[sub][right]Collab with [@Ruby][/right][/sub]
[center][b][h2]Aelor & Aelora Targaryen | | Manfryd, Danelle & Elayne Lothston[/h2][/b][/center]
[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/xh6LpKf.jpg[/img][/center]

The chair was old, but her lavender eyes judged it firm enough for her, even sitting with something resembling confidence in the seat after a thorough dust off in the cellars of Summerhall, quiet spaces with not but an ever-present chill to the air and the scent of damp dustiness as numerous as the cobwebs. Brushing off her hands before flipping white hair as safely behind her ear as she could get, readjusting in the chair with a repressed sigh even as the figure shouldered into the small space.

And it was a small space; besides the chair in which she sat, there was a chair with no back and a profound wobble, a square of wood and four pegs that maybe, if you were both destitute and desperate could be used as a table. The visitor smelled of the road, sweat and dirt, bidding she forgive his current state as he entered with his near-nasaly pitch.

The man was average, at best, in everything: height, weight, appearance, voice…but none of it seemed like an accident. An utterly average man rarely stands out, and is even more rarely recalled even by those who might have seen their face before. “Did you enjoy the finds?”

“I did, thank you,” Instinct brought a small, polite, smile to her mouth as she thanked the man. The books were rare, and highly insightful so far, though Aelora hadn’t gotten so spend as much time as she would have liked with them yet. “Any words from you?”

She had never seen him closely shaved, she realized, as he looked down at the sitting Princess, his eyes clouding from the thoughts at work behind them before he nodded his head, finally, and answered, “Yes. I do appreciate the purse, Princess, it certainly never hurts the efforts. Uh, as to those efforts…several noteworthy bits.”

The tone was somewhere between concern and joy, and, frankly, just left Aelora a little confused until he provided further depth: “The comings and goings of your bloodline, Princess, especially those upon the fringe…best to be watchful. Blackfyres and those with attachments.” She nodded, solemn, understanding, before he went on, “The Reach is so bountiful, how could those within be expected to not want more? Potentially problematic. The North bleeds, and a cousin of yours freezes.”

Her head tilted. The Reach followed mostly what she had heard before; that there was an unusually high amount of muttering between the Bannerlords. The North, though? A cousin? Of hers? The only one that…”Princess Saeria?”

The spy nodded, and Aelora’s face brightened. Half the time Aelora thought the man just made up the stories of Saeria. The other half the stories just made her feel as if her own life had been all but wasted within the walls of the Red Keep. “She was supposed to be here. She was supposed in King’s Landing—instead she gets drunk and decides to purchase passage to White Harbor. She nearly died the first fortnight she was there, nearly freezing to death before being helped by a commoner.”

“…who told your people all of this for exchange for a gold piece.”

The man’s very average, non-distinctive nose wrinkled with amusement, “My Princess, that you believe that is the price paid to such lowborn says much and more about you.”

Lavender eyes narrowed at the man, but she pushed it aside and focused, shrugging, “Saeria is madness and glory in equal measure, but above all is a wild thing. She’ll be fine.” Aelora had met the cousin twice; once she entertained herself at a feast seated next to Aelora by playing with a dagger all evening, going to bed early. The second was years later and Saeria never made it to the feast; Aelora ran into her leaving the Feast for bed. She’d been climbing the Red Keep most the day and expressed sadness Maegor’s was so separated from the rest of the Red Keep as they met and talked on the drawbridge. “And you save the best for last, so?”
“Avoid visiting any Westerland camps.”

Aelora blinked, “More Bannerlord muttering?”

His round head shook, the shadow of what was becoming a second chin exaggerated with the angle his face took as he looked at her in a sterner gaze. “Assassination. Sourced from our own shores, no Faceless Men but skilled if unpolished killers in that guild all the same.”

“How?” Poison was a worry of any noble, there was always a reason you could talk yourself into believing for someone to poison you. Or not you; Aelora lost count of how many stories she had heard from old noble ladies of poisonings that killed someone they weren’t intended for.

“Who can know, Princess?”

Her face twisted, “I should hope each golden coin helps you know more and more. If a Lord of Casterly Rock is threatened I would hope to know something more than that.”

His pause was profound, but not cruel, since Aelora knew when her measure was being taken. When he did respond, it was gently, “You wish to intervene. You wish to know enough to prevent. You wish to help. This is admirable, Princess, as admirable as thinking a gold coin for a commoner’s tale a fair price. This will not be stopped, they will die. Yet take comfort; it’s no Lord of Casterly Rock, but a minor Lannister branch that is the unfortunate dead soul.”

