AN: They called us mad. They called us crazy to think we could have ever topped the first chapter of OWIM. Yet here we stand on the precipice of greatness. Coming to you, our loyal readers with Westeros' most clever Witch and part time big sister extraordinaire.
AtW: Yup. This is good. Since Lord Storm decided to commission us to continue a story we were already writing, I wanted to really go all out. A solid 7k, you know? Then it grew… and grew… and grew. So hopefully you guys like it!
CW: This also comes with a special announcement. With all our commission spaces taken for the time being we would still like to give our readers the opportunity to voice their love for any of our stories. As such, those who subscribe at the 10 dollar tier will now have the right to vote for any story they love to get an extra chapter at the start of every month.
And now, on with the show!
Chapter 6 - Cities in Dust
They had been riding for a while now, her mind more connected to her swarm than in her body. In fact, she only came out to let her escort know when she had cleared certain locations or found something else suspicious. Mostly they were little things. Unusual things. Sometimes they were the rotting, robbed corpses of small folk.
The river had been the worst area for that.
Even then, there had been an endless stream of small trinkets, baubles and loose change she'd actually been able to gather. Few things were truly valuable, mostly being badly weathered coppers or small pieces of scrap metal. However, pulled from the survey of nearly a third of the city, with an army of hundreds of thousands of every living thing that skittered, scuttled, swam, and soared she had, indeed, found several interesting things which were then handed to the Martell man at arms politely riding behind them.
Chief amongst those finds, of all impossible things, was a badly damaged Targaryen ring.
It was silver, set with two rubies though it had once had places for six. Horribly tarnished, it was only when she had possessed a family of ravens that she had found the object. And, even then, it had taken a silent fifteen minutes of a truly terrifying swarm pouring over the area to find the missing gems.
In fact, it was the delivery of those gems, passed from a magpie to her hands as the bird swooped down to give her its ancient prize, that stirred her from her reverie.
"So, Ser Barisstan, I'm afraid I must ask, but what do you think will happen when we discover more of this substance?"
The gold and white clad kingsguard shook his head, glancing at the ring in her hand and knowing the truth of what she was asking. Hesitating, he chose his words carefully, somewhat annoyingly, before answering.
Though, in truth, Ophelia couldn't blame him, it was a rather thorny question. Especially with Good King Robert's rather… unconventional take on proportionate response. But, even as she was now, after everything she had done, every soul she had broken and enslaved and spent, the thought of simply permitting a massacre did not sit well with her.
"I do not know my lady. All I can say is that I hope that his grace will show great wisdom."
She could very much hear the "but". At the very least, though, she had the tact not to comment on it.
"Perhaps. More astonishing things have happ-"
"Opheliaaaaaaaa!" And just like that, an annoyed shout interrupted her. Elia, riding a young colt, was trotting down the main street with a pair of their family's guards at her side. Not that young woman particularly needed them, being so clearly a spit fire of a child, but at the very least the witch would do these men the service of remembering their faces to her father.
Still, her lips twitched in amusement as her sister rushed forward, somewhat rudely forcing the smallfolk to jump aside.
'I suppose I should speak with her about that later. Injuring someone out of carelessness is unbecoming of us.'
Indeed, when the girl closed, she was torn between glaring at her older sister and shooting awestruck glances at the famous knight. Ser Barristan gave her a small smile and that alone was all it took to leave her an enthralled mess. Though it also left her bashful, turning to Ophelia to pout.
"You said you'd wake me up and bring me with you!"
Side hugging her sister, both young women wearing trousers and riding properly, the reincarnated teenager saw fit to indulge in the sacred right of all older siblings.
"Oh? But did you not ask me to let you sleep in? In fact, I seem to recall me trying to wake you no less than three times, you actually throwing your pillow at me by the end. Not that I blame you. Ser Barristan is a very busy man you see, so I'm sure this won't be the only opportunity you had to badger him about every enthralling detail of when he saved the Mad King from cursed Duskendale!"
"I told you that in confidence!" Dear Elia's ears went ruby red, the usually confident girl nearly stuttering in front of one of her idols.
Ophelia did what any sister would do.
And opted for embarrassing her further.
"Why, you are not doubting the honor of Ser Barristan, are you?"
Elia looked about ready to erupt into flames at that moment. Eyes bouncing between her dear older sister and the Kingsguard like a startled deer. The witch girl smiled mischievously, sauntering up to Ser Barristan.
"Perhaps I should regale the good knight with some of your courageous exploits. Why, I am sure he would love to hear of the time you charged through the palace's dining room with nothing but your trusty mount and a sword in hand."
"I was seven!"
"And I am sure you rode magnificently, Lady Sand."Ser Barristan smoothly interrupted. "But, Lady Sand-" This time he turned to Ophelia. "We do have a schedule to keep."
Seeing him give her sister a wink, the witch simply sighed.
"Very well Ser Barristan. If you insist." She gave her sister a smile and ran a hand through her hair, pulling a small piece of straw out of it. "Though I do think she'd most like to hear of your defeat of Maelys the Monstrous."
Her actually frowned at that.
"With all due respect my lady…."
She inclined her head.
"I know."
This time it was he who nodded.
"Understood." Taking a moment, as she slipped back into the comfort of her swarm, the witch kept the party still as her escort began explaining the intricacies of securing a barrel of salted pork for shipping. And then explaining to a now sober Elia Sand how five men had come to die fighting for that barrel before the campaign was over, one was knighted, and two more met their wives.
It was a truly queer story, but somehow all the more believable for it.
For better or worse, though, it meant she didn't have to speak with the man. Cowardly as it may be, she struggled to reconcile the kind, quiet, polite man with the kingsguard that had served the Mad King and now served a drunkard with a temper. Robert was unquestionably superior to Aerys, if only because he, himself, didn't burn people alive. But could a good man truly sit by and watch as one king murdered and tortured and another drank the realm into ruin and despair?
