Chapter Sixty-Four
…
Winterfell Guest Quarters
Ever since her stay in Rivendell, Myrcella has learned fast that it does not pay to worry about Delianah Tully. Her mentor and lover has a knack on making the impossible, possible. She has witnessed such events many times personally even some of them. However part of her can't help but be anxious as she sits right now in her chair, the white canvas in front of her and the painting materials remaining untouched. Only she and Rhaenys have been totally informed about the true reason of Delianah's leaving. Not even Watcher Draco or Lord Jon have been informed.
She wonders if her lover has already dealt with the bastard responsible for possessing her and disabling her to protect herself. Despite not being on the level of Rhaenys when it comes to sword skill, Yasmina has trained with them and can hold her own well in a fight. If she has not been frozen mid-step Myrcella can say that she might have fought off whoever it is that stabbed her.
Right now though Myrcella awaits the call of her lover or Amelia from their shared locket. Delianah has promised her that the operation would not last long. At best it would be thirty minutes and at worst, an hour. It is past one hour already and despite her faith and confidence, Myrcella can feel the starting pangs of worry in her gut. No matter how powerful Delianah is after all, she's still human. One accident is all it would take for her lover to meet Death.
Myrcella is just a second away from gripping the locket and start the communication process first when she feels it heating, the signal for everyone finally to grab their lockets. Immediately Myrcella is opening it frantically, the familiar four mirrors open like petals of a flower each showing a different face. She can see Rhaenys sitting atop a branch of a tree outside. She turns her attention however directly to the face of her lover. She can feel a breathe of relief as Delianah looks relatively unharmed. That feeling however disappears as fast as it came as she notices Amelia. Compared to Delianah who doesn't have a single scratch, Amelia is wrapped up in bandages like a damned mummy. Worse she can see that they are inside the Houses of Healing where she can espy the usually empty halls now fill with wounded and dead being wrapped up in clean linens.
"What happened?" Myrcella asks directly at Delianah who gives her a nervous smile.
"Would you want the long story Cella or the short one,"
"Delia," Myrcella growls making the other woman squawk. For some reason Myrcella notices that Delianah makes her way out of subjecting herself of Myrcella's ire. She herself can't understand it seeing that the other woman is better in so many levels compared to her. Either way it is a handicap that she likes to exploit every now and then (more specifically if the older woman is being a pain in the ass).
"Fine, fine, I might have underestimated the process of transporting everyone there. I forgot that the big ass wall of ice has the tendency to interfere magic. My magic is out of balance for twenty minutes straight; enough time for the Children of the Forest and that old seer to summon their monster minions against our Expeditionary Group. As you can see, many did not survive the encounter,"
"Ahhh I see, and I believe that as usual Amelia that you forced yourself to be on the forefront of the fight?" Myrcella asks glaring annoyed at the mummified woman who sniffs at her words.
"I am the captain of the Death Dealers, it is my duty to be in front and not at the back like some kind of damsel in distress,"
"Yeah right, and as usual you ignored all sense of keeping yourself safe," points out Myrcella before sighing. "I'm just glad you are safe at least Amelia. Do you have any permanent injuries?"
"Nothing other than my ego thank the gods," she curtly replies. When she doesn't elaborate further, Myrcella looks at Delianah questioningly.
"One of the monsters has grabbed her by the leg and threw her to a mound of snow where she fainted till the end of the battle,"
"Ahhh," Myrcella simply replies with a blink. Knowing Amelia, the woman might have not the least been pleased of being ejected off the battlefield in such a way. "At least justice has been brought to one of Yasmina's attackers,"
"Yes, our lady made sure of that. You should have seen the crater she left behind once she's done with them all," chuckles Amelia.
When Myrcella turns her attention at Delianah, the latter simply shrugs. "What? I thought that it is better that I make sure that he won't rise later like an animated zombie or such. I just made sure that everything is cleansed completely,"
"I want a detail to detail observation on your pensieve once we return to Rivendell," declares Myrcella.
"Of course you'll have it love," says Delianah before all sense of her laid back attitude and relaxation evaporates. "Are you sure that you are alright about the rest of our plan Cella? She is your mother after all," immediately everyone observing the mirror becomes a combination of worry, serious and pity.
Myrcella hates it.
"Yes, she is my mother. However she hurt the people I love, the people I care about. I can count on one hand the number of times when she acted as my mother without making a show of it. She's not there when I'm sick, when I'm hurt and when I'm being hunted by my own brother. So no, I will have no regrets. Yasmina on the other hand has been there for me every step of the way, so for her justice to be given, I would not raise an objection for the culmination of the next stage of our plan,"
For a few seconds, Delianah simply stares at her before nodding. "Then so be it, thank you Cella,"
Myrcella simply shakes her head. "No, thank you. All of you for this,"
Everyone is silent for a while, the somber moment remaining till Amelia clapped her bandaged hands. "So, enough of this doom and gloom. What's the news there up North Cella when we are gone?"
