Chapter Sixty-One
….
Winterfell Abandoned Tower Yard
"Lord Stark wait up! Don't run too much else your mother will find out that you are disobeying her again!" Yasmina calls out to the aspiring young lord who is running ahead of her. With Lady Delianah having a private meeting with Lord Tywin Lannister, Princess Myrcella and Rhaenys going off to put a little bit of vengeance to the bastard that made Princess Myrcella's life hell during her younger days, Yasmina takes the duty on babysitting the hyperactive child of House Stark due to his mother's personal request to her.
Suffice it to say that Yasmina has been kept busy during this travel time with the rest of the retinue of Rivendell. She after all has to take the place usually occupied by the Lady Castellan of organizing and putting the camp up prim and proper other than her usual personal duties of making sure that the residences of the Lady Delianah and her friends are set up as comfortable as possible. That is not counting of course her bed duties. The Lady and Myrcella tends to demand her services in alternate moments after all.
The sound of proud laughter makes Yasmina want to sigh in defeat as she looks up to see the third eldest son of House Stark climbing up the abandoned tower of Winterfell. It seems that in her moment of thoughtfulness, the young boy has given her the slip and is now scaling the tower of Winterfell with ease like a spider. She has to admit that the young boy has talent as she watches him scale the stones. She has been a participant after all of the usual mountain treks and climbs that the Lady of Rivendell and her friends tend to do. Brandon Stark is a natural as far as she can see. He seems to make climbing easy as breathing. Confident of his skills, Yasmina sits on a broken part of the wall observing the area around her.
She can't help but admire Winterfell for all it's ruggedness. Sure it can never aspire to be anything like the Lady of Rivendell can build (she literally can make miracles if she has the mind for it), but it has its own beauties. The very castle represents the North, strong, large and enduring. She is here for only a day but she can already feel the generations of souls that might have lived here once. This place has seen and witnessed much. Part of her wonders if Rivendell might one day also be the same.
"Bran be careful!" Yasmina instinctively calls out as the spare heir of Winterfell's foot slips on a wet loose rock though he recovers quickly and are now heading towards the only window of the Tower.
She shakes her head as she watches the young man peek his head inside. Westeros is a lot better compared to Yi Ti for a concubine like her, sure it is demanding and hard work especially for someone like the Lady Delianah but it lacks the court intrigue that can get people who has the same station as her likely killed in seven different ways.
She looks again to where she has seen Bran last. The young boy it seems has finally entered the window of the tower safely. Yasmina sighs as her entire body relaxes. Maybe now that she's not worried about him making a twenty foot drop, she can relax a bit.
The sudden yell snaps her into action as she watches in surprise and horror as the body of Bran goes flying off the window of the tower. Before she knows it, she is in action already and moving to intercept the fall of the boy. She might not be as skilled or savvy when it comes to weapons like Rhaenys, Delianah or Amelia but Yasmina is just as fit as them (seeing that her lovers prefer her form that way). She can move fast when she wants to. Already she can estimate with her eyes the fall of Bran and where he will land.
"Just a little more and I can catch him," she whispers to herself knowing very well that such an action however would break parts of her arms and probably her ribs too. She's not worried however. The best medical care in this continent (and probably the world) can be found at Rivendell. One bottle of Dreamless Sleep and Skele-Gro from the stash of the Green Men can solve her damage issues while she sleeps like a baby.
That is why Yasmina is totally caught by surprise when without warning something enters her mind, freezing her entire body. Her eyes widen in shock with not a little bit of horror at the sudden intrusion. She is still herself but something it seems have taken root also inside her brain that is not hers. She can feel it like a rusty nail drilling through her skull.
"Forgive me child but fate has already demanded the tragedy of Brandon Stark. Destiny already has plans for him," an old ragged voice speaks inside her head making her panic even more.
As it is her focus on the voice disappears as she instead turns in horror to watch as Bran's body fell as if in slow motion before landing with a pain CRACK on the cold hard ground back first. The body bounces once like a fallen ragdoll before going eerily still.
Yasmina might not be able to move her limbs or her body but she can still move her eyes. She turns them upward only to see the gleeful face of the Queen of Westeros looking down at the unmoving Stark boy. It then turns towards her, the successful gleam morphing into that of horror and surprise. She might have been worried right there and then if not for the eyes turning to "something" behind her.
