there had been plans to send him out to squire under Quentyn, sadly that had not come to pass. Danelle couldn’t quite bring herself to mourn even now for her brother. “Your letter was most illuminating.” If it was not for her cordial relationship with the Lord of Raventree, Danelle would have urged Elayne to marry one of his sons. He had enough between the four for at least one to produce an heir and spare for the continuation of the House.

Elayne gave a small smile at her cousin and dipped a slight curtsy. “So formal!” The jovial knight bellowed a laugh that nearly caused the woman to stumble. “Aye, he is and plans to joust with the rest of us Blackwood menfolk! We will put those Brackens in the dirt and hopefully a few of their necks get broken!” Elayne looked horrified at the notion, her eyes flicking between Danelle’s grim smile and Bennifer’s.

“A glad outcome.” Danelle agreed, her stride carrying her by Bennifer and towards the largest of the tents. Giving a nod to another of the sons, she let a servant announce her before entering into a lush and well-kept interior of Quentyn’s tent. “Lord Quentyn.” She greeted and gestured for Elayne to remain outside. “Stay near.” Though it was hard to tell if the order was for her sister or the guards. There was little that could happen to Elayne within the Blackwood’s encampment. Turning her attention back to the Lord who sat on a camp stool, a sword being sharpened in his hands. A man in his forties, Lord Quentyn was a handsome fellow and a lord of note within the Riverlands as well as a relation to the Spymaster of the King. Though Danelle could not decide if he was one of Bloodraven’s eyes or not, there were always a hundred layers in the games that the court played.

“Little Danelle, not so little,” He gestured to a canvas seat near a table with a jug of Arbor red. “My sympathies for the death of young Lucas.”

“A death long past,” Danelle commented, her tone no longer light as it had been outside where potential suitors might see. “My aunt Jeyne sends her regards, and Elayne is not fit for such conversations of necessity.”

“A young woman cannot be kept from the world.”

She heard the reproach in that tone and shrugged, many of her letters had been to Raventree. “A child still in the games played. She has no skill in the world besides those befitting a simple woman.” Pouring the Arbor wine into two goblets, she picked up one as Lord Blackwood took the other. “My father remains in good health and has poor hearing. He speaks loudly.”

“Too loudly. His discontent can be heard in Dorne and is well noted. Though Harrenhal has always been questionable in the reputation of its Lords.” Taking the wine the man drank deep, with a grin. “Jeyne would be welcomed at Raventree.”

Danelle reclined back in the canvas seat and swirled the wine, staring into the red depths. “My aunt has been most useful in Harrenhal, leaving would be granting my Lord Father a victory.” She commented with a growl. “He does not intend to joust. I tried to convince him, alas. A bit of enjoyment for his old bones, but he is too worried about an accident.”

“An accident.” There was an agreement of annoyance from Quentyn. “It would be most fortunate to see the man quieted from his grumblings. He strays towards fire and brambles.”

“Brackens.” Danelle spat with annoyance, cutting to the quick with words. “Mother’s ghost would wail in Harrenhal. It would be best if a duel happened. He is not so skilled with the sword anymore.”

“You speak too openly, my lady.” The Lord warned, only for Danelle to shake her head sharply.

“I speak truthfully, Lord Quentyn.” She growled and shifted in her seat. “I will not have the Lothstons lose Harrenhal for his foolish idea of pride and vengeance against a dead man.” Danelle’s voice lowered as she growled to herself. “I have Elayne secured but a proper promising marriage being planned can pull his fangs.”

Lord Quentyn sat back and rubbed his beard as he studied the fearsome woman before. Jeyne had kept ties to the Blackwood and had passed them to Danelle and Alysanne when she had returned to Harrenhal. Letters and the odd visit when traveling kept the ties of blood alive. It was a political alliance, but one that was intended to curb Manfryd’s growling. Lord Blackwood hardly thought his cousin’s husband would do anything, but there had been whispers and rumors being spread. A nuisance more than anything else. Harrenhal had kept him in wealth and with men, though his lack of heir had been a sore spot when he looked towards Quentyn and his four sons. “As well as that would be, you speak of his death too openly, Danelle. Curb your tongue against a thousand eyes and one. Harrenhal is an unfortunate seat.”

