Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and works; all other characters and worlds belong to their respective owners. I'm just playing with them.
Betad by Priapus, Malcolm Tent, Beans
The Unbound
Chapter 27: Crone
– Shireen Baratheon –
As the ship remained in the bay outside King's Landing, she looked out at the city, her eyes lingering on the Red Keep. She'd never actually met her eldest cousin, but even in Dragonstone, Orys' reputation had reached her ears.
"Shireen, finish your prayers," her mother all but demanded, forcing Shireen to hide the way she rolled her eyes as she obliged. Her mother had rarely prayed at all before her father had sent word that Orys would be trying to heal her. She knew why. Her mother blamed the Seven, either for failing to protect her or for cursing her with her stony face. Shireen wondered if her mother was so eager to blame the Gods because the alternative was to blame herself. She'd heard her mother mention her desire to give her father a strong son, rather than a sickly daughter, when she thought Shireen wasn't listening.
No matter how much she claimed otherwise, Shireen knew that her mother was ashamed of her. Why else would they still be sitting on the ship when they were at the port already? She didn't want Shireen to be seen in the daylight, so they were waiting until nightfall, when there would be fewer people to see her disfigurement.
Her mother might have regained her faith with King Orys' offer, but Shireen wondered if it would last as she prayed to each of the seven, for the seventh time. It was all they'd been doing for hours. She respected the Gods, especially given the deeds they had achieved through her royal cousin, but she was… tired.
As they finally finished, she looked up and brightened, seeing Davos waiting patiently with that befuddled look on his face.
"Lady Selyse, the carriage is ready. King Orys has requested that you bring his cousin directly to the Red Keep," Davos informed her mother, watching as she rose rapidly, already barking orders to the men. Her mother didn't particularly like Ser Davos.
Well, Lord Davos now. Which was why he had that confused, dazed look on his face at all times. She was sad to know that Davos would be going to Pyke instead of returning home to Dragonstone with them, but she was happy for him, even if his new job sounded extremely hard.
"Come along, Shireen!" her mother called, and she couldn't deny that she was nervous as she followed behind, pulling her hood up to cover her face. The ride was short, thanks to the Baratheon crest on the carriage. Nobody would stop them, especially when her father had become a legendary hero by slaying a kraken.
She hadn't been to the Red Keep in a long time, vaguely remembering a single visit and the mockery of Joffrey after he'd seen her face. Myrcella seemed nice, but afraid of Shireen's scars and she couldn't remember seeing Tommen at all. Orys had already been gone by then, taken to Casterly Rock.
"Lady Cersei, thank you for your hospitality," her mother said, getting her attention from the decorations as she faced the Queen Mother.
"Thank the King, not me. It's his keep, now," Cersei replied with a strange smile on her lips. Her eyes landed on Shireen, her gaze wandering to the left side of Shireen's face, where the grey and black stony skin could be found. She was used to pitying and disgusted looks, but she couldn't place the expression that crossed Cersei's face as her father came to her. He wasn't one for shows of affection and simply put a hand on her shoulder in support. "He's ready for you, now that the Day of the Smith's festivities have come to an end. Follow."
It was abrupt and demanding, but Shireen supposed that she'd been the Queen for years, and it wasn't like her Uncle Robert had been the one to give the orders beyond demands for wine. Well, that was what she'd heard her father say, anyway.
Following behind, her father reassured her that her curse was going to come to an end as they entered the Royal Sept. There was a fat man who wasn't her uncle, in a fancy robe and ugly crown. The High Septon, maybe?
He looked to her, and his eyes widened briefly as a sneer of disgust and fear crossed his face before he schooled it. Not fast enough to avoid a very displeased look from her father, making the fat man quiver slightly as he stepped aside to reveal a large chalice and a far younger and better-looking man in a more elegant crown.
"Thank you, Mother," Orys said softly, his voice carrying despite the quiet tone. His eyes, the same bright blue as his father's, moved from Lady Cersei to Shireen before they did what everyone who saw Shireen did. His gaze moved straight to her disfigurement, his lips pursing. Not in disgust or fear that she was contagious (the maester had taught her that word to explain why people feared to go near her sometimes), but rather in thought. "And you must be Lady Selyse and Shireen. It's a pleasure to meet my aunt and cousin at long last."
Rather than move away, he gestured for them to approach and took a few steps himself. She could have sworn his eyes gleamed with gold as they remained on her scars before they met her gaze and his expression went from thoughtful to pleased.
