Chapter Thirty-One
...
Three Months Later After Myrella's Scolding of Tywin
The The Godswood overlooking the City of Osgiliath, Capital of Outer Rivendell Territories and Seat of Draco, the Black Watcher of Rivendell.
"When Delianah plans something, she never aims for anything low does she?" Rhaenys can't help but comment to herself as she watches atop her horse the now bustling large city of Osgiliath, the Citadel of the Stars.
It is indeed a sight to behold. Below the tall hill of the Godswood stands the white city, the pride and joy of the Outer Territories. White walls that gleam when greeting the morning sun, large towers and tall houses can be found inside said protections that accommodate dozens of families each. Made from tons upon tons of marble ordered from House Royce (much to the displeasure of the other Vale Lords of House Royce continuing flow of gold).The culture of Osgiliath deviates away from that of the rest of Westeros and even that of Rivendell. Instead of a single house, family design, these accomodations are like hives housing families and its different branches. Four things however makes Osgiliath unique out of anything else in the known world.
One is its center. A large giant circular amphitheater designed specifically to accommodate the demand of tourneys or any kind of sports. It can house almost a hundred thousand observers and is even rumored to be able to accommodate water for makeshift naval engagements.
Second is the people themselves. It is widely known that the creation of Osgiliath is first and foremost influenced by the victory of Rivendell against the Faith of the Seven and paving the road for the permanent stay of the religion of the Old gods down South. Surprisingly other than the Isle of Faces, Osgiliath probably became the center of the religion of the Old Gods of the South. Weirwood trees that All of its citizens have the same faith with only a paltry few being not. You can see the distinction immediately of the believers and those who are not. The believers are taller, have longer hair spun of golden and brown color and seem to have a sense of calm and peace that their counterparts do not have. They are also a lot wiser, able to grasp faster the things taught at the schools provided by Delianah and more keen, able to use their minds greatly in doing innovative things. Osgiliath also has the highest rate currently of contributing men and women to join the Black Guard. Said men and women nine out of ten rises through the ranks to become officers.
Third is the river, or rather the large lake. It is not natural but man made, deviated from the small river that runs through South once, it now fills the rather large that fills the expanse of the center of the city. It is so large in fact that a harbor for Longships is placed at the middle.
Fourth is the giant dome that gives Osgiliath its name. Almost as big as a castle, it stretches from one end to the other at the very center of the city beside the river. Dozens upon dozens of gardens surround it and each one has a heart tree of its own joining the grass and flowers. The dome is rather simple in design but what makes it unique is its architecture. The entire structure is almost made up of interlocking glass panes that cost literally lifetimes of fortune. Specialized structures are added at its creation making moving coverings able to close and open to provide sunlight or moonlight inside the dome depending on the occasion. If one would enter the Dome of Osgiliath though, it is a different manner. While the Dome houses the office of the Watcher of the Outer Territories of Rivendell, it is basically however one big giant library that rivals even the Citadel. Unlike the home of the Maesters though, the Dome contains knowledge not only found in Westeros but also from Essos of many things like science, geography, botany, husbandry, tactics, smithing and a thousand others. There are rumors of the Librarians that take care of the Dome that the Lady Delianah personally supplied the books here. Of course no one really believed them. The trait of the Dome however that gives Osgiliath its name is its ceiling. It is said to be a blessing of the gods, a complete reflection of the sky at night showing the stars of the heavens. That is where the city gets its name. Osgiliath, the Citadel of the Stars.
Now here Rhaenys is watching the bustling new city. Suffice it to say that Rhaenys is getting bored sitting around at Rivendell doing nothing. Myrcella thanks to her station as a Princess of the Realm is assigned to help Amelia deal with the rain of paper falling at the Castellan's desk. Delianah of course barely has time to eat and sleep. Apparently the construction of Sea Dragon Point, the finishing touches of Osgiliath, and the logistics involved in settling in the new almost hundred thousand population of the outer territories of Rivendell is taking a large chunk out of her time. It is a miracle that her family of Tullys manage to reconcile themselves with her. Rhaenys is glad for that. When they left back to Riverrun in extremely good terms with many a promise of visiting always(which they fulfilled by visiting at least once a week, Hoster especially). The overwhelming support from the Tullys is a great boon as it smooths over ruffled feathers of many angry Riverlords still sour from their defeat during the War of the Faith.