Despite herself, Myrcella just smiles as she leans back on her wooden chair. "You won't believe what is going on ladies,"
…..
Private Room of the Royal Family
"What are you doing Cersei?" Jaimie demands as he finds himself being hauled by his twin to the private room where usually she and the children stay. Tommen and Joffrey are off being baby-sitted by Ser Barristan currently as they explore the wonders of Winterfell leaving Jaimie one of the few rare times that he and his twin are given some privacy.
Normally they would be off to some secluded place fucking one another but however due to the hectic situation that Winterfell is in right now with everyone being extra wary, both he and Cersei agree that it would be better to practice prudence about their affair. The last time is them a hairsbreadth from being fucked sideways. Now in a foreign castle and with their father breathing down their necks? It is better to be safe than sorry.
Now his twin is doing the exact opposite of their agreement as she hauls him here inside the room, locking it behind her tightly.
"What is going on Cersei?" Jaimie hisses making sure to keep his voice low despite the emptiness of the room. Long experience in King's Landing has taught Jaimie the threats of ears behind walls.
"We need to talk," her Cersei replies curtly sitting down on one of the plush chairs. "I have been thinking about the future and about what happened. How close death can be to any one of us," she says wringing her hands. Jaimie has never seen his sister looking so unsettled. "I want you to promise me something Jaimie,"
"Anything," he answers directly kneeling down in front of her taking her hands. She looks so pale, clammy and sweaty for some reason.
"In the unlikely event that I perish before than you, I want you to promise me to look after Joffrey. The throne is his. I want you to promise me that you would do everything in your power to put the crown on Joffrey's head. It is his birthright,"
Jaimie only blinks not sure where all is this coming from. "Cersei what are you-,"
"Jaimie!" those beautiful green eyes of hers glare like the ferocious woman he knows she is.
"Fine, fine, I promise," sighs Jaimie acquiescing to her rather vague demand. "Are you alright?" he asks looking at her sister who seems to look like a great weight has left her shoulders.
"Yes, yes, now I am," she replies leaning back on the chair she is sitting in. "The entire day I get this foreboding feeling as if someone is staring at me in a less than pleased manner. I guess it is just this damned weather making a mess of me. It would be better once we get back down South tomorrow,"
"Look at the bright side Cersei. At least it would be entertaining before we head back down South," points out Jaimie making her snort. In a way even he is curious about the troubles caused by the wife of Lord Stark.
…..
Private Rooms of Lord Stark
"Catelyn, please be reasonable and think about what you are doing!" her husband pleads to her making Catelyn's teeth grit at his words. Can't he see that she is doing him and their entire family a favor? The place has been cursed ever since her bastard sibling arrived here at Winterfell. He should be thanking her for giving them all the chance to put the bastard down at best or get her thrown into the Black Cells at worst where she could not be the cause of any more trouble.
"I told you Ned! I told you from before that nothing good can come out from associating from bastards and their ilk!" Catelyn hisses. "They are tainted and cursed by the gods themselves. Now look at us, our little boy never able to walk again and it's because of the gods hating us for harboring a being of sin,"
Once more Catelyn has to hold her irritation at the exasperated look that appears on her husband's face every time she mentions the true gods. Damn Northern faith and damn their weird disregard for the Seven that are One.
"We have discussed this many times Cat. That bastard is the primary source of funds for the entirety of the North. They provide almost the entirety of our supplies and has been a stout and loyal ally of ours for years. The current growth of our kingdom we owe all to her," points out her dear Ned.
"And once she's out of the way, everything that she has built would belong to my brother Ned, and also to our Bran since Edmure has no children of his own," Catelyn insists. It is a win-win position as far as she's concerned.
Suffice it to say that after her challenge of a Trial by Combat, Catelyn at first thought that she doomed herself. After all she's not the one being accused and has no leg to stand on, especially since she is the wife only of Ned even if she is a daughter of a Great House. However the fool of a Silver Winged Knight agreed so fast that it surprises even her. In the end she only scoffs. Apparently fools would also follow fools. She like everyone else of course knows that the Order is made up of bastards elevated due to their deeds and prowess. Either way the challenge is accepted even before anyone can refute it.
"Cat-," Ned once more tries to convince her out of the righteousness of her cause when a couple of large knocks followed by a loud voice outside saying:
"The king summons you Lord Stark and your Lady Wife also for the Trial of Combat to be held at the yard. Don't be late!" shouts the herald from outside stopping whatever it is that Ned is about to say.
"You'll see soon that I am right Ned. You'll see," Cat simply says before imperiously walking past from Ned to outside.
…..