Add to that some of the rumors she'd heard about Aerys, mostly about how he'd beaten his wife, and the fact that Aerys was also directly responsible for the deaths of Elia and her children by forcing her to remain in the Red Keep and Ophelia truly wasn't sure how to feel.
'Elia, at least, is happy enough hearing his stories. And it's not like we have to depend on others.' A few butterflies lazily drifted past them, stopping to play with her sister's hair and drawing a few giggles from her before moving on. 'Hmm. I wonder how many people I would willingly kill to protect even one of them? A city? A Kingdom? The world? Perhaps Dad would be disappointed that I have truly decided to protect what is mine above all-'
"Stop."
Her eyes returned to normal, the seeming blindness that covered them dissipating as quickly as it came on. Ophelia still needed a moment to recover from the sudden, jolting transition.
"My lady?"
Ser Barristan rode closer, taking hold of her elbow to steady her.
Looking around her, Taylor saw the beginnings of a shanty town to her right and a great hill to her left. She knew exactly where they were. And more importantly, what they were looking for.
"It's in the Dragonpit. Many, many barrels. Some buried, I think, others stored inside of the structure itself. They're… there. And there, I think." She pointed in the vague direction of the largest caches, Ser Barristan nodded, clearly memorizing where she was pointing.
"Would you prefer to complete the circuit of the city or address this first?" His words were soft and low. "We still need to clear the Sept and the wall. Though I will confess to being worried about Flea Bottom being a fire hazard." As hard as he tried, there was some disgust in the man's voice when he spoke about the slum. Ophelia, without judgement or reservation, agreed.
"Hundreds if not thousands could die if that Hellhole of a ghetto went up in flame. We need to get to work as soon as possible."
The knight gave her a firm nod, turning to her sister and ruffling her hair.
"I am truly sorry Little Lance, but we'll have to end the story time for now. Of course, I promise to tell you how it all ends later."
Nodding carefully, Elia, somewhat somber, leaned over to hug him.
"Thank you Ser Barristan. And I do intend to hold you to that promise."
Ophelia snorted.
"Atta girl."
As the knight turned and rode hard, and the armored and armored men at arm glaring at any of the small folk unwise enough to approach the sisters, witch and lady-knight-to-be began to speak.
"Truly, I am sorry for stopping your conversation. Did you enjoy your time speaking with him at least?"
With a shrewd look in her eye, the younger sister turned her horse slightly, bringing herself as close as she could to her sister.
"You asked him to tell me that story in particular."
"Aye."
"And there was meaning to it."
Smiling, her lips quirked upwards slightly.
"Indeed."
"And it was about the horrors of war, wasn't it?"
Tilting her head from side to side she agreed.
"Perhaps."
Elia's eyes narrowed again.
"No, that's not it. Hmm. Obviously you have not the faintest issue with my training. I feel faintly like a gaping idiot for even thinking that." Ophelia raised an eyebrow at that particular proclamation.
"You may be impulsive my cute little sister, but you are, without a doubt, no fool."
"Oh. Duh." The young girl shook her head. "You want to remind me not to play the part of a jackass and go off on my own and get killed."
Not wanting to add the "or worse" she was truly concerned about that, the former hero nodded.
"There is a time and place for glory and that is at a tourney. Not a war or a duel or a street brawl. I figured I could trust a man who has seen the best and worst of human nature to make that clear."
Shaking her head, the youngest of the Snakes currently in the capitol disagreed.
"Nah, you just didn't want to have to speak with a man you do not know."
Ophelia sniffed in faux hurt.
"To think my own sister thinks so low of me. And even after I went through all the trouble of introducing you to one of your idols. Have you no mercy to spare for your poor sister's heart?"
Elia wasn't amused.
"This coming from the witch who mouthed off to the King at her own trial?"
"It wasn't mouthing off. I was being honest."
This time Elia was the one who smiled mischievously.
"There is a time and a place for honesty, dear sister, and that's not at a trial." She quoted back at her, making a high nasal imitation of her voice.
Why, that cheeky little...! There was no way Ophelia was gonna let her younger sister of all people think she could get away with teasing her like that. She'd had enough of it from Lisa back in her past life.
She was not gonna suffer through another cheeky minx!
This Ophelia swore!
"Well remember that little quip the next time Sarella steals the blankets in the middle of the night and you want to sleep with Tyene and I. Maybe it shall keep your toes from getting too frostbitten."
"Hey! That's no fair!" Quick with the cry of younger siblings everywhere, the hellion didn't go down without a fight. "And besides, you like sleeping with me more because she chews on your ear. So I know that if you put up with Tyene, there is simply no way you won't cave the first second I give you a sniffle and a pout!"
"You are revealing far, far too much of my personal business in public." Ophelia half glared at her sister, though there was no real heat in it, as the men at arms did their best not to snicker at them. "You shall find a rat tail in your breakfast on the morrow."
Making a face, the younger girl eventually just shrugged.
"Ok. I know you'd put a clean one in there, so I suppose it's fine."
Eye twitching, the older sibling just sighed.
"Have I truly lost any means of keeping such ungrateful brats in line?" She looked to the heavens for help. "If a witch can not scare children is she even a witch at all?"
Perhaps an hour later, and returning with a small pack of burly looking young men, the kingsguard cut swathe through the crowd of small folk as he rode. Blatantly obvious in his white and gold armor, none dared so much as approach the living legend until a single, utterly wretched man waddled over. With no legs and only one arm, wearing naught but filthy rags, and, before Ophelia had… adjusted those in this area, previously studded with fleas and lice and worse, he hopped along on two fake legs and a crutch until he bumped into Ser Barristan's horse.
Words were exchanged, quietly, and the beggar was surprisingly polite from what she could see. What surprised Ophelia the most, though, was the shock that appeared in the old knight's eyes. Almost as if he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. More words passed between them and so did a small object.
Unwilling to let the crowd surge forward and hound the man for alms, the daughter of a prince nudged the man carrying the coins and small trinkets forward.
