Chapter Sixteen
…..
Delianah never thought that she would be happier on finally seeing Fort Granger, the first base connected to a stone bridge through a river leading to familiar Harrenhal territory. Their trip here had been quite eventful. Apparently carrying three Valyrian swords with you was more than enough for bandits and brigands to try their damnest on slipping a knife on your ribs. Thankfully the Gold Cloaks guard group that accompanied them is more than enough to scare off most of them. The few that dared try their luck met a swift end via Unsullied Honor guard spears who had sworn after Delianah's near death experience never to let a single hair of her head be hurt.
The Gold Cloaks retinue of theirs remained until they arrived finally at Granger's Crossing, basically a bridge made of cement connected to a palisade fort that indicates the entrance to the lands of Harrenhal. There were three of these crossings she had commissioned beforehand through chokepoint rivers. Fort Ronald guarding the bridge leading towards the territory of House Shawney, Fort Lovegood, overlooking the river to the East outside House Hawick's territory, and in retrospect, the Vale, and finally Fort Granger, overlooking the South, largest of all the three.
The Forts are simply structures, heavy palisades of wood seasoned with tar and an outer layer of cement, space at the inside for tents of the five hundred soldiers in rotation, cooking areas, training yard and an officer's quarters. Simple, but effective to block the passing through the bridges on the rivers. She actually got the idea from the damned Freys. Say what you will about the weasel-like bastards, but whoever their ancestor is, he made a damn good decision about that castle upon a bridge.
"Are you alright Myrcella?" Delianah asks the princess inside her simple carriage of red and yellow. Delianah had opted to ride in a horse instead of a stuffy carriage beforehand. It is her first time to see this part of the country after all.
"Yes, but I think Rae-rae is going to be sick again," Myrcella replies with a wince. "I don't think that the trip agrees with her Lady Delianah,"
"Don't worry, we are almost inside the Fort. She can puke all she wants there,"
Suffice it to say that Delianah truly did not expect her two wayward guests. When she agreed with Tywin Lannister about the fostering of Myrcella under her, she expected it later, not immediately. A small peek though on the girl's mind made her understand the reasoning of those that sent Myrcella with her back at Harrenhal.
Tywin was practical. He simply wished to avoid a loud argument with his daughter. With large rumors already about the rather rocky relationship between the king and the queen, the last thing he wanted was another rumor of the queen being at odds with her birth family.
Robert on the other hand wanted Myrcella out of the capital due to the fact that he hated there himself. He was of the opinion that she needed to get out lest she end up a waste like him. He also wanted her out of the Red Keep in order to be away from Joffrey's bullying. If you call being shot with a crossbow to terrify your wits off bullying that is.
While she can work with Myrcella's case(it would not be hard since Myrcella practically worships the very ground she walks on), it is the latter guest of hers that throws a wrench on Delianah's plans. Magic is a wonderful thing and it contains mysteries, mysteries that generations have tried to unravel only to fail again and again due to the complexity and broadness that it contains.
Unfortunately Myrcella's case is one of them. Despite the depth of his knowledge as Harry the Great, Delianah had never seen a case like hers. The Resurrection Stone at her neck (which Delianah had no idea how it got there in the first place) had kept her alive. She had been killed by a hundred stabs and her body thrown to the waters after being presented to Robert Baratheon. The Resurrection Stone though for reasons that Delianah cannot fathom unleashed its full potential on the four year old girl.
It resurrected her time and time again. However the fact remains that she was four year old and not a swimmer in any case. The result was her experiencing being reborn only to die by drowning again and again, trapped in her watery grave. Delianah does not even want to think how much she suffered, a billion, trillion deaths before she levitated her out. It's a miracle that she's only hydrophobic and seem to not want to talk.
Myrcella bless her heart only saw a girl in need and did not even hesitate to befriend her (emphasis on try though). Still, even with the one-sided conversations (which is Myrcella basically talking to death the other girl), poor Rhaenys Targaryen looks loads better other than that deathly pall she had when she first pulled her out of the water.
Still the fact remains though that she has in her company probably the one person that Tywin Bloody Lannister and Fat King Extraordinaire won't hesitate to extend Robert's Rebellion 2.0.