Winterfell Yard
Robert resists the urge to rub his forehead. Frankly if he could, he would want nothing to do with the current situation. For better or for worse, relations of Rivendell with the greater North would be put into heavy strain after this uncalled event. He can already imagine Ned sitting inside his solar trying to put things together once trade and negotiations for the North break down whatever the result may be. The North after all has benefited a lot from its relationship with Rivendell. Word from Varys and that worm, Baelish tells that the taxes from the North have been steady and continuous ever since they manage to find a food source that would not rip them off.
Once more he takes a swig from his cup of wine ignoring the disapproving looks of his goodfather and wife. Lannister shits, all so prim and proper with their gold and mannerisms. They're no fun at all. At least with Ned down with him at the capital, he would have a friendly face he can talk to.
"The Trial by Combat today is demanded by the Lady Catelyn Stark!" begins Ser Barristan being asked to be the mediator for the bout. "Lady Delianah of Rivendell is being accused of attempted murder. Who will stand for her?"
"I will!" the firm and sure voice of Ser Leomord of the Silver Wings Order sound off. The man stepping unto the field looks every bit the epitome of chivalry with his gleaming armor, the feathered "wings" of the Order standing out. At his left hand, he is holding a rectangular shield with the insignia of Rivendell o it.
Ser Barristan simply nods at him before turning to the smug looking Lady of the North. "And who will stand for you Lady Stark?"
"Ser Rosland Florian of the Vale, a true knight of the Seven Kingdoms blessed by the gods," she proudly declares ignoring the snorts from the observing Northmen. Robert notices that his brother by heart looks more taciturn than usual. According to his sources, the Valeman is recruited by Lady Stark wandering near Moat Cailin.
A typical Vale Knight marches out into the yard. While properly outfitted and armoured for a knight of Westeros, he looks totally inadequate compared to the Knight of the Silver Order with his small plain buckler and metal sword.
"Victory can only be concluded by death on this duel. By the grace of the gods, let the battle begin!" shouts Ser Barristan officially.
Immediately both participants acted with Leomord drawing his sabre while Rosland draws his longsword.
"Only through bloodshed do the gods make known their will!" declares Knight of the Silver Wings before charging first.
The very first moment sword meets shield, Robert already knows the outcome of the fight. The very single contact almost throws the Knight of the Vale off his feet. Stumbling a bit, he manages to regain composure of himself before bringing his shield again for another overhead blow. This time he fell to one knee, the creaking of his armor heard loudly.
By sheer willpower however he manages to regain his footing before being forced to back off as he is faced by a barrage of overhead, sideward and underhand cuts all aimed at the chinks of his armor. The metal buckler he is holding is almost unrecognizable thanks to the beating that it is taking. The sabre of the Silver Knight however still looks pristine and undamaged despite with the force it is being used at.
It takes five minutes before the first sign of difference can be seen in the duel. The buckler of the Valeman unable to take on the punishment it is being subjected into finally cracked from a rather powerful kick that caved the metal in straight through the wood below. With a pained cry, the Valeman has the good sense to throw it off instead of continue using it. One good overhead might have cut off his arm off from the elbow down. This however leaves him shieldless against an obviously more skilled opponent.
Capitalizing on the advantage, Leomord pushes onward with his barrages as the Valeman struggles to keep the blade from rendering him to tiny pieces. Already nicks are starting to appear on his armor, courtesy of non-lethal hits that made contact. Robert can see that his hold on the sword is getting weaker, his arms obviously now hurting from the impact force that a shield would usually be used for.
Yet without warning Leomord slips, a patch of mud on the ground causing the man to stumble. Immediately Rosland is on him, longsword flashing, capitalizing on the sudden uncalled blessing. Sword meets shield as he batters at Leomord's kite shield like a man possessed obviously taking strength from the fact that the other knight is being forced back step by step.
There is a good reason however why it is not wise to fight a man with a sword and shield while you lack the latter. With a half-step forward, Leomord regains control of the fight as he is within Rosland's guard. It forces an instinctual move from the knight. With the sudden threat to his personal space, he backs away only to be greeted by the sabre swing of the Silved Winged Knight at the exposed throat, where his armor does not protect him.
With a pained gurgle, the Valeman fell on the yard twitching once or twice before finally going still in the observance of a quiet crowd. Immediately Ser Barristand stands up looking at Leomord and then at the disbelieving face of Catelyn Stark.
"The gods have decided Lady Stark. Your accusations against the Lady Delianah of Rivendell are all null and void. This matter is finished,"
"I would also like to make an announcement," the familiar black covered form of Draco, the current Watcher of Osgiliath speaks up as he steps forward at the clearing facing Ned and Catelyn. "By the power invested in me by my lady. I declare that all trade between Rivendell and the North with the exception of Osgiliath be postponed until further notice!"
…..
Author's Note: Sorry for the late updates. Been rather uninterested in the story for a while since I am reading Jurassic Park fanfics. Anyway hope you like this chapter. Thanks as always for the support.