"It's an honour, Your Grace," her mother said, with a deep curtsy as Shireen went to do the same but paused as he held out a hand.
"It's just Orys to my family. I get enough of that from the rest of the realm, even if I can't get Uncle Stannis to use my name," Orys laughed.
"It would be improper for a member of the small council to call you by your name, Your Grace," her father replied instantly, but she could have sworn he sounded a little happy. She giggled slightly, unsurprised by his response and clearly Orys wasn't shocked either.
"It's nice to meet you, Orys. I've heard a lot about you," Shireen greeted. If the King said to call him Orys, wouldn't it be more disrespectful to ignore his command? Her mother's head snapped to her, fearful as if Orys was about to reveal that this was a test and that she'd failed, booting her back to Dragonstone.
"And I've heard quite a bit about you, from both your father and Lord Davos," Orys confirmed easily as he lowered himself onto one knee, head tilted slightly in curiosity as his hand came to her cheek. She heard her mother gasp, but she remained still as he placed his palm on her blackened cheek. "You've been through quite a lot for your age, haven't you?"
She didn't have any feeling on the left side of her face, but Orys' touch… tickled. It was enough to make her giggle and flinch back, unused to feeling anything on that side of her face. Maybe that was why it was so sensitive?
"Your Gra- Orys, can you do it? Can you truly heal her?" her mother asked, her tone hurried and hopeful. Orys simply nodded confidently.
"I can. Whoever saved her life from the disease has already done most of the work," Orys agreed easily, offering Shireen his hand and leading her to the large chalice. "This is the Chalice of Mara's Mercy. Sometimes called the Mother's Mercy. It's been moved to the Royal Sept in preparation for the Day of the Mother. We'll be using these waters to help your body heal and shake off this ugly mess spoiling your good looks."
Orys spoke with a boyish charm, an easy grin on his lips as he dipped his hands into the golden water and cupped them together to gather some before pulling them out to show Shireen. The chalice was so large that it was hard for her to see into it, but with his hands holding the water, she could see how the water almost sparkled. She supposed that it was good that it did, otherwise it would just look like urine.
"Did the Mother really help you make this?" Shireen asked, unable to stop her curiosity. Orys just nodded before pausing.
"Well, technically, Lord Zenithar, the Smith, helped me make the chalice itself. Lady Mara, the Mother, worked her powers on the waters within and enchanted the chalice. But effectively, yes," Orys explained, putting the water back in before he playfully flicked his wet fingers at her face, splashing her with the remnants. She giggled again, feeling the way the water tingled across her face. "You're going to be just fine, Shireen. I swear it."
With his piece said, he rose to speak to her parents and the fat man, who, it turned out, was the High Septon. Well, it was more than he talked to her parents while the High Septon hung around him and interjected. There were several other women around, who she was pretty sure were septas. Shireen let her attention be drawn back to the chalice, looking over the incredible detailing and elaborate designs.
She ran her finger along the patterns, resting on the figure of a hooded woman. Somehow, the metal felt warm to the touch. Not hot, but simply… soothing.
The discussion was hushed, but it seemed to be positive before her mother called for her and led her into a side room, where a small table was waiting. Two of the women followed her in, speaking in hushed whispers as her mother got her to undress. She expected this; her scars ran down her neck and to her shoulder and chest, after all.
Two more of the women entered with a pail of golden water, placing it down next to the table as Shireen was helped onto it. She was mildly surprised that the blonde septa was willing to risk touching her at all. Orys entered, closing the door behind him as he gestured for the septa's attention. She couldn't quite hear what he was saying over her mother's words, but she thought it was something about teaching from the bits and pieces she picked up. It was said quietly, and the conversation was over quickly as Orys approached. She was a little embarrassed to be seen naked by him, but she got over it as he gestured for her to lie fully down.
"This is going to feel a little funny, Shireen. Just relax and don't fight it, and it will be over quickly," Orys assured her, stroking her hair briefly before he gestured for the pail to be brought over. "Close your eyes, I'm going to be pouring some of it on your face."
Obeying, she closed them shut as she felt the waters being poured over her face. It was a funny feeling, her face tingling all over, especially on her left side. It tickled, and she had to force down her desire to giggle or fidget as she felt his hands caressing her face. She almost opened her eyes wide at the sound of gasping and what sounded like whispered prayers, but kept them clenched tight. She could feel something weird on her face, and she was desperately curious what was happening, but she kept her eyes closed all the same until Orys told her to open them after drying her face with what felt like a fine cloth.
