[sub][color=orange]Elayne Rivers| Lord Lucas, Jeyne, and Hanna Harroway[/color][/sub] The great Targaryen keep was a bold structure, or it would be when it was finished. As of now? It was a nestling egg with a fledgling city that reminded Lord Lucas Harroway more of a ramble of desperate smallfolk than a proper city. He had traveled to Westeros and Essos in his young years. Having seen Oldtown, Braavos, Myr, Tyrosh, Lys, even White Harbor, and Sunspear. In those days it had been as his father's envoy and then later as one of the men who had fought for King Aegon when the kings bent their knees and offered up their crowns or, in the case of his land's former owner, offered up their lives. He scoffed at the sight out of the window which opened into his quarters. A militant set up with furnishing for business and not pleasure. His bones grumbled about it as he moved across the room to sit on the heavy chair behind the desk and study the three women before him. Girls. Two were of use, the third a bastard he should have had the decency to drown in the God's Eye himself. "Jeyne," The shorter of his children gave a guilty look, it was good for the girl to recognize her failings. Though he thought perhaps those might be turned to advantages if he could secure her a marriage in the North. Not a wealthy land by any means, but it would suit if a better offer did not come along. Particularly if he could see of a Stark or Manderly would take her for a wife. "I understand you are eager to get yourself seen by the dragon riders of Essos, but I will have no more of this sulking about the city. You are a daughter of my House and a young noblewoman who has yet to find a husband." His hand thumped the table. "I could care less what you do once you have one, so long as it is only your husband you entertain, but you will keep yourself confined to the Keep until then!" His glower was a fierce thing and Jeyne flushed with what appeared to Lucas as shame. He did not care to or simply did not notice, the shaking fists of outraged clenched to her sides. Lucas was a prideful man, proud of his house and children. He wished them to marry well for the glory of the Harroway name as their sister had and thus perhaps he missed just how willful his middle daughter was. She was wild, but still his daughter and by the logic of the Lord of Harrenhal she would abide his word. He frowned at his smiling youngest daughter, she looked particularly pleased to be there. Her large eyes only underlined her beauty, she was to marry very well if his wife was successful. Until then, he was to keep looking for alternatives and for Jeyne's future husband. It would not do for his youngest to marry before her sister. If worst came to worst, there was a knight brother or cousin of the Arryns that surely wouldn't mind a wife. "Hanna, stop simpering. You are not a wench like that one." The pale thing that stood back a bit flinched and Hanna sniffed indignantly. "There was a raven from Harrenhal, your mother is going to the Arryns to see if she can marry you to a relative of theirs if not the heir of the Vale himself. For all that they may frown on your sister being a second wife, a link to the throne is a useful tool. If she cannot find a marriage there, she will find one amongst the Lannisters or Tyrells-" "You would have us marry stewards who struggle to hold their lands?" Hanna's tone was disgusted as she looked aghast at him. Any glee at the thought of marrying an Arryn was gone at the mention of the Tyrell house. "I would have offered you to the Hightowers had not Alys married Maegor as his wife. They will not consider it for the so-called insult. The Conqueror had two wives! Why not the Prince? He needs an heir and a spare! If he would take a third wife I would give you to him as well and expect a child within the year!" The Lord of Harrnehal glared at his two daughters, his form leaned over his desk as he jabbed a finger at the door. "Out! Jeyne, keep to your lessons and your games with needle and thread. Make yourself into a proper woman!" --- Jeyne, unlike her sister who protested loudly merely nodded as she and Hanna retreated the heavy door closing behind them. There was nothing she could say. Jeyne knew her father, he would accept nothing but obedience from his children. Perhaps they could simper and smile and reason him into a new gown or a new dancing master but not a new marriage when he thought it best for the House. It was as their mother said, men only wanted one thing and it was disgusting how true it ran. For her part, Hanna only argued for the sake of it. Both of the sisters knew it. While Jeyne wore dresses of fawn browns and greens that gave her free movement, Hanna wore lace trim, silks, and stains that held tight to her figure and led the eye while still being proper enough. Her large doe eyes and pert lips were painted with the barest touches of powders and dyes while Hanna kept her reddish brown hair in lavish coils. Jeyne could admire her sister for that, her own red hair deepening as she aged and let loose while at court to its wild curls and tumbles. Her mother could never stand it, and so kept hers in a long braid that was the constant work of her servants. "He is insane!" Hanna declared, flushed and pouting. "Me! Marry a Tyrell?!" "He said mother is speaking to the Arryns." Jeyne pointed