Chapter Eighty-Two
…..
Rivendell, Fort Ronald
Olenna Tyrell harrumphed as her carriage once more faces another road bump shaking her old bones. Today is the day of coronation of the Princess Myrcella to be the next queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Olenna has attended her fair share of coronations. She was there when Rhaegar was crowned Heir and Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. She was there when Robert got the Crown placed on his head, she was there during the declaration of the Fat Stag for his doe to sit on the throne after him. Yes, Olenna had seen many a coronation in her long life.
This is the first coronation that she has attended however where she is not allowed to access to the main place where the coronation would be held. It is after all almost a tradition during celebrations for visiting lords and ladies to mingle in comfort and at the same time gain allies from the rest of the upcoming dignitaries. That tradition has been denied currently.
"With the former bastard kicking tradition left and right these past few years, it is not surprising," Olenna harrumphed to herself as she looks at a lot of frowning faces at her retinue.
A large number of lordlings and ladies of the Reach have followed here for the coronation. Opportunities such as this after all are rare and once of a kind. Any practical lord would see the advantage of being here if they can even get the flimsiest excuse to be present. Another incentive of course is the fact that the Prince Consort that would help provide an heir for the realm would be from their Lord Paramount.
Olenna still isn't happy about that. She nearly has a conniption when she hears that the Lady of Rivendell would be marrying the future queen. Other than because it's nauseating to realize that the queen is a poof and an abhorrence to the Faith of the Seven (not that Olenna cared about religion), it riles up a lot of lords and ladies. The only reason that she didn't march in anger at Rivendell for the insult to her house of her grandson being denied the title King Consort as they expected is the letter of said grandson informing her that he's happy and content with his life at Rivendell (and a stern warning that they not cause trouble). Despite how she presents herself, Olenna does care for her son and grandchildren despite them being dullards sometimes.
She has to admit the brilliance of such a move though from the Lady of Rivendell and the queen. They timed it perfectly where the rest of the realm can do more than sound out their protest by mouth only. With King's Landing gone and the unity of the Faith of the Seven in the wind due to the destruction of the Sept of Baelor, no one can call them out on it. Once it might have been the pious Knights of the Vale, however after their shameful defeat and the rather precarious position they are in right now under the guidance of Sweet Robin, they can do nothing but grind their teeth.
Speaking of which, the rest of the visiting dignitaries have been forced to camp outside of Fort Ronald till the celebration day. This results to a lot of grumpy lords forced to send their aides and servants to scavenge or find food in the nearest towns and hamlets. Now here everyone is from Dorne to the Westerlands impatiently waiting the long line of the Fort where they are inspected by those Black Guard soldiers before let in.
"Halt!" a stern voice stops Olenna's ride and she can see the doors forced open by two menacing looking men in black armor.
"Oh stop wasting my time will you! I am an old woman and I don't have daggers hiding under my skirt. My grandson would be Prince Consort, and I intend that no harm come to him!" she snaps even as the two continues on their rummaging and checking of the carriage as if she hasn't even spoken.
"Clear?"
"Clear," the other replies before nodding as they walk out the carriage leaving a harrumphing Olenna alone as they finally let her pass. Inside though she's congratulating the queen at the security, bothersome or not, it is never wrong to be prepared in these troubled times.
…
Fort Granger, Entrance to the Riverlands
Hoster sighs as he can literally hear the grinding of Catelyn, his "daughter's" teeth as they pass through the checkpoint that leads to Rivendell. Personally she believes that his daughter is half-mad. Every trouble it seems that she can think of, she places the blame at the Lady of Rivendell. The death of two of her children hit her especially hard, and of course she places the accusation that it is because of her half-sister that they are now not present in the realm of the living.
He has done his best to mitigate that skewed view of hers of course with little to no success. It is like pulling an ostrich's head off the sand…..which is impossible to do so even in the best of circumstances. In the end, Hoster has to let it go due to the lack of success. The only reason she is here right now though is because House Tully needs to show solidarity during the Princess Myrcella's coronation. They are after all her biggest supporters. The realm needs to see them united as a whole. The other reason she is here is because it would give her the opportunity to connect with her children from the North for they would be attending also. He'll leave her troublemaking for the Northeners to deal with.