While the business of both Delianah and Myrcella is understandable, this unfortunately leaves Rhaenys the problem of being alone.
Delianah is apparently no fool and recognizes the fact that someone with a very BIG MIGHT recognize Rhaenys for who she is. Apparently the Dame of Rivendell is being overly protective worrying about magic users, warlocks or sorcerers of all things to know her identity. After everything that she has experienced, Rhaenys is willing to trust Delianah in this. She has seen enough "movies" from Delianah's pensieve about royalty(mostly princesses) being used in various forms of sorceries. She has no desire to be subjected to that, thank you very much. As a result she is kept out of the public eye with at least three Death Dealers to keep her company. Rhaenys does not begrudge Delianah of that. She knows that the Lady of Rivendell cares for her and Myrcella both. This way at least she can lessen the stress of her mind for worrying about her.
Thus she is here watching the bustling city having the best view around while at the same time having the secrecy that her person needs.
Word apparently of the upcoming Great Tourney spreads like wildfire all over Westeros and even beyond. People are buzzing all over like bees attracted to honey. The makeshift harbor at the former lands of House Mooton which is built extremely large and has a design to accommodate nearly four dozen ships seems to be lacking. Ships from all over the Free Cities are coming, from rich merchants, to Minor Lords and even Magistrates. The Visitors are pouring in droves and the inns at Osgiliath are insanely full even with the Tourney pushed a week away. Guards inf act have to set up a small clearing outside Osgiliath's walls where visitors can pitch their tents or simply their hammocks thanks to the lack of space.
The amphitheatre where the tourney will be held is still under wraps until the last week, that is when vendors, merchants and the different groups of trade will be allowed to go in to give them time to prepare. Word through the grapevine at Rivendell tells that the Emperor of Yi Ti himself is coming with almost a hundred ships to attend both to see the marvel of a city hastily built by the miracles of the Old gods and of course, the Tourney.
Other than the merchants, there are also the troubadours and entertainers of every kind. Where people flock, such groups always appear. There are also warriors and soldiers of renown popping in from all over Westeros and Essos. Even Rhaenys who knows little about them recognizes many of their identity. Some good samples are Oberyn Martell of Dorne, Loras Tyrell of the Reach, Beric Dondarrion of the Stormlads, the ever drunk Thoros of Myr who is said to have led the charge at Pyke with a flaming sword, Khal Rhago, a Dothraki employed under the Sealord of Braavos, Dastan of the Free Cities, Prince Ali of the desert tribes of Ibabwa, Liam of Volantis, and Ser Kevan who arrived with his son Lancel Lannister.
All of them come for the tourney and to personally see the Dame of Rivendell of course. Rhaenys until now is still in awe of Delianah though she will never mention it (except for Myrcella and Amelia of course). The lands of Harrenhal is a small decrepit land with nothing to it but a mighty big ruin of a castle. It is not even important except for the fact that it is a mighty reminder for generations to come of the might of the Targaryens and their dragons. With the Targaryens exiled and the dragons no more, it is nothing more than simply a ruin of another age. It all however changed with the coming of the Lady Delianah who turns it upside down and pulling potential after potential out of its empty pocket. If not for the simple truth that Rhaenys has personally seen the blessing of the Old Gods pull miracles out of thin air to aid the Lady of Rivendell in her endeavors, she might have credited it to magic.
Her thoughts of Delianah however are rudely interrupted as a sickening feeling overwhelms her making Rhaenys jump off her horse with little surprise from her escorts. Hands going to her stomach, Rhaenys runs to the portable toilet that is now present everywhere at Rivendell, even at Godswoods. Throwing the door open, she hurriedly rushes inside as the painful feeling inside her stomach worsens.
She really hates Delianah for inventing chocolate. She also hates herself for being an addict at them and failing to control herself on eating too much.
…
Rivendell, Solar of the Lady Delianah
"I'll be back later okay Delia?" Myrcella smiles gently at Delianah who simply nods at her in affirmation still poring over the hundreds of letters and papers at her desk.
"I'm not going anywhere Cella, go and enjoy,"
"Are you sure that you're going to be alright leaving you with all the work behind?" asks Myrcella looking at the rather high piles of paper standing like silent sentinels waiting to be read.