"A few coins for everyone. Keep one of the silvers for yourself." Eagerly nodding, he swiftly moved to comply. But, thinking better of it, she also nodded to one of the men at arms. "A little security will be for the best." Nodding, he gave her a small salute and maneuvered his horse next to the carrier now handing out the small horde of coins she'd gathered up.
Not that, that was all of the treasures she'd found. More than a few had been too big to move and the rest of the jewelry she'd found were sitting in a saddle bag. That would be for later, after all.
Seeing this, the brave knight clasped arms with the lowly beggar before gesturing to a few workers to join the House Martell man in keeping the crowd under control. Riding over to the witch of the hour, she expected him to politely ask the obvious question as he pulled up next to the group.
"Thank you." She blinked.
"Of… course." Ophelia was more than a little surprised when Ser Barristan simply smiled at Elia and began trotting his mount towards the Dragonpit. There were no questions about where the money was from or if she was sure her father wouldn't mind or anything of the sort. It was honestly confusing and refreshing.
The issue of a woman handing out several thousand, admittedly somewhat poorly preserved, small coins aside, those same coins had been brought to her over the course of nearly six hours spent trotting through the city. They were brought by birds of all kinds and dug up by swarms of cockroaches and ants a hundred million strong - spread throughout the whole of King's Landing at least. And she was now handing them out to the poor and needy, yet there were no questions about curses or hidden powers or if she was enchanting the smallfolk.
'They won't even know the coin comes from anyone other than House Martell.' Her cloak was secured and it was much plainer than the one she wore to court. 'So what does he think?'
Perhaps it was half her fault for not approaching him more directly. She had spent the entire day with the man. But would he truly trust her like that? Elia clearly wasn't concerned, having glued herself to his side once more, eagerly talking his ear off. But that didn't change the fact she expected some form of push back.
That had been part of the plan for today in fact. Father trusted Ser Barristan to, at the least, not try to violently stab her to death in public the second she displayed unusual powers. He would make an excellent bellwether for how the old guard of the less… religiously inclined knights would respond. If only by example.
But there hadn't been any questions, any suggestions, any comments. Not even the slightest moment of hesitation. That wasn't to say the man did not remain scrupulously focused and aware. Only that he did not seem paranoid.
Turning these thoughts over in her head, and deciding she liked the man simply because of how he seriously engaged with Elia, Ophelia let her mind slip further into her swarm. She was actually diving into it deeply enough she relied on her mount to keep her upright, a small issue, and put every ounce of willpower she had into pushing against the limits of her power.
It seemed that, perhaps, day by day her range was growing still, but that it was yet smaller than it had been in Dorne.
A serious issue to ponder indeed. Potentially fatal, even.
"Well, what have we here?" But that would wait. Sending her swarm ahead to explore the depths of the dragon pit and locate every hidden cache, she found something truly intriguing. "Balac." Her man at arms gave her a sign that meant he was paying attention. "Come with me."
Trotting ahead of the group, she and her man waved off the others.
"Just a small thing Ser Barristan! And please keep going, lest I find a most unpleasant substance in my meal tomorrow evening." Elia made a face at her that had the men chuckling. The young woman could be proud and thorny when she was uncomfortable. But here, safe and secure with people she trusted and a knight she idolized Ophelia's younger sister was jokes and wit and good, innocent, childish cheer. In a way, it was infectious.
"Can you move that?"
But, by the time she and Balac had reached the corner of the Dragonpit her smile had faded. While making sure there were no traps, or squatters, or worse they had pushed under a particularly badly crushed heap of stone. And felt heat.
Not like sun warmed stone or an open flame, like a lingering mass of raw warmth.
The fact it was roughly shaped like the blade of a sword had left her confused. When she identified that there was a badly rotten but still extant hilt, her eyes had gone wide.
"Can you shift it?" She pointed at the debris.
"Yes ma'am."
Grunting, her man began moving large chunks of fallen rock as she held the reins to his horse. Eventually he hissed, so suddenly she knew what it was that he had found.
"Lady Ophelia, I think I found what you were looking for."
She nodded, untying her purse from around her waist. Father had given her several gold coins for if she had wanted anything while out. So far, she hadn't spent one. There was probably six months of pay for a soldier. Ophelia tossed it to the man without question and climbed down from her horse.
As Balac snorted and shook his head, though still pocketing the money, she wrapped up the Valyrian steel sword in her cloak. Its hilt was blackened, worn, and its blade was still utterly, perfectly, totally flawless.
Joffrey
Be on your best behavior.
That was the warning his mother gave him while he was being fitted for the small gathering she would be holding that evening. Normally just opportunities for Mother to show him off at court, or to present him to different potential suitors. After all, he was eleven now and he would be king one day.
'I wish Father would take me as seriously as Mother does.'
It was all frustrating.
Annoying.
Below his station to interact with parasites wanting to marry into power.
Normally, he would be able to wiggle his way out of such arrangements. But today Mother had insisted, and Father himself said he would be attending the official meeting between the Crown and House Martel. Never mind the fact that it was only a single nobleman from the least of the nations, the North at least were scary, and not a single true born child.
'They ought to rename it House Sand.'
With the gaggle of bastards the esteemed Lord Martel had following him into King's Landing, it boggled his mind to imagine why someone with such a pedigree would choose to drag their own name through the mud. And the mad man kept the proof of his indiscretions with him - almost like they were trophies of some kind.
Father was right to think the Dornish savages.
And then, of course, there was the Witch.
The talk of the Red Keep.
Joffrey couldn't go for a walk without hearing someone mention the ill-begotten woman in some way. How she was too intelligent, knowing secrets and hidden places and able to find things without sight. How she commanded fear and respect from men twice her age and size, able to cow even so called knights with no more than a glare. How she had used witchcraft to sway the opinion of court in her favor when she should have been declared guilty!
'After all, even if she isn't guilty, she is still a witch. Why not just hang her and be done with it?'