Worse, she rather likes the two. Tywin may be cold as hell, but she knows his pragmatism. She after all is the same when dealing with bloody dark lords. Dumbledore is wrong after all. You can't change the world with hugging with the power of love the bloody tossers. What's needed is bloody, grissly work where morality and nobility had no place.
Robert on the other hand was simply hard to like. He was overenthusiastic, jovial and tended to go th extra mile for the people he cared though she pitied the king. Never had Delianah seen someone so ill-suited on the leadership position. Trapped in a loveless marriage and an office that literally strangles the entirety of his likes, he was a man slowly dying in a cage. She would consider it a private personal favor on making sure that his daughter would not end up like him.
As for Rhaenys or Rhae-Rhae as Myrcella has come into calling the four year old, Delianah has two choices. Either another extension of Robert's Rebellion 2.0 or she keeps quiet about this. The choice is obvious. She is a Gryffindor through and through and a bleeding heart at that. What would Myrcella say if Rhae-Rhae is surrendered and gutted to be added on the small pile of dead Targaryens? Besides, Delianah is not a child killer (with the exception of Baby Voldemort). Mind you, she would be an asset later when she's dealing with the Martells which she plans to lean more on her favor.
So all hush-hush it is. Who would believe after all that the daughter of Rhaegar would be this deathly pale Dornish four year old? As far as the realm is concerned, Armory Lorch had done the deed of murdering her already.
"Quick! Open the gate!" with a resounding boom, the drawbridge separating the palisade to the bridge is lowered which Delianah's party minus the Goldcloaks who have already left enter. Her lips turn upward though at the sight of the Fort. It is very Spartan in nature with the basic necessities only present. There are no recruits here, only first timers on duty shipped fresh from Unsullied boot camp for the experience.
"My lady! Welcome home," the Fort Centurion bows at her with his other captains. He is a balding man of forty's.
"Pete right?" Delianah replies in recognition as one of the Unsullied in training holds the reins of her horse as she steps down.
"Yes my lady," he beams at her recognizing him (Mind reading is such a cheat). "You're planning to stay here before your way to Harrenhal my lady?".
"Only for a bit," she answers before indicating at the forms of Princess Myrcella helping a pasty looking Rhaenys to sit on the steps off their carriage. "The road does not agree very well with one of my handmaidens unfortunately. We need some medicine for road sickness and some of that Calming Draught that the Green Men supplied the Forts with,"
"Of course my lady," Pete replies before turning to one of the Unsullied near him. "Bring everything that our lady demands. Also some fresh milk for the Princess and some hot jerky from the mess hall,"
The other nods before running off. Delianah takes the time to look at the Fort. It seems that her construction projects is going well under the supervision of Lord Viktor. She personally expects that it would be at least a couple of years before she sees any fulfillment of her construction plans to fully come to fruit. Lord Viktor and the Green Men however exceeded her expectations and between her intellect and awesomeness, the magical aid and numbers given by the Green Men and the ingenuity and gratitude of the former slaves from Essos, not only has her new realm achieved majority of its quota but also manages to answer the King's Call during the Greyjoy Rebellion. The dedication of her populace merits a reward but that can wait in the future once everything is settled.
Right now though she can't help but notice that despite Myrcella's presence on the fort, none of the Unsullied here is bowing to the Princess of the Realm, or even acknowledging her.
"Interesting,"
…..
Winterfell, the North
Never has Ned Stark felt so relieved than seeing the gray walls of Winterfell loom in the distance. He literally has enough of the South to last a lifetime, two major wars and each time brushing shoulders with death far to close for comfort. Some may say that he has a talent already about war. Ned would rather credit it to sheer dumb luck. More times than he can count, he almost got bits of him lopped off.
The army of the North that marched with him South have slowly dismantled on the way here as they lead their levies home. Thank the Old gods that no major lord or son of a lord died during this campaign. There is even one that is glad. Newly knighted Ser Jorah Mormont who won the tourney down below at King's Landing and is now bringing his Queen of Love and Beauty back to Bear Island much to the displeasure of many of the Northern Lords with him bringing a Southener as a bride. Ned however wished him all the luck in the world. The Mormonts after all are staunch supporters of House Stark and anything that would make their current heir happy is a good thing in Ned's books.
