Chapter Eighty

…

To Her Ladyship,

Lady Olenna Tyrell

In the name of her Grace, Princess Myrcella Baratheon, daughter of the Late Robert Baratheon, King of the Andals and the First Men. May there be peace and prosperity between our Houses. My Lady Myrcella does not view the Reach as an enemy and would like to extend to your House the gift of peace. As you must already have heard, my lady's forces have crushed the armies of the Usurper, Joffrey the Reincarnation of the Mad King, and that of Stannis, the Dour Stag, the Westerlands and the Stormlands have already bent the knee and so does the East after the assassination of the Lady Arryn and the massacre of their forces. Dorne has also pledged its support and that also of the North with the Riverlands to my lady's claim.

We have no ill will against you and my lady is reluctant to add even more damage to the Realm. In exchange for your support and the cessation of hostilities, my lady offers the Title of Prince Consort to Ser Loras Tyrell and the position of Lady-in-Waiting to the Lady Margaery. However if you accept, the Reach in supporting the former Usurper, Renly Baratheon would be penalized by paying for the Crown's debt fully after the final discussions.

Signed,

Lady Delianah Tully,

Lady of Rivendell and all it's territories

Olenna Tyrell places the letter received from the former bastard of Tully to the table. It has caught everyone from Highgarden unawares when an envoy from Rivendell comes knocking on their front door bringing her this letter.

Now here she is sitting at the veranda with her family surrounding her as they take turns reading the letter of the Lady of Rivendell. This gives time for Olenna to think.

Long story short, her House has been given the short end of the stick during this slugfest for the Iron Throne. Personally she has not supported this charade of supporting Renly. By the laws of gods and men, Renly is the second-born son, someone that would never be inheriting the birthright of Robert's children and older brother unless Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella suddenly drop dead and Stannis suffers an unfortunate accident. Before she realizes the sudden change in status quo though, Robert croaked dead alongside Stark with the reincarnation of Aerys plopping his crazed behind on the throne of his father.

Worse, Loras comes riding back from King's Landing with Renly in tow. At first Olenna has thought that her grandson and his not so secret lover are simply here taking refuge from Joffrey. She is totally blindsided when they start whispering in her dolt of a son's ear what a good idea would be for Renly to be the one to ascend the throne due to "people loving him". Her buffoon of a child unfortunately goes along with it together with the rest of the Reach Lords and Ladies. The fools do not even realize that by putting Renly's ass on the Iron Throne, they would set a precedent of rebellions all over Westeros of younger spares trying to usurp heirs due to whatever reason they might come up with.

With how fast the Reach marshaled its strength, Olenna has to give it to Renly and her grandchild. They might be idiots, but they are extremely likeable idiots and many gathered to Renly's banner in support. Her son also weds Margaery to the fool to strengthen the ties of the Reach to the Crown. How Renly plans to put an heir to her granddaughter knowing very well the man's preferences, gods only know.

Olenna herself simply has to go with the flow as the Reach marshals for the younger Baratheon. In a way she has been outmaneuvered by her son on this insane plan of his, one of his rare moments she has to hand it to him. To confront him now and make known her opinions would only be bad. In this troubled times the last thing that Olenna needs is for the world to see a divided House Tyrell.

Then that's where everything goes to shit as far as she can see. A shadow demon with Stannis' face murders Renly though many might argue it is just a simple assassin. The end however is obvious. The Stormlords who have pledged their allegiance to Renly immediately breaks camp and leave to swear to Stannis leaving the Reachlords high and dry confused and kingless. They are an army without a king and a purpose. Her granddaughter also becomes freshly widowed and Lora nearly lost his life when he tries to duel Brienne of Tarth who is accused of negligence in protecting King Renly. All in all they are in a bind.

Now the War of Kings is coming to an end with what it seems to be the Princess Myrcella, the announced heiress to the throne coming victor, beating odds everywhere.

"So we pledge to the Lady Myrcella Baratheon?" asks Willas Tyrell, her eldest grandson breaking the ice of silence.

"She's certainly better than the remaining candidate which is Joffrey," Loras grumbles out. He is still in the recovery stage about the death of his lover and Olenna makes a note to address his mannerisms once they are alone.