Speaking of which, Hoster can't help but notice the lack of people as they pass homestead after homestead. Rivendell and its territories are a large place and with how they design their settlements by homesteads, very few houses can be found all on its own. However even the larger homesteads he notices are rather empty. This is not the first time that Hoster has been in Rivendell. Traffic here might be sparse and non-existent due to the wide roads, but it has never been this scarce.
Of course the reason for that is soon making itself palpable. He hears it before he sees it, thousands of voices echoing in the air as the view of Hold's Town can be seen and far ahead, the last Homely House of Rivendell.
….
Rivendell Chambers Behind the newly Dubbed Royal Hall
"So how do I look Delia?" Delianah simply smiles seeing Myrcella twirl around her yellow and black gown befitting royalty. Of course it contains the Baratehon colors since she would be the one pushing the honor and prestige of her late father's house. Unlike the usual gowns also of Westeros, Myrcella's gown is form fitting and made of the finest silk and leather. It has no frills or laces, and the hundred other ornaments that other ladies of the court tend to wear this era.
"Beautiful as ever Cella, are you sure however that you do not want your hair to be down in this event?" she asks looking at the braided bun that Myrcella favors for today atop her head. This is probably the first time that Delianah sees that hairstyle on her lover. She knows that Myrcella likes her hair to be free and not braided like her deceased mother. Delianah admits that it might be because she admires how she, her teacher always lets her hair fall free.
A small scowl appears at Myrcella's face as her cheeks puff up. "I don't want to but Lady Amelia insisted. She said that it would look….queenly instead of my usual hair style,"
Delianah can't help but roll her eyes at that. They all love Amelia, but her Castellan and future lady of Riverrun, can be a bit of stickler for details and decorum. Seeing however that she has to be the one th manage the thousand one things that keeps Rivendell and its territories into continuing its growing prosperity, it is not too surprising about that character of hers.
Myrcella is good friends with Amelia like all in their little group, but with the coronation coming up and the Castellan of Rivendell becoming busier and busier as it draws closer, so does her stiff and testy attitude. As a result, Myrcella has taken into avoiding her like the plague at the moment seeing that she does not desire to be the subject of lecture about rules and propriety being the main event. Of course this serves only to irritate Amelia even more as the quirks of the Crown Princess becomes even more erratic.
"This is really happening isn't it Delia?" Myrcella asks sitting on one of the cushions as she stares at the mannequin which bears the spare of the royal gown that she would be wearing for the event.
"Yes, yes it does. Queen Myrcella Baratheon, that has a good ring to it won't you agree?" asks Delianah sitting beside Myrcella.
"I think so. I never thought that I would be Crown Princess you know. I have always imagined that it would go to Joffrey. He is the eldest son after all. Now here I am, days away from sitting on the most powerful seat on the entire land and Joffrey lay dead, a pile of ash somewhere. Does that make me a bad person Delia, glad of his death?"
"If your brother is in any way possess a decent bone in his body Cella, then I would say that he deserves your sorrow. However no offense intended for "good king Joffrey", but look me in the eye Myrcella if you truly believe that your brother would be a good king for the Seven Kingdoms?"
"No, no he wouldn't," answers Myrcella after a moment of silence. "He would have dragged the Seven Kingdoms to war if he has remained king,"
"Then it is a good thing he is in whatever version of heaven or hell he is in right now yes? Look at the bright side Cella. With you at the Throne, you would have a chance to continue your father's legacy in a better way. There is also the small thing that you would not be ruling in a city whose smell is designed to specifically give you air poisoning and shorten your lifespan," points out Delianah.
"Riiiight," a mischievous smirk appears on Myrcella's face as she mock glares at her lover. "And I guess I should thank someone for turning that city to ash and conveniently getting rid of my opposition, making her seat the de facto capital of the Seven Kingdoms yes?"
"You should, she's great, awesome and powerful after all," sniffs Deliana making the two of them laugh as their hands clasp.
Deep inside her though, Delianah's stomach churns. She might have not the same morals as before in her previous life, but snuffing out thousands of innocent souls still gives her the hibbie-jibbies. At least with soldiers she can justify killing them, but innocent people? She mentally shudders at that.