A rough smelly hand grabs her immobile head from the back before the stench of something foul and dirt-trodden presses itself behind her. A hand covers her mouth preventing whatever sound that she might have been giving off if no for the parasite inside her mind.
"I might have fucked you bloody into the ground girl," whispers whoever it is that have grabbed her. A slimy tongue licks the back of her left ear making her heart thud wildly inside her chest. "The queen however is an impatient woman and it is such a shame that only your dead body would do,"
She makes a wordless scream inside her head as something cold and sharp pierces her spine and again…..and again…and again…and again until her eyes close and everything goes dark.
…..
Winterfell Private Rooms
"Do you know why you are here?" the rich cultured voice of Tywin Lannister might have been intimidating for anyon else but not for Delianah Tully. The man has a parallel aura of superiority that Snape oh so loved to put up when dealing with not those of his favored Slytherin House. Of course the man loves to lord it most of all when dealing with Harry whom he loathed.
"I assume it's because of the betrothal contract that the Princess Myrcella wants to establish between me and her judging by the seriousness of your tone and the expression of your face,"
Delianah smirks as she notices a slight upturning of the man's lips to a ghost of a smile. Say what you will about Tywin, but the man despite his coldness appreciates intelligence and competency, especially if they're not against him. She doesn't want to imagine what it must be like to be completely surrounded by doddering fools born to a life of luxury and leisure.
"Yes, it is. I am sure you already know how grave this matter is and why I am rather reluctant to the proposal brought to me by my granddaughter," points out Tywin.
"I am. Knowing Westeros' view about the same gender relationships, this would be a scandal that would reach the farthest ends of the known world. The princess of the realm choosing officially to marry a woman officially. It might have been different if it would only be a secret relationship like our dear brother to the king, Renly Baratheon. This one is a public statement for everyone to see, hear and talk about,"
"Yet do you know as to the reason why you are considering this even though the risks it carry is great?" Tywin asks leaning heavily on his cushioned chair.
Delianah only laughs taking from her robes a golden dragon conjured when she put her hand in her pocket (It'll disappear thirty minutes later) and placing it on the desk of the Old Lion before sliding it to him.
"Such a small coin but anyone and everyone is willing to break centuries of culture and taboo for it. How magnificent money is isn't it Lord Tywin? Yes, I do know your main motivation as to why you are agreeing to this betrothal even though you have a high distaste of such relationships. It would be interesting to be on partnership with House Lannister my lord,"
"So do you accept this betrothal offer that my granddaughter is offering?" asks Tywin, his green eyes piercing.
Delianah only smiles before taking the jug of Arbor gold at the small table in front of her and pouring it into the two crystal goblets with lion designs. "I do, may the future be proud and prosperous between our two houses,"
"For House Lannister," Tywin takes one of the two cups and raising It near his temple
"For House Tully," Delianah echoes out raising her own mug before clinking it with that of Tywin.
Just as the drink touches her lips the sudden bang at the door nearly makes the two of them jump without warning.
"What is the meaning of this?!" booms out Tywin loudly obviously livid at the interruption. "Can't you see I am in the middle of a meeting!"
"Forgive me my lord!" his personal Red Cloak enters with a deep bow. "There is some sort of commotion outside and the guards of the palace are putting the place on lockdown,"
Before he can say even more, one of the Death Dealers also appeared with a wordless nod at her before speaking. "My lady, we have secured the Princess Myrcella as per protocol. The Lady Rhaenys has headed off to investigate the commotion as did Lord Draco. We await your orders my lady,"
Delianah inwardly smiles at his words. She has specifically detailed that she would not be some kind of Damsel of Distress that needs protection to her personal guards. She would not be herded like some kind of goat in protection, no sir. She rather prefer being in the front always and knowing what's going on. The Death Dealers are just backup since well…..No matter how good one person is, it is just plain stupid not to have any kind of backup.
"I am coming with you Captain. Have five of your best men assembled. We are going to find out what is causing this ungodly ruckus,"
…
Winterfell, Abandoned Tower
Rhaenys not for the last time thanks her lucky stars and the Old Gods for the different lifestyle dropped in her lap. Instead of being educated like the broodmare hens that are prevalent of her gender, she is trained to fight and to be independent.
