Chapter 74: Divinations

They trundled on through the sand and the heat. The army, for that was what it was, seemed to be keeping a decent pace, but Tyrion wondered at the wisdom of going to these lands. Asshai had never been mapped before. Nobody from Westeros had been there, nobody knew what it was like, what sort of reception an army turning up outside its gates would bring.

Nobody even knew if the city was still there. For all they knew it could well be an illusion. A diversion that would have them die in the desert. He'd raised these concerns when the Queen had made her announcement. Ser Jorah, for all that he'd been pushing for an attack on Meereen had immediately jumped to the Queen's defence and had ridiculed Tyrion.

It was obvious from that interaction that Mormont was in love with the Queen. But that she did not share his affections. Indeed, from observing the Queen, she seemed to have fallen into the same trap that countless young women fell into. Falling for the handsome and charismatic soldier who was really a dangerous being. In this case, Daario Naharis. Naharis was a sellsword captain, a charming man, but someone who would betray the Queen in an instant if it benefitted him.

Tyrion suspected that the Queen and Naharis were sleeping together. Indeed he'd spied the man emerging from her tent early in the morning the other day. Sorting out his belt buckle of all things. The Queen's guards-Unsullied-said nothing, they would not speak on it unless commanded to by the Queen. And her Dothraki respected Naharis, at least for now. That just left Jorah Mormont as the one person Tyrion could tell his suspicions to. And he knew the man would not believe him.

Mormont thought that the Queen could do no wrong. The fact that she had allowed her brother to wander off seemed not to concern him at all. That the man had admitted that Viserys Targaryen was stark raving mad was something that didn't seem to concern him. As far as Mormont was concerned, Viserys Targaryen had signed his own death warrant when he had left the Dothraki camp. For some reason, Tyrion wasn't sure he agreed with that.

Targaryens were a hardy bunch and the fact that Viserys had managed to survive for as long as he had, with a young girl to raise, suggested he was far more street smart than anyone gave him credit for. The boy-well he wasn't really a boy-would be about the same age as Tyrion, and Tyrion knew for a fact that if he'd had to deal with half the things that Viserys had had to handle, he'd have killed himself long ago.

That the man had kept himself going and had provided for both himself and his sister, and had had the sense to arrange a marriage for his sister, suggested that he had some sense. Some sense of self preservation. That he had left when he had realised his sister and her husband never intended to help him suggested he knew when to leave a sinking ship.

Wherever he was, Tyrion was convinced they would need to fight him before the Queen could take the throne. He sighed and wiped at his brow. The man's survival would complicate things. More of the Targaryen loyalists would go to him because he was a man. That would make him more favourable compared to the Queen even with her dragons.

Going to Asshai probably wouldn't help that either. Especially as Asshai was seen as some dark foreboding place. A cesspit of evil, if you were to believe the accounts of the Maesters of Oldtown. It was the one place where the Maesters abandoned their usual desire for the absolute truth and went all in on the fanciful tales.

Perhaps it was because the only thing they knew for sure was that Asshai was home to the Red Priests of R'Hllor, that fiery demon like God who consumed everything in fire. Such destruction was anathema to the maesters. They preferred preservation above all else. Tyrion wiped at his brow.

Not for the first time he found himself wondering why the Queen had decided to go for Asshai. Was it something she had seen in her dreams? Some sort of innate instinct? Or something else? And where was Quaithe? The woman had disappeared, Tyrion hadn't seen her since his first day with the Queen and that concerned him.

"We're here." A voice called out. Tyrion blinked and gasped.

The walls of Asshai towered before them. Walls of pure black, oozing some sort of oily substance down to the ground. A statute came out of the wall, sparked in red, black and gold. It had the face of a dragon, and the wings of a bird, and its hands, its hands were human.

"Welcome!" a voice said. Tyrion blinked and as they got closer, he saw a woman with silver hair, and violet eyes. "Welcome to Asshai."

"Quaithe." Tyrion grumbled. The woman had decided to show herself.

"So, in your view, the children should be ready for the blessing in a few days' time?" Myrcella asked.

"Yes, Your Grace." Pycelle replied. This close, the man's age was apparent. His skin was sagging, his eyes were heavy and there were bags under them. Whatever Joffrey had done to him was still present in the way he would sometimes flinch. Still he was capable. "I believe that Their Highnesses are at the right weight and size for their age. They are taking to their food and drink as well as can be expected."

"You do not think the weather will have an adverse effect on them?" Myrcella asked. It was starting to get colder, and word had come from Winterfell that the winter snows had started there.

"I do not think so, Your Grace." Pycelle replied. "The right precautions are being made at ever level to ensure they are safe and warm. The High Septon has had the furnaces working overtime to ensure that heat is constantly present within the Great Sept. The doors are going to be kept closed during the ceremony and the immersion is only for a few seconds."

Myrcella nodded, the process of the blessing involved the children being swaddled and carried to the Great Sept of Baelor where the High Septon would say a prayer over them, then they'd be dipped into a fountain of water for a few seconds, then another prayer would be said, then they were considered blessed. Their souls would be protected and guaranteed entry into the next life should something happen.