There's also the mental state of Myrcella. The young woman is sweet, knowledgeable and can be a firecracker if pushed. She has the characteristics of a decent queen, knowing compassion and when to be logical and cold. It is not surprising since she fought with Delianah during the War of the Faith in secret. The glaring flaw in her personality however is her reliance with Delianah. Take into example, the destruction of King's Landing. When Delianah tells her about it, she asks if she's okay with it; and when Delianah said yes, she brushes it off like just another news report. Anyone else might have been horrified, but for her? Since the Lady of Rivendell looks at it as no issue, she also assumes the same. Delianah doesn't know if such dependence on her by the one she loves makes her sick or agree with her controlling character.
It is too late to cry over spilled milk however, Myrcella is whom Myrcella is and Delianah would go along with it as best as she can. She just has to remind herself not to abuse the absolute trust that the Crown Princess of the Realm gives unto her.
…
Rivendell Coronation Hall
The welcoming hall of Rivendell has been expanded and redesigned to a T in expectation of the coronation of Myrcella Baratheon. Although beautifully made already in its wonder and aesthetic, the Green men under the supervision of Lord Marcus have fanatically refurbished the already perfect hall to even greater abounds. As far as they are concerned, if the peons of the Seven Kingoms are visiting to marvel at the glory and the majesty of their Messiah, her dwelling must never be found wanting.
The open Archways of Rivendell has been designed with yellow and golden gleaves with flowers of gossamer and jade. Beautiful pearls adorn the sides literally screaming their purity and whiteness to the eyes that bear witness to them. Flowers of silver and gold are littered at the floor with carved runes on them. Green vines flowering roses of pink, white and red hug the pillars and columns of the hall. The higher levels are upgraded also about their formal glory. Transparent curtains of red, blue, yellow and gold are attached at the open windows illuminating the entire inside of the Hall in a symphony of colors.
The Green Men are not the only ones who have a hand at the redecoration. Their lady has added her own little tidbit. What is it, they do not know. It is mesmerizing though as her work seems to create a rain of gold silver dust like flitting fairies in the night.
A red carpet has been lain at the middle of the hall cutting through its entire width heading to a raised section at the forefront where a throne that looks like it is grown out from the roots of a tree await. It is inlaid with ivory and silver and at the top is a gem the size of a palm glittering like a thousand diamonds, the Queen's Jewel, a proof that the queen's right to rule is divine and blessed by the gods. At each side of the throne flies the banners of House Baratheon of the Crowned Stag and at the middle is the Spear of Rivendell in a sea of blue. Twelve golden statues can be found parallel at the steps heading up to the throne. Each pair, a crowned Stag with Antlers raised facing each other, at their mouths being gripped, a bronze spear.
At the right and the left of the red carpet are large circular tables draped in red mantles. Chairs made out of the finest wood painted white wood smoothed to an extent that would have made any wood worker jealous. At the top back of each chair is the carved insignia of a stag's face. Each table has a name plate with the names of whom sits where.
The people of Rivendell themselves made sure that they would live up to their ladies' standards. At the sides of the tables are two long tables inlaid with a hundred different recipes of exotic food and wine. From roasted pigs dipped in honey to flying swans mummified in cream and milk, to giant blue marlins saturated in bitter herbs, food is aplenty. Bread and butter for those with more generous tastes line like a freight train over the tables with cakes, raisins, and dates aplenty. Dessert is also present from fountains of chocolate adorned with moving ballerinas or birds, doughnuts of different designs and soups of every taste and kind. Teas purposefully exported from the Eastern kingdoms are also present, their fragrant smells wafting over the entire room, mixing with the spices of the main dishes. Wine is aplently of every kind from the more unique Butterbeers and Firewhisky produced only in Rivendell to the more common ones like Arbor Gold and the Dornish Red. There is a rumor afloat that every tavern and inn from here to the entirety of the Riverlands has been emptied of their stocks of wine and ale.
All in all, everything is ready as the servants open the gates to let the visiting dignitaries of lords and ladies in. The event is finally starting.