This is the reason why she is here following the lead of Draco as the pale blonde man maintains a steady space with the rest of the Death Dealers assigned to head out and identifies the source of the trouble currently in Winterfell. Far ahead Rhaenys can espy Robb Stark leading his own household guards at the forefront. She has to admit for someone rather easy to beat in the yard, the young man has rather good natural leading skills. He's not also bad in the eyes either.
"The Lady Delianah has been informed. She's taking up the rear with her guard," the Death Dealer at her side speaks out making Rhaenys nod in silent affirmation.
"What happened? Is my brother okay?!" Robb demands as they finally meet up to three of the smallfolk pulling what seems to be a run don looking cart filled with hay. She can espy at the back the small form of Robb's brother laying deathly still and at her side however is someone Rhaenys does not expect to see.
"YASMINA!" she can feel herself calling out as she barrels past Black Guard, Death Dealer and a rather surprised but worried heir of the North as she jumps atop the cart looking down at the bloodied form of one of her sisters-in-heart.
"What happened to her?!" Rhaenys barks out, her tone brooking no argument making the three smallfolk squeak at her angry gaze.
"W-w-w-we are d-delivering supplies w-when we walk past t-the b-broken t-tower and we f-found their bodies. W-we recognized the s-son of L-lord Stark but w-we do not know t-the Lady. She's w-wearing noble c-clothes though, s-so we t-thought we s-should b-bring her a-along t-too," stutters one of the smallfolk.
Rhaenys wrinkles her nose at the bad breathe of the man though she pushes it off her mind. She gazes however at the bloody form of Yasmina. One look at her body and Rhaenys can see the multiple stab wounds all over her. The shallow breaths however coming from her is indication that she's still alive.
"Don't die on me love, Delianah and Myrcella won't forgive me if you died on my watch," whispers Myrcella pulling out a vial of healing potion from her utility belt (Every Death Dealer has one for emergencies) and downing it inside her friend's mouth, pinching her nose to make her swallow it. It's not enough for her current damages, but it would do at least until they can get a hold of their Lady.
"Bran! By the gods Bran!" the panicky voice of Robb sounds out at her side and Rhaenys spares a glance at the boy. He is pale and obviously also near death. He has no outside sign of a wound however. Robb however is in near hysterics as he pats his brother up and down looking for some sign of damage.
"My lord! We need to get your brother and the Lady Yasmina to the Maester!' the firm voice of Ser Rodrik snaps Robb out of his state as he gulps hard and nods in affirmation.
"You three help pull the cart back to the castle. Hurry!" shouts Robb galvanizing the Northmen guards to aid on pushing and pulling the cart alongside the three smallfolk. "Someone ride ahead and make sure that Maester Luwin is prepared for our arrival!"
Even as Robb barks out orders to his men, Rhaenys hangs back as she leaps off the rickety contraption. Making sure that no one is looking, she opens the pendant containing four mirrors attached at her neck. Not a minute later, three different faces containing that of Delianah, Myrcella and Amelia stare at her in concern and for good reason. The mirrors are supposed to be only during emergencies. It is the face of the Lady of Rivendell that Rhaenys focuses on however. Taking a breathe of air to calm her beating heart, Yasmina breathes out:
"Lady Delianah, we need your help. Yasmina has been attacked and would not survive long without your intervention,"
…..
Rivendell Camp Outside Winterfell
While the members of the nobility of Rivendell saunter inside Winterfell to attend the festivities and do the courtesy of going with the king's entourage, the Death Dealers and the Black Guard to many to attend set up their camp here outside of Winterfell. For many this would be an insult and a source of anger and shame. For the men of Rivendell however, it is just another day. Usual standard Guar ration fair can put to shame any meal of Westeros any time of the day. Besides for the Death Dealers especially, the presence of a separate camp is an advantage where their leaders can fall back to in case their hosts seem to be less than accommodating.
Westeros has the tradition of bread and salt which basically protects the visitor. However for the Death Dealers, tradition is not a hundred percent reassurance and any one in their Order would not settle less than a hundred percent if they can help it.
Right now however the private camp of Rivendell is in lockdown as Delianah, Myrcella and Rhaenys rides inside the main tent reserved only for the Lady of Rivendell. The body of Yasmina has been gently placed on a wooden table cleared of its usual plates and glasses. She is alive…barely.