Slowly opening her eyes, she turned to face him and paused at the sight of something grey and flaky on the table next to her, her hand rising to touch her face. Despite herself, she couldn't force down the gasp as she felt soft skin rather than hard stone.
Her mother's eyes were wide, hands clenched together in desperate prayer. Her words were quiet, but she could have sworn she heard her mother begging for forgiveness for her lapse in faith.
"See? Not bad at all, was it?" Orys asked cheerfully, as he gestured for one of the septas to hand him something. Her eyes widened at the sight of the silver object, a myrish glass mirror. "One of the many gifts for my wedding. I'm not vain enough to need it, but it has its uses," he chuckled, holding it up as she got a glimpse of herself.
She knew she was an ugly child, having heard people comparing her unfavourably with her cousin Myrcella. And yet, now? She couldn't see even a single trace of the greyscale on her face. It wasn't fully gone yet, still on her lower neck and body but her face was… pristine. There wasn't even a hint of difference between her right and left side, no unhealthy white skin or patchy spots. She looked like she was supposed to have looked all along.
"Th-Thank you, Your Grace," Shireen choked out, freezing at his scolding look before she giggled. "Thank you, Orys."
"That's better," Orys replied firmly, ruffling her hair playfully. "Now, I'm going to show these septas how to do the next part, if you don't mind."
"That's fine, as long as you're here as well," Shireen agreed quickly, beaming as she stared at herself. Orys chuckled, passing her the mirror as he gestured for the septas to approach. She held it in her right hand, so they could work on her left side without her getting in the way as one of the septas stepped forward. Another poured more of the golden water on her lower neck and shoulder, and Orys moved behind the older woman, his hands moving around her and guiding her hands to Shireen's body. The septa blushed at his closeness, but obliged as he guided her. At first, his hands glowed with golden light as they moved, but as he let go of the septa's hands, the glow remained.
It was slower this time. It took the septa what felt like an age compared to how fast Orys had healed her face, but it was working. Piece by piece, the scars faded away as more water was applied. The process repeated, again and again, as he cycled through each septa and had them focusing on a different part of her body. The blonde woman once again was the one who stood out, and Shireen was sure that when Orys moved behind her, the septa pushed her buttocks back to meet him. Once each of them had been shown how to work, he returned to her side and entertained her as they worked, teasing her and regaling her with different stories while the septas worked their magic. She didn't know how long it actually took when he finally helped her off the table and turned his back as she dried and dressed. It wasn't like he hadn't already seen everything, but she appreciated the false modesty all the same.
Her mother finally stopped her desperate prayers to kiss his hands with a fervour Shireen had never seen in her before, and Shireen gave him a curtsy before he took her hand and led her out of the room to where her father was still waiting.
The High Septon was nowhere to be seen, at first, as her father spotted her and his eyes widened. He wasn't the type to openly show emotion, often frowning with that dour look on his face. She'd heard some of his men mutter that he was more stonefaced than she was. It seemed that Orys' magic had cured them both of their stony faces as he moved to her side, kneeling to examine her before he grabbed her in a hug that bordered on painfully tight. With his face buried in her shoulder, she even thought she heard the faintest sob before he got his emotions under control and rose again.
"You have my eternal gratitude. I am in your debt, Your- Orys," her father corrected, bowing to Orys before Orys clasped his arm.
"There's no debt between family, uncle. Besides, between the Ironborn and now the Goldcloaks, any debt would have been repaid already. I only ask that you continue to support my reign, I still have need of your talents," Orys praised. patting his shoulder. Her father seemed amusingly uncomfortable with the friendly action, but simply nodded.
"And you will have them, for as long as they are needed," her father agreed. "...I intend to have Shireen and my wife join me in Kings Landing now that she will not be seen as diseased."
"Then I'll have ample time to get to know my cousin. Myrcella and Tommen will be pleased as well," Orys replied simply. "Speaking of, I promised Myrcella that I would read to her tonight in exchange for escaping her attempts to stomp my feet into one giant bruise. Perhaps Shireen would care to join us?"
Looking up at her father hopefully, she beamed at his easy agreement even if it was marred by the arrival of the High Septon who ranted and raved about Orys' skills and pulled him away to discuss the septas. Again, they spoke quietly enough and at a distance where she couldn't really hear what was being said, only enough to hear something about a new order.