Robb had said there was no such custom for the Old Gods, but he had undergone a similar process as a baby in Riverrun, as had his siblings, so he was not opposed to it. Then there was the whole naming of godparents, those who would assist the children should something happen to either her or Robb. The typical number was four. Two from either side of the family. They'd settled on Grandfather and Great Aunt Genna from her side, and Ser Edmure and Lady Catelyn from Robb's side. All parties would be present in a few days' time, Lady Catelyn was travelling down from Winterfell specifically for this.

Myrcella was about to ask Pycelle another question, when the door opened, and Robb walked in. From the way he took off his crown and rubbed at his eyes, she knew he needed to get something off his chest. She glanced at Pycelle and dismissed him with a nod. The man bowed and hurried out of the room. The moment the door shut, she walked over to Robb and asked. "How did it go?"

Robb had gone to see Lady Lysa and inform her about the change of guardianship for her son. From the way her husband sighed, she gathered it hadn't gone well. "She almost killed me." Robb said.

"What?!" Myrcella exclaimed.

"I explained what was to happen at court tomorrow and why, and she seemed to take it well, considering. She said she understood, she walked to her dresser and then picked up a pair of scissors and came at me." Robb said. "I managed to knock the scissors out of her hand and pushed her away. She then fell onto the bed and started screaming."

"Oh." Myrcella said. She could imagine the scene. Lady Lysa was very good at screaming.

"I explained once more why I was doing what I was doing, and then I left. The last I saw of her she was sleeping." Robb said. "I asked four of the gold cloaks to keep an eye on her and to let me know if something happens."

"Do you think something will happen?" Myrcella asked.

"I do not know. But she needs to leave and quickly." Robb said.

"Where will you send her?" Myrcella asked.

"To the Silent Sisters I think. She hates Riverrun and I will not subject mother to her nonsense. So, the Silent Sisters is the only place I can think of." Robb answered.

Myrcella nodded. "That seems like a good idea. It's a good thing that Robert likes Tommen, Gods alone knows what would've happened had he been in Lysa's room when this happened."

Robert and Tommen's friendship was a surprising turn, but one that seemed to have done both boys good.

"Agreed. I think I might keep the boy there for some more time. Especially tomorrow." Robb said.

Myrcella nodded. "A good idea I think."

There was a knock on the door. Robb glanced at her, asking her if she was expecting anyone, she shook her head.

"Enter." Myrcella commanded.

The door opened and one of the gold cloaks entered the room, he was a young man, and he looked frantic. "Your Graces, please, come quickly, it's Lady Lysa. Something's happened."

Robb glanced at Myrcella, he had a sneaking suspicion he knew exactly what had happened. He gestured for Myrcella to stay where she was, he'd handle this. He walked passed the gold cloak, Greywind stayed with Myrcella. They walked down the hallway at a quick pace, turning right, then left, then right once more.

When they got to Aunt Lysa's room, he saw that the door was open, he stepped inside and gasped. The first thing he saw was the blood on the walls, then the blood on the floor. He looked at the bed and saw his aunt holding her hands. One of the gold cloaks was holding something.

Robb turned to the gold cloak who had got him and said. "Get the Grand Maester, now!" the man nodded and hurried out. Robb looked at the gold cloak who was holding something. "What happened?"

The man blinked before responding. "We were standing guard outside, as you asked us to, then we heard a scream and a crash, we opened the door and found Lady Lysa bleeding everywhere. She was screaming as well, she tried to attack me, but I managed to disarm her."

Robb nodded, then asked. "Where are the other two gold cloaks I left here?"

"They're getting something to help stop the bleeding." The man said.

"What is that in your hand?" Robb asked.

The man unclenched his palm and Robb sighed. It was the scissors that his aunt had threatened him with earlier. They must be particularly sharp given how much blood there was on them.

"Your Grace?" Pycelle's voice pulled him out of his musing. He turned to face the Grand Maester and spoke.

"My aunt has suffered a grievous injury; I would be grateful if you could help her." The man nodded and moved to the bed. Aunt Lysa recoiled from him.

"No…No…I don't want him touching me. No…"

Robb snapped then; he'd had enough of this. "Lysa Tully, stop being a child and let Pycelle stop the bleeding." His aunt cowered but extended her hands. There were deep gashes on both hands, and on her arms. Pycelle frowned but got to work.

Robb waited. He would not move from here until he was sure that his aunt would be safe. He glanced down, the blood on the floor was starting to dry, he glanced at the walls, the blood there was starting to dry as well.

Thank God, Robert wasn't here.

He could only imagine what his aunt would have done had she gotten her hands on her son.

After what felt like an age, Pycelle spoke. "It is done, Your Grace." Robb glanced at the bed, his aunt's hands and arms had been stitched up and the bleeding had stopped. His aunt was now lying on the bed, her eyes closed.

"Thank you, Pycelle. You may go." The man bowed once before departing. Robb looked at his aunt and said. "I know why you did what you did, Lysa, and I will not tolerate it. You are going to be leaving for the Silent Sisters tomorrow." With that he turned and walked out of the room.

He didn't stop walking until he got to Myrcella's room, where he threw himself into her arms and held her tight.