"Yes, yes, me and the papers are going to be fine, and I've got the servants continuing the coffee," the Dame adds as Myrcella opens her mouth to add. Coffee is literally a godsend for them all in this hectic part of the tourney. Unfortunately the atmosphere of Rivendell is one that literally radiates comfort that it makes its residents want to curl to the nearest recliner to get some shut eye. Coffee is their saving grace on keeping themselves awake after Delianah introduced it to them.
"Go and do your thing Cella, stop being so worried all the time" the Dame waves her off with a hand making Myrcella smile one more time before bowing in respect and exiting their shared room. Two of the Death Dealers immediately flanks her from behind.
A small amount of guilt follows Myrcella as she steps out of the vine covered hallways of the guest chambers. To say that Delianah is busy would be the understatement of the century as far as she is concerned. Apparently not even the Lady of Rivendell expects something of this magnitude to fall in her lap.
Letters are pouring in like rain from every kingdom in this part of the seas and beyond. Everyone and their families are interested on attending (despite being at odds during the War of the Faith), representatives, knights, and even Lord Paramounts are coming. Of course Osgiliath down below is already jam packed by the early comers that the late ones are being forced to succor shelter on the nearby homesteads and forts awaiting the date when the tourney final starts.
Delianah however strictly forbids anyone from leaving the venue of Osgiliath and its surrounding lands, unwilling to cause a diplomatic incident of a random devoted Faith follower getting in odds with a local who believes in the Old gods.
Taxes currently however have never been higher ever since the creation of Rivendell. Myrcella already knows that the scribes of the Lady Amelia have stopped the accounting the money and are insteady weighing them instead by bags. Even the Deliante miners up North have temporarily postpone the mining venture due to the need of workers adding more inns and shelters for the coming visitors and for staffing "arena". There's also the added fact that many of the visitors are enamored by the miracle city itself that is finished in barely three months. Many are taking the opportunity to wander around and explore its wonders.
Osgiliath after all is not like any ordinary city of Westeros in design. Other than the fact that it every single building in it is made in white cement and marble, it also contains something that makes it different from Westeros, Entertainment.
Osgiliath has dozens upon dozens of them all around the city, and they're not the usual kinds to that Westerosi are used about.
When Delianah first explained her reasoning why she's disseminating this new idea throughout Westeros, nobody saw the value in them, including her. Thus the Lady of Rivendell asked her to enumerate the stuff that the average Westerosi do to entertain themselves. Surprise, surprise she barely counted it in one hand. Other than whorehouses, gambling dens, training yard bouts, tourneys, and the occasional jongleur or minstrel at the tavern, there was literally nothing else.
Thus Osigiliath catered the once more brilliant ideas of Delianah. Bands of every kind were encouraged from the populace itself along with the invention of different musical items like the drums, the guitar and the violin. The game of gambling was expanded, from the dice and the simple Blessings of the Seven Card game to dozens upon dozens more especially with the invention of the Fifty-Two Cards.
Table games also arose all over the place which quickly became popular for the more intellectual and refined part of the populace. Inside smaller domes came businesses catering billiard tables, ping pong, chess, game of the generals, the ladder dice roll, bowling, tennis, badminton and such.
For the more active part of the populace, new entertainments are also catered. Fake crossbow stalls are placed at nearly every street alongside Darting. It is a favorite for the common folk as it is cheap and they get to wield a fake crossbow and hit the small soldier miniatures and be rewarded based on range. Arenas on the more open areas are also made available which caters to either boxing, wrestling, brawling or simply honor duels that is non-lethal. It was a lovely source of gambling for the boys especially. Spaces such as these were also used for mock jousting via carts. It's basically a place where wannabe commoners play as knights but instead stands on a wagon and be pulled by two others on their team against another team while holding elongated blunt sticks. At the lake and the rivers are also boat racing and the swimming races which were used mostly to soothe wounded pride and egos.
Sometimes Amelia thinks that the city of Osgiliath was one big entertainment center.
The only thing that Osgiliath lacks however was whorehouses. Apparently Delianah disapproved greatly of the trade of the flesh. The only reason however that she acquiesced to even allow only one whorehouse to be established at Osigiliath was because her father was coming also and would be expecting to be able to continue his hobby while here. Even then the restrictions for a prostitute to work in such a building were so high that very few pass the requirements.