Joffrey wasn't so weak as to fall for her wiles.
Had he been King, her head would be mounted on a pike!
Of course, he couldn't say that. Not in front of her fellow bastard sisters as they milled about the room Mother had set aside for the occasion. Tommen and Myrcella were already there when he arrived, as were two of the Sand bastards, far too done up for the daughters of whores and foreigners.
Oddly enough, his younger siblings were sitting pleasantly across from the bastards as if the Dornish girls were worth the dust they left on the royal furniture.
Mother's look kept his mouth closed, however.
'If that was the way she wants this to go.' He would just have to talk with Father later. He would understand his grievances with harboring… lowborn commoners inside the palace.
Oh, Mother was speaking.
"-to thank you on behalf of House Baratheon. We understand Prince Oberyn is busy at present, so please pass on our gratitude when you next see him. Despite the circumstances of our meeting, your deeds will not go unrewarded."
By the Seven. Did she have to coddle them like that!
"We are grateful for your time, your majesty." The blonde one lowered her head, not nearly bowing deeply enough, and displaying her… her… her chest area like a common tart! Never mind the fact she was wearing some… clearly warped set of Septa robes. They were far too small on her!
"I hope this does not come off as too forward, but I had hoped to meet with your errant sister."
Great, now he had to hear about the witch, again!
"Unfortunately, dear Ophelia is out with Ser Barristan searching for the last of the wildfire. They won't be expected until the evening. We will, however, make your intentions known to her when she does."
"Has she given any estimates regarding the timetable of her… task?"
The fake septa sighed despondently.
"She wasn't certain. The Mad King could have planted his traps all over the city, it might take days or even weeks until all of it is removed. To no fault of our own. The substance is clearly volatile and Father is working alongside the Alchemist's Guild to see it safely removed."
Smirking, the young prince was… enthused.
He'd heard the story from Mother.
But it was nice to have confirmation that the Mad King had indeed intended to burn the city with him. Though he wouldn't put it past a witch to set it up in her favor, to give Father reason to spare her and earn his trust.
"Something the matter, your grace? You appear distracted."
The blonde turned to face him. A pleasant smile fitting for a Lady of the Court. It was disarming, devoid of second intentions.
He didn't like it.
For some reason it seemed hungry. Like one of his father's dogs staring at a slab of raw beef. One it wanted to tear into bloody, bloody chunks.
"Only considering the merit of allowing a witch free reign on King's Landing. Up until now she was an accused suspect of crimes against the crown."
"Those allegations have been cleared up." Tyene smiled, her lips curving up in a way that made his mouth dry. "And its hardly the most scandalous… rumor little birds are singing."
Joffrey recognized that phrase, he'd heard the eunuch use it many times. But what could she possibly know about Varys? The Spider was hardly unknown, but by the same token mother had always stressed how unsure everything about him actually was.
"If you'd like to speak of bald men and their games we can, but I'm more interested in your thoughts than dusty old politics." His mother smiled, looking as radiant as she always did, and Joffrey was almost offended when the younger bastard didn't even pay attention. No, she had pulled a deck of cards from somewhere in her voluminous robes
Were all the bastards of that Dornish lord like this?
Because Joffrey was certain you weren't supposed to wear septa robes if you weren't part of the religion. Nor could you cut it up until it clung to your body like a well fitting glove.
On second thought… he should see about talking to them when he became King.
All in the name of maintaining a healthy relationship between the Crown and the Faith of the Seven.
The younger sister, Sarella as he learnt, was an explorer of sorts. Less like the savage raiders from Pyke, more than the sailing merchants of the free cities. Joffrey was not one taken with appearances, she looked out of place in the Red Keep, he could smell salt, saw that her hair was unkempt and wild.
In truth, she was pretty. Her skin smooth and shiny, even, like the Summer Islander his father kept around. The Beggar Prince as his mother called him. He thought she was much prettier than any beggar though. Joffrey was also a bit surprised at just how bold she was too. Spotting a number of glinting knives under her clothes, he was sure she was actually rather spectacularly well armed. An almost absurd proposition, if it were not for the fact that the Hound was standing just outside the room along with Ser Trant and Ser Oakheart.
She was a different kind of beauty to her sister. Exotic where Tyene was familiar. Not that the blonde wasn't a stunning beauty. Other than her eyes, somehow so similar to her sister despite being a stunning blue, she was almost… intoxicating. Like when he'd snuck some mulled wine and gotten almost sick on it. This older girl was dangerous, he thought, if only because she was far more distracting than any of the pretty maids his father bedded.
Though he strongly doubted she was actually any threat. Unlike her sister, who was bold and clever and skilled, she seemed pretty and perhaps clever.
But soon enough his attention returned to what the foreign girl was doing. Not just with the cards but how she moved them, the array of sometimes comical and sometimes nearly grotesque pictures, but most of all how she spoke so freely to his sibling. Already having traded names with them and freely calling them as if she was their older sibling instead of he.
Her mannerisms notwithstanding. Her smooth fingers danced over the stock of the cards, pictures flipped up and down, the pieces moved faster than he could keep track of, and, in the end, she held out a single painted sheaf and smirked.
"Is this your card?"
Both Tommen and Myrcella cried out in joy, babbling to the older girl with an excited air that he scoffed at. Though, if he was being perfectly honestly, he was impressed at just how fast she could move those cards.
"I must confess, I was unaware there was a magician in your family as well as a witch."
Snorting, he shook his head. The trick was hardly impressive and it wasn't like getting small children to laugh was any big deal. In fact, he could probably do it even better than she could.
If he wanted to, that is. But he held his tongue when he saw his mother.
Her eyes sparkled with amusement, more than delighted to see his siblings laughing and giggling. For his part, he tried to pay attention because he thought this might be one of those times where people were saying more than they actually were. When their words had other meanings on top of the current one.