"A woman however in the Iron Throne, this is the first time in the entire history of the Seven Kingdoms. Last time this happens, it caused the Dance of Dragons which nearly ripped the realms in half," drawls her oaf of a son.

"Surely you can't plan for us to declare for Joffrey father!" exclaims the heir of Highgarden. "The Westerlands are reeling on their defeat and leaderless, the Vale is at the cusp of civil war with the Lady Arryn dead and the current lord a suckling boy, the Stormlands have all but surrendered, the North, the Riverlands and Dorne have already pledged allegiance to the Princess. The only supporters of Joffrey is the Crownlands and it is a very loose support if the King's tendency to kill random people in the most hideous ways is any indication,"

"I'm just saying, you know, she is a girl, her brother is a boy. It is obvious by tradition who should be sitting in the throne my son," huffs the Lord of Highgarden.

"Mace!"

"Yes mother?"

"Shut up!"

"Of course mother,"

Olenna sighs as she massages her wrinkled forehead before looking at her brighter members of her family as they finish taking in the contents of the letter. "So, what do you think?" she asks them.

"I don't know grandmother. It seems good enough. It would be all up for Loras however if we say yes to this," Margaery speaks out looking at her older brother who grimaces.

"I miss Renly but I-I would do my duty on this," he sighs. Olenna simply "hmms" in response. Her grandson might be a sword swallower but he takes his duties rather seriously when it comes to their family enough.

"The title however grandmother at the letter, it says Prine Consort, why?" asks Willas emphasizing the words penned in the letter. "It should be King-Consort seeing that she would be the future Queen,"

"Maybe because she hasn't been properly coronated yet," answers Olenna. "She still calls herself Princess after all instead of Queen. Either way she is the only option for Highgarden right now. There is no good aligning ourselves with the boy-king right now at King's Landing. The last thing that our house needs right now is to be named on the same sentence as the reincarnation of the Mad King! It doesn't matter if she has a cunt instead of a cock between the legs as long as she can bring stability to the madness that is currently plaguing us all now. The Seven Hells would also freeze over before we even consider supporting that grasping fool at Pyke. This is the only path our family can take an we go with it despite the rather unorthodox circumstances right now,"

"We can always declare for ourselves like the Gardener Kings of old," suggests Mace suddenly.

"Mace?"

"Yes mother?"

"Shut up!"

"Of course mother,"

Olenna just huffs as she wriggles to a more comfortable position that would not stress her old bones. Mace is an idiot for even suggesting it. The Tyrells are not as secure in their position as Overlords of the Reach for years. Like the Tullys, they don't enjoy the traditional support of their lords like the Starks, the Martells and the Arryns, the wealth of the Lannisters, the royal blood connection of the Baratheons. Instead it has always been the support of the Targaryen crown that keeps bloodhound rival houses like Hightower and Redwyne at bay which needs to be placated else their agendas might clash with that of House Tyrell.

Pledging however to Myrcella Baratheon is risky. While the Princes is indeed competent in her own way, Olenna is acute enough to see that the majority of her success is because of the support of the Lady of Rivendell. She's got a nagging feeling that despite Myrcella taking the throne of her father, it would be the former bastard who would be controlling everything in the shadows. She has nothing against the former bastard especially with all her success and miracles. The young woman is powerful, ambitious and cunning to boot. The fact remains however that she is a former bastard and that leaves something nasty in Olenna's tongue.

Still what can they all do for that way is the only positive way that would probably not lead to ruination.

"So Loras, I guess all is in your shoulders now grandson. Our family's future rests on your hands," says Olenna looking at the young man.

"I will not fail our family grandmother," he bows.

"Good, now tell those Summer Knights blundering around like ducks about the decision that we are taking and make sure to send an envoy to our new liege's camp. The Tyrells will stand with Princess Myrcella on her quest to the Iron Throne!"

…

Edge of the Crownlands, Road to Osgiliath

"So, tell me uncle. This Lady Myrcella, is she really as beautiful as they say they are?" asks Princess Arianne looking at her uncle.