A warning and Danelle scowled at the disapproving Riverlord. “I have had one brother dead for his foolishness, a sister who ran off into the world to die, and a second brother who was born by a lowborn whore. Most likely not even brother to me.” She pointed out with a skeptical tone. “Harrenhal has long been cursed by unfortunate death.”

“I would rather not include you, Lady Danelle. Had your father allowed it, I would have taken you as a ward but Benjicott’s death and Alysanne's disappearance put an end to that. He would not risk another child disappearing or dead.” Danelle gave the lord a cold look, this was news to her but she had known Lord Blackwood to be fond of his Harrenhal relations, if not Manfryd himself specifically. Hemming and hawing like a wild mare at the reins would get nowhere if Quentyn had made his mind up. She was to take the safe route he had chosen and it would be like moving the weirwood tree itself to convince him otherwise.

“Your affection touches me, Lord Blackwood.” She drawled, in truth, it was only blood ties that made it easy to consort with the man. Had Jeyne not recommended cooperation with her mother’s kin, Danelle would have gone her own way. A way of money, knives, poison, and blood. This was, there would be others to speak for her right to Harrenhal if it was brought into question, a point which Danelle knew she would need. The Riverlords all fought for their ideas and they were often greedy for the riches each other had. House squabbles were as dangerous as the games the greater houses played. “But let us get to business.”

Outside the tent, Elayne winced as Bennifer went on entertaining her. He spoke of duels and fights against brigands. Often a problem and, according to him, not enough of them plague Stone Henge. She loved to hear tales of distant lands and delighted in them, but when those tales were about how you hacked a man’s hand off or an ear? She cringed and kept a delicate smile on her face, praying Danelle would not be long. She was not sure she could remain thus! Taking to walking had only made Bennifer point out the men who had fought with him and who had done what deed. Elayne was silently thankful she would not be asked to marry the second son of Quentyn Blackwood and reminded herself to make an offering to the mother for that relation. Directing the man that she was feeling quite faint, Elayne ducked behind a tent and found herself in the frenzy of the tournament.

Delighted she walked along the path, her guards forgotten behind her as she considered the different houses that had come for the celebration. Surely it must be as grand as the Golden Wedding had been described by the maester. All it was missing was being in King's Landing, which was no loss in Elayne's eyes, and the swooping dragons of the past. Dodging a man pulling a reluctant horse down the makeshift street between tents, the young woman hesitated as she realized with a start she was alone. No guards surrounded her, and in her loss at the colors and frenzy of wondering at food, flags, knights, and lords she had become quite a bit lost. Pulling at a lock of her hair, she frowned and stared about her. Looking for the flag of either Lothston or Blackwood. Surely she had not wandered so far, yet there was no sign of either and no sound of Bennifer's bray over the din. A flush rose in her cheeks and she thought of Danelle's order for her to remain close and outside the tent. Her elder sister would be in a fury over this, though if she could find her way back there would be no one the wiser. She had simply been around the corner was all! Swallowing hard, Elayne felt a lump in her stomach as she wandered the stalls and tents, Danelle would have her hide for this. She could hear her now, belittling her sense for wandering off on her own when she had never even been out of Harrenhal castle alone before! She was rarely alone even in Harrenhal! Her steps kept to a delicate walk, though her eyes were a bit panicked as she pulled that lock of hair again. Where were the tents!


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Danelle goes to see her Blackwood relations and openly speaks eagerly of her father's death and his dissatisfaction with the Targaryens. Elayne is drawn into an unfortunate conversation with the bloody-minded Bennifer Blackwood and gets lost.
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