Chapter Twenty-Three
…
Rivendell Hot Springs
Delianah sighs contently as she lets the warm water ease the oozing aches of her entire body. Contrary to popular belief, ruling is stressful and eats a large amount of chunk of personal time. There's a good reason why Delianah never took the position as Minister of Magic for England despite the countless times that it was offered to her. She liked her freedom without the binds of bureaucracy thank you very much.
In this new world however, being in power is different and so is bureaucracy. Here as a noble, you are answerable to yourself only and the king. As long as you do not overstep your bounds in terms of loyalty, one can pretty much do whatever you want. For Delianah, it is the perfect balance. She can enjoy her freedom to the fullest but at the same time still have a sense of purpose in life that can give her direction and keep her grounded.
Plus, it's not as if she's going to agree with the current Norm of this world. When she commissioned Rivendell, she made sure to put into it the specifics that it would have a proper sewer, restrooms and bath tubs that can live up to its modern day counterparts. Of course the Green Men being the Green Men, the idiots thanks to their goddess worship of her took it to another level. The bath walls are crystalized with a combination of glass and silver colored Delianite, and the basins are solid gold. They put it into a literal sense the term "Lannisters shit gold"; or in this case "Delianah shits on gold".
The bathtub of marble she requested were also supersized. Instead of the marble large bathtub, she gets instead an open house gazebo at the top part of Rivendell (no one should see their goddess naked) with a large built in pool that could fit twenty people easy. Delianah is just thankful that they manage to install faucets (with an in built Rune for temperature adjustment and made of carved marble women holding basins of all things) else she might have overpaid whoever is unlucky enough assigned to lug all the water from the ground to up here.
Worse, when she asked them why they made it so shamelessly pricey and ornate, they simply look at her as if she's dumb and has grown a second head. She stopped trying to understand them then. Lord Viktor can put them in the line when they get a little bit too overenthusiastic in their service for her
The bathtub or rather pool to be more accurate is where Delianah is right now, the steaming water erasing the feel of cold air that wafts over the transparent curtains of the open house archways. She has just finished touring the homesteads of the inner lands of Rivendell checking on their defenses and construction progress. Her system of bureaucracy entrusts a lot to the mayors and the different officials she entrusts making her work almost non-existent. It is a more efficient way of ruling with capable and trusted officials(Loyalty potions cough2x) and gives her time to focus on other projects. Currently though, she is taking a small break here at her tub, AKA pool.
Even those who aspire to greatness after all need a break every now and then. There's just one problem.
"Mu, why are you wearing eye coverings here Lady Delianah?" the very confused voice of Myrcella. Judging from the hums of the other occupants inside the tub, they are in complete agreement with the princess of the realm who is staring at the white towel covering her eyes.
"This is my choice of attire ladies. Please do try and enjoy yourselves and leave me on my own devices," replies Delianah trying not to sweatdrop as she can feel four pairs of eyes staring at her despite the coverings.
Suffice it to say that after Delianah declares that she would be spending some quality time on the pool, the rest of her wards promptly invited themselves also seeing that "it would be fun to spend some quality time together without their duties". If Delianah is a normal girl, it would be no biggie of an issue. However she is Harry Potter the Great reborn. In every sense of the way she is still him only gender-flipped. His interests are still her interests. That's why she very seldom wore dresses in this life. Swimming with naked girls twice below his age before she got flip flopped in this world, it is a disaster.
Delianah doesn't remember how she got dragged here against her better judgement but Amelia, Rhaenys, Myrcella and her concubine, Yasmina successfully managed to bring her here naked in the water. Of course emergency cases require emergency actions thus the eye covers.
"My lady you are being silly. We are all women here," Amelia speaks out with an amused tone. "You're missing the view very much with that eye covers of yours,"
"I've seen the view beforehand, no need for me to see it," Delianah rebuffs. There is not a chance that she would dare take off the eye coverings.
Last she checks, Myrcella is now eight years old despite looking thirteen and Rae-Rae is seven looking twelve thanks to the aging potion. Only Yasmina and Amelia refused the potion seeing that Amelia is already comfortable with her body in her current age and Yasmina wants to serve as she is. All in all the former three looks almost mature in Westeros standards (including herself). If she has little Harry right now, she would be in deep trouble. Thank whatever deities she is Delianah.