The current heiress of Dorne is here for one and one reason only, to commit the pledge the service of Dorne to the already obvious victor of the War of the Kings. Normally hell would freeze over before any of the Martells would dare bow to a Baratheon. This spawn of Robert Baratheon however seems cut from a different cloth from any of her two families.

Everyone at Dorne after all have heard of the rather inglorious end of the Mountain that Rides after Prince Oberyn Martell who is getting well known as "The Mandalorian" killed him. He had brought the cut off head of the ugly brute that murdered her aunt in the most heinous way with him when he returned to Dorne. He also brought with him a certain Amory Lorch all gift wrapped and ready. Her father, Doran Martell had been so ecstatic of having in his hands the men who was responsible for murdering members of his family that he granted Oberyn the five thousand needed to raid the supply lines of Stannis in support of Rivendell in the War of the Kings.

Now with the conclusion that the War of the Kings would be won by Myrcella Baratheon of all people, its setting the first ever precedent of a woman successfully winning the obstacles to the Iron Throne. Her father has given her specific orders that Dorne with Oberyn's help be able to get into the good graces of the next monarch before she takes her seat. If possible, her brother Quentyn might even be betrothed if the opportunity arise marking the next generation of kings with Dornish blood on them.

Arianne has no idea what changed her father's perspective about even deciding that his own blood would intermingle with that of the spawn of Robert Baratheon. However after a rather drunken session with her uncle Oberyn with some of that Rivendell Firewhisky he brought with him and drowning Lorch again and again for amusement at the Water Gardens is enough for her father to do a three sixty in his decisions.

Or it might be because of the new angle her father is playing at.

She knows through her own spies that the plan of her father regarding the Targaryens had failed….epically. Her soon to be betrothed, Viserys Targaryen got himself killed. Apparently the moron thinks himself above laws and has drawn a sword at Vaes Dothrak, the sacred city of the Dothraki. He gets a golden molten crown for that. Her sister Daenerys on the other hand seems to style herself a defender of the people after Ser Barristan the Bold who was kicked out of Joffrey's service for being old pledged himself to her. Of course first thing he did was to slay the spy, Jorah Mormont, replacing him as the Queen's personal protector and adviser. Now due to his influence, Daenerys is playing good ruler overseas at the ruined city of Astapor trying to make ends meet. Apparently not even having three full grown dragons is enough to make Slaver's Bay cooperate as she is besieged with local and international problems in keeping Astapor together. She would not be ready to return to Westeros in the next decade or two based on what her spies report.

As a result, the only way forward is to coordinate with the one most likely to win the throne who is conveniently they are also in good terms with. It is a plus that her uncle is already acquainted with them and established a foothold. Arianne however wonders about the angle she can make with her coming. She has heard that the Lady of Rivendell has a female concubine, maybe she would be prone to female seductions?

"Hmm, interesting, I wonder if she would be interested in the bed," Arianne simply ponders as her carriage continues to move.

…

Myrcella's Camp

Rhaenys would like to pride herself that she has seen the many faces of her best friend. They have after all grown up side by side glued to the hip under the tutelage of the Lady of Rivendell. She has seen happy Myrcella, sad Myrcella, crying Myrcella and might she say so, pre and post sex Myrcella. This is the first time however that she has seen Myrcella wearing her very angry face as she whacks heedlessly at the training pole set up behind her tent by the Death Dealers protecting her.

"Cella," Rhaenys calls out seeing her friend with gritted teeth hacking furiously ignoring the bits and pieces of wood clinging to her.

"CELLA!" she barks out this time and as she expects, Myrcella shouts in frustration before wildly slashing at her target again. This time however Rhaenys jumps in catching her blade with her own before pushing her off.

"Venting your frustrations at the wooden pole isn't exactly therapeutic Cella. It can't fight back," says Rhaenys readying herself with her dual blades. "Have at me,"

Myrcella's mental state obviously is bad as she expects it to be as her usual demure friend who would not hesitate to pause her horse to avoid riding over a kitten charges at her with a wild cry. Rhaenys meets her charge with her own blades. She stands firm like an indomitable barrier as her friend attacks her with her sword. Myrcella might be competent in wielding a blade as her station should. Against someone like Rhaenys though who inherits the skills of the Sword of the Morning, it is nothing. Add the fact that her friend's mental state is rather off, her attacks are heavy but exceptionally simple. Easy to predict and easy to parry.