More was said, but it all just seemed to twist and dance in her mind like smoke caught in the wind. He offered guardsmen and cooks and the like, but her head shook, as she simply didn’t care. He knew her rule: either people were getting hurt that might not deserve it, or family, or large matters of the realm. Aelora hated most of all that he was right:

She wanted to help. She wanted to intervene. And, as admitted to herself, she had been embarrassed. [i]Too naïve to know the price of a payoff.[/i] She would have snorted in anger, stubbornly diving into the shadows of Shadowblack Lane to learn this harsh reality that the spy found adorable she was so ignorant of.
But she was a princess in a palace, and now wasn’t the time. Yet the thought never left her, even as she stopped by the kitchens on her way and talked to Luci and Stoffer. Ducks roasted in lemon and honey, mutton cooked in a thick broth of ale and onions, baked apples with sharp yellow cheese, salads of turnip greens, red fennel, blue cheese, pine nuts, and sweetgrass. Honeycakes baked with blackberries and berry tarts rounded out the meal. Aelora would admit it was meager, but Aelora was undoubtedly the chief food taster in the Red Keep, spending so much of her youth with the stewards of the Red Keep, learning the importance of being lord commander of a host of servants and cooks, men and women, stores and inventories.

She was harder than most to impress.

The hardest detail to smooth out was the location. The Palace was madness, every usual spot taken by a pre existing commitment to hosting Lords and Ladies. Or it would have been difficult, had Aelor not apparently solved the issue with uncle earlier in the yards, practicing for the tournament. According to Aelor the older Prince stared, shrugged, and told him to pick whichever room he wanted that wasn’t chosen. It was exciting only because it meant a rarely used site; both because it was never necessary and because even when it was it was rarely allowed. All in all, the Great Library wasn’t a bad spot.

He was dressed in black tunic and breeches and boots, chest sporting a red Targaryen dragon in large cut ruby, trails of fire along shoulders and down the sides of his boots in matching ruby red. While she dressed, he would see to the rest of it, parting with her outside the kitchens with a quick hug. He even managed to find the Lady that Aelora had sent for clothing for Elayne, and directed her to the right place with hours to spare.

Most of what was left for him was sitting in the Great Library and having a drink as he read a book about old battles by a Maester long dead to time. It was Helene, the Lady from before, that came in after the table was brought in, candles were lit, and most of the table was already set. Helene was from a House close to King’s Landing, though which, at the moment, he could not recall. There had been drama between Lady Samatha of House Rykker, Aelora’s last Lady in Waiting, and…closest friend? Former closest friend? Former friend? It wasn’t in Aelor’s nature to pry when Aelora was clearly disturbed, and whatever had happened, Aelora had wanted nothing to do with taking him through it. She had just wanted him to hug her during the fallout.

“She used your room, we dressed her, she’s ready and awaiting you, my Prince.”

It was dry, distant, however polite the words the girl used. Aelor had no history of grabbing any of Aelora’s ladies and hauling them off, and Aelora never did say anything to any of her Ladies, but they all acted the same way about them: either at odds, or vowed to silence. Lady Samatha once explained it was because, while no one said it, all the Ladies knew: Aelor and Aelora were all but betrothed.

A dreadful thought in some ways, but it explained why they treated him so politely, so coldly. It wasn’t fear of him, or fear of her, it was fear of them—of intruding, of doing something that would get in the way of what many in the Red Keep saw as one of the purest romances, and easiest matches, within the Targaryen dynasty.

He wasn’t so sure, but Aelor had long ago resigned himself to the distinction between duty and the rest of his life. His twin had done just the same. He met her with nothing but a dagger on his simple but polished black leather belt and silver buckle. It was borrowed, as was the long dagger in a black sheath. His own hair was combed out but retained a slight wave to it, a small braid falling from his head behind his left shoulder.

At the door he nodded to the house guards on duty, one of which simply opened the door and said something. A moment later she appeared, wearing a long cut gown in black satin that bared her porcelain shoulders hinted at the bright red satin lining, most notably at her chest. The young woman’s hips were dressed with a braided bejeweled black leather belt, seemingly every type of gem with every color, dazzling and sparkling as she moved. 