…
Hold's Town, Rivendell
The coronation of the soon to be Queen Myrcella Baratheon is a momentous affair for the people of Rivendell. They after all fought and bled for her on the battlefield. The Thousands of banners hang on the streets and windows of the main town outside the Last Homely House. Vendors and merchants come in the hundreds from all corners of Westeros and the other continents to sell their wares. Troubadours, masques and dozens upon dozens of entertainment litter the streets regaling people of stories and legends from different parts of the world. The citizens of Rivendell themselves are in a festive mood as they laugh and mingle with one another, many of the citizens moving in droves at whatever catches their fancy. The streets are filled with the carriages of coming and going nobles alongside their retinues for the coronation. They are not the only ones using the road though. Royals and representatives of different lands and petty kingdoms , knights, warriors, well-known and wealthy merchants and there is even a representative of the Iron Bank of Braavos.
Of course with such a long line of people with high egos in a singular place and with a penchant in loving to hear their own voices, suffice it to say that fights are inevitable. It is only the matter of when. Already there are three roadside brawls between ten different visiting knights, a fist fight in a tavern and the accidental murder of three troubadors by a pissed off noble.
For the first time in Rivendell's history since its creation, the proud Death Dealers found themselves deployed alongside the Silver Knight Order to keep the peace of the town that is filled to the brim. Of course with such large amounts of people, it can only mean a mountain for paperwork upon the poor bureaucrat handling the visitors for the event.
Thankfully said poor bureaucrat at the moment for the first time in her life is neglecting her duties as she instead strolls alongside her other sisters-in-heart seeing the sights.
"We should have hosted the coronation event at the Colliseum instead of the Castle Amelia," comments Rhaenys dressed in pure black form fitting leather with gold trimmings, her dual swords at her hips. A nearby knight walks into a wall with how much he is ogling her derriere. "The castle won't be enough to hold such large crowds,"
"I agree with the Lady Rhaenys, Lady Amelia," says Yasmina, ever the dutiful aide to Amelia when she's working. She's dressed in an oriental gown of Yi Ti with wide open sleeves and tie at her waist. Delianah places her little suggestion though and a side of the gown has been cut to show off her right leg up to her outer thigh when she walks. "The castle won't be enough to hold such large crowds,"
"It is what it is ladies," replies Amelia curtly dressed in her own silver dress adorned by moonstones hugging her frame snugly. It stops somewhere just above the middle of her chest showing her generous upper blossoms daringly and also the entirey of her collarbone, shoulders, back and bare arms. Her hair as always is in a bun. A throat gem has been tied around her neck with a blazing emerald on its center.
"Rivendell will be the seat of the Seven Kingdoms and Delianah makes it clear that we must go on with this despite the challenges we are facing now. Besides it's not as if we can change the venue now that our guests have arrived,"
The only reply is Rhaenys' grumbling about "guards complaining" as the three focus on the people around them. The gates of Rivendell which usually isn't manned is fully staffed by Death Dealers. There are almost fifty of them alongside dozens of archers on duty at the walls as the crowds of people line up to get admitted to the Last Homely House.
"I have to admit that I never expect the other nations would start sending their envoys that quickly. It is not too long since our little Cella wont the War of Kings," Amelia says looking at the red banner with the Eagle of Ghis on it. A man wearing a toga holds it with a dozen legionnaires around him as his guard. A few meters behind him are other banners with represenatives like Braavos, Myr, Pentos and Volantis. There are also the members of Lorath, Lys, Tyrosh, Norvos, and Qohor. Dozens more minor countries are present.
It is rather surprising to see the delegates of other nations present at Westeros. Few to none of them even graced the coronation of Targaryens or even that of Robert. Some of them she even recognized as those who visited before. There are the white outfits of the kingdom of Ibabwa, the proud Knights of Araluen, the disciplined Arashis of Nihon-Ja, the Stalwart bodies of Sparta, the opulent headgears of those from Goguryo and the rich appareled eunuchs of Yi Ti. Others are present with their representatives while some have their monarchs with them.
"This would be one coronation to remember," exclaims Yasmina. "Today will define this continents' future for generations to come," she sums up all their thoughts.
…..
Rivendell, Coronation Hall
The blast of the trumpet above gives the signal that whatever time for contemplation Delianah has is cancelled. All her plans are already coming into culmination.
"Keep an eye on everyone, Hidden One," Delianah orders to the shadow behind her curtain who nods at her words in obedience.
"That is my job,my lady," the Hidden One bows before disappearing silently to the gloom behind him giving zero indication that he is there even a second ago.