Myrcella had stopped wondering about the decision making quirks of Delianah a very long while ago. She had come to accept that she'd never understand the beautiful Lady of Rivendell and simply went along for the ride. So far she had not been disappointed. Delianah kept popping out wonder after wonder from that brain of hers and prosperity continues to flow on her lands. Never had Myrcella in her entire life had seen smallfolk so happy. With the influx of wealth and the lack of cruelty, the smallfolk on the Outer Territories of Rivendell were almost like hedge knights in wealth, lifestyle and pride while those at the Inner Territories were more like minor lords in wealth and prestige only with duties and responsibilities.
Myrcella currently however does not care about all that for she has something more important to deal with today. The conversation she had overheard before from her grandfather and her granduncle continue to haunt her. Specifically the part where they cannot bind Delianah to the Crown. Myrcella might not care much for the realm or her family for that matter. It is pretty hard to care about a father that barely pays attention to you, a mother who is supposedly doting but is in fact obsessive only if you're gone, and a brother who would have no qualms putting a crossbow bolt on your leg just because it amuses him. She is not yet that close to Tommen due to their age gap. In a way, in her entire family tree, the only one she knows that even cares a lick about her is her grandfather and she knows that even then it's because of her family name and position.
She also does not care about the common folk of Westeros that much if she's going to be more honest to herself. All her life she lived at the position of utmost power. While she does her best to view them in a new light as Delianah taught her to, years of ingrained culture tend to mar her feelings. At least she does care about them not suffering. She might not love them, but she has no desire to see them beaten or dying because of neglect. The more logical part of her argues also that happy underlings are easy to rule underlings as she personally has seen Delianah do. It's so much better to walk in a populace that shouts blessings to your name instead of hidden knives.
What Myrcella cares about however is her position; not her status mind you but her way of life currently. She prefers her life as it is, learning, growing, discovering new things with Rae-Rae and learning under Delianah while tiptoeing to avoid trouble. She had seen war already and Rae-Rae might never admit it but she also did. No, what Myrcella wants above all is for the status quo, for the quiet to remain while she lives her life in peace.
That's why the words of her grandfather about tying Delianah to the crown resonates within her. Staying at Rivendell taught Myrcella a lot about politics. The more she learns, the more she starts to understand that the grip of her father in the realm is a tenuous one and the only thing that's keeping it standing is her grandafther's support of gold and the alliance forged during her father's rebellion. It is like a domino table that with the fell of one piece, everything would cascade down.
It does not help that her father neglects the realm so badly that it's not funny. If not for Jon Arryn, it might have splintered already. Even then the Falcon Lord is a pacifist by nature and as he keeps the peace with no strength as an example, shadows grow ever darker on it. Add the nature of the next king which would be her brother and once her grandfather died, she can almost smell the chaos coming in the future.
That is why she understands more than anyone on securing Rivendell's support. Delianah is a superpower in her own might. Her unorthodox thinking is superb and add the might and wealth of Rivendell, battle-tested with its connections, what you have is a kingdom within a kingdom. It is a kingdom that does not rely on the rest of the Seven to survive. A trait it exhibited when it won during the War of the Faith.
Her grandfather as ambitious as he is, is right. They need to bind Delianah to the Crown in a way, hopefully marriage. But who? Joffrey is absolutely out and Myrcella would rather gnaw her own carcass than even suggest that. Tommen would not be a bad candidate but thinking about it gives unhappy feelings to Myrcella's gut for some reason.
That is why she is here right now descending on the ground floor guest quarters reserved mostly for not so important guests of Rivendell or those too old to climb its staircases.
Myrcella has a plan…..sort of to make sure that the future she dreads not come to pass.
Taking the staircase to the lower private guest quarters of Rivendell, Myrcella finally arrives at her destination.
"Stay here please, she says to the two Death Dealers who wordlessly bowed before stationing themselves at the sides of the hallway. Raising her hand, Myrcella gently raps her knuckles at the wooden door in front of her.
"For the last time! I'm telling you fools that I am too old to be bothering on going up the tower you-!" the annoyed loud voice from the inside stops abruptly as the door opens showing the creased old face of a surprised Shella Whent, the former Lady of Harrenhal.
