Chapter 20!

It's been a great ride, thank you for all that followed this story until now! Enjoy this new chapter!

Mace

The Lord of the Reach stared at the crop dumbfounded. How in the Seven Hells is this a thing?

He grabbed it. It was large as a watermelon.

It was a cucumber.

A giant cucumber.

"We may have exaggerated on the dosage..." Willas said, "This is not even consumable... it's way too big."

"You would need a sword to cut that thing." Her mother quipped, "This would only satiate you, Mace."

Mace sighed, if only Mother would take him more seriously...

Nonetheless, the harvest was bountiful. It took some time to refine the formulas in the book, but the results were incredible. The Reach was already one of the lead exporters of foodstuff, its merchants selling goods across Westeros. Now, Mace aspires to reach the most remote coasts of Essos. Indeed, his endeavour in the library has been fruitful.

All houses across the Reach desired to know the secrets of Greenhand, but Mace had other plans. This will finally cement house Tyrell's hold on the Reach, no other descendant of the Gardeners shall trouble the rein of the rose.

A doubt lingered in Mace's mind these last weeks. Why have his predecessors not tried to do as him? And if they did, why hasn't it worked?

The most logical answer would be the Fall. Ever since that night, everything changed. There was a strange feeling in the air, it seemed more... dense, to say. Then, the raven from the Citadel.

Magic. Maester Marwyn successfully lit a glass candle, and the order was in an uproar. They claimed magic was a volatile thing and disturbed the order of science.

But from what Mace has seen until now, this was not the case. The Magics of the Greenhand categorised all rituals and their functions in an orderly manner, with a theoretical explanation of why they work as intended.

The Gods. Magic was the medium of communication with mankind. They blessed great men with their power to provide the masses with well-being.

The Greenhand was one of them, the one who granted food and sustenance.

House Tyrell descended from him, as any house of the Reach did. Mace could not afford to lose this advantage.

But what troubled Mace was the total silence of the capital. If the rumours of the king's children were true, chaos would be a certainty. House Tyrell had the possibility of profiting from it, a queen of Tyrell blood would grant significant influence in the kingdoms. He hoped Renly's gambit was successful, but no one could be sure what was happening there.

Not only that, but in Renly's last letter, he informed Mace that King Robert had embraced a new faith. The cult of the Storm God was considered dead, it seemed that all were wrong. He wondered what folly could've pushed the cynical Robert to change religion. The Most Devout would surely be in an uproar.

The last thing he needed was for the King to be ousted from his position, only to be replaced by a council of upstarted Septons. A royal marriage would be a dream then.

Not only that, but the Game of Thrones shall become even more volatile with the return of magic. No plan would ever be foolproof now.

He had to address all possibilities. "Mother, Willas, there are some matters I need to attend to. I'll be in my solar if you wish to see me."

He turned to leave, but Mother grabbed his sleeve, "Did you think I would leave you to make plans without me? You are even more foolish than your father."

He sighed another time, "Alright, Mother..."

Mace was getting tired of playing the fool. It was an excellent strategy to remain unobserved, yet it limited his possibilities. He could scheme and prepare, but all would be harder if his family didn't leave him space for manoeuvre. Perhaps... it was nearly time to drop the mask. This gambit could not continue like this.

Maester Penwise was inside his solar, leaving a new batch of letters on his desk. "Good day, Lord Tyrell. New ravens arrived from the Hightowers and King's landing, all of urgent priority."

Mace nodded, "Thank you, Penwise. You may leave us."

The Maester bowed, and left the room. Mother and son sat near the desk and began inquiring about the contents.

Mace opened the one from Oldtown, by Lord Leyton, his Father-in-law.

My dear Son-in-law

Cold winds are stirring, and the Long Night comes. You know I have remained inside the Hightower for many years, but not the reason why. I have been studying the lore of magic, and my Lord... the stars give a bad omen. The Fall was a warning from the Gods, we must prepare for a great struggle... or all will perish. Malora is aiding me with my studies, but we need your help with another matter. The trade routes of Oldtown are being raided by an unknown pirate. We need House Tyrell's aid to eradicate him. The findings are troubling, and my sons still have not discovered anything to help us identify the rogue. There's much more I want to discuss, but alas, I cannot write everything I know.