As always she is impressed as to how efficient the Order of Spies and Assassins are at remaining unseen. Delianah marches down the hidden corridor before appearing in a hidden alcove on the wall. As she expects, Marcus is there waiting for her alongside her beloved making final minute preparations in the Crown Princess' attire.
"My lady, the ceremony is about to start," obviously an exasperated but respectful Marcus says as he approaches her and begins smoothing the small wrinkles off of Delianah's atiire.
"Apologies Elder Marcus, I have some last minute things I need to check out," Delianah only nods at the curious gaze of Myrcella.
"Very well my lady. You already know the drill. Your name is the first to be called any minute now," says the Elder of the Green Men stepping back once he's satisfied with her outfit.
"Thank you Elder Marcus," she replies. The man has always been overzealous in his desire to serve her. Until now the awe and adoration of the Green Men to her has not faded away (it even increased if Delianah is going to be more accurate). Either way she makes use of their fanatical service to her with prudence.
"You look beautiful Delia," Myrcella's melodic tone makes Delianah look at the Crown princess who looks nervous and unsure. For good reason, she knows. The young woman is to be crowned queen after all.
"Thank you Cella," Delianah gives Myrcella her usual beautiful smile she reserves only for her lover. "I know I'm beautiful, you're the one who sewed my outfit after all,"
The dress that Delianah is wearing now is something Myrcella made. Elsa has put her foot down on Delianah wearing her ornate outfit from Yi Ti since she doesn't want anyone else seeing Delianah exposing so much skin except for her and her sisters-in-heart. The dress is of the purest white that covers her entire form from shoulder to ankes. Normally Delianah would have wanted a that it would have a slit at the side for her leg to be seen and bare at her collar. Myrcella however disagrees at that for the same reasons above. Thus after many arguments which lead to a heated session of kissing and touching, Delianah settles on simply a sleeveless form of the dress. At her arms are white long gloves that reach to her elbows, something that Myrcella finds amusing. Much to her annoyance however, Myrcella also insists that a white cape be added tied to a brooch on her throat. If not for the fact that she does love the young woman, she would have protested at that. As it is, she can't say no to the puppy dog eyes of her beloved. Now here she is looking regal and beautiful as Myrcella says it.
"Of course, not everyone can have their dresses sewn by royal hands. It is a privilege," chuckles Myrcella. Delianah is glad that despite her nervousness, Myrcella finds the effort to joke. She can see that despite her doubts, her lover can finish this demand of responsibility assigned to her.
The sound of horns followed by silence makes Delianah take a deep breathe knowing well what's going to happen next.
"It is time,"
"Everyone, please stand in recognition of the Lady of Rivendell, my lords, my ladies! I am proud to present Lady Delianah Tully!" the booming voice of the herald outside announces in a flourish followed by the beating of heavy drums.
The wooden doors in front of her open and Delianah releases her breathe focusing her features to a smiling but proud one as she steps out. Immediately a wall of cheers greet her as she can see the raised dais far head the red carpet. Seats of the round tables are full of guests waiting at the open sides. Down below the archways she can see gardens and vegetation full of seats are the citizens of Rivendell clapping and hollering at the sight of their Lady. Many of them are holding flaglets and banner of the Golden Spear in a sea of blue, her personal sigil.
Stepping out into the red carpet, she gives her best award winning smile as she moves confidently waving at the people and guests whose volume even grow greater at her actions. It does not take long for her to climb the twelve steps to a seat beside the throne which she sits on. Below the throne she can see Elder Marcus with the scepter and seal of gold that represents royalty waiting. Beside the steps of the throne stand also her friends and personal confidants. She can see Amelia, the Castellan of Rivendell Rhaenys, Commander of the Death Dealers, Yasmina, her personal aide, Catellan Jon Stark, Prince of Dol Amroth, Lord Draco, Castellan of Osgiliath, her father, Lord Hoster and her brother who is grinning, Lord Edmure Tully. All cherished allies both early and late.
She can also espy another chair with Ser Loras on it, a place in the Council for the Prince Consort of the Realm.
Sitting her simple seat beside the throne, she relaxes as the booming drums once more start with the sounds disappearing though there are still many eyes glued to her.
