personal6

Oldtown - 44 AC

The Red Rush sailed into Oldtown's harbor, joining the hundreds of other cogs and trading vessels that lined the port. The Hightower fleet sat apart in the bay, lines of hulking warships that watched ominously over the smaller craft. 

Elissa ignored the fleet, her mind focused on more important matters. She stood on the prow of House Tanner's boat, Genelle's crew rushing about to prepare for landing. The proud walrus of her family's sigil roared above them, with the white boat of the Farmans positioned above it on the mast.

Lady Genelle, red-haired and tall in all the right ways, came to a stop beside her. Her clothes were the ochre of her husband's house, and they paired marvelously with her fiery visage. She would have loved to kiss her, were the crew not scattered behind them. 

The two had bonded on their trip down the western coast, there being little else to do on their trip. They'd docked wherever they could, at Lannisport, Crakehall, Grimston, Bandallon, and more along the way, and each stop had been an opportunity to explore together. The search for her brother was the main priority, but even after asking everyone they could, there was still some time left in port as the crew resupplied. 

As the only two highborn ladies there, their companionship was obvious. And, over the weeks, it had blossomed into something more.

Genelle had made the first move, in the hills of Greyshield around Grimston. The captain of their crew had been sent into the small market to purchase supplies, while the two ladies had a picnic together. Guards had argued to go with them, but the girls had been insistent. Bandits were nonexistent on the small Shield island, and both Elissa and Genelle were well-trained with the dagger and bow. 

Fair Isle was always on guard for ironborn. Its women were no exception. Just as the Bear Island women learned the spear and mace to drive off wildings from the north, so too did the maids of Fair Isle. They were not taught for war or melees, but for defense, to stand on a wall and fire at raiders streaking into the harbor. 

They would face no danger in Grimston.

Elissa's first kiss had been delicious, a hint of cinnamon from breakfast on both their tongues. Genelle had been far more experienced than she, being a married woman, but Elissa had put all the enthusiasm she could into it and was proud of her efforts. Genelle couldn't stop kissing her since. 

More time had been spent together on the Red Rush , with her sneaking into Genelle's cabin every night she could. Kissing her had been the most fun she'd had since her escape from Faircastle. The latest escape from Faircastle, that was.

By the time they'd sailed into the Whispering Sound, Elissa had finally gotten comfortable with the whole thing, and a little less scared. She still would be mortified were their secret to get out, and her prospects ruined, but she was a bit more comfortable with the notion. She hadn't ever wanted to marry anyway. 

Pulling up against one of Oldtown's many docks, the Red Rush stood tall over the nearby cogs and galleys. The only other large ship for some distance was a longship some docks down, bearing the hydra of House Saltcliffe. Elissa scowled. What did those putrid ironborn have to trade?

A toll master, fat off the riches of the Honeywine, waddled steadily down their dock. Elissa was the first down the gangplank to greet him, dressed in her best clothes. Maroon, azure, and daffodil colors were arrayed in neat positions across her outfit, her Farman origin obvious. The toll master didn't even look up from his papers as he skipped right over courtesies.

"What, may I ask, is the duration of your visit? And what goods do you plan to offload? Our market times are very strict."

Elissa was indignant and went to speak, but felt a soft hand on her shoulder. Genelle stood at her side, her voice composed and diplomatic. "Good morrow to you, master. There is a registered account of House Tanner, I believe. And we will be offloading twenty pounds of oil, fifty pounds of skins, and three hundred pounds of fish, all under that name. Oh, and three days shall be the duration of our stay."

The merchant ticked his boxes and had them sign some half dozen forms. He then marched off, proud of himself for snatching every coin he could from them, and the crew got to work unloading. Genelle turned to Elissa, clasping her hands together.

"Yes, I know. I need to be diplomatic."

"Precisely," she purred.

The two of them set off to the Hightower, along with an accompaniment of House Tanner guards. The Tanners were a minor vassal of the Farmans, not nearly as important as the Cliftons or the Farman branch family at Fairport. Clifton Keep and Fairport could call on hundreds of soldiers during times of war, whereas Walrus Isle's military numbered in the tens, not hundreds. Faircastle itself commanded an impressive portion of the island, and thousands of men answered the fortress' summons.

That said, enough guards were accompanying them to be noticed, and gawked at by the everyday citizens of Oldtown. The wealth of Fair Isle was evident in their garb, their arms, and their plate. Marching along one of the main streets, the dozen or so of them made for quite a sight, one that would draw the attention of anyone who cared to notice. 

The Hightower was on Battle Isle, a small island in the bay of Oldtown. That meant that it wasn't too far from the main harbor and only took them about a five-minute walk. The city improved as they neared, the buildings growing larger and taller, the stones changing from a rough granite to smoothly hewn marble. The city watch patrolled more vigilantly, bedecked in shining steel plate with gray and orange.

Summer had come early for Oldtown, and already it was bearing the fruits of life. While it was still spring up on Fair Isle, growths of melons, peaches, and pomegranates had sprouted all over, and passing citizens plucked them from low-hanging branches along the sides of the road. Elissa grabbed peaches for herself and Megelle, sinking her teeth in as soon as she could.

The taste lit up her senses. It was marvelous.

Battle Isle came into view, and with it the base of the Hightower. They'd seen the vast majority of the construct upon their arrival, as it spiraled up into the clouds like no other structure in the known world. Elissa wasn't sure about the entire world- perhaps there was a larger building in the Shadowlands beyond Asshai, or across the Sunset Sea. She knew not.

But that didn't make the Hightower any less impressive. 