"'Tis only a trick, your grace." Sarella dipped her head, a curly lock of hair brushing across a brown cheek. "A sailor traded it to me for a song and a skin of wine. I am no magician." As she said that, she then flipped a pair of cards over and drew another gasp from the crown prince's other siblings.
"Perhaps. But its a remarkable skill nonetheless."
"Of course, I shall take full credit for them." Tyene, the hungry one almost purred. "After all, it was my own suggestion and whispers that put her on the path to her amusing little tricks."
"You would take credit for Ophelia too if you could." Sarella gave her sister a flat stare. Fingers once more shuffling the deck. Ignoring her sibling, she laide the deck down. "Ok you two. I will tell you how to listen to a Queen's Whispers."
Confused, but also somewhat intrigued, Joff only partly listened to the discussion still continuing behind him.
"You deny your sister is a witch, yet she puts paid to the rumors in every possible way. Utterly surpassing them in both mastery and in breadth. Why, if you listened to castle gossip you would surely be compelled to admit she could raise the dead with a gesture."
"Of course not your Grace. If she could, I must confess I do not believe we would be having this particular conversation." He heard the rustle of clothes and noticed that the pretty bastard was sitting closer to his mother. Much closer. Hearing another gasp, he turned back to the trick being performed, still catching a few words. "But the simple fact is that we are. And there are always those that take rumor as… fact."
"Wait, how did you do that?" Joffrey walked over to his sibling finally and paid more attention. "I saw the thing you did with the queen but how? You said you don't know magic."
Seeing that all eyes in the room were on her, Sarella smirked.
"Well my prince, a magician never reveals her secrets. But since I've already confessed the truth I suppose I can show you." Picking up the Queen of Stags, she made sure everyone in the room could clearly see it. "While she's not as pretty as a real queen, she's a very clever girl. And she always knows what's on your mind. Let me show you again. See if you notice when you tell her your secret!"
Cersei
Cersei expected many things when the Martels were called to court.
She'd recalled the tales about Prince Oberyn Martel, famed throughout the land for his great martial skill, greater promiscuity, and even greater grudge against her family. And she'd been told about the young would-be-witch, the girl who was so clever she tricked an entire kingdom into believing she was a master of secrets and magic.
The latter she'd come to know as the truth.
Or at least more likely once she'd seen the girl unearth a decades old cache of wildfire from beneath the Red Keep.
Cersei was surprised.
Shaken by the thought she and her family could have burned alive at any moment.
But as Queen, she'd recovered and accepted reality for what it was. Ophelia Sand was something altogether different from what she expected. An enigma. Like the stories of dragon riders, witches, and warlocks she'd been told as a child. Not at all like the ugly truth she'd encountered so long ago. But as with any enigma, there were clues to be found and investigated.
The crown owed the girl a debt.
Yet Cersei would decide how to pay that debt.
Which was why she'd invited the rest of Oberyn's bastard girls to attend a small get together.
She wanted to take measure of them. To learn about their precious Witch of Dorne, perhaps gleam from these inexperienced children something she could whisper to the right ear. Their Master of Whispers was clearly lacking in this regard so she would have to take matter into her own hands.
Yet, the more sheedlearnt the greater her vexation.
Nothing useful. No chink on the armor to prod.
Apparently Oberyn Martel was a model parent despite not being able to keep his trousers separate from his ankles.
And of course, there was the Witch.
Like the star of a play. She was captivating. A paragon of wisdom and cleverness who carried on her back the hopes of her people. An image, of course. And one she could even applaud. People were never perfect and by creating the image of a rose surrounded by thorns, or, perhaps, a dove surrounded by serpents, people would focus on her. Target her. And not pay attention when the rest of the pack of bastards crawled all over the place.
She wasn't blind.
Sarella, the Summer Islands girl, had already been expelled from the castle's library by Pycelle on the grounds that she was taking too many books. That excuse was actually tolerated when it was revealed she'd taken more than a hundred and built a small haven in an unused storage room.
Elia, the girl, was winning the hearts of more than a few knights and more than one squire and page by acting her age and being an outgoing, confident, sweet little girl. That she was pretty and ever eager to listen didn't hurt things either.
Obara, the sullen one who dogged her father's steps, even had her place too. Plainer, comparatively speaking, when put next to the rest of her family, she was easy to forget. Meaning no one noticed when she moved amongst the servants or stepped out of the keep to visit the city proper. In fact, she only knew that last fact because one of her maids gossiped about how another girl had seen a boy who had been speaking to another girl whose brother had witnessed the girl meeting with an attractive, scarred alchemist's apprentice.
Cersei deeply doubted that it was for something as tawdry as a dalliance.
But all of that paled compared to the shark sitting across from her. A seemingly open, innocent girl-child that clasped her hands and pressed a kiss to her royal cheeks.
"Of course not your Grace. If she could, I must confess I do not believe we would be having this particular conversation."
Tyene's eyes held the same hunger hers did at her worst moments. But this girl didn't bother pretending, didn't bother hiding it. The queen knew exactly what this was, but it didn't change the fact she swallowed when the girl's hand brushed against her thigh.
"But the simple fact is that we are. And there are always those that take rumor as… fact."
She'd moved away and the lioness instinctively ran her hand along her dress, smoothing it away out of habit.
"And what rumors are you speaking of?" She glimpsed at her children, thankful that all three were now loudly engaged in learning card tricks. Even if she could have sworn the the Queen of Stags, lying face up, was winking at her. "Surely you do not suggest impropriety."
"A woman can never help who it is she loves." Cersei didn't pale, her breath didn't hitch, but her heart began to beat faster. "Trust me. I know that particular pain oh so very well."
It came out without her realizing it.
"Your father…."
Tyene chuckled, blushing demurely.
"Of course I love my father. But he is not the serpent with the scales that shine so beautifully. The one who winds through hearts and minds without even meaning to. Whose eyes captivate the soul."