In truth, she lost interest quickly when her father was in a very rare emotional state. He was even smiling. A little bit, if you really looked carefully. Of course, then he realised she was staring at his mouth, and he worked harder to hide the fact that he was smiling at all with that uncomfortable look on his face.
So, she turned her attention to the openly beaming Lord Davos instead. Only, his smile was wiped away when she called him that, and once more was replaced with that befuddled look as his bushy eyebrows furrowed together.
They were a strange pair of men, but maybe that was why they were friends?
As Orys finally finished speaking to the High Septon, he collected her and bade the rest goodnight as he lead her to Princess Myrcella's room, where the excitable girl, just a year younger than her, was waiting. If she minded the intrusion, she didn't show it as she peppered Shireen with questions about Dragonstone, her disease and countless other things until Orys put his foot down and silenced her.
As Orys read the storybook that Myrcella had picked out, Shireen giggled alongside her cousin at the almighty Blessed King putting on voices and miming the actions from the book.
She had a feeling she was going to like King's Landing more than dreary Dragonstone, a tiny smile on her lips.
– King Orys Baratheon – Next Morning –
Today is the Day of the Crone, but thankfully, it isn't one where I have much to do beyond some minor appearances. It's ridiculous to have a day off from my wedding, but that is essentially what today is.
Which means I got to have a rare lie-in, eating breakfast in my suite and then going right back to bed with Margaery once we were properly satiated. In one way, at least. We were both still rather hungry in other ways.
Last night was important in more ways than one. I am thrilled to see Shireen healed, of course. Nobody should have to suffer through something like Greyscale, especially not a child. Especially not a child related to me. It also ensured that I have Uncle Stannis' undying loyalty and awakened an almost fanatic devotion in my aunt Selyse.
But perhaps more important than any of that is the fact that it almost marked the start of the Order of the Mother's Mercy. Similarly to how the Silent Sisters are dedicated to the Stranger, this Order of Septas will be dedicated to the Mother with the goal of them becoming devout enough to gain a lesser version of my own healing.
I can do in seconds what could take them hours, but even this weakened boost is a massive upgrade and, more importantly… it weakens the maesters. I don't trust the Citadel, they're too independent, but they also have people in the courts of every single important figure in my realm. As the reputation of this new order grows, each highborn Lord will desire such a Septa to attend to their family, and the High Septon and I agree that such a thing would be… optimal.
They'll assist with childbirth, guided by Lady Mara, and keep my subjects healthy. As my powers grow, so too shall the powers of Mara's Septas. There will always be a need for maesters in the courts of the highborn. They've integrated themselves too deeply into Westerosi culture, but ensuring that my highborn have access to another source of healing will only benefit me in the long run. If nothing else, it takes some of the weight of the maesters. They won't see it that way, of course, but these old men tend to have far too many responsibilities to do them all adequately.
Sure, they'll be bitter at the loss of power, but I have an advantage in this court. They have long claimed the death of magic itself, but in this age of miracles and monsters, they've been proven to be wrong. It's a small thing, just enough to shake the faith people put in their vaunted knowledge and let me remove some of the power from their wrinkly old hands.
So, what does a King do on his day off?
Work. It's no wonder my father was so eager to hand the crown to someone else. Unlike him, I'm not as comfortable with delaying or simply ignoring issues so my free time is rarely truly free as I head to my next meeting, the Kingsguard marching behind.
With the increase in Essosi visitors and my recent declarations ruffling some slaver feathers, Barristan has increased the amount of the Kingsguard who are with me at any one time to ensure that I am adequately protected. I don't expect anyone to be crazy enough to attempt to kill me outright, but why take that chance when I have the protection of some of the greatest warriors in the Seven Kingdoms (and Boros Blount)?
Boros is the weakest of the Kingsguard by a clear margin, but Kingsguard serve for life, and I am not callous enough to have him disposed of simply because he's merely an adequate fighter. Barristan claims that he was better once, if not spectacular, but as my father feasted and drank his way towards an early grave, Boros followed his example.
In truth, I'm pleased to have him around because he provides both a sparring partner I can actually beat and some entertainment. Ser Barristan is most displeased by the decay of the Kingsguard and, with my approval and enthusiasm, has set about whipping them back into shape, seeking