"Announcing the Crown Princess of the Seven Kingdoms, victorious over the War of Kings, the Doe who stands victorious, the daughter of Robert Baratheon coming to claim her throne! Princess Myrcella Baratheon!" the booming voice of the herald follows another set of drum beats as the doors once more open.
To say that Delianah is proud would be an understatement. Holding the sides of her elegant Baratheon themed gown with a confident but soft smile, Myrcella walks out. She is the very image of a princess, smiling, sunny and confident. She is a bit pale but the smile never leaves her face. Her eyes look confident and happy, the vestiges of doubt not present, confidence oozing at her very form. All in all she does not disappoint. She can see it and Delianah is sure that everyone can see it too. The people and even nobles cheer her name. Some looks doubtful and disapproving but they are a paltry few compared to the thousands clapping. Things are going very well as Myrcella climbs the twelve stairs before pausing on the last one where the Elder Marcus awaits. She meets Delianah's gaze for a minute before giving her a wink. She simply rolls her eyes at the mischievous young woman.
The Elder looks proud as he stares at her. Marcus has been one of Myrcella's teachers when she's fostering and his burning pride at her is obvious for everyone to observe. As he composes himself, he speaks in the Elder Tongue of the First Men in prayer before gesturing for Myrcella to kneel as propriet demands. Delianah watches as the crown of gold with dancing stags on them is placed atop Myrcella's head and finally her gloves are asked to be taken off as she is given the scepter and Valyrian Sword, Queen Ascendant, freshly forged, contribution of the Knights of the Vale who generously donated their heirlooms by being dead. She can see clearly that Myrcella is a bit nervous as she takes the items. The Elder finishes his prayers before beckoning to Myrcella to stand up and face her people and guests.
"Announcing First of her Name, Myrcella Baratheon, Queen of the Andals, and the Rhoynar and First Men, Lady of the Eight Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. Long may she reign!"
"LONG MAY SHE REIGN!" the thousands of voices boom out as she ascends to the throne and standing before it facing everyone.
"My people!" Myrcella's melodious voice is clear as day as she stares at everyone (A permanent Sonorus charm powered by a rune has been placed on the throne's standing discreetly).
"There is no greater honor than the one that I a being bestowed today. All my life, I never expected to be given this seat but the gods say otherwise. Now I am a queen of a nation, of a people, a single kingdom united. When father and mother passed, I am alone. I do know however my responsibility as my title as Crown Princess as dictated by my father, Robert baratheon. Many challenged me but here I stand (One cannot fault the Mormonts puffing out their chests at the mention of their family motto).
"I know my destiny and I know that I would rule. What does it mean however to be a ruler? A ruler is someone that watches over and protect the ones she rules. A ruler is someone that is brave and courageous, able to rally the people of a kingdom to do feats to protect what is most important of them all, their freedom, freedom to be who they are. A ruler is someone who empowers her people that on the other way around gives her the strength she needs to lead. Today I am a queen, crowned. A ruler that demands loyalty from her people but gives nothing in return is not worthy of any crown," she pauses as she looks at Delianah.
"I know someone who is worthy of that crown, worthy of all our loyalty, trust and faith. She has shown herself, wise, courageous, determined, and brilliant in every way. She is also kind, loving, and a dear mentor of mine. I am a queen today, but I declare my partner in life, the one I marry in witness before gods and men. My lords, my ladies, citizens! Let's bear witness to one who is brave and true, the one I love, Queen Delianah Tully, my queen consort!"
Delianah preens like a peacock as she stands up to the deafening cheers around her. Myrcella takes her hand with hers and raises it to even more cheering and clapping. Delianah just smiles and waves through it all. From bastard, to the de facto ruler of the Eight Kingdoms now, she has just earned her title of The Great and one that would be recorded in the Annals of History.
She can see a lot of disapproving looks from many lords and ladies though. She has no doubt that they would raise hell and high water given the chance. She's unconcerned.
The food they are about to partake are all heavily dosed by loyalty potions beforehand.
Nothing gets past Queen Delianah Tully, or at least mostly nothing gets past her. All of them will bow!
….
The End.
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Joke, the Great War and final hooray starts next chapter. Or do you guys want a filler for royalty life at least one chapter?
Author's Note: Hope ya like this. From bastard to royalty, cough2x Jon Snow mode.