Her Valyrian hair was combed fine and straight and let to fall about her back and chest and shoulders. He smelled rose petals when was anywhere close to him, alerting him that they’d met Elayne there. The twins met the Kingsguard Knight outside the Great Library, he along with six other Targaryen Knights that had traveled with them from the Red Keep would be posted on either side of the table, far enough back to be forgotten unless looked for, but close enough to act quickly if necessary. The white cloak would stand behind Aelor, who would take the head of the table. Lady Elayne and Princess Aelora on one side, the Lothson’s on the other.

The meal was splendid, not overly done as Elayne had feared. Nor was the gown that had been collected from her tent out of taste. The dark yellow could have been gold if not for the actual golden panels, taken from one of her mother’s dresses, but it the white lace and undersleeves were pristine. A series of black bats and towers were patterned across the plain brown belt and golden buckle. Suitable, though the neckline was hardly anything Elayne found proper. It had been commissioned by Danelle before they had left Harrenhal, one of the dresses to attract the eye. Smoothing the peerless gown, she gave the twins a smile that she hoped hid her terror at the mess this could well turn into as she tugged at a stray lock of hair.

Sweet pear wine and Arbor Gold were already awaiting at the set table, the smell of food making his belly rumble as he turned away from the table to the door, finding her looking at him for a second before looking back to Aelora. The wine would wait as Aelor made his way to the door and smiled, admiring the view, “Lady Elayne, you look beautiful…and terrified. Why is she terrified?”

Aelora smiled, “Because she’s not slow, Aelor. I was just telling her to take a deep breath, and come in! Look at the library, the table…and the wine. I’d suggest the sweet pear wine. It’s softer on the belly, but makes EVERYTHING better. Shall I fetch you a glass?”

Sighing at her failure to keep that terror hidden, Elayne tugged harder at the curling lock that fell over her shoulder. “The library is wonderful, books are wonderful.” She agreed though there was a strain in her voice. It would be a miracle if nothing untoward happened thus far. Though it was lovely to get a chance to see the twins in splendor, they were lovely and would look more still if she could just figure out how to make black stand out from black. Sheparding her mind back to the course, she found herself nervously pacing. Giving the twins a nervous smile, Elayne tried not to let the frown she felt through the mask and have it aimed at the Prince. He was such a good man for trying to help her, even if he seemed a bit a fool with his question. That he made more problems was simply a by product of such. “Please, Highnesses, I must apologize before hand. My father has- He doesn’t have the best of temperaments and is quick to assume.” Was she pacing again? Her feet seemed to be moving and she felt her hand tugged at that stubborn lock of hair. “This is going to be a disaster.” She whispered in utter horror of what was going to happen. Perhaps she might knock a candle over and spare disaster one way with another one? She knew herbs! Elayne mourned the too late thought, if she had thought it earlier some herbs in her wine would allow her to feign illness and put a stop to this madness! “Danelle is sharped tongue, but she means well. There’s a lot placed on her as heir.” She was fretting, wasn’t she? 

Aelor’s face brightened, even as the light of the dying sun flooded the library chamber gold, a smile to match nearly upon his features, “They hate us and prefer the Blackfyres. We know. Treason, and all that.” He seemed amused by her, more than the topic of his own words. “It’s okay, Lady Elayne.”

And Aelora barely seemed to notice he said anything worth hearing at all. She was distracted, eyes on the table, worrying over little imperfections, asking a passing steward to make sure the fireplaces were lit, but along the first and second floors. It seemed to get more and more chilly with each passing night at Summerhall. 

“Thoughts are hardly treason when they are less than words.” Elayne answered diplomatically, with a smile that was more teeth than the demure one she wore. “Highness.” That hesitation before adding his title was just as pointed. “I would ask you not to barb my father with such talk, Prince Aelor.” Her cheeks were positively flaming that she dared to say such to him, while a small part of her grumped that it was the man’s own fault for insulting her family. Not that he was wrong. No, he was far more correct than she cared for. The problem was treason by her father and sister would hardly spare her. Her hands at least had stopped tugging and smoothing. “Please?” She glanced towards the door, her brow creased though a small smile still masked her face.

“…what? What happened?” Aelora returned to the conversation, left lost by Elayne’s plea, eyes bouncing between Lothson and her twin.

Aelor said it flatly, like he was repeating some dull fact, “Treason, all that.”

“Oh, yeah.” All the sudden excitement from the mystery of what Aelora had missed in the conversation was gone the moment she heard the topic. For once, she looked more bored than Aelor. “Honestly, this might be our…twenty-and-something dinner with a Lord or Lady that’s treasonous in one way, or another?”

