[CENTER][sup][h1][center][img]https://i.pinimg.com/736x/66/d0/11/66d011832b6ad310026f8dda47102f6c.jpg[/img][/center][b][center][color=black] T H E R I V E R L A N D S[/color] [color=#6495ed]T H E R I V E R L A N D S[/color][/center][/b][/h1][/sup] [color=#6495ed][sup][i]The Twins[/i][/sup][/color][/CENTER] [hr] The Twins had a way of making anyone feel unwelcome, even more so when its many inhabitants decidedly wished to make a guest feel unwelcome. House Frey was an odd sort, an upstart by any measure against most other houses of the kingdom, in a land that had been contested for too many centuries to count before the Conqueror deigned to raise a high lord over mud and rivers. Elaena ascribed much of the flaws she found at the Twins to this fact. The rest, she decided, was due to poor breeding. She had been there just shy of a fortnight, the respite from the long journey short-lived. The Freys, it seemed, had decided not to trust the aging Targaryen princess, a reminder of the most sorrowful king, of a bright flame extinguished too soon, of a zealot followed by the type of decadence the realm still recovered from. It was a shame how much she was defined by these men she had mostly known so little of, even now. Doors closed quickly when she passed, conversations dulled to quiet whispers. Though she dined with them, there was no effort made to ingratiate her ahead of the Princes' arrival. Those attentions, misplaced as they were, seemed saved for the Seastar. It left her with hours to herself, which was not the worst that could have happened. In the quiet hours of the morning when she stirred before Shiera, she would write. Nothing of great importance that she would risk the Freys reading, at least one or two of them surely had the ability, but notes of her journey and a soft reminder that she did look forward to seeing the recipient again upon her return. Rather out of character for herself, she pressed her lips to the parchment before sealing that set of missives. By the third day she accepted that she again was avoiding writing the letter that most needed to be sent. Again she had started it half a dozen times, yet the words never formed and her quill was left dripping ink across the parchment. It was better to do something rather than nothing though, and eventually she scrawled out a meager entreaty to her sister. [indent][indent][center][i]Rhaena - I have delayed this letter longer than I should have. I expect you will not have lost sleep over that anymore than I have in finally writing it. I am at the Twins and I am sure you will understand there is little more to share of why, though it has left me time for reflection. That reflection leaves me recognizing the long silence since our sister's death and wondering at where the fault for the silence could be found. I doubt we would agree on the source and I would find it preferable to have disagreements in person, with wine, than by raven. When our duties permit it, and the roads safe enough for you to travel - I of course have found suitable enough ways should it be needed - we should dine together again. Our past inclines me to believe little good could come of it, and yet, I still entreat you to accept my request. Send word when you're able. Whatever else you may say or think of me, I am not difficult to find these days. Elaena[/i][/center][/indent][/indent] By the fifth day, Elaena was certain that Shiera had fully regretted her decision again and would attempt to find passage back to the capital. The attention the girl drew seemed to grow new Freys from the riverbanks. Sons, grandsons and greatnephews, distant cousins, occasionally an old, bloated, but bold uncle - they all found reason to be where Shiera went. They offered escorts she did not have need of, seats at tables she would never have requested, and all rather too blatantly done to even pretend that they knew the words tactful or subtlety. The girl handled it well, Elaena was surprised to find, and grateful that some of the more scandalous rumors about her standards were very much overstated. Shiera was adept at slipping away, not always graciously. "I've yet to have anyone ask me if the King would give his blessing for your hand." Elaena said that night, when the girl returned to their rooms looking more distressed than expected. Shiera gave a startled look before remembering herself and setting to the task of undoing her hair. "One of them will grow bold enough soon, to think that it was a possibility." Though she doubted most of them would not also accept a quick tumble with her. "There doesn't seem to be a Frey, unwed or not, who has not found some ridiculous reason to attend to me." "They are an ambitious lot. It's worked for them more than they've had any right to expect." Elaena hadn't looked up until Shiera let out a sharp cry, having poked one of her fingers against a hairpin. "Not one of the various sons or cousins pulls your attention?" One brow pulled upward at the scowl she received for asking that. Removing the pricked finger from her mouth, the wound barely more than a scratch, Shiera retorted bluntly. "Endless relations have not increased their odds that I could find one of them suitable." The girl's heart might have