"Hello Lady Whent, am I bothering?" asks Myrcella, smiling faintly at the old woman, her small confidant other than her friends at Rivendell. She might have enjoyed the new reforms and learnings that she intakes everyday under the tutelage of Delianah, but Myrcella is no fool. Every now and then she would visit the old woman to learn from her the traditional practices of the realm. While Delianah means well with her new reforms and practices, many of the Lords and Ladies frowns heavily at that. As a princess (despite having zero inclination of leaving Rivendell anytime soon), it is her duty to learn more about her people and balance the traditional learnings with the new revisions. Lady Shella sufficed it to say is a gold mine of information and tradition.
The older woman in front of her as usual bows at her presence immediately.
"No, no your highness, my apologies for my loud voice of answering. I didn't know it was you," says the former lady.
"No apologies are needed Lady Shella. It's my fault for not sending word that I'm coming," Myrcella replies with a wave of her hands. "May I come in?" she asks.
"Of course, of course; your guards are not coming in also your highness?" asks the old lady looking at the two Death Dealers who seems to be sharing stories with one another if their giggling is any indication at the alley.
"Not at the moment, no," Myrcella answers. "I have something private to discuss and I want to consult your wisdom for this Lady Shella," says Myrcella nervously fidgeting with the edges of her yellow dress making the older woman nod wordlessly before stepping aside to let her in. Myrcella gups as the door closes behind her. She has been in this room many times, but currently she almost turns back. What she plans to ask advice about is a taboo of the highest order and heavily frowned upon Westeros after all.
"Here, take a seat you highness," gestures the old woman to a more comfortable armchair. "My apologies that I don't have wine, but the Lady Delianah would not allow me to drink due to my age. All I have is milk that the servants have heated from the kitchen. Just give me a minute your highness,"
"Thank you Lady Shella," Myrcella replies taking the offered seat. "You know it's for your good why she banned you from wine right?" she points out earning her a half hearted irritated wife from the older lady.
"I know, I know. All these new rules you young ones implement, makes me feel as if I am reminded of my age every day. Thank you for your concern though your highness,"
"Think nothing of it Lady Shella," Myrcella replies as the woman fills a cup from an ornate pitcher that she brings to the table in front of Myrcella.
Muttering a small "thank you" to the older woman, Myrcella takes a sip of the warm brew enjoying the feel as it runs down her throat
"So what's troubling you your highness? asks the former Lady of Harrenhal sitting in front of her.
"How do you know that something's bothering me?" Myrcella questions back with a look of shock at her face.
Lady Shella Whent simply gives Myrcella an amused smile at that. "The blood of your mother's family runs strong in you dear. You have that small crease on your forehead that the late Lady Joanna Lannister has when she's worrying about something. I've met her a couple of times when I am the same age as you. You're more alike to her in looks than you know your highness,"
"Really?" asks Myrcella quite pleased by the knowledge that she inherited something nice from her mother's family other than her name and station simply.
"Yes," Shella replies simply. "But let's not get off topic and you tell me about what's on your mind your highness. Do you want me to watch over Rae-Rae again not to wander off?"
"No, no. She's off to Osgiliath today. Castle life has been quite boring for her so Delianah had sent her off there to get some fresh air," answers Myrcella taking a small sip of her milk. "It's something about relationships Lady Shella. I…..am in need of advice,"
A raised creased eyebrow meets her. "You are young princess Myrcella. Are you sure that you want to discuss this?"
"Betrothals have been made on younger people than me Lady Shella and some are made when they are even formed in their mother's wombs. When it comes to marriage between two parties, age is never a priority,"
"You have a point there your highness. I am still however unsure as to why you came to me," points out the old lady of Harrenhal,"
"It's simple actually Lady Shella. I….understand that you grow up based on traditions of old of us here at Westeros. I am not like you since I spent most of my time learning here at Rivendell under the Lady Delianah whose lessons I'm afraid are quite different from the traditional ones of Westeros,"
A wave of the old woman's hand Myrcella takes as her cue to go on. "I've wondered Lady Shella, how would the nobles of Westeros react if the betrothal I pursue would be on another woman?"