“Close to that number, I imagine,” Aelor nodded.

Aelora shrugged and smiled to Elayne, “We don’t care. You don’t feel that way.”

“I promise not to broach the subject.”

The other twin nodded, once, twice, “Yes, of course, myself as well: I promise not to broach the subject with your family.”

“…if they bring it up, however,” Aelor shrugged, slowly, as he turned on his boot and headed for the table.

Targaryen madness might be more common than she had first through, Elayne sighed and looked between the twins with the same lost expression she first had. “Thank you.” She whispered, and stiffened as she heard a servant open the door. Her hands moved to fold before her and her face became a beaming smile, a mask slid over all else. Taking a hesitant step forward, she watched at the servant brought in Manfryd and Danelle Lothston. “Father, Sister.” She paused as if a hand had been clamped over her mouth.

Manfryd had dressed well in a coat of black with a white and gold bat stitched across the chest. His face was a thundercloud that only dimmed slightly as he gave his youngest daughter a fond smile before turning his cold eyes on the Prince and Princess. Danelle observed the room as she and her father mad their bows to the royal twins. A finger lowering to lay with the rest of her hand.

“Oh, Elayne. Sweet sister, we were worried for you when you wandered off, on your first tournament going too.” Danelle’s husky voice could not be called soft but there was concern there. For her own plans, Elayne knew. Embracing her sister as Danelle seemed wont to do, the younger stiffened as Danelle’s voice dipped to a more private whisper. “Fool girl.” A snarl as she felt the woman’s thumb dig in slightly into her side, tucked away from their watchers.

Elayne kept her smile and observed for all of Aelora’s disapproval Danelle had chosen well. Wearing her own gown of creme with dark embroidery over it. “My apologies sister, I must have been caught up in all the excitement.” The threat was clear and she was to play along if she hoped to see another. “If I may? Allow me to introduce Prince Aelor and Princess Aelora of House Targaryen, who gave me such assistance. My father, Manfryd of House Lothston, Lord of Harrnehal. Lady Danelle, his heir.” It would be foolish to leave that out and probably earn her a sharp pinch to add it if she did.

Manfryd had turned his gaze from his wife’s greatest gift to him and glowered at the Prince. Seeming eager to want to demand answers as to the situation. “And why is it a Targaryen Prince, raised in decorum, would not see a lady returned to her family?” Elayne winced, even as she spied the small smile on Danelle’s lips. Had her sister been planting her seeds into their father’s mind about how her rescue by the Prince had gone?

Aelor had stood when the Lothsons entered, a pleasant enough smile upon his face introduced. At the Lord’s question, Aelor didn’t hesitate: “I confess to being lost outside the walls of Summerhall, Lord Lothson. You must recall this place I’ve spent so much time, transformed into a city of tents and pavilions as far as I can see. Lady Elayne spoke so highly of you both, I felt I had to invite you to Summerhall, and being I knew where it was…the choice was more practical.”
Princess Aelora found back teeth biting into her tongue to keep her from saying the wrong something. Finally, the pious and pure Princess spoke up, “We meant not to offend, my Lord, but to honor your House. There are five meals taking place right now in Summerhall. All small, all private, all invitation only. We sent a large party to immediately inform you of Lady Elayne’s situation, as well as to deliver the invitation.”

The point was unspoken but left bare for the Lothsons to see: they would be talk of the tent city. Some would mention Lady Elayne and the Prince, most would focus more on the dinner. What did they speak about? What petitions were spoken of? This is why there were stories of Aelor and Elayne?
Aelora knew the outrage to follow, the trap she stepped into, but she was confident in the fact that today had been a good day for House Lothson, and Lord Manfyrd in particular.

“Was the party sent to inform you and deliver the invite below your station, my Lord?” Aelora asked, visibly frowning, as the brother of the Kingsguard shifted uncomfortably at the sight from the far end of the room and the sudden silence became profound. It was no accident; unbeknownst to the Lothsons there was a harpist waiting to be brought in, and a minstrel with lute awaiting upstairs. 