It is almost surprising that it has already been another year since the False Winter.
"Time does fly so fast," she thinks to herself. The bandit raids continue be a nuisance and Draco, former Dragon Shit is working night and day to train the Black Guard, now named Unsullied up to par with his standards. The balding scarred young man seems to take the rather profound presence of the bandits to be an insult to his very self with how zealous he seems to be. Mind you despite the heavy scarring in his face, he looks oddly familiar to Delianah, she can't just put a finger on it though.
Hands suddenly touching her bare shoulders makes Delianah squeak an "eep" before realizing that it is Yasmina laying fingers on her back and body removing the kinks of stress off her.
"Fine as you wish my lady. You're a killjoy though," Rhaenys says earning her a raspberry from Delianah. The girl is avid on watching at the pensive and rather takes some of the sayings and mannerisms of the movies stored there.
"Tell me about you girls though, how are all of you?" Delianah asks turning at the hubbub of their voices. "I'm sorry my duties have taken up a lot of my time and I haven't been able to spend as much time as I want with you all,"
"It's understandable my lady. We are all busy one way or another and you are Lady of Rivendell and all its lands. It would be understandable that your time would be in high demand," says Amelia.
"Still, it's not fair for all of you, especially you. Princess Myrcella-,"
"Cella!"
"Fine, Cella. Since it is your purpose after all to learn under me, I do apologize for my lack of regard in that matter,"
"Oh no no no! There's no need for you to personally tutor me like a little girl Delia," the golden princess replies. "I've already learnt a lot and that I've perused so much of your library. My tutors after all continue to educate me about my responsibilities as princess of the realm alongside those subjects taught to me by the Green Men that is norm here at your schools. I've also been following Lady Amelia when she does her rounds,"
"She wants to see the people and how things work my lady," the cousin of Lord Viktor says when Delianah turns her head at her direction. "We mostly explore the towns and the inner homesteads so other than the usual natives of Essos who do not bow, we have little to no trouble,"
"I see, and what are you reflections so far Cella?" Delianah asks curiously remembering very well not to involuntarily take off her eye coverings as she turns at Myrcella's direction.
"Ehmm, the people are very well cared for?"
"Is that a question or a statement?"
"Sorry, Delia," even with her eye covers on, Delianah can almost imagine the golden-haired girl turning cherry red at the chastisement. "The people are very cared for,"
"And do you understand why I am doing it? You must have noticed by now that not many Lords and ladies of the Westeros make an effort towards their smallfolk,"
"Ehmm, according to my studies itssss-," Delianah's eyebrows inside her patch raises as she hears someone vaguely whispering and it does not take a genius to know who will aid Myrcella shamelessly.
"-due to the ratio of the lords and ladies Delia. The smallfolk outnumber us and they work our fields and mines providing for us the money for our lands," answers Myrcella quite proudly.
"Bravo! And did you thought of all of that all by your own Cella?" Delianah asks.
"Ehmmm,"
"And there it is. Sweet Darling Myrcella cannot lie to save her life. She would have made a wonderful Stark if she is born a Northener,"Delian thinks to herself amusedly. "Don't ever change Cella,"
"….sorry….," she whispers making Delianah give off a (completely) fake sigh of exasperation.
"Do try to study more and spend less time poking over the pensieve,"
"Yes Delia," the adorable squeak answers making Delianah nod in response.
"Oh yes, there's the spot," Delianah gasps in pleasure as the skilled hands of Yasmina finds the small of her back, firm fingers massaging the sore spots that accumulated there thanks to riding on the saddle all day long.
"And since our dear Rhaenys is so eager to help out Myrcella,"
"Cella!"
"Fine, Cella. Why don't you tell us how much progress are you making with your skills by the blade?" Delianah asks with an eye roll at Myrcella's interruption.
"Mumble, mumble,"
"Excuse me, what was that?" it is Amelia who asks.
"I-It's going well my lady," the small voice of Rhaenys answers.
Delianah almost rolls her eyes at that. Put the Dornish girl at the training yard and she is a different person altogether compared to right now. She might never admit it, but the damage caused by her repeated death have made the girl rather clingy to the people she cares about. Unfortunately that clinginess has a side effect of her being afraid of disappointing them in fear that they will all leave her.