The silence that greets her is almost damning and for a split second Myrcella wonders if she has overstepped her bounds in fact.
"Wanting to pursue the Lady of Rivendell then your highness? I must say I'm not…surprised,"
Myrcella nearly drops her cup of milk at that as she stares in surprise and suspicion at the older woman.
"How did you-,"
"As I've said before your highness, you are more alike to your grandmother than you know," replies the Old Whent with a wry smile. "Your grandmother always has that gleam on her eye when she talks about the Lord Tywin. It is the same gleam that I see right now in yours when you look every time at the Lady Delianah,"
"Does the entire castle knows about this?" asks Myrcella now feeling worried and a little bit panicky. The last thing that she wants right now is her secret being known to well…everyone. Images of her being strung up by her ankles and being filled with quarrels from crossbows floats inside her head (ironically those shooting at her suspiciously look a lot like her brother, Joffrey).
"No, only me fortunately," answers Lady Shella making Myrcella sigh inwardly with relief.
"Y-you're not disgusted by me ermmmm pursuing the Lady Delianah?" asks Myrcella to the old woman.
"Well, the more religious of Westeros might protest…..a lot," answers Shella truthfully making Myrcella wince at that. She has after all seen firsthand how belief drives people into madness. "But as for me though your highness. Who you pursue up to you is your business. If I might ask though, what is your reasoning for wanting to pursue her short of the fact that she's your taste,"
Myrcella gulps before letting off her explanation about the worries that has been plaguing her ever since she heard about the plans of bethrothal (or the lack thereof) when it comes to Delianah. She shares fully her desire to bind Delianah's loyalty to the throne and the royal family. She also tells of the impossibility of such a task and the lack of candidates that might be worthy (hopefully none, she prays) to get her hand. She has no qualms singing about Joffrey's less than appreciated character and how Tommen would be also unsuitable. She also forwards herself as the only worthwhile candidate seeing that she already has a good working relationship with said Lady.
"I see, and I would be right to presume that other than such fine points you make your highness. A part of the real reason is that you like her?" the old woman questions.
Myrcella blushes to the roots of her hair before nodding silently in affirmation. She would be lying to herself if she does not have a bit of her worship to the Lady of Rivendell. What's not to like about her after all? She's courageous, brave, steadfast, brilliant in every sense, modest but beautiful, polite(when it suits her), crass, wild and free. She's not meek, gods forbid Delianah is the farthest when it comes to meekness. She shows her thoughts, and she shows it in the loudest way possible for the entire world to hear. She's skillful with a sword, spear as she is with books. She is different in every way and extraordinary. The question is not what is there to like? The question rather is: "What is there not to like?"
"Then you need to work it out your highness," answers the old woman with a sigh making Myrcella look at her confused.
"What do you mean Lady Shella?" she asks.
"I'm saying that the usual ways of making betrothals will not work," answers the Old Whent. "With everything that you've said I assume that she will not be tempted by either wealth, glory, position or fame. She has them all after all unless she's aiming for the crown which I really doubt. Rivendell after all is much more pleasant to live in, compared to the Red Keep,"
Myrcella mentally agrees to that. The Red Keep might be grand in its own way but it certainly is nothing in spades compared to the Homely Castle of Rivendell (Plus the fact that you don't have to worry about invisible ears and knives here listening at every corridor).
"So, will you help me on this endeavor of mine Lady Shella?" Myrcella asks looking pleadingly at the former Lady of Harrenhal who only stares back at her seriously. For a moment Myrcella gulps as Lady Whent simply stares before sighing as she stands up and takes the entire pitcher of milk from the other table before putting it in theirs.
"Fine, but this would not be easy your highness and what you need first is to confirm is whether the Lady Delianah might be interested in you in the same way you are interested in her,"
Myrcella only silently nods again as Lady Whent refills her cup with warm milk.
"Let's not waste time though my lady," the old woman says. "First and foremost, you need to learn the art of flirting,"
….
Rivendell, Public Training Yard
The sound of horses galloping before wood meets wood is followed by the sound of clapping and cheering from the onlookers. For the young lord Bolton, it is another story as it takes all of his skill to keep himself from falling off his horse thanks to the impact of the lance at it.