In the span of five minutes, she has her friend panting and without a sword as one of her counters finally throws the blade off a sweating and panting Myrcella's hands.

"Enough of this, you are tired. Come to the bath with me," Rhaenys chides making sure to take the practice tourney sword Myrcella has on the floor before throwing it at a Death Dealer to put back. Without wasting any more time she pulls the princess with her to the large Royal Tent where Yasmina has them strip off their sweaty leathers to the warm bathtub.

Rhaenys relaxes under the soothing touch of the water and as usual Myrcella reclines on her. The heiress to the Iron Throne is incredibly touchy and Rhaeys would not deny her a bit of skinship especially in her rather sensitive state.

"Why would she want me to marry that prick when she has said already yes to be betrothed to me?" Myrcella finally asks in a broken voice making Rhaenys sigh as she rakes her hands over her best friend's hair.

Suffice it to say things have been rather complicated the past few days. The victorious armies of Prince Jon Snow of Dol Amroth and the forces of Leomord and the Silver Wings Knights Order finally reintegrate themselves back bearing their good fortune. However with it come letters bearing the seal of Delianah who apparently needs to deal with something and is not present. The contents tell about the induction of Ser Loras Tyrell to be Prince Consort and in return pull the Reach back to the fold without anymore fighting. It is a good plan seeing everything that the Reach could offer and what a problem they would become if they are hostile. The only hiccup is that Myrcella is not taking it well.

"Maybe there is something more than what you might imagine Cella. I know how much you and our lady loves each other if only because you seem to be eating each other's face off every night,"

Rhaenys only laughs as her friend turns cherry red in reminder of hers and Delianah's nightly activities(sometimes with Rhaenys or Yasmina included). She only kisses the back of her friend's head before hugging her to her She fervently hopes inside however that Delianah does not make the decision on messing with Myrcella's heart. Rhaenys would never forgive her if she does.

Their moment of silence and contemplation however is broken as Yasmina enters with a curt bow. "Forgive me my ladies. There's a messenger outside who says that a group of scouts have found the Prince Tommen Baratheon wandering around in the woods and have brought him here.

….

Outside the Royal Pavilion

Prince Tommen Baratheon is not a happy prince. In fact it's more that he's scared as the large men wearing black scale armor glares down at him making him feel like a rat being cornered by hungry wolves. He only gulps as he pulls Ser Pounce-A-Lot and Lady White-paws to his muddy tunic at the chest taking comfort in their meows and soft fur.

As far as he can recall, Tommen has always been afraid in his entire life. Joffrey tends to bully him every chance he can get as they grow up and his father barely sees him. It is better when her sister, Myrcella is there for she is kind to him, but she soon left leaving Tommen under the tender ministrations of Joffrey. Mother is always kind to him but she favors Joffrey a lot that he tends to be alone all the time. Uncle Jaimie is always fun to him but he is a KIngsguard and keeps his distance. This leaves Tommen all on his own.

With the death of Mother and Father, things have worsened for Tommen. King Joffrey now lords his position over him and tends to go into great detail how he would have their sister drawn and quartered for daring to rise up against him. This frightens Tommen of course especially since Joffrey would have his guards make an example in front of everyone to make his point. Tommen misses Myrcella, his sister and her kindness.

The reason why he is in this predicament however is because Ser Pounce and a Lady White-paws without warning last night start tugging at him and making him chase them to a secret tunnel at the Red Keep. Before Tommen knows it, he is lost and he has cried a bit before making the decision to follow his two cats in the tunnels landing them somewhere in the woods. Of course being lost, he continues to follow his pets for nearly half a day, hiding in sheer fright from a wandering bear before finally being nabbed by these black armoured men who dragged him none too gently in the middle of an army camp bearing the sigils of House Baratheon. His house.

Before Tommen could wonder if he is about to be "Drawn and quartered" as Joffrey tends to make him watch, the tent opens up showing a very tall and mature version of his oldest sister, hair still wet looking at him in astonishment.