Delianah would be the first to admit that she's not the best at healing spells but she's not the worst either. Having a career as a Dark Lord Catcher Extraordinaire tends to put her in a lot of tight spaces before. More than once he has taken the wrong end of piercing spells of different variety from the mad men and women. This made her rather proficient on patching herself up.
Something that is serving her well now.
Her hand hovers over the stab wounds, her magic doing their thing to repair the damaged flesh and skin. She has counted six so far. At Yasmina's mouth, Myrcella and Rhaenys are busy pouring blood-replenishing potions down her throat to keep her alive as Delianah worked. While her work is efficient, it is slow progress and every second counts in keeping Rhaenys alive as she works.
Delianah however does not simply heal her physically. While her hands worked inch upon inch, her mind's probe drill like a hot knife through butter into the confines of Yasmina's shut down mind. The only time other than today that she has delved into Yasmina's mind is during her first arrival. Since then the girl has proven herself a good friend and an extremely loyal one. If there is one thing that Delianah really hates is when people she values gets fucked up. Hurt her and she might forgive you, but hurt the people she loves, well that's another story.
Thus as she probes through the confines of Yasmina's memory, her eyes narrow in anger at the information she's getting as she pieces things together. As he probe slowly pulls away from the confines of Yasmina's mind, she already knows what she's going to do.
Two souls would get her vengeance, one she can deal with before the sun sets tonight and the other would never reach King's Landing alive.
…
Camp Outskirts
Draco reads and rereads the report given to him by the roster of Death Dealers of the camp. Guard duty is boring work though strictly necessary and he himself has drilled to many aspiring recruits the importance of such. Currently it is the Black Guard taking their turn on guarding the camp as the Death Dealers prepare for the evening meal.
Draco sighs as he lets his gaze turn to the large tent where his Messiah is working on the Lady Yasmina. He has no doubts whatsoever that she can do it. However it has been five hours since she started and there seems to be no signs of change except for servants delivering hot bowls of water and clean linen every now and then.
He mentally sighs at his helplessness. Draco is proud of his status as a warrior. Despite being forged into this kind of life, it is the only life he knows now. He doubts he can live another even if he wants to. The thrill of battle, the smell of the training ground and the tactics, drills and formations, it all defines him. He has no doubt that one day he would die on the battlefield, it is his fate. He cannot see himself dying as an old man in a rickety old rocking chair, and personally he would not want to.
"Lord Draco! Intruders approaching! Twenty souls!" the shout of the guardsman snaps Draco back out from his thoughts as he levels his spear and prepares his shield. The five other Black Guard members also does the same in uniform pattern.
The sight of the Lady of Winterfell approaching with twenty guards makes him blink. He does not let up from his guard position however. The camp is in lockdown and Draco does not give a rat's arse even if the king comes knocking while the lockdown is not lifted by the Lady of Rivendell.
"Halt! Lady Stark! Come no further! To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit of your so late!?" Draco calls out loud to the approaching group who stops a spear's throw away from them. His instincts are already telling him to be alert seeing the less than friendly stares the guards of Catelyn Stark is giving. The woman herself has red-rimmed eyes glaring hatefully at them. He has thought that she should be on her son's side by now instead of anywhere near them.
"Bring me the bastard's head whose presence becomes responsible for the tragedy of my son and your lord!" she shrieks out loud. "The gods demand it!"
Somehow for some reason Draco isn't surprised when the twenty Stark men charged them with shouts of battle. His body just tenses as he hefts his shield in preparation for battle.
This is what he lives for.
….
Author's Note:
Sorry for the long update guys. My laptop's motherboard got broken so I have to make do with my secondary one. Had to adjust to the new set of keyboard for my typing. Hope you enjoyed this chapter.
As such I am considering maybe postponing the story for a while due to many negative opinions and reviews vibe it gives. Will have to take a pause to pull myself together for a while I guess in order to put some inspiration into myself. I mean I just want to give the fandom something new you know instead of the classic self-inerts we read in this crossover. A lot of people prefers the classic Harry, Stark or Lannister genre however and marrying either Sansa or Margaery.
Again for the grammar, lmao Im not perfect on that either.