Chapter Nineteen
Reply at Tjuparulla: Interesting mottos. I rather like your suggestions. I'm going to pick one of them for her house words in the next chapters.
…..
One Year After the Roar of the North
The sounds of clashing blades are heard on the private backyard of the Town Hall of Hold's Hamlet. These days however, it is a common occurrence and the usual Death Dealer guards pay it not much attention as they continue their usual vigil on making sure that the perimeter of the Town Hall remains safe.
At the back however on an improvised private training area, the forms of Myrcella and Delianah can be seen fighting one another. Clad both in brown form fitting leathers, training outfits specially ordered from Dorne, the two wield dulled curved sabres as they sparred against one another. For any observer however, it is more like dancing as every move is fluid and coordinated, every step a purpose, every movement an attempt to strike or dislodge.
At first glance, one might never have guessed that their ages are both seven and seven and a half name days old. They are tall, willowy, and graceful, like the cunning giant cat predators that call the desert of Sothoryos their home. One is golden haired, beauty spun like gold despite her young age and the other is a raven-haired beauty with streaks of dark red in her hair.
For Myrcella this is the highlight of her day as she twirls together with her teacher and friend as their blades skirt each other's edge before striking like snakes meeting only for a split second before turning again into another form. It is a coordinated fight and a dance at the same time. Luthien Kitualvi, Delianah calls it, a form of fighting that she learned by hiring a teacher from one of the Free Cities of Essos a couple of months before when she took an impromptu two month leave from Harrenhal. It is specifically designed for women who desire to wield a sword. Its focus is not to put the user into a challenge of strength where the physical advantages of a man might overcome a woman, but rather makes her move and strike in ways that would both confuse and kill her enemy the fastest and efficient way possible.
If one would tell Myrcella that she would be training and practicing with swords before, she might have laughed at the suggestion. As she parries another strike of Delianah aimed at her collarbone though, she enjoys it. Never in her entire life does she feel alive.
The past year sufficed it to say was the best in Myrcella's life. She was free, something that she never had during her younger years. Back at the Red Keep, she had to watch out for her every movement. Every word she said was weighed and every action taken into account lest she offend someone she should not.
"Family name is everything; and it is your duty and responsibility never to besmirch it!" her grandfather once said to her during his few rare few visits at the Keep. She had struggled every moment of her younger years to live up to it back then. Add the stress of a bullying brother that was completely evil incarnate and a broken family with a mother that barely cared for her and a father that never had time, it was a lonely experience.
Not here though at Hold's Hamlet. Here she is free to be herself(plus the rather absent smell of shit). She can be Myrcella without the princess attached to it. She has been here long enough to know that majority of the added population of Harrenhal and Hold's Hamlet is free slaves from Essos. They could care less about her being a princess of Westeros. For them, the only one worth obeying is Delianah.
Not that Myrcella begrudge them their belief. Even she believes a hundred percent that Delianah is more than worth following. Screw her status as a former bastard, whoever said that assumption must have too much to drink. The wonders and the innovation that she has seen her is all because of Delianah's genius. She even invented the "aging potion" that Myrcella is finally allowed to drink after pestering the older girl non-stop about her secret for being so tall and mature. There are so many wonders and mysteries that she learned here, from the rain that falls from the sky to the life cycle of a random frog in the pond. Myrcella is not ready to leave anytime soon.
Of course not all is flowers and peaches during her stay here. Delianah is a harsh taskmaster that demands no slacking off when it comes to learning about her studies and responsibilities. More times than one, Myrcella feels as if the information inside her brain would leak out of her ears with how much the Dame of Harrenhal is forcing in. It has gotten worse when Myrcella finally manages to take in the aging potion. Apparently Delianah decided then and there that it would be a good time to start training her on self-defense. As Delianah optly says usually:
"A pretty smile will not stop a man from killing you Cella, much less raping you before doing you in,"
It goes against everything that Myrcella had been taught before in her younger years. It was always taught in Westeros after all for ladies to simply doll themselves up and leave the rest of the fighting to the men and knights. The field of battle after all is the avenue of man, not women. Delianah however challenged all of that. She proved it on Pyke and she proved it with prime samples of women adhering to the code of Westeros suffering in times of chaos. Myrcella herself after all had the first hand experience of being bullied with a bloody crossbow by her own brother. There was wisdom in Delianah's reasoning.
The training thus starts and ever since then, she has been battered by the Dame of Harrenhal black and blue on the sparring field. Of course Delianah is not that cruel and to help her save face, they constructed this sparring arena where she can train with Delianah or Amelia. It saves her pride more times than one since face planting is not exactly a trait to be seen on a princess.
Of course her issues not only come internally from Harrenhal, no.