"Cella-," Tommen tries to call out before he has his lungs almost crushed by the bearlike hug of her sister who is sobbing at the tunic of his neck.

Somehow the fear deep inside him has finally stopped rearing its ugly head for now.

…..

Air Above the Capital, King's Landing

Delianah sniffs before vomiting as Godric flies him over the wretched city. For the life of her she has no idea why anyone would live in this cesspool of a living area. Here she is hiding in the clouds yet she can smell the ungodly stench that is King's Landing even at this height.

"The unnaturalness of that smell must have been through generations that it even poisons the air above it," Delianah thinks taking a sniff again before retching to the side unable to bear the ungodly smell any longer.

"And Myrcella will rule from here? Fuck. It would take me a lifetime alone to get rid of this smell from attempting to strangle all of us to death by asphyxiation"

With a quick application of a Bubble-head charm to herself, she takes a deep breathe, her lungs finally heaving a sigh of relief from fresh air. The reason why she is here is because of her desire to test one of Rivendell's secret weapons stash early.

Gunpowder.

Delianah has absolutely zero desire to bring cannons or even guns at this age. Of course primarily because gun making is not in her past life's area of expertise, but also because she does not want the playing field leveled between muggles and magicals. There is also the simple fact that Westeros is not as enlightened as the twenty-first century humans. Knowing the idiots here, they would be massacring themselves to extinction. No, no guns sir in this timeline.

Gunpowder however is another exception. The reason for this is simple. Somehow that necromancer in the North is flexing his power quite strongly and even she can feel his touch this far down South. That means that sooner or later, he would be marching that quite unfair undead army of his to the Wall. She needs a little help from the destructive knowledge that her people amassed during the twenty-First Century. The Gunpowder is her solution.

The reason however she is here hovering with eight other Gryphons is because she desires to do a trial run with the first batch of the powder the Green Men successfully synthesized. While she can do it anywhere, she reasons out that she might as well do it on King's Landing and save their invading force a little bit of effort. Plus the Gryphons at Rivendell are getting chubby and lazy. This side mission of hers would be good for them to stretch their wings a bit.

Rising over the sleeping city below, Delianah finally makes the decision that the angle and wind is enough. With a pat at Godric's head the giant Gryphon screeches making the other Gryphons drop their giant bags in unison, each the size of a small room filled with gunpowder. She watches as they fall slowly to the ground, each having an exploding timer each.

"…..and in three…..two…..one…boom!" Delianah counts as nine different explosions rock the entire city like miniature bombs. Fire breaks out and the eerie sound of screams can be heard above.

"Explosions confirmed, it works very well alright," Delianah thinks to herself looking at the wildfires below.

"Well that's it, time to go home and explain to Myrcella that there is no way in hell I would be letting that Tyrell poof even lay a finger on her," she sighs turning Godric to fly away from the city with the rest of the Gryphons when another explosion erupts from the city.

This one nearly blinds her as a green flash illuminates even the night as a veritable tide of green flames erupt like a snake all the way to the Red Keep and the Temple of the Seven. Green fire roars like a tidal wave engulfing everything in its way, the screams dying to a hush as the fires engulf all, stone, flesh and water all disintegrates like dust. Within mere a minute, the capital of Westeros is all gone except for ashes.

A stunned Delianah simply sits there atop her Gryphon realizing that she has totally forgotten about the stashes of Wildfire of old Aerys and one which Robert promptly forgets about. Last she remembers from the Hidden Ones, the Alchemists are maintaining them. Her bombings must have caused secondary explosions which led well to…..this.

"Oh, fuck me," she murmurs to herself. Well this would be quite hard to explain to Myrcella once she returns.

…..

Author's Note:

Okay so war of the Kings Arc is done. One more Arc then the story is finished. I am really hurrying this so that I can focus on my LOTR Harry Potter Story which a lot of people are Pming about to continue. Also I wanna try my hand again at Warhammer 40K. Im bringing the Clones there baby! Oorah!

"We may fight inside but when we are out there, we remain united at all times!"- Commander no idea what his name is at the Bad Batch during training.