She would swear that the woman before her glowed when she spoke. A slight blush upon her chest, a chest that required calming, and an obsession in her eyes that almost troubled the queen who had killed her best friend. For a moment she saw that well and heard Melara before she returned to the room that had all three of her children, laughing and smiling, and held a pair of snakes too.
She knew that look.
Knew that tone.
Everything about this girl was oh so painfully familiar to the point Cersei wondered whether she'd been staring at a mirror all along.
"What you imply is treason. For even whispering such obscenities I should have your tongue cut out."
The girl smirked.
"But why would you do that? As I said, a woman loves who a woman loves. Even if they can not have it. And I want what I want. A queen would have it within her power to ensure that such rumors about myself stayed rumors, just as a loyal handmaid can offer to smooth out life's little inconsistencies." Her eyes were half hooded. "And if you should need comfort when your brave Ser is away, well, I must confess that beauty is beauty."
"My children are half a room away-" She hated how she was almost breathless, her heart pounding in her chest.
"And not a single whit of attention is being paid to us."
Swallowing, she held up a hand, playing for space and standing up. Sweeping her way to a window, she threw open the curtains and poured herself a goblet of water.
It helped.
Cold, refreshing, she felt this deep uncertainty wash away. Indeed, she was calm once more. Steady she turned around and almost screamed. There, in the corner of her room, was Melara Hetherspon. Bloated and half decayed, she was a vision of horror, and just like that Tyene was by her side.
"My queen?"
There was honest confusion in her eyes and that calmed Cersei again. Surely this phantom was a conjuration of her mind. An illusion made manifest by the fear and stress of the situation she had grappled with so recently. Closing her eyes for a moment, she took a deep breath.
"It's nothing. Just a flash of heat. Thank you, my dear." Smiling warmly, she pulled the girl behind her, bringing her back to their seats. "Now, let us discuss romance and indulgences no more. Lest I suffer another spell such as that."
They shared a giggle, quickly finding that Sarella was giving them a confused look even as she taught the others how to count cards. A flash of disapproval passed through the queen before deciding that this was, perhaps, one of the least dangerous ways for her children to learn both numbers and how to lie and plan.
Gambling was still a horrid vice and she'd sit them all down later, explaining exactly why a royal should be above distractions.
In the end, she wasn't sure what was going on. Thoughts slunk through her mind. Concerns about servants perhaps putting something in her drink or some other form of betrayal did occur to her. But, so soon after the wildfire, would they not simply poison her? Why was she seeing a dead girl and not choking on her own tongue?
'Am I going mad?'
She'd considered the possibility for a moment before, out of hand, dismissing it.
Cersei loved her children, loved Jaimie, and that was all that mattered. So what if visions of a stupid little bitch appeared before her? There was nothing to it. What mattered was the girl before her, the dangerous one. And not the pretty distraction she'd brought to keep the children occupied.
"Before we continue… I know what, Sarella?" Tyene actually gave a soft smile to her. Something that almost seemed human. "Yes. Thank you. She is truly gifted." The girl in question was acting out a fantastical story. One their most unusual of sisters had told them long ago involving a blue knight with a magical halberd and a great dragon. "Even if she is here to distract them, the girl is talented and is bringing them a great deal of joy. For that you both have my thanks."
"If you wish to reward her, perhaps secure her a return to the library?"
Tyene's words drew a snort of amusement from the queen.
"Done. And what is it that you want? For this and your assistance. I am no fool to think that your father would not cut my heart out, butcher my children, and that you are of the same mind. I see it in your eyes." She paused. "But a viper is safest when it is at your breast, so long as it does not bite. What, then, do you want in payment to not strike me and mine?"
For a long moment, the other blonde said nothing, simply letting the emotion and pretense slowly fade away. Turning her eyes cold and dead and hollow. A disinterested cruelty flickered in them that seemed even more familiar to the queen than the blonde hair and blue eyes.
But then, as she spoke, low and heavy and with words that seemed to have weight, there was a spark of something in there. Something that seemed to burn all too much like wildfire.
"To be with the one I adore most in this world. And to see what lies deep, deep within her."
Cersei considered having her killed.
Having the whole of the sisters burned alive in a tragic accident, poisoned, shot, or simply butchered in their beds. And… she let it slip away. If one person knew her secret, then a dozen did. Varys, Baelish, Pycelle might even suspect it. Jon Arryn's last words were no secret, not any longer, and others would look into it. Minor lordlings, even, seeking an in or just a weapon.
But this hollow thing before her, whose eyes had only started to return to warmth as she watched her sister, who Cersei did not doubt she loved - though perhaps not as humans did - was not something she could control.
That did not mean she was not a weapon. And, considering how the Game ended, directing one so likely to meet an unpleasant as Tyene away from herself and her family, and at her enemies, seemed like the wisest move. At least until she could be assured that she could remove the girl without it coming back on her. So she decided. And with that done, she nodded.
"Aye. I will see that you are free to do the one thing I have never been free to do."
Ophelia
Ophelia sighed, leaning back against the cool stone walls of the Red Keep, letting her thoughts drift. Her acquisitions of the many trinkets and treasures during the day had been a great success. Another sweep tomorrow would undoubtedly find a few more that she had missed. And even then, there were many objects, especially on the river bed, that she simply couldn't move. Those would have to come later, perhaps in the dead of the night when she could use a small army of crustaceans and water critters to do it.
But none of the many little trinkets she'd gathered today compared to the one in her lap.
Snoring, utterly exhausted, Elia was asleep. Ophelia had folded her cloak so her sister could use it as a pillow while they waited on their father and, tired as every child her age would be, she had promptly passed out. She had, had a full day after all.
'She's so much more outgoing than me. Well, I suppose that is the luxury of youth.'
Running her fingers through her sister's hair, the witch relaxed, the rote motion soothing to her mind and calming to the napping girl in her lap.
To think there was a time when she'd been so cold and detached from them.
Unwilling to trust.
Afraid of their love.