“It was fair enough.” Manfryd’s voice was not an inch warmer, but he could see the reason of the Prince taking Elayne to Summerhall. It had seemed nothing untoward had happened, but still.. There had been as many whispers saying nothing had happened between King Aegon IV and Jeyne, more were the whispers of his mother and sister sharing the same bed as the Targaryen King and each other. Danelle had suggested that it might be a ploy of some sort to take Elayne as hostage to make sure Harrenhal would remain a ruin. That all his plans would be to the tune played by the Targaryens. In truth? He had just as little love for the Blackfyres, but King Daeron he was sure was a bastard. A king with so many children and his wife only bearing one? Aegon had as well as named Daemon by bestoying the man Blackfyre, the ancestral sword. A sword this youth’s hand would never touch though by rights his father or grandfather ought to have it, if they were King Aegon’s trueborn heirs.

There was a shift of skirts as Danelle rose from a curtsy. “Fair enough, indeed. You honor us inviting House Lothston to dine with you.” It seemed that any urging Manfryd required Danelle was eager to give it. Elayne wanted to feel relief but she knew there would be hidden pitfalls.

Taking his cue from his daughter Manfryd continued. “Yes, it is indeed welcome that you arranged this” His eyes noting the Kingsguard skeptically. Elayne could imagine the man thought this  to be a trap. Some scheme. He was hardly wrong, though it was more of Danelle’s making she mused. “Honored even.” He grated, and Elayne stiffened as she felt Danelle’s hand on her arm. A puppeteer. “Though one wonders why you could not send my child back with that party and invitation?”

All Aelora did was look at a certain Knight, and one of the Targaryen men-in-arms stepped back and away. Soon enough the minstrel with the lute would start in the background, descending from the spiral staircase.

Aelor looked, in an instant, emotional. There was a hard edge to his eyes, and his shoulders seemed to stiffen as he straightened to his full, impressive, height. His chin tightened, in anger, possibly? He nodded, several times, as his voice sounded, and the mystery was lifted:

Aelor wasn’t angry, but he did look and sound emotional the more Lord Manfryd pushed, “Lord Lothson…Ladies, apologies for the unpleasant nature of what must be said in your presence,” he walked as spoke, first speaking to Manfyrd, then stopping as he got close to Aelora, while looking to Elayne and Danelle and apologizing for what must be said. But what must be said wasn’t said, not until Aelor was within a foot or less of the Lord of Harrenhal. His voice quiet, intense. “I know what House Targaryen has done to your good House, Lord Manfyrd. I had not thought…I made a mistake. Once I realized it, once I arrived, I knew what had to be done.”

He moved, opening up to the rest of them and taking a step back, his voice louder but his tone the same, gravely seriously but more vulnerable than he was clearly comfortable with, “I had to bring you here. You had to see your daughter, well and untouched, kept company by my sister, while I practiced in the yard,” his voice lowered again as Manfyrd became Aelor’s only focus, the Prince once again stepping close to the man, “You had to see no harm was meant. You had to see a simple mistake was mistake, Lord Manfyrd, that House Targaryen knows the delicate nature of this situation and that we take it seriously. I needed you to see it with your own eyes…who else would you believe more than your own eyes?”

Elayne stiffened and would have taken a step into the fray had not Danelle’s resting arm turned to iron. “Elayne…” The voice spoke softly. “Be a dear and let him set his foot, or need I remind you?” The whisper never rose but Elayne’s eyes flickered between the men worriedly. Danelle had a plan and she was to play the empty headed doll, that Danelle expected.

Manfryd frowned a the Prince as they stood close to each other though he did not back away. Perhaps a fool, but Manfryd was no coward. Perhaps there had been some truth in what the Prince said and certainly there was sense, but lies were said as easily as wine was drunk. “A simple mistake? Perhaps, boy.” There was insult in that word as well, a pointed insult. Bristling slightly he was cut off as Elayne stepped hurriedly forward.

Ignoring the fury in her sister’s eyes, Elayne smiled and hurried to take her father’s hand. To save him from himself and this debacle if nothing else. “All is well Father. Truely, I must apologize for being so scattered.” Her meek voice never rose and was just as lost as she had been when the Prince had found her. “The Princess has been most delightful and gracious in allowing me to gather myself at Summerhall while the Prince was about his business. Please, allow us to dine and forgot this dark talk.” She smiled, beaming between the two men and tried to ignore the icy chill she could feel run down her spine. How had simply slipping around a tent turned into this mess? Smoothingher hand over her skirt as she dropped’her father’s hand at his curt look, she felt Danelle’s hand about her shoulder. Putting the strings back on the puppet she supposed.

“A simple mistake.” He repeated himself and glanced at Elayne before continuing far more carefully. “It seems simple mistakes have led us to here. You speak boldly for one so young and my daughter seems well off with your aid.” There was an edge still in the man’s tone and he seemed distinctly thrown off his first thought of challenge from the Prince’s and Elayne’s words.