Her grandfather and father had made the right choice of making her leaving out of the Red Keep as silent as possible. According to the rumors brought about by the merchants that came from King's Landing, the rage of the queen had been great and she nearly accidentally impaled the fat stag on his own throne when she shoved him on it.
Then came the letters from her mother.
First it was sweet, appealing to her sense of family asking her of her well-being and her activities. Of course at the end of each letter was the heavy implication that she "visit" her poor mother once again. When Myrcella replied that it was a royal order from both her grandfather and her father that she continue her fostering and not break an agreement that shame the famiy, the letters became more crude and brutal, direct demands from her mother that she come home, that it was her place not to question the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, talking about plots and whispers of unknown enemies ready to hurt her in one way or another.
When she told Delianah about it, her mentor became rather frosty in expression and after that, no more letters came from King's Landing which was a relief for Myrcella. She had enough in her plate as it is.
If not for the wonders that came from living day to day with Rhaenys and Delianah, Myrcella would have complained. However right now she's living the dream of living her life to the fullest.
Even if it means getting smacked once more at the side of her head by Delianah's blade.
…
The field outside the Unnamed "Castle"
Thousands gather on the wide empty spaces of the now finished "castle" that replaced the ruins that are Harrenhal. Nearly everyone on the lands that call Harrenhal their home are present with even some from its outer territories. The open fields and spaces outside the once mighty ruin are wide and untamed. With the construction of the "new castle" though, the once ugly trees that joins with the occasional swamp have all been cut down giving off a wide space that encompasses that are surrounding it.
This is the first official celebration of Harrenhal with the people. A "Great Feast" as Delianah calls it, to celebrate the end of the "False Winter" as the Maesters called it that lasted only a year now slowly coming to an end. It is also the grand unrevealing of the "new castle" of Delianah and her seat of power. There are hundreds of tables with food, rice, meat with every cullinary choice present that Delianah released over the years. Even the Unsullied, numbering
Rhaenys of course gets a frontal view since she is the best friend of Princess Myrcella. Of course per her friend's request, she is seated at the front row seat with faithful Ser Oakheart guarding her and Myrcella as always. At her side, the pale ghostly visage of Ser Arthur Dayne is also present watching the proceedings. The rest of the officers and officials of Delianah also gets the front row seat. Frankly Rhaenys is excited, events like these usually keeps off the horrors and nightmares of her deaths that plague her every day of her life when she's given time to herself.
The new castle in first glance is rather unimpressive compared to the Red Keep that Rhaenys once called her home. It is after all, a collection of giant archways overlapping the walkways connecting the giant houses of white, silver with golden roofs. They are almost like giant birds perched on the sides of the hill. A giant waterfalls continue to cascade from the side of the hill giving life to the new river that surrounds the hill and heads off to the Fork. At the top of the hill, is the largest of all the houses with a tower that gleams to the sky. Ravens fly all over it by the hundreds, their squawks heard echoing from the skies above.
"MY PEOPLE!" a voice, like water flowing on rock are heard as the familiar tall figure of Delianah can be seen standing on a raised podium prepared beforehand. She is wearing a blue silken dress over a black robe which both shows her youth and elegance. A cutting figure showing both her talent and strength of will. She does not shout, but her voice can be heard as clear as day to one end of the field to the other, one of Harrenhal's dame thousand mysteries.
"THIS IS OUR FIRST CELEBRATION TOGETHER! WE HAVE SURVIVED THE GREYJOY REBELLION! WE HAVE SURVIVED THE FALSE WINTER! NO, NOT ONLY DID WE SURVIVE! WE PROSPERED! BY YOUR STRENGTH MY PEOPLE! BY YOUR WILLINGNESS TO ADAPT AND BY YOUR WILL, WE HAVE BECOME ONE OF THE RICHEST HOUSES AT WESTEROS ABLE TO RIVAL THE GREAT HOUSES IN RICHNESS AND STRENGTH! SO I RAISE MY CUP TO YOU MY PEOPLE! A RULER CAN ASK FOR NO BETTER CITIZENS TO LEAD! CHEERS!"
"CHEERS!" thousands of voices echo the sentiment quite enthusiastically. Rhaenys can't blame them. The speech of Delianah is simple, easy to understand and tickles their pride and self-worth. In fact, even she is inspired.
As everyone finishes downing their cups, Delianah speaks again:
"THERE ARE TWO THINGS I WOULD LIKE TO ADDRESS TONIGHT BEFORE WE GORGE OURSELVES INTO OUR FOOD. FIRST OF ALL I WOULD LIKE TO DISCUSS THE ISSUE OF OUR FAITH. I HAVE HEARD COMPLAINTS THROUGHOUT THE YEAR ABOUT CONFLICTS DUE TO OUR DIFFERENT RELIGIONS. I CANNOT LET THIS BE FOR GOOD REASON. WE AS A PEOPLE MUST BE UNITED IN ALL THINGS AND WE CANNOT LET THIS DIVISION COME BETWEEN US ALL. SO I WOULD LIKE TO TELL YOU ALL THAT I AM OFFICIALLY MAKING THIS LAND'S FAITH TO BE THAT OF THE OLD GODS, NOT THE NEW!"