"LANCE!" he calls out loud to his aide who throws him another blunted lance as he circles the field with his horse before charging again. His opponent, the master-at-arms of House Bolton, Master Hull does the same as he does. He grits his teeth once more as both lances find their mark at the shields as they clash. The jarring impact numbs his arm and once more he almost flies off the stirrups if not for his knees clamping hard on the saddle, a trick taught to him by some of his friends from the Vale. Master Hull unfortunately is not so skilled and he flies off before meeting soft ground.
The whoops and cheers of the onlookers once more sounds around him and despite his numbed left arm and his aching chest, Domeric lets off a smile as he takes off his helmet to wave to his onlookers before nodding grimply at the gathered Bolton men-at-arms.
Unlike most of the Northern Houses, House Bolton heirs privately need to prove their worth to rule. House Bolton after all has a reputation to keep and hundreds of years ingrained to its populace is something that needs to be done by every house leader it has. Normally the heir would prove himself to his father to be deemed ready. Due to the unexpected demise of his father via rock in the head though, Domeric finds himself in the unenviable position of being a lord of the second most powerful house in the North at an extremely young age.
Long story short, his grip on House Bolton is not as strong as he likes. Many of his men, descendants of vassals of House Bolton since time immemorial questions his legitimacy. Other than his youth, his character is also put in the pedestal. The natural distrust of Northeners to anything South backfires quite badly to his father's decision on fostering him in the Vale. House Stark's interest in putting him in his father's seat also is put him into disfavor. As said before, House Bolton after all are rivals of House Stark to the seat of the North since time immemorial and so the same are their bannermen.
Maester Wolkan fortunately gave him good advice before he answered Lord Stark's call to go here South. With a battle victory under his belt, it goes a lot easier to staking his claim to the bloody legacy of the Red Kings (though he has zero desire to imitate them). Now to put the final nail to the coffin of securing a legacy is to secure a betrothal for a wife that would cement his rule over House Bolton. While most would prefer a Northern bride for him, Domeric knows that a Southern one will do very well the same, especially if said bride comes from a powerful House and one that supplies the entirety of the North on its own.
He mentally sighs though as he looks once more at the empty parapets above him. He has been practicing his jousting for the coming tourney. For some reason, this Southern Lady is not looking down from her windows to "admire" him while he practice as he observes the rest of the ladies from the Vale tend to do.
…..
Red Keep, King's Landing
A certain mockingbird smiles as he listens to the old Hand of the King drone on and on about the upcoming trip of the King to the new city of Osgiliath. He would be taking half his court with him and surprisingly even the Royal Family will be going which surprised the hell out of many people. The Queen after all refuses to leave King's Landing as much as possible minus occasional visits to the Rock. This time however she insists and even wants to bring Joffrey and Tommen. The King of course is not happy with this but acquiesces at the same time. The Royal Family despite its parental members hating each other, has enough common sense to show a united outward public front.
Of course the reasoning why the Queen wanted to venture out to Rivendell is because of Petyr's personal whispers. A whisper there, a whisper here, and that one rumor of the Lady of Rivendell gathering power to become queen of the Seven Kingdoms is more than enough for Queen Cersei to go idiotic enough to personally take the journey. Of course the main reason why she wants to go is to extract her daughter there and bring her back. Never mind the rumors of her growth and desire to stay there, no. Petyr happily left that out of his report.
He has also sent some of his best assassins to be assigned with the queen via fourth and fifth parties. Petyr is no fool, he has seen the power exhibited by the Lady of Rivendell when fighting in the dark. He knows she is responsible for the deaths of many High Septons no matter how much she claims otherwise.
Yes, Petyr might have lost the battle in following the orders of his Cat, but he will not lose the war.
….
Author's Note:Hello beloved Westerosi. Sorry for the long update. Been preparing for my board exams. It will be until next week, so until then, updates will be slow okie.
Next chapter will be the tourney arc and after that a major timeskip. Hope ya like this chapter.
Anyway about the appearance of Delianah, I based it at Scathach from Fate, though obviously she won't be wearing such body hugging attire (Yet, maybe, no, I don't know, still on debate). Anyway I hope it solves the mystery of her appearance.
More Fun Edmure and Hoster times next chapter. Gonna lean more on humor since the last few chapters has been all serious and such.
Pairings are still on debate by the way in my brain.