out, desperate to slip away from her sister's tantrum. Yet she didn't dare, if she disobeyed her father’s direct order he would have her locked in her rooms only to trot out like the prized broodmare she was for potential buyers. "I suppose that is well enough." More than well enough, Hanna had gone on about the young man for a solid month. Longer perhaps, it was luck that got Jeyne away from her ramblings. Wincing she let Hanna gush and quote poetry about the Heir to the Vale. The middle of Harroway's mind was on other things, things across the sea and wide plains. She wanted something out there. Adventures like Damon had! Not to be trapped in stone walls and prattle at about the Seven and how she should be more maidenly! Her thoughts strayed to the Ardent Maiden, that rose-coated woman who could swing a sword and command men. It was a glorious place to be, yet if she dared tried for such herself? Her father would lock her away in Harrenhal and declare her mad. Worse he might hand her over to become a Silent Sister. Grimacing, she tried to think of other, less terrible fates. For even a silent sister would be better than Hanna detailing the number of children she would have with Artys Arryn. --- The lord of Harroway House was in a temper. Again Jeyne had gone off without his leave to fuss about the city, and again Elayne and the Harroway men-at-arms had to find her among the street muck of King’s Landing impersonating a lad. Worse, she had been jovial with a knight and the Harroway name had been recognized again. That had put the Lord into a fine fit of temper, but the recent news of Ser Osric’s flight into the Blackwater and Elayne’s part in it, something the Qoherys bastard had hoped would go unnoticed with the involvement of Vaera Balaerys being so integral, had turned into something of great gossip for the rumor mill. This meant the original debate had gotten wildly out of hand and the true story would do nothing to soothe the lord’s temper. She was expendable and had blackened his name by association as a Harroway servant, daughter, or whatever position would advance the family. It always seemed to depend on the mood of Lord and Lady Harroway. A good marriage would make her daughter, a bastard but accepted. A scandal would leave her as a servant. This seemed like one of those ‘servant’ times. “I care not if you wish to ply your feminine wiles with men.” The Lord remained sitting behind the desk that was spread with trade agreements, finances, and correspondences. His hand had thumped the surface hard enough several times to send some of those parchments down to the floor covered with Myrrish carpets. “You are just a whore as your birth entailed, it would be impossible to expect aught else out of a bastard.” The words were harsh and stung the pale woman as she gripped her hands before her. His growl had settled from the raging roars he had given his two daughters. There were no hours-long lectures from this man, it would do no good for their image after all and he had business to do. So his lectures and furious temper were often direct and would hit the person right where it would sting the most. For Hanna that would be her potential marriage prospects, for Jeyne her wild and willful pride would imply she would ruin herself, for Elayne her status as the bastard of Harroway. The man continued, “But I will not have it with the knights of Houses. Hedge knights if you wish, but Ser Osric is a potential suitor for my daughters. If he would agree to take you for wife, I would only encourage it or even give you to that Balaerys woman for a mistress if she wished you. You are a tool to further the future of this House if we can find any use for you, as repayment for spending so many years tending to your needs you ungrateful bitch.” His voice rose in fury as he slammed his fist against the table again. “Causing a scene on the streets and encouraging Jeyne’s outings! Speaking to your betters like the Balaerys! Will you dare spread your legs for the Targaryen Princes? The King? Hoping they will grant you favors to better yourself?! I tell you now, go right on Whore of Harroway. Go and ply your trade and I will see you in the brothels rather than return when your patrons tire of you! I am already drafting an apology to Ser Osric for the besmirch to his honor and offering you compensation! If he takes you for a wife, I’ll lose a potential match for Jeyne!” That startled Elayne, that the lord would offer her hand in marriage to a knight? To the Ser who had tried to seduce her to his rooms and hardly the other way around? Her eyes widened and an already pale face only turned white. “My Lord, I did not-! I tell you truthfully, I could do nothing to stop Lady Vaera Balaerys nor did I plan the encounter. Ser Osric-” Her words halted in her throat as the Lord of Harrenhal pushed himself to his feet, glaring at the woman across from him. He had never liked Elayne, never cared for the child forced on his wife by the Qoherys Lord of Harrenhal. It had been perhaps a blessing that the outlaw had slain him, saving Lord Lucas from disgrace for killing his lord or leaving him alive. A puzzle of thought that still ate at the man. He knew Catelyn hated him for not protecting her, for allowing the Rite of First Night to happen, and for this bastard child to exist. Lucas had been sworn to the Lord