The silence that follows is almost palpable and for good reason. Nearly half of the population believes in the Faith of the Seven and the other half belongs to the different denominations of Essos. Very few if there is any believe in the Old Gods of the First Men. Many do not like the "heavy taxes" of the Faith of the Seven but they grudgingly still adhere too avoid "damnation" via septon curses. Before the first protest can be heard however, Delianah once more speaks:
"THIS COMES IN RELATION TO MY SECOND ANNOUNCEMENT! THE GREAT CASTLE OF HARRENHAL IS GONE! THIS IS WHAT IS REPLACING IT, MY NEW SEAT OF POWER, THIS LAND'S SEAT OF POWER. IT WILL BE OUR PRIDE AND IT WILL BE OUR JOY. ALL ARE WELCOME TO VISIT IT, BE IT FOR REST OR FOR THOUGHT. IT WILL BE A PLACE TO SEEK OUT WISDOM AND UNBURDENING TO THE SOUL, A PLACE OF CONTEMPLATION, A PLACE OF PEACE AND PROTECTION. BY THE GRACE OF THE OLD GODS, I CONSECRATE THEE! ARISE AND BE BLESSED AND NAMED FOREVERMORE!"
Rhaenys watches as Delianah in full view of everyone cut the palm of her hand with the knife from her belt. Crimson blood pours like streams as she walks and touches the side of the hill, head bowed and eyes closed.
What happens next would erase whatever faith that the onlookers have to the hundred and one religions that they believe. The earth is almost shouting as a mini-earthquake once more occurred. Cracks appear on the created "hill" unleashing dozens upon dozens of new smaller waterfalls. It is not that however that makes the jaws of everyone present to fall, no.
It is rather the massive trees and plants of every kind sprouting out from the sides of the hill, growing into maturity quickly. In a matter of minutes the once grey and dull looking plateau of a hill whose only monotone color is broken by the white architecture made by the engineers and artisans are now sporting massive weirwood trees, whose leaves are colored red and gold. Thousands of flowers of every kind also jut out on every surface of rock and stone. The view of the now new dwelling of Delianah is a scene that only the greatest fantasy writers can paint on a tapestry, one that a living being can never expect to see in the real world.
"MY PEOPLE, I PRESENT YOU TO RAVEN DELL, OR IN THE SHORTER TONGUE, RIVENDELL!" the blessed of the old gods declares loudly as she raises her hands on the now new fortress home, unmatched in beauty and grace in this part of the sea.
…
The North, Winterfell
Catelyn Tully grits her teeth as she watches the Lords of the North toast the thrice accursed Firewhisky of her bastard sister down south that seems to be an all-time favorite by the Northmen. It seems to be a constant reminder to her of the accomplishments of the bastard sister of hers.
Ever since the "Roar" as the Northmen calls it in lieu of the giant earthquake that created the new canal that linked Sea Dragon Point to the East, down to the White Knife, everyone North and their uncle had been rather suspicious of her faith here up North. Word of her rather detailed cursing of the bastard sister of hers before the "Roar" happened had spread far and wide. Majority of the Northeners were of the opinion that the Old gods of theirs did not agree with her opinion about baseborn children and thus in their anger, sent the Roar. It did not help that the sept that her dear husband had made for her was crushed by the falling stones. She can almost feel the smug expressions of many lords when they heard the news that the sept at the seat of Winterfell took a bad turn.
Of course last laugh was hers however when she convinced Ned to build a new sept for her. It took at least a week of pestering but in the end, her lord husband acquiesced to her demand and with her guidance, a new sept was made even bigger than before. It was certainly entertaining watching the visiting Northern Lords glare angrily at the new place of worship for the True Faith inside Winterfell.
Speaking of which, Catelyn does not believe in any way that it was the work of the Old gods disagreeing with her that brought the Roar. Rather it was the Seven agreeing with her. After all the Roar brought nothing but destruction to the North. Many keeps had to do maintenance to prevent them from totally falling down and there many deaths all over the North. The Dreadfort unfortunately ruled by House Bolton was the worst hit. The hill that it was sitting on collapsed and buried half the castle with it, including Roose Bolton its lord. Domeric his son had to assume the position once he came back from his fostering on the Vale.