A young knight awaited them at the base of Battle Isle, near the long cobblestone steps that went up to the Hightower. He had a long shaggy mane of silver hair, and lilac eyes peeked out from under his bangs. He had the Valyrian look, that of Aegon or Rhaena or some of their knights. It was aesthetically pleasing, she supposed. It mostly just reminded her of the Queen.

His eyes were on them, focused and judging. He was assessing her, assessing them, as the knights and squires did to each other in Faircastle's courtyard. They'd never looked at her like that. She was a lady. She wasn't allowedto train. 

"Greetings, Lady Elissa!" the knight called, his voice steady. "Welcome!"

How did he know who she was?

Elissa replied with practiced courtesy. "Good morrow to you, ser."

"Good morrow," Megelle echoed, before continuing. "It seems you already know our identities. Might you return the favor?"

He laughed, taking steps towards them. His voice lowered drastically. "My name is Ser Donnel Hightower. But we can't speak here. There are too many eyes." Speaking loudly again, the knight spread his arms wide. "I hereby extend a warm welcome to my family's home. Please, come in."

They followed Hightower into the castle that bore his name, an honor guard of gilded knights falling into step behind them. Up the cobblestone stairs, they reached the top of Battle Isle and a lush garden and continued into the keep itself.

As they crossed the threshold from the outdoors of Oldtown into the candlelight corridors of the Hightower, Elissa felt her stomach lurch . It acutely reminded her of the time when she and Androw had climbed upon one of Faircastle's many towers, before losing their footing and tumbling off. In the split second between their fall and the bay below them, her gut had shifted and twisted, and her sense of balance had gone all wonky. 

Stepping into Donnel's home felt just like that. 

Immediately, all the sound of the city around them receded, dampening into the quietest of murmurs. Torches with flames of green, blue, and gray hues sat in sconces along the walls, above their heads close to high ceilings. Servants move this way and that, never looking up or speaking.

Ascending the Hightower was another odd sensation. It was a wench, a series of ropes and levers that gradually dragged them higher and higher into the sky. The walls around the wench were solid stone, with murals depicting various scenes covering the entire surface. Dragons fighting in a thunderstorm, a giant of a man knighting a young boy, a great leviathan rising from the waves. All that and more passed by her before she could fully take it in, and left her full of questions. 

Then they arrived at the top.

It was brighter there, the only illumination coming from great green braziers scattered throughout the halls. There were no servants, no people of any kind. Even their guard had been left behind on the floor below. It was just Genelle, Elissa, and Donnel.

After ages of silence, Donnel spoke again. "A raven arrived from Fair Isle," he commented, like they were just continuing the conversation from before as if nothing had changed. "It's addressed to you."

It took Elissa a second to respond. "M-May I see it?"

He pulled an unbound scroll from a pouch at his waist and handed it to her. The text was scribbled and smudged, as if it had been written with extreme haste.

My dearest Elissa,

I imagine you'll be surprised that I was able to predict your arrival at Oldtown, and how I'd even managed to discern the direction of your departure at all. Alas, my dear, your hosts at Crakehall are closer friends of mine than yours, and told me immediately where you had gone. I'd have sent ships after you, but well, I was hoping you'd actually be able to find Androw as you planned.

It is with a heavy heart that I inform you your quest need no longer continue. Androw has been found, quite recently at that. And he is safe, of sorts. He is a prisoner of the Crown. Of King Maegor, first of his name. 

Please sit down for the rest of this.

Elissa remained standing.

As you know, Lord Humphrey, your uncle, and Franklyn all marched east alongside the host of Prince Aegon, in hopes of winning him the Iron Throne. They failed my dear. And they are dead. 

Drops of wetness appeared on the page. She wiped the letter on her shirt.

I'm sorry to inform you of this by letter, but I fear that if you heard of this from the rumors circulating the realm rather than from your father you might do something brash, or search for more information. 

Please, daughter, do not. Return to Fair Isle, to me. Westeros, even places such as the Reach or the Westerlands, are no longer safe for rebellious lords or ladies. Maegor's men, now that the main threat to his reign has been quashed, are hunting down the remnants of those who remain against it.

It's said that hundreds of heads like the spikes of Harrenhal, and dozens of holdfasts and keeps burn with dragonfire. Lord Harroway has been stripped of handship, and his replacement Lord Tully is purging any of his disloyal vassals. The Pipers have been reduced to but a babe, and the family keep but a ruin.

The Hightowers have officially reconciled with his Grace, and while I know that my friend Donnel can be trusted, I would not stay in Oldtown for long. The Faith is scattered, divided, and afraid. Do not let them make an example out of you.

Trust no one. Return at once.

With love, 

Marq Farman, Lord of Fair Isle

Blinking, Elissa clutched the letter in her hands. It ripped, the tension too much for the light parchment. Distantly, she heard Ser Donnel clear his throat. There was a tug on her shoulder, and Genelle pulled her into a hug. She sobbed into the lady's chest.

She hated them. The King, for killing them. Prince Aegon, for claiming the throne. Grandfather, for declaring. Androw, for running away.

Eventually, she lifted her head, eyes puffy. Genelle held the remnants of the letter and stared at her with sympathetic eyes.

"I have prepared my personal craft, the Vigilance , for your departure. You cannot wait for your men to rest and resupply."

Genelle nodded to him and clutched Elissa's hand tight.

"Let's go, my lady."

So they did.

Notes:So, yeah. Our first full Elissa chapter, and our first look at Oldtown/the Hightower.

The biggest city (as of now) in Westeros, and the trade capital of the continent. It's going to be an important facet of our story from this point onwards, and if you've read Fire & Blood you might be able to see why. I won't say anything more.

You guys thought you'd get a break from the intensity of Harrenhal, eh? Nope. Sorry to disappoint. We'll return to Androw next week.

As always, review, favorite, and follow as you see fit.