"Well my foot. You are almost the Sword of the Morning reborn!" Amelia praises with a splash of water that earns her giggles from the two. "Don't let her humbleness deceive you my lady. I see her defeat five men dual wielding with practice swords,"
"I-I only listened to my instincts my lady; and they are taking it easy on me," Rhaenys rebuffs.
"It's not! I saw that fight of yours yesterday. They are not taking it easy on you Rae-Rae," Myrcella now joins the queue making Rhaenys splutter even more in embarrassment as she tries to make denials.
Delianah just smiles as she can feel Yasmina's hands now washing her hair at the back. This is her life, surrounded with friends, family, and at peace. She might be an overgrown proud person who loves grandeur but moments like this today listening to Amelia and Myrcella embarrass to hell and back an obviously red-faced Rhaenys, it is not so bad.
….
Road To Darry, Outer Rivendell Territories
Viktor can't help the smile of satisfaction that appears on his aged face as he rides through the forests of Darry. Things are slowly starting to get into their favor ever since the past year. Sure they're still besieged by constant bandit raids that is stupid enough not to learn the small fact that so far none of their fellows have yet succeeded on attempting a crossing and get back alive.
Their actions of nuisance however keep on prompting Draco into stamping out the incursions with Black Guard patrols like weeds. The former Unsullied might not be bred for this hit and run tactics, but they certainly adapt, their pride not asking for anything less. No wannabe thief or bandit ever escape the patrols once they are unlucky enough to be sighted.
While the Black Guard however deals their fair share of justice on the interlopers, the majority of the deaths are surprisingly dealt by the locals of the homesteads. Anticipating very well that the Black Guard's vigilance would not fully stop the incursion on Rivendell borders, Delianah armed the homesteads with crossbows and enough ammunition to stave off an Ironborn raid each.
The would be thieves and robbers found out the hard way that it is a bad idea to recklessly charge farms when its farmers are armed to the teeth with armor piercing bolts. It does not help that the trained "volunteers" at each homestead are eager to prove their mettle and training. In the span of months, experienced veterans are now present at the homesteads near the borders of Rivendell. Of course with the advent of the rather large amount of scum trying to cross the rivers, volunteers of bounty hunters are making a killing literally as more heads are deposited at the guild and money changes hands.
Which brings Viktor to the reasoning as to why here he is riding here towards the outer borders of Rivendell which are comprised of the three lands annexed from the Houses of Roote, Darry and Wode. The inner lands of Rivendell might be heavily protected thanks to the large presence of the Black Guard, the Bounty Hunting Guild and the secret private force that the Lady Delinah isn't divulging for some reason. Whatever it is, their messiah always has a reason, and it is not in his place to know. The outer territories however do not enjoy the same large amount of protection. Sure they have their own smaller forts manned by pockets of Black Guard and homesteads like the inner territory but the fact remains that other than House Darry, they are not protected by natural barriers like the inner territory.
Viktor is specifically here to check on them. Last he heard, a rather large sizeable force of bandits have gathered around someone named Scar, and are moving a force of almost a hundred louts to the farther homesteads. Viktor is here to relocate the smaller ones to the larger dwellings. Some overconfident farmer might protest unto leaving his home otherwise in a false sense of overconfidence that would get not only him but also his family killed. At least if they are with the larger homesteads, that means strength in numbers and even a hundred bandits would be easy pickings for the highly defended homes. Even plate armor after all can't stop a quarrel from a crossbow bolt.
Too engrossed is Viktor with his thoughts that he is caught completely by surprise as one of the Death Dealers shout:
"LOOK OUT!"
It snaps the old lord to reality in a split second. The next thing he knows, someone shoves his horse to the side. A large tree without warning crashes to the guard that saved his life, flattening the man and his horse.
"AMBUSH!" one of the Death Dealers shouts and swords are drawn of the thirty man company that goes always with him.
Men wearing the attires of ruffians with hoods at their heads immediately start appearing from the woods around. Viktor himself draws his sword while gesturing for his men to backtrack through the path they used before. It is to no avail though. The Death Dealer at the back of the column barely manages to turn his horse backward when another tree crashes on the path nearly flattening him also if not for him backing away just in time. Not that it does him any good. One moment he is alive, the next he is falling down with three arrows protruding from his body.