Despite the destruction brought by the Roar though, the North endures and the Northeners treated the bad occurrence as nothing more than a passing fancy of nature and simply carried on with their lives. Not much attention was paid into the new canal due to the offset of the False Winter. Most of the Lords were too busy either repairing their keeps or making preparations to gather here at Winterfell as the time honored tradition dictated at every end of a winter.
The menace of her family down South though must be dealt with. Catelyn has only a few connections down South. Edmure she knows could not deal with the bastard due to him relying on her to feed the Riverlands. Her father was too sick for the headache and her uncle had his position at the Vale which he cannot abandon as Knight of the Bloody Gate. Her sister is busy with her position at King's Landing. The rest of the Lords she know could not hope to hold a candle against the powerhouse that the Bastard built with her ill-gotten lands.
She needs someone in a high enough position, probably at King's Landing to help her and put the bastard in her place before her presence brings even more curses to the lands of hers and Lysa's. Worst, she could try usurping poor Edmure from his rightful position. Thankfully she remembers that she has a childhood friend there at King's Landing whom she could fully trust on seeing her will done. Maybe he'll have an idea how to go about it. He is after all at one of the highest positions of Westeros.
As she watches the Northern Lords party below with the usual chaos, Catelyn smiles as a plan comes together into her mind.
First things first though. She needs to remind the bastard of his husband of his rightful place. He is getting rather uppity due to the drastic change of the other Northern Lords about baseborn children ever since the Roar.
…
The Narrow Sea
Norelos Hestaar breathes in the familiar sea breeze as the ship sails across the Narrow Sea towards Westeros. Born and bred in Braavos, the sea is an old friend that he is familiar with and not even the powerful waves created due to the ending of the False Winter at Westeros succeed on making him feel sick. Being a representative of the Iron Bank, he has traveled on many places via boat. No wave in the known world can stop him from fulfilling the missions entrusted to him by the Iron Bank.
His purpose currently is to travel into the rising star of Westeros, Harrenhal and make contact with Lady Delianah, the first woman to be ever knighted. Rumors of her intelligence and natural ability have traveled all over the known world. She apparently transformed the lands of Harrenhal, a decrepit land with no hope and future into an industry never seen before. Now it is the saving grace of the North and the Riverlands as it produces enough food to challenge even the Reach, the bread and butter of Westeros in both quality and quantity. Its people it said live like knights instead of peasants and the Lady herself is an accomplished veteran of the Greyjoy Rebellion.
Norelos however does not care about that. All he cares about is the Delianite. It is extremely high in demand, almost as extreme as Valyrian Steel. Harrenhal representatives normally create auction which Iron Bank merchants buy everything that they can to maintain a supply line to their customers.
However word has reached the Iron Bank about the Old Lion of the West making a bargain to get direct access to the precious gem. Thus his presence here. His purpose is to wrangle an agreement that can get the Iron Bank a steady supply line other than the auctions before someone else fully does. Delianite is a gem that the Iron Bank cannot currently lose access to. Harrenhal is literally the only place in the land that it can be found. They have to make exceptions to their usual norm if its lady start demanding stuff.
Norelos however frowns as his eyes espy five ships in the distance with square-like design sailing almost on the same path as his. One cannot mistake the golden serpentine dragon holding a rose on its mouth at the banners.
"Why the fuck is the kingdom Yi Ti sending ships to Westeros?"
…..
Hold's Hamlet Inn
"Yes, we're rich! And our names will be remembered for this!" the rather happy voice of Elli, his second in command echoes along the rooms with many an echoed AYE! From the other workers.
Matthew grunts as he unhappily drinks his ale in a dark corner. Why oh why did he chose not to listen to his instincts and helped build the damned place? Now he was left behind and his name would not be remembered? Instead some unlearned lout from his group would have his name etched on stone, not him.
"INNKEEPER! MORE ALE!"
…
Author's Note: Sorry for the late day to day update. Life had been demanding as of late and my writing schedule had to be decreased a lot. Anyway hope ya enjoy. I had fun writing about Myrcella's change. Going to return to Delianah's perspective next chapter and apply more improvements to Harrenhal, or Rivendell. Hope no one's offended. I really like the place with the way Tolkien described it.
Okay, so now I guess its time for more politics next chapter and an interesting concept that I rather like in the Harry Potter universe. More Rhaenys' thoughts also next chapter and the secret of the Resurrection Stone.
I was wondering how to deal with Edmure. Should he be good or bad? Same with Jon Arryn and the Martells. Do the Martells hate the Tullys? Does Lysa hate her father and brother? Will the Vale tolerate an armed to the teeth neighbor?
I am planning also to add a game changer on Delianah's pocket, something that would fully make her a powerhouse despite not being a Lord Paramount. Dragons are too cliché and Basiliks are just overkill. I have to think more about this.
We are going to have an awesome battle soon.