The familiar sight of the courtyard of Winterfell soon comes into view and Ned can feel the weight that has been burdening his shoulders as Lord Paramount of the North slowly whittling away. A chorus of "my lords" and "welcome back" greet him but Ned only has eyes at the five souls standing near the entrance of Winterfell Keep.
"Cat!" he breathes hugging his wife to himself, careful not to crush little Brandon at his wife's arms.
"Thank the gods you're alright Ned," replies his wife. "I've been worried sick about you not returning from White Harbor after that blasted rebellion. Promise me that you won't go rushing into another war at least before telling me first alright,"
"Yes," Ned simply replies before turning his attention at the sleeping babe at his wife's arms, asleep. He smiles at the little munchkin before deciding not to disturb the baby.
"My sons," he turns toward Robb and Jon at the back who wasted no time hugging their father. "You've done me both proud. Though Jon, you and I need some talking about what you did at White Harbor," the young man pales at the reminder of him leading the Lady Delianah to a battlefield which is the exact opposite of what he supposed to have done. Robb on the other hand had done the sensible thing and hid unlike his brother.
When they finally let go of each other, Ned beckons to the seven year old boy riding beside his small retinue to step forward. "This is Theon Greyjoy, son of Balon Greyjoy, heir of the Iron Islands. From now on I want you all to give him the respect he is due as his station since he is staying with us as my "ward".
The Ironlander gives off a small wave at the gathered crowd whose glares are as cold as the winter landscape they live in. Only Robb and Jon seems interested at the boy close their age. The rest, not so much.
Before Ned can try and convince (more like lie) to his new ward that he is welcome (if not outright hated), he is cut off by the jog of Maester Luwin running towards him from the ravenry. He doesn't need words though to tell Ned the news, the white raven at his hand is news enough already.
Winter is here.
…..
Harrenhal Temporary Housing.
"My lady!" Delianah let off one of her rare smiles as the entirety of Hold's Hamlet population bows as she dismounts from her horse. Being the nearest town or rather, small city now in Harrenhal, it serves as the pseudo capital of the region due to the fact that the old ruin is torn down and being replaced.
"Lord Viktor, this is the Princess Myrcella Baratheon, and her lady in waiting, Rhaenys," introduces Delianah as an Unsullied helps the six year old and the four year old down from the wagon they are riding. "Princess Myrcella would be fostering under me until her first moon-blood. So please, do welcome her warmly,"
Delianah makes sure to emphasize it to the Green Men and the Essossi among the crowd. Unlike after all their Westerosi counterparts, their allegiance is to her and her alone, not divided into the Crown or House Tully. She has no plans of Myrcella feeling not at home here. She genuinely likes the happy-go-lucky girl. In fact the warm attitude from her feels a little too much. Delianah suspects that the entirety of her life, she has been stifled due to her position as princess and the ever present cruelty from Joffrey.
"Come your highness. Let us show you to your quarters. The tailors will need to take in your sizes for your dresses," says Amelia whom she tasks to be the pseudo caretaker for the two. Amelia is not cold unlike her older cousin and Myrcella warmed to her quite quickly.
"Of course Ame," the little six year old replies brightly pulling a reluctant Rhaenys after her who is looking a lot better with some calming draught. She looks terrified as hell though with all the people watching.
"We'll get dresses for Rhae-rhae also right? She looks so pretty and I don't like her current attire," she bubbles waving at the rather tattered form of the four-year old's dress. (Delianah didn't manage to buy her a change after he found her. Can't risk Robert's Rebellion 2.0 after all).
"Of course your highness, come,"
"Yipee! Come Rhae-Rhae! I think red and yellow will look splendidly on you," she chirps happily uncaring with all the stares as she follows Amelia towards one of the tailoring shops.
"She's…..certainly energetic my lady," comments Viktor as the three is swallowed out of sight.
"Tell me about it," snorts Delianah as she walks towards the Town Square, the Death Dealers of Lord Viktor immediately forming into an honor guard around the two of them. The people seeing that the excitement of their Lady's return is over slowly dissipates though some still stare at her in wonder.
"So, is there anything that needs my attention Elder?" Delianah asks, making sure to address Viktor in his original title, an Elder of the Green Men.