Aelor heard no insult. A healthy respect for elders was beaten into Aelor in the Royal yards at the hands of cousins and uncles and Kingsguard. To a man the age of Manfyrd he was a boy, and fair enough. Aelora presented the seats to the Lothsons, apologizing for stealing ‘her new friend’ to the other side of the table with her.

It wasn’t long after drinks were poured and food was served. Aelor didn’t hesitate, asking before he even had a bite, “How is Harrenhal, Lord Manfyrd? How goes the town? I imagine a busy time with harvests near.”

He was interested in what the Lord of Harrenhal had to say, and Aelor knew few Lords who weren’t eager to talk harvests and stores and prices and castle, especially one like Harrenhal. Aelor knew its scale. He didn’t want to imagine running it. 

It was the right way to steer the conversation and Elayne relaxed as she found herself sitting across from her father and sister. Had she sat by Danelle, her elder sister would have made her look the fool. As it was, Manfryd nodded easily and spoke of the repairs he had paid, per the laws written out by King Jaehaerys, for to restore parts of Harrenhal. The towers and the great hall, not that they were in disrepair, but they did require more refurbishing after neglect from former Lords. The town was a bustle with the harvest and not only the harvest coming in. Fishing was prevalent on the God’s Eye and the running of Harrenhal was fit to keep any man busy. A litt wonder, Elayne thought with a sigh, that he failed to notice the strife forming amongst his children.

Danelle for her part was listening pateitnly, and carefully. Her words adding in a thing that Manfryd mused over or nudging some idea before the man. Elayne felt the pinch to her side and hid her wince in her goblet. Danelle was going to be pleased to have her back, but unhappy about how easily she could have taken the favor of the Targaryens by fixing Manfryd ‘mindless blunders’. Though her words turned Manfryd from a topic every so often.  Turning her words to Aelora the woman continued. “I do hope Elayne was not too much trouble getting under your feet. The girl can be a bit mindless at times, but then… Well, I fear you understand all too well. Having found her wandering about on her lonesome.” She added simply. Elayne merely smiled, though she tasted the hurt as she bit her tongue to keep from doing anything that would upset Danelle still more. Her hands folded in her lap, clenching neatly.

Aelora was mid-drink when Danelle began, lavender eyes bright and big and alive with a happy warmth as she listened, “Not at all. She was a great help, worked with palace staff and my own Ladies in Waiting to get tonight’s meal off the ground, allowed me to see to a very important visitor. Did some light reading on the Greater Mysteries of the Valyrians and the Rhoynar, too, since that was the book I left open.”

“Elayne will be speaking High Valyrian before we know it.”

It was a toast, as Aelor said it with goblet in the air. He said first in the way that came naturally to him, in High Valyrian. He said it again in the common tongue, for all present. Aelora repeated the High Valyrian, and held her own glass up. “To new friendships.”

Elayne felt roses bloom in her cheeks as her father looked with smug satisfaction. He had always thought highly of her, even if she forever seemed to fall short. But the praised heaped on the young woman by the twins made her clench her hands for another reason. “Surely not, forgive me Princess but I did not wish to disturb over much and reading is a small comfort.” She joined in the toast even as her family did. Her smile less of a mask and more true.

Danelle settled back into the chair and Elayne knew that the Princess thwarting her words would not go over well. Her sister did have her reasons, it was hardly easy being heir and her father would not understand that Danelle had no wish to marry a man. Still, the woman would be a fury for this. Elayne sighed, she feared she was getting far too beyond her sister and outshining her. Something that could not be allowed. “A doubtful thing.” Danelle stated cooly. “I’ve no time to spend finding her a tutor, the septa and maester do well enough. What need does a wife to learn High Valyrian? Perhaps if she planned to take an Essosi husband or a Valeryon, but I doubt they would look so inland for a wife.” She remarked with a small bitter laugh. “The men would terrify her with their strange ways!”

“No need, she has Targaryen friends now.”

Aelor’s smile and tone were sweet things in the moment, even if Aelora knew far better. But she smiled along, her tone never wavering from the warmth, “Indeed. We will visit, and you must visit Elayne! Come help me navigate the suitors with me, perhaps we’ll both get fortunate matches. A blessing you haven’t to worry about it, Lady Danelle.”

