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House Lothston & House Blackwood
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The tournament was set to begin, the noble guests that were expected had arrived on time. Lord Quentyn Blackwood stared in resigned silence at the black dragon on red that flapped high on a pole in the distance. Dressed in padded quilting, he looked as a lord should who was set to be merry and to take part in the tournament. In truth, he would have rathered not jousted. There was a point to be made, however, all the Blackwoods were fine and fit warriors. Robert was keeping himself from most of the dealings, but his second son was more a bookish sort and no less a fighter for it. Not turning to greet the man who paused beside him. “You are a fool Manfryd.” His voice was gruff as a breeze raised flags and swept through the scents of hundreds of campfires, cooking, cleaning, and the smell of shit. His cousin by marriage was full of the latter. “Arranging to marry Danelle to a Redwyne boy.”

“It was acceptable to both and I wanted the girl married before the year was out.” The reply was gruff as the Lord of Harrenhal crossed his arms over his tunic. Servants took a berth around the two lords. Some slowed, others speeding on whether they wished to risk overhearing a word. Most did not after both lords fingered the hilts of swords and fixed harsh stares about them. Perhaps the conversation would be better in the privacy of tents and their camps. But the meeting here was out of the reach of sons and daughters alike. “That they have a potential son for Elayne as well hardly hurts. Though I have other hopes.”


“Hopes.” The word was a bark of harsh laughter, as the Lord of Raventree grimaced. “Your hopes lie in that the Prince will take her for wife. A young lad taking a woman he fancies? Possible, but your hatred of the Targaryens is well known after King Aegon, may he rest in peace, took your mother and sister as whores.” Ignoring the snarl on the other lord’s face Quentyn continued. “The boy will likely marry either his twin or a daughter of a Lord higher and with more family prestige than you.” It was harsh but true. The only times Quentyn knew of Targaryens marrying outside of the family for future Queens had been Houses of note. The Hightowers, the Martells, Valeryons, Arryn. Though the last had been a cousin through the mother. Viserys, the father of Aegon, had married a Lyseni woman. Though the King had thought to have been dead through most of the Dance. “Peace. Manfryd, I want what is best for your daughters just as you do. They are Calera’s children.”

That hardly seemed to quell Manfryd, though he did take his hand from his sword. “They are my children and I will do as is best for them.” A gruff reply and Quentyn could hardly blame the man. Manfryd’s pride had always been a touchy thing and he cared deeply. Though he could hardly show it, it just was not in the man. Not since Calera had died.

“Dammit, man. What’s best for them is for you to let me foster Elayne.” His irritation with the Lord of Harrenhal was taking over and Quentyn knew it. Manfryd bred fine mules and wonder he did not provide the place of the ass himself! “You do her no favors allowing her to remain in Harrenhal where you host no one but bats and shadows!” Slapping his gloves against his thigh, he considered his argument and sighed. “Manfryd, Danelle is as stern as stone. A fine heir for Harrenhal.” As fine as a woman could be. The girl had approached him asking if he found her fine enough for Harrenhal. He had, she would rule the land well. She had wanted assurance that if cousins came to call and claim the seat of House Lothston after her father passed, the Lord of Raventree would aid her. Hell, the girl had hinted that her father would be better off dead. Encouraging thoughts as to an accident.

Not that he could say as much to the man before him. Manfryd did not care for Danelle. He found his daughter a suitable heir but difficult to deal with. Like a falcon that could savage you or fly away with a prize at any moment, Melissa had mentioned in passing. An apt comparison. Elayne was a sweet girl and would not do well under Danelle’s hand when the elder sister became Lady of Harrenhal. Manfryd was playing a dangerous game and Quentyn wanted to make sure that at least one of Calera’s daughters had a shot at a happy life. He knew the husband of his cousin was speaking loudly against the Targaryens and if the Lord of Harrenhal was eager for the whispers that the Blackfires were the true dragons… It would not surprise Quentyn.

“Manfryd.” He decided to play on a cruel nerve and continued carefully on the path of diplomacy. “Melissa is at Raventree and I can think of no better woman to find Elayne a match worthy of her.”

“One of Aegon’s-”

“Mistresses.” He interrupted the snarl and continued over the protest. “You well know how highly Calera thought of Melissa despite that. You know very well the two were close as blood sisters. For the love you still bear your wife, will you not at least take it into consideration? Bennifer’s wife just had a son as well. It would only benefit Elayne to be around a newborn child as well so she will be better prepared when the time comes or do you mean to send her with a caretaker when a husband means to take her?”

That seemed to cause the other lord to pause and he seemed to muse on the topic. The flow of people thinned and thickened. Servants hauling food, drink, and laundry about. Buckets and trinkets and tokens. Squires with weapons and armor. Shields of many different hedge knights bobbing as they made their way through the tourney’s roads. Sidestepping a horse and cart of wine, the two lords were tucked off at the side of the throng and Quentyn was about to give things up for a lost cause for the day and take up the litany at another time.

“Let us speak of this over wine. Perhaps you could convince me better with some arbor red in me.” Quentyn’s lips curved as he took the opening. That Manfryd was willing to offer him wine that would cost him something to buy said only positive things.