More arrows start pouring in every direction and Viktor only has a second to spare to see the source of the arrows making his old heart sink as he counts near fifty men surrounding them at all sides pouring in more arrows at every direction. Death Dealers start falling down like flies as even the rune protected black ornate armor fails to fully protect their owners as arrows find their mark. To their credit, outnumbered, the Death Dealers do not panic and instead they try to steady their horses even as their comrades' die around them.
Seeing the number of Death Dealers reduced badly, some of the braver (or moronic) ruffians immediately start to rush the beleaguered riders with makeshift spears. One makes a direct beeline to the old Castellan. Viktor grits his teeth as he whacks his sword forward cutting the man's face nearly in half as the momentum of his small charge prevents him from breaking. Regaining his balance despite the bucking horse, Viktor pierces another trying to catch him off guard at the side before a small backtrack canter of his horse allows him to skewer one who is using a mace to knock down the horse of one of the Death Dealers.
Unfortunately arrows continue to fall and Viktor is nearly thrown off as his horse panics rearing its front forward, forcing the Castellan to hold to the reins with one hand for dear life. He barely manages to see another ruffian charging towards her using a spear like a club. Off balanced completely, Viktor blocks with his sword only to be thrown off his horse from the strength of the blow. The impact force on the ground makes him see white and his sword flies away from his hand. That is all the ruffian needs to plant his spear straight at Lord Viktor's chest pinning him to the ground. Already he knows that he is a dead man waiting as he can feel his heart straining and failing to beat even as a piece of metal jams inside it. The ruffian that downed him joins his comrades on slaughtering the last of the Death Dealers. As he lies dying there, Viktor listens as the last of the sounds of battle fades with only the familiar noise of looing of the dead following.
They have lost.
As his vision slowly fades though, he does not fail seeing the shadows of large amount of men passing by. His blood boils though as he can see the familiar banners of Roote, Darry and Wode among them.
"TRAITORS!" his mind roars in anger at the sight. His Lady Delianah saved them from their troubles and this is the thanks she gets? If he is not dying on the spot, he might have ran them through with his sword.
As everything starts to finally go dark for him though, a middle aged man with a balding head kneels at his side with a stern expression. His surcoat is a Striding Huntsman on a Green Field.
"The Father's Justice," he simply says before a sharp pain at Viktor's neck makes itself known and the Lord Castellan of Rivendell passes away.
….
Dragonstone, Stormlands
Thunder booms like the very vengeance of the gods outside. Lightning cracks as if the Storm gods themselves are displaying their power to the Drowned god of the seas. No matter the tempest or the gales, Dragonstone stands firm like an immovable stone sentry, just like the countenance of its current Lord.
He has tried everything, every Maester, every wood witch, every charlatan and half bit healer has been called; all for the purpose of treating his daughter. Many tried, many failed. Greyscale, the Slow Death it is called. The useless Maesters that attended his daughter told him to accept the inevitable and give the Father's Mercy.
Any Lord might have caved, might have listened, might have given to the temptation of failure. Not Stannis. Unbending and proud as the fortress he lives in, he knows his duty as a father to his child. Thus he holds on against hope, giving every chance, every aspect of knowledge that his daughter will survive.
Now that chance is given new hope for a cloaked man in grey and white appears in the middle of one of the strongest thunderstorms to date that happen outside, his wet hood covering everything of his face. A vial he presented to him, a vial of gold holding what seems to be liquid fire. Stannis gives him acces, what has he to lose? Imagine his surprise when the golden fire burns away the Greyscale, burns away the curse that holds his blood captive. When Stannis asks where he is from or what is his name? He merely smiles behind that hood of his before answering:
"The Hidden Ones Serve the Lady,"
….
Author's Note: So yeah, jumpstart to the war. Hehehe I hope I won't mess to guess who killed Lord Viktor?
Also guess who are the antagonists on this war? Opinions are always welcomed and guesses as to how the war will drag.
If you love this fic and the thrill behind it. I Deeply encourage you to give Be Careful What You Wish For (Knightess Version) at my list. It's my longest and oldest story and although it's Frozen. It's more like Game of Thrones