of Harrenhal at that time, a knight to the man, to have stopped it he would have forfeited his life and his honor. An honor he had lost while allowing it and having this wisp of a woman reminded him of that loss every time he saw her pale figure ghosting the halls. He would have left her for the Silent Sister had she not been damned useful with her younger halfsisters. A potential marriage was there too, to gain the loyalty of a knight or perhaps a merchant. If a Lord would have her? So be it. But for all that potential use she still woke the worst of anger in him. That reminder that he had been impotence when his wife had been taken. The gall of this girl to speak so to him! “I do not care if he did or did not. You blackened our name by simply existing. Mocking my wife’s honor by walking about our halls. Perhaps I should have sent you with Damon as he asked. He said the Volanteen lords would find you perhaps beautiful enough to engage in trade with us.” Elayne couldn’t help a word of protest from her lips pointless as it might be. The thought of being a pawn for that man was far worse than marriage to Ser Osric. Even for the risk of rousing the ire of the Lord of Harrenhal, she had to plead her case for it not to be so. “Damon-! To the Vonlanteen-! My Lord, I beg you. I truly did not-” Her soft and desperate pleas were cut off by a wooden figure cracking across her cheek. Stumbling back, stunned, Elayne, clapped a hand over the cut. The wooden dog clattered the floor, its head dented by the force of the throw. Lucas was red in the face as he glared at the woman. “Keep your mouth shut. That is Ser Damon Harroway, bastard.” His voice was a graveled growl as he stomped about the desk. “I do not give a damn what you think or say. Your words are just as often lies as your fathers were. You are a woman with a snake for a tongue and vile seeping from your lips. You will get out of my sight, and stay out of my sight. Make yourself a useful marriage or go find a ship to Lys where women like you can use that vile to snipe at each other.” Hauling the woman by her arm, he threw her from his rooms and past the guards. “If you are brought to my attention again, I shall see you charged for thieving. The loss of a hand or an ear will dull that tongue of yours.” Elayne hit the opposite wall and stared as the door shut. Her lips were thin as she felt blood spill down her cheek. It was a small cut, the bruise would be worse. Nothing she could not hide with a few of Hanna’s powders though it would earn her a beating if she was found filching them from the girl’s stash. Just as it would earn Hanna one for having them. Though Lord Lucas would look the other way so long as he didn’t ‘know’, if he was forced to acknowledge that his daughter practiced such low-born techniques, as he called them, she would be facing a rage. There was simply no pleasing the man if you had breasts and a pretty face. Gaining her feet the woman retreated to tend to herself and kept her tears at bay. Her cheek hurt like the Stranger kissed it. She had been hoping to stay out of the Lord’s sight while on their travels here since Catelyn had urged her to be taken as an attendant for their two daughters. That had been a feat enough, but for Jeyne to suddenly pull out that willful pride of hers and want to explore? Elayne could only pray to the Mother that the girl learned to keep her head on better and that avoiding her father’s wrath was worth her discomfort. If she had not found Jeyne, Elayne would be facing a Lord in a higher of rage. If she had gone with Ser Osric? The Lord of Harrenhal would surely have sent her with Damon, something the latter had whispered in his threats and promises. She was a tool to the House. A tool that could be broken and needed no replacement. She knew the Lord of Harrenhal kept mistresses in Harrentown and about the God’s Eye. She knew that Ser Jon, his heir disapproved, and that Lady Catelyn looked the other way and spat her fury at the servants and demeaned her daughters and the women about her pointing out flaws that she held. Ducking into one of the niches, she slumped against the wall and wiped away the blood. The cut was closing and would heal in a day or so. It had merely been a sharp edge of the statue. Her tears were not stopping however, Elayne was not a warrior. Not a cold woman and the thought of the future that the Lord of Harroway and his ‘merchant’ son pressed upon her made the Rivers girl panic. She did not wish to be trapped in a marriage where her husband would see her only as a thing of beauty for as long as that lasted then tossed aside or the more likely option? Tossed to the whore houses in Volantis for a price. That was what Damon most likely had in mind. He would leave her there to gather information for him. By the Seven, Elanye missed Elmo. The young man had been a breath of fresh air in Harrenhal, now sent to the Citadel he was gone and no longer a safe space she could duck into his rooms to ‘clean’ or attend to any of his needs to ‘help’ him. It had been a way to avoid the others in that last year, she would ‘help’ while he talked about his studies and discussed things with her. A rather one-sided conversation but one she missed dearly. They could not return to Harrenhal soon enough, at least there she could disappear into those melted towers and be forgotten!