Lord Leyton Hightower, Voice of Oldtown, Lord of the Port, Defender of the Citadel and Beacon of the South.

The two stood baffled.

"This is... folly." Mother said, "Still... at the same time, I think he speaks the truth. Leyton always was a rational man, he studied for much time in the Citadel."

Mace had a solemn expression, "I know what to do. I will lead the contingent personally to Oldtown. I need to speak with Leyton, and... Marwyn."

The Queen of Thorns stared at him awkwardly, "Yes... I think this would do. What does the other letter say?"

Mace unrolled the parchment. His eyebrows flew up, and he smiled.

Mother was growing impatient, "What does it say, Mace? Did someone cut your tongue?"

He handed her the letter, and Mother's eyes widened. "So, it was true after all..."

"Yes... and the throne has never been so close to us until now." Mace said.

"House Tyrell shall have a queen."

Robert

The monster was there, mounted on his dark horse. Robert's grip on his hammer tightened at the sight of his betrothed's captor.

"RAPIST!" Robert bellowed, trying to get the Targaryen's attention.

"Baratheon!" He answered with his silky voice. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you again, cousin. Unfortunately, this may be your last time. Fate does favour me, you see."

"The Gods would never favour the likes of you." Robert grunted, "Last time I read the Seven Pointed Star, I didn't find any passage sanctifying kidnapping."

The dragon's brow furrowed under his helmet, "This is an unpleasant sacrifice... the dragon must have three heads. I shall have my Visenya."

"It is prophecy... and I'm willing to do anything to make it true. The Prince that was Promised shall be born in my line."

Robert began seeing red, "And you are willing to abduct your cousin's betrothed, shattering the kingdoms. You truly have no soul."

"You do not understand." The rapist said as he swung his sword, "This is the Song of Ice and Fire. You shall meet your end to realise it."

Robert gripped the rein of his horse, "Hugh hammer once said that when the hammer shall fall on the Dragon, a new king will arise. Prepare yourself, Lizard, as I shall be its wielder."

The two warriors spurred their horses, and clashed on the waters.

"-my King! My King!"

Robert's eyes snapped open. He found himself in his quarters, in the Red Keep. Another night, another Trident.

This time he recalled his conversation with the damn dragon. It had never happened before, Robert completely forgot what they had discussed.

Still, he didn't understand what he was talking about. Perhaps a night in the library could help... not that he trusted anything that the rapist said.

His Visenya... Gods be good. Robert had no clue what these ramblings meant. But a profound sensation in him nudged Robert to discover more.

But a frantic Barristan broke his chain of thoughts, "My King! A mob is trying to invade the keep!"

"And what... they even think of doing?" Robert grumbled.

"Your Grace... the High Septon is guiding them."

"Oh fuck me sideways." Robert said as he rose from his bed, "Why is the fat bugger leading them?"

Barristan sighed, "I don't know, your Grace. Still, you could probably defuse the situation."

"Ugh... the Seven may have come to bite me in the arse." Robert donned his royal clothing and cloak, "Shouldn't be harder than that time with Lord Cafferen and Grandison."

Robert took Thunderbolt with him, just in case things went awry. Svemir joined him too, as he was probably the epicentre of the revolt, Robert thought.

Maegor's holdfast was in turmoil: courtiers running left and right, men at arms grabbing their weapons, lords rallying their households... it was pure chaos. He felt the absence of Renly and Stannis, the former at Storms End and the latter at Dragonstone. They couldn't have chosen a worse time to depart.

The group reached the southern gate, where there was the most commotion. Robert climbed the ramparts and tried to assess the situation.

Most of the rabble had some weaponry, ranging from clubs to pitchforks. There were some knights, but not many.

There were three central figures: one was the High Septon himself, and the others were members of the Most Devout. They were protected by a group of knights, better armed than the others.

"What is the meaning of this?" Robert raised his voice, "To shatter the King's peace is treason!"