When she'd been reborn, Ophelia had still been reeling from the ordeals and traumas of a past life. More than just her battle with Zion and having her Passenger grow closer to her than any other being in existence could, it was her failures, her losses, the missteps that had cut deep. Her choices admittedly were the cause of that endless spiral of betrayal and escalation which saw her die alone in a wasteland with no one to mourn her.
Her final thoughts, as her brain leaked out of the bullet holes in her skull, were if Lisa would miss her. If her father would. If Bitch and Imp and Charlotte and the others would too.
But she doubted it. With what she had become by the end… it only made sense she was alone.
Unwanted.
Unloved.
Indeed, her father and sisters had worried for her when she began her second chance.
An abnormal child who was too silent and too clever for her own good.
Part of her still wondered if this new life was a fever dream her mind conjured up and that she hadn't passed on after all. Just waiting to wake up and get back to fighting gods for the fate of the world. It would make sense. She wouldn't blame reality for being that. This had been more than she had deserved, in the end.
And that's why Taylor didn't come out much. Why Khepri and Weaver and Skitter waited. Because Ophelia accepted the soft, warm skin beneath her fingers. Accepted the roguish grin of her father and the sheer madness that her sisters conjured up.
'Once I have that ring repaired I think another Elia will wear the symbol of the dragons. It's only fitting recompense. Besides, it's a woman's ring and I don't think Tyene has the discretion to not get us in trouble. Obara simply has no care for such things and Sarella would probably be more interested in studying it. Yes. I do think I'll give it to my cute little sister.'
"So tell me my most beautiful and cunning and wise daughter, what is it that dwells in your mind?"
She chuckled.
"Hello father." A warm smile and a squeezed hand was his greeting as they spoke in low tones. "I am currently wondering if you deserve the gift I'm preparing for you."
"Oooh? A gift, from my most sagacious daughter. Why it must be something truly special."
Prince Obery Martel approached his daughter with all the grace and dignity of a child on Christmas morning. As used to Ophelia's wondrous gifts as he was to her strange tastes, man had come to expect only the most unique or the most useful out of young witch.
"Telling you would ruin the surprise, I'm afraid."
"Come now. Not even a hint for your poor father? I have been oh so bored since our arrival. Aging alchemists aren't what I would call an engaging company, you know?"
"No, but a married noblewoman is?"
The Prince offered a sheepish smile.
"Ah, so you've noticed that. Your powers of observation remain as widespread as always, dear."
"I need not look through the eyes of my swarm to assume you've hunted down company to warm your bed, Father. It is simpler to assume you did." The witch was unamused. The man had no idea the number of walk in incidents she'd had to deal with as a child. Before she realized the Martels were as close to hedonists as you could get, then just hollered through the open doors.
A decade and a half of exposure had largely desensitized her to their shenanigans.
Didn't keep her from holding a grudge, however.
"Oh, you wound me. And here I was hoping to share my own surprise with you."
"You Martels certainly seem fond of surprises."
Behind her father, Marwin finally made himself known. Holding two jugs of wine, he sat down in their little nook, letting out a sigh of relief as he was off his feet.
"Now, I am most certainly too old to wait for more surprises. Though you certainly gave the city one with your little show. Alms aside, already people have begun to call you the Lady of Birds." He chortled. "Not the most inspired name, but the sheer number of animals that visited you during your tour of the city was noted."
She cut her eyes to her father who simply shrugged. It was her call.
"It's best to give the rumor mill something to latch onto. They already 'know' I am a witch, and that I have 'ways' of learning things better kept hidden. If I have birds and vermin attending me, that gives them reason to believe I can somehow speak with them."
That was how superstition started.
You made people look over their shoulders and wonder if maybe they are being followed. That maybe their secrets aren't as well hidden as they would have liked.
Pretty soon, the entire city would believe themselves watched from the sky.
Not noticing her loyal critters as they crawled and slithered their way into their houses. Into their hideouts. Those with anything to hide would go deep underground. Lock themselves behind doors and windows.
Her powers might have changed to include more than insects, but Ophelia would always hold a special place in her heart for critters.
Small, imperceptible.
Really it would be terrible if all influential people were forced to attend a meeting behind closed doors, where she could tag anyone she liked without being noticed.
Something like a trial, perhaps?
So long as there remained a threat to her family, she would make sure she held all the cards.
His eyes were intelligent, searching, Marwin knew more than he admitted. Still, his curiosity would not be denied and he had to ask. And she would answer, if only payment for the small secrets they had began to share. Give and take, the nature of magic always.
"And do they whisper to you?"
Lips curving upwards in a smirk a woman she had once held as her dearest friend taught her, the witch answered as plainly as she could.
"Everything and nothing."
Marwyn the Mad hissed in surprise. His mind was already turning her response over and she would swear she could hear the gears turning over in his head. And then, just as suddenly, it clicked into place.
"I thought your range was limited, reduced even?"
She nodded.
"It is. I still do not have the same distance through which I can act as I do in my home, but, just as there, it is slowly growing." Her swarm picked up a servant at a distant door, pausing to listen. An ant gave him a rather rude bite somewhere sensitive. "Aye. And I toured almost all the city today." Her voice was raised slightly, both men followed her eyes to where the man was waiting. "But I take it our refreshments have arrived."
And just like that, the servant scurried in, quickly bringing them a plate of cheeses and small finger foods, sitting on one of the deep set windows nearby. They shooed the would be eavesdropper away before he could think his presence was wanted.
"They are slow to learn, it seems."
Oberyn's quip got a small chuckle from his daughter and a snort from the mage.
"Perhaps. But with how many little birds and gilded girls and handmaids about the place, I'm surprised anyone keeps anything a secret save by sheer volume of intrigue that occurs in this castle."
Marwyn gave her a small look at that.
"Careful there my girl. Your magic is powerful, more so than all but the most… unnatural of those I have encountered in my travels. But even dragon blooded sorcerers could be brought down by a drop of poison or a bolt to the back."