ached for a specific man, or two, but that had not always prevented her attentions from being distracted elsewhere. Yet not here, the Twins seemed a chilling effect on her desires. By the end of the first week, Elaena finally grew annoyed that neither the Princes nor the Starks had arrived. Boredom did not suit her, and though her hosts were ever reluctant to engage in anything beyond what could barely be called pleasantries, she set her sights on the house steward. Not a Frey, not surprisingly, the man still had the same weaselly look to him, yet the princess could recognize the similar shrewdness she herself carried when it came to coin. Coin was often the truest measure, it could be followed and traced, used yet never disappeared, and it would not lie - as long as one knew how to extract the meaning behind its movements. She did not wait for an invite but simply appeared in the steward's office the morning of the eighth day as if she had indeed been summoned. Elaena had already known his name, he had attended at dinner most nights since their arrival and for some reason, they'd had no chance to speak before now. It took some time before he would accept that the silver-haired woman with the sharp look to her was not in fact lost and would not be bored by his work. She placated him, reminding him of her lord husband's position as Master of Coin, of her interest in his work. Elaena was doubly surprised by the steward, both that he understood who actually held the realm's pursestrings and that he managed to relay that with tact. A standoff of sorts ensued between the two. Elaena's persevering interest in his work wore away at the man who steadfastly - for two days at least - ignored her questions, pointed statements, and overt judgements. The third day was the poor man's breaking point. No matter what he had been instructed or personally felt about the woman, he could hold against her no longer. "Fine, yes, show me how you would sort through the mangled manner I am given reports of collections. Even in the best of times, they're poorly done. Now with this war..." Steward Hostyn trailed off, defeated. The various bits of reports he had been sifting through fell from his hands to the table between them. Elaena broke too, for just a moment, a satisfying smirk across her face before she wiped it away. She spent the rest of the day and the next working alongside the steward. As much as she aided his efforts, she gleaned interesting bits of this and that from the villages and castles that dotted the Frey's domain, from the way in which Lord Waltyr fielded his men to process the collections. Late into the second night, though it couldn't be said the books were in order, there was at last an order to them. The steward too, had become more grateful as the hours wore on, and it was no longer just the notes and amounts that told a tale of Frey lands. Hostyn provided tidbits, unwittingly or not, and Elaena was satisfied that the Freys were as she had assumed. Conniving assuredly, not to be trusted, but she felt satisfied they were not actively conspiring against this meeting. It was possible, she thought as she finally made her way to bed, that they hid something more nefarious that she could not uncover in such a short time, but they did not seem the type to succeed in carefully hiding the trail of coin that would require. The Freys were, unsurprisingly, embezzling no small amount from their liege-lords, but that was a fact she would hold for use if ever the need arose. The next morning, after too few hours of sleep, Shiera woke her with the news that a rider brought news of the Princes' approach. At last. Rumors coursed through the castle, and by the time that Prince Maekar had finally arrived, Shiera had shared no fewer than a dozen rumors of who was or was not accompanying him. Elaena chose to watch his entrance from a distance. The brash young man was much as he was the last time she had seen him. A scowl and air of youthful ignorance, it was no wonder that some found it uncomfortable to stay long in his presence. Shiera peeked around Elaena's side, successfully having avoiding accompanying one of Lord Waltyr's sons or nephews to greet the prince and his men. Odd, Elaena thought, that the Prince Rhaegel was not at his side. If that rumor proved to be true, it was a dark shadow across these plans. "He always avoided me." Shiera spoke, absentmindedly running fingers through delicate curls. Elaena stopped herself from rolling her eyes to see that the girl had taken great care in her dress today. Fine cloth-of-silver and lace and bejeweled with sapphires and emeralds, she was ethereal until her lips turned to the vapid pout she wore too often. After the girl offered no further commentary, Elaena sighed deeply. "Not an unwise decision on his part, though I think even Brynden would have paused before challenging him over your attentions if he had sought them." Shiera scoffed lightly, but kept any rebuttals to herself. "Come, I'd rather he know I'm here sooner rather than later. I doubt he'll be any happier at my presence than with yours." Of what she knew of the man, she doubted there were few more than his Dornish wife or brothers who he was happy to share space with.