The High Septon raised his hands, "There he is! The heathen king, the one who forsakes the holy Seven!"

"TRAITOR!"

"RAIN WORSHIPPER!"

"MAY THE WARRIOR CAST YOU DOWN!"

By Elenei's tits, they're furious.

"No law forces the King to worship the Seven, as long as he doesn't force his Gods on the population. You have no right to overthrow him!" Barristan retorted.

"Lies!" One of the holy men bellowed, "I am Devout Dennis, Keeper of the Holy Texts. In Baelor's religious reforms, a specific passage dictates the King's devoutness to the Seven. In no circumstance is he able to preach anything else!"

Robert sighed, "Viserys II has repelled all of Baelor's reforms. You are cherrypicking obsolete laws to legitimise this treason!"

"Baelor's reforms were just and true! A heathen like you has no right to tarnish his will!" Devout Dennis replied.

Robert was about to lose his patience, "Just because you think a law is just doesn't mean it is valid! It would be-"

"LIAR!"

"STRANGER TAKE YOU!"

"FATHER SMITE YOU!"

Robert snapped. These men had no will to negotiate.

"FUCK THIS NONSENSE!" Robert roared, "BARRISTAN! PREPARE THE DAMN GUARDS!"

"At once, your Grace!" Selmy answered. But as he was about to shout orders, he stopped, staring at the horizon.

Others take me. What is it now? Robert thought. The shouting died down, and only when Robert turned, he understood why.

A narrow corridor opened between the rabble, a divine figure riding through it.

A knight... the armour he wore glowed with the colours of a rainbow.

He had a white shield with the Seven Pointed Star, and a sword... Gods, the sword...

The knight raised it, and reflected the pale moonlight. It was as if a second sun appeared in the middle of the night.

It beamed... Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet... Robert had to shield his eyes from its intensity.

Who is this man? Robert thought.

Gods, is he the Rainbow Knight?

He was a legendary hero of the Andal invasion who helped the Arryns conquer the Vale. He was the embodiment of a perfect knight... what many men aspire to be. Wasn't it a fairy tale? A story for young maidens?

He carried himself perfectly atop his pale mare. "Brothers, Sisters!" He said with a powerful voice, "Why are you directing this hate towards a simple man?"

"The Mother preaches tolerance! Even if he doesn't follow the Seven Pointed Star!"

The crowd was eerily silent. Surreal, considering there were hundreds of human souls cramped before a gate. Everyone was entranced by the legendary knight.

All but the High Septon. "You... you are false! The true Rainbow Knight would smite these heretics!"

The Knight turned his gaze towards the fat one, "And who dictates your lawfulness?"

The High Septon's face twisted in fury, "I am the Vicar of the Seven themselves! You cannot question my autho-"

Suddenly, the High Septon stopped talking. His eyes widened, and he fell, clutching his heart.

Everyone froze in place, watching him struggling... and his body going limp. No one raised a finger to help the High Septon, not even his guards.

"May the Stranger's Abyss be merciful to you." The knight sombrely said, "The wicked shall face it, and suffer until deemed worthy for the Seven Heavens."

Then, the crowd began slowly returning to their homes, in complete silence. The Septonry escorted the corpse of the High Septon away to be buried in the Great Sept.

Robert snapped out of his stupor, "Open the gates! Now!"

He and Barristan descended the battlements to meet the miraculous knight face to face. He traversed the moat with his mare, and dismounted in front of Robert.

He inclined his head, "King Robert, it's good to finally meet you."

Robert smiled, "The pleasure is mine too. Your assistance was well timed, even if there were some... problematic consequences."

"It was the Seven's will, nothing more." He said as he removed his helmet.

"I am Ser Ronard, the Rainbow Knight."

Robert found the most handsome man he ever saw, outclassing the God-like beauty of the Targaryens. He was blonde, clean-shaven, and had eyes that reflected the many different colours of the Seven's rainbow. He was truly a maiden's fantasy.

"I have come to fight in the Long Night. Your Grace, you shall have my blade, until the dawn breaks."