Inclining her head, she accepted the warning for what it was and his eyes softened.
"Good. Good. Now, wine."
Pouring out a generous goblet for each of them, the trio kept their voices low as they spoke about the day. Ophelia about the sheer, insane quantity of Wildfire they'd discovered in the dragonpit, Oberyn about how he was actually the most excellent spy to have ever lived, along with possibly going by the secret name "the Silver Archer" when he was intriguing, and Marwyn then lowly complaining about how annoying Pycelle was to dodge.
"But at least Sarella was a gods sent agent. That girl had the miserable goat wound up so tight I think he actually was stuttering for the first time in his life. I did manage to actually secure the few books I knew about and a few I simply did not believe still existed here."
"But?" Oberyn raised an eyebrow.
"Some are most definitely missing." He harrumphed. "Blatantly and lazily so. If you have time little witch, could you sweep the castle too? For books, trinkets, all the hidden passages. I have… suspicions."
Giggling a bit, but not so much as to disturb Elia, she nodded.
"How ominous master mage. But I shall."
"Thank you my girl." Shaking his head the old man sighed. "Truly, to have lived long enough to see the return of true magic to Westeros. But there is still much, much work to be done!"
Speaking of work.
Her stupid adventurer of an older sister was at the door.
"Father, won't you be a dear and let Sarella in?"
The Prince shrugged but complied nonetheless, opening the door to the nearest stairwell just as her sister had been about to knock on it. Much to Ophelia's amusement. The part time scholar huffed something along the lines of 'know it all smug little sisters' as she plopped herself across from the witch and next to Marwin.
And immediately downed a large swig of wine.
Well now, that was telling.
"Was it that bad with Tyene?" She dreaded the answer.
Sarella took a second swing.
"I think she roofied the Queen."
Ophelia's palm met her forehead.
"You actually used a phrase from one of my dreams. Alright, how bad is i-"
"They have been together doing Seven knows what for the last three hours, I only saw the queen when she left to put her children to bed. I don't know what Tyene's plan is but we really, really do need to get ahead of it."
This was going to end either really well, or with their heads in stakes.
"Yer loud." Sarella winced when she realized Elia was waking up, half rubbing her eyes with the palm of one hand and half yawning. "Hullo everybody. 'wut did I miss."
"Your sister has made it a point to ingratiate herself with the queen."
Blinking at Ophelia's words, the youngest Snake there actually woke up a bit.
"She roofied the queen?"
Everyone gave a laugh at that, though Elia continued, turning to look at her father.
"Does that mean we need to be worried?"
The rest of the group did the same, interested in the man's response. Oberyn, as was usual, shrugged.
"If we get caught. Probably. But knowing your sister, she will most likely have the queen's maids suborned within a week. Maybe less. I take it she plans to set up her own little game here too."
Marwyn looked a bit lost, so, taking pity on him, Ophelia was the one that elaborated.
"She's a very pretty girl."
"Aye." He nodded.
"And teenagers are lustful creatures."
"Aye." Again, he nodded, laughing a bit this time.
"So she shall every young man and woman in the Red Keep dancing to her tune and treating her as if she was a true born princess. By playing matchmaker and with the use of her unique propensity for poisons and venoms."
"Daddy's girl." Sarella fake coughed. Oberyn winked at her.
"I have little doubt that most of her opposition will be side lined, if not worse, by the time we leave for the North. The king confirmed your invitation?"
Leaving the mage to digest the fact that the pretty little flower he'd been travelling with was likely the individual with the second highest body count he had ever met, she turned to her father.
"Indeed! Your sister Obara is with him right now. I think discussing training for the morning tomorrow. You, of course, are expected. She said to tell you that just because you've been commissioned to save the city from burning down, you aren't exempt from training. And to eat meat at dinner tonight, you need the strength."
Ophelia was not amused when Elia poked her in the ribs.
"Yup, nothing there! Flat too!"
Sarella thought this was the height of hilarity and almost fell over herself at the joke. Mostly because she knew she was safe from retaliation over it.
"Says the dwarf."
Pouting, the girl looked up at her sister.
"No way! I am just yet to reach the apex of my flowering!"
Raising an eyebrow, the witch drew a blush from her sibling.
"That's what that one poet said back home anyways."
Ophelia, for all her power, influence and wisdom, wasn't ready to deal with the idea that her little sister was growing up. Instead, she'd turned to the much less complicated matter of saving her family from the largest political game she'd ever had to deal with.
Which was only the second one she was involved with, but it was still strange that she got pulled into one the second time around.
"Any word from uncle?"
Her father, blessedly, took the bait, opening his mouth to speak when her swarm actually detected the young woman who'd caused such a stir. And a visitor no one expected.
"Father!" Tyene cried out. "I'm so glad we found you before dinner. May I have the pleasure of introducing you, Prince Oberyn of House Martell, to Prince Jalabhar Xho, rightful ruler of the Red Flower Vale."
Leave it to Tyene to make a mess and then bring someone they were meant to meet later to cover up her tracks.
Clever girl.
Perhaps it was petty of Ophelia, but seeing the ostentatiously dressed Summer Islander practically leering at her father with greed, the witch couldn't help her thoughts.
'Brian was much more handsome.'
Failed paramours aside, she soon made her excuses, after having been politely introduced, since Elia was falling asleep again.
"I apologize most deeply, your grace, but I must see my sister to our rooms. By your leave?"
Looking somewhat disappointed, perhaps having wanted to meet the current focus of the court's gossip, he gave her leave. So, taking a very groggy Elia by the hand, she led the way back to their rooms. Content to leave the rest of their siblings to her plot.
Because, after they had both dressed for bed and washed their faces, Ophelia was more than happy to snuggle up to her cute little sister for an early night. And, truthfully, protecting someone who relied on her… felt good. So maybe, just maybe, that was as good an excuse as any to dote on her totally not favorite little sister.
This was her vacation, gods dammit, she was going to be happy.