The tall woman tightened her grip on the stem of her wine glass and her eyes narrowed at the Prince and Princess. Aelora found her foot being thoroughly trodden, as much as a soft slipper could, on as Elayne saw the warning sighs of Danelle’s anger breaking through the surface. But it was Manfryd who spoke. 

“Visits,perhaps.” He granted with a sober look of slight annoyance. “But Elayne will remain at Harrenhal while a suitable match is found.” Where it would be lords coming to him over the match. “More over, perhaps a match will be found tonight.” He remarked, Elayne knew she was now blushing for another reason than Aelor’s declaration alone and looked in alarm at Manfryd even as Danelle’s eyes slid sideways. “The Redwynes have two sons of their House that might be suitable.” He remarked. “A good rich house, though I would rather see you, my dear, married to an heir and not some run of the mill cousin.” A marriage for Danelle then, and the woman was looking like viper. Elayne swallowed heavily.

“It would be a pleasure.” Her tone was soft but there was no sweetness in it and her hands smoothed her gown. “I shall wish for all to go well Danelle.” The look from the martial woman made her skin crawl.

“As do I.” Danelle agreed with a vicious look. “Of course, these are matters for later and not this lovely dinner.”

“Talk of Banner rebellion in the Reach, Lord Manfryd. Pick the wrong match there, and you may never see Lady Elayne again,” Aelor added in, almost casually, confident in his information—he always paid attention to what Aelora relayed, even if liked the pretense that he didn’t most the time. That and a long sip of his wine, as Aelora found herself chiming in, the wine making her head a little warm, and fuzzy.

“Besides, Redwynes? They’re alright, but you’re the most powerful Bannerman to the Riverlands. The Crown knows Harrenhal is close should we need assistance, Lords of Harrenhal have a long history serving Royal councils, even Hands of the King. You have Harrenhal town itself, Lord Harrow’s Town, the lake, not to mention the largest structure in Westeros…this is a significant ally. You need an ally equally worthy. Perhaps you could offer your wisdom on our own potential matches, Lord Manfyrd?”

Aelor nodded, firmly, “YES. You’re an experienced man of steel and political prowess, Lord Manfyrd, we would be better off with your wisdom.”

The Lord of Harrenhal frowned slightly, puzzlement though not outright hostility. “The Redwynes have a son to take the Lothston name by marriage with Danelle. Though, I must ask, your own matches. Are not the two of you to wed each other as is your… custom?” Danelle took a long sip of her wine. Elayne looked startled and perplexed. A feeling she felt was all too common around the twins.

The twins just laughed, with Aelora finally being the first to admit, “An option, of course, but marrying to secure strengthened bonds with noble houses has worked well for House Targaryen most recently. It would be foolish for House Targaryen to not at least look into the possibilities that present themselves.”
“…you sound like our grandsire,” Aelor remarked, smirking at his sister.

She shrugged, “Yes, but he’s right.”

“He is.” Aelor wouldn’t dare pretend otherwise, leaving him to turn back to Lord Manfryd, “You know the kingdom as we do not, Lord Manfryd. You are…closer to certain aspects that we are not. You are cautious regarding your own children’s matches, so again I ask: what wisdom would you offer us were you an advisor to House Targaryen?”

Danelle could wish the two were stupid and in truth? She did most feverently. It would be so much simpler then, she could have her power. Harrenhal and her women to love and play with. Why did Elayne have to wander off? To be scoped up by some brat of a conqueror two hundred years in the past? “Very wise and tried and true notions.” She answered simply. Though she contemplated switching Elayne for this trespass upon their plans. Manfryd was rising too high too soon. It would draw attention when he died, and worse? He might well die with an heir if the other Houses sought to ally themselves with  a marriage directly to the Lord. Of course she had taken precautions a bit of hemlock, a bit of night’s bane, a few other herbs in his mead. Something to loosen the bowels, to strain the heart. A bit to deaden the interest in women. But this?! Danelle was going to see him fall from the rampants next time he toured the repairs to Harrenhal!

Elayne leaned into the chair and watched as Danelle’s finger ran along the stem of the wine glass as though she wished it was some dagger. She those movements before and sighed. “How would I?” Her father’s voice was certainly off balance and his irksome nature was uncertain if this was some mockery of him or something to brag about later. Musing it over, the Lord of Harrenhal nodded seemingly in thought. “I would repair relations, in truth. Taking husband and wife those lords in key positions. Martial and commerce points of interest.” He words were careful and he looked rather thoughtful. Elayne felt her heart flutter slightly at the thought that there might be some chance, but the young woman stilled it. She was of a small House, in a ruined castle. Their lands were large, but hardly of interest. 