"Just some updates on our progress my lady," he answers taking a ledger from one of the Death Dealers which he begins flicking through. "Trade for the spices my lady is at an all time high. Nearly every land in the region is vying for the produce. We have set up auctions for that like we do for Delianite. Speaking of the gem, we have also opened another dozen extra mines on the hills of Darry. I have sent some of my kin to start Transmutating the rocks underneath into Delianite. Within a week, we can start mining proper and establishment of Homesteads on those mines,"
"Good job Elder, I am continuing to be astonished by you and your kin's efficiency and improvisation," says Delianah. She has sent a raven via Red Keep to Lord Viktor beforehand to increase the mines of Delianite in order to fulfill the demand of Lord Tywin. The Old Lion is desperate for the mineral which is being soloed by the Iron Bank representatives at the auctions. Thus one of his conditions to Myrcella's fostering here that he might be able to buy some directly from her at a fair price (which is still insanely high)
"I aim to please my lady," replies Lord Viktor. "We have also started on making the salt fields that you planned at House Roote. In the next two moons, it would be ready,"
Delianah nods at that piece of information. While spices and Delianite would be her main source of income, it never hurts to have more always. After all, more is always better than less. Thus salt, salt after all is another condiment that is completely missing from Westeros or from Essos in that matter. In the history of Earth it is in extremely high demand that at one time, nations of the East warred with one another for it. With the way she is going, she's got a feeling that she would need more land soon if only to accommodate the projects that she plans to build, and that's not counting the long term ones.
"Many of the traders though are wondering how long it will be before they will be able to sail North for trade? The plans after all for the trade route North has been postponed due to the Greyjoy Rebellion. Our markets are currently overflowing with rice that has nowhere to go,"
"They can start sailing North as fast as the tides can take them Elder, or rather if they can rent the longboats for it. The North and probably the entirety of Westeros would be needing a lot of our rice as soon and as much as possible," Delianah looks at the grey sky where a single snowflake fell at her nose. She has seen after all the white ravens flying all over on their way here.
"Winter is here after all, and my name will be Great again,"
….
New Castle Construction Site
"Madness, this is pure madness," Matthew bemoans to himself as he watches hundreds of gardeners with ropes and pulleys hauling themselves up the towering sides of the hill with the big ass artificial waterfall (He still has no idea how those Green people managed to reroute a damned river). They are not even putting plants, oh no sir they are not. They are putting seeds off all things, tree seeds according to one of them.
Well Matthew is not having anything about it. If they want to plant the entire damned hill, it would be their decision. Her personally admits that the archways, houses and gazebos at the sides of the hill is quite pleasing to look at. Who is insane enough to try using those though.
Either way, Matthew it would soon be finished and Matthew can happily collect his wages' worth without risking his name.
…
Town Hall, Rhaenys and Myrcella's personal quarters.
Rhaenys Targaryen, daughter of Rhaegar and Elia would never expect that she would be here, alive and warm, sleeping on a bed. She had lost count of that dark unending world where the waters suffocate her again and again that she literally lost her mind. Hallucinations become common place as she was revived from death. When Lady Delianah brought her out of the darkness, it was almost like a dream. Still she reveled in it. A fantasy where she was rescued and even managed to find a friend, she expected any moment then that she would wake up and the entire process of drowning will start all over. She's almost scared to close her eyes. Maybe next time she opened them, it would be the darkness all over. She had lost count of time.
Yet here she is, about to sleep, calm and refreshed after the draught that Lady Amelia gave her. The familiar pain of her brutal first death did not bother her psyche any longer. Amory Lorch after all stabbed her a hundred times after her first few stabs did not work. She felt them all though. Each dozen stabs dying only to be alive again.
She turns from her current feather bed to the sleeping form of Myrcella hugging a lion plushie(an original toy that Delianah gave to her before when she visited). Rhaenys likes her. Cella is very kind to her and she chases the bad thoughts away with her bright presence. Yes, Cella can be her friend, just like Ser Arthur who waited her on those dark waters, always promising her that help is on the way. They would start lessons tomorrow about something called Values, something that Lady Delianah would be personally quizzing them. Everything would be alrght, just as Ser Arthur always told her in the waters,"
"I'm about to sleep now Ser Arthur Dayne, looks like you're right after all," she yawns sleepily to the ghostly visage of the knight watching over her.
…
Author's Note: Hope ya like it.
Next up is the False Winter of Westeros, the short winter between the Rebellion and the start of the Game of Thrones canon.