“Marriages in Dorne and the Stormlands are always useful. Though I could hardly see why you’d look to the North. The Starks and loyal if nothing else and to be frank? Their uses are slim compared to the rest of the realm. They are vast, yes. But hardly rich and their military might can hardly face down the rest of the Six- Seven Kingdoms.” He shrugged seeming more in his own mind as he considered Aelor skeptically. Amused if nothing else. “I myself have a fair young daughter.” Elayne flushed as that thought came far too close to her own thinking.

Aelor looked to his twin, and nodded, slowly, “It’s good advice.”

“Right about the North. Plus dragons and cold…”

The Prince took a long drink, thought about it, shook his head, “I suppose you’re right.”

“He’s right, too, Lady Elayne is a potential match. We will have to inform our father.”

“His father?” Aelor asked, in a voice that wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer.

Aelora pondered it for a moment or two, before laughing, “I’m not sure. I’m always hesitant to bother him…better to let father if he decides it requires it.”
On that point, the twins agreed, and toasted to letting their father confront the King for an opinion on the matter, as Aelor explained to Manfryd, “We just recently opened up any kind of courtship. Summerhall is our first public appearance in such a capacity. Any potential matches we report to our father. I presume the Small Council may weigh in, the King himself, possibly.”

“Likely, in your case,” Aelora said, referencing the line of succession, as she downed what was left of her drink. The food was as eaten as it could get, neither twin being able to eat much more. “I fear the night grows late for me, you have a tournament soon?”

Aelor chuckled as he stood, “I did join those lists, didn’t I? Thank you for coming, Lord and Lady Lothston. Lord Lothston, I shall likely see you around the tourney field, same to both you Ladies.”

Elayne coud have happily died there in that chair rather than be subjected to the conversation of the Targaryen twins and her father. Her face turning into a red banner as she swallowed a gulp of wine.”I do.” Manfryd agreed, seeming much in better humor than he had before. His mind was rearranging plans and ideas, new ones and less tainted with the irritation, were being noted as they came. Moving to stand, the man bowed to the royal twins and looked to his two daughters.

Danelle was as serene as a ocean and it was just as much a lie, for within her a maelstrom was unfurling and her anger flashed in her eyes as she considered Aelora. The woman had power of some sort, some skill that had turned everything against her. Just as her twin did. Standing she crooked a finger at Elayne in a gestured that would drop the girl’s bright eyes to her shoes as well it should. “Come sister, let us be about to our tents for you to rest.” She commanded, not bothering to deign her younger sister with a glance.

The youngest of the Lothstons stiffened, her face paling slightly though her smile became more fixed. Standing, she hesitated and pressed a small strip of cloth into the Prince’s hand. “My favor. Wear it if you wish. I am sorry, I wish I could do this a more proper way, but…” She shook her head subtly, and gave both a smaller, far more apologetic smile. “Your hospitality was most welcome, Your Highness.” Dipping a cursty she moved to join her sister, her form becoming stiffer as she eyed Danelle warily. Anyone with sense would with the woman’s towering temper. 

It was the white knight that had moved to the door, as the household guards stood sentinel just outside the doors of the library. He had said something about luck and the tournament to Manfryd, as Aelor thanked Elayne politely, and the mass of people moved for the door. Aelor stood behind, but Aelora stayed with them until the doors, until Manfryd was out still talking to the knight, and Danelle had seen Elayne go in front of her, to keep a better eye on her?

Aelora didn’t think about what happened next, she just acted: taking the four to five steps to reach the door from where she had stopped, reaching out and taking Danelle’s shoulder, leaning her neck forward so that her lips could be so close to Danelle’s ears the vibration of Aelora’s lips would be enough for Danelle to tell what was whispered, even if she didn’t hear it:

[i]”I’ve seen your end.”[/i]

Lavender eyes smoldered at the woman as Danelle’s eyes shot back and over her shoulder at the Targaryen Princess, only for the Lothston woman to watch the Princess change completely on a dime, smiling and bidding them farewell, waving and thanking Lord Manfyrd for coming once again as the Kingsguard knight escorted them home as sort of parting honor guard. 


[hider=TLDR]
The twins invite House Lothston for dinner. Manfryd finds himself flattered and urged for advice, offers Elayne up for marriage. Danelle is furious and nursing a strong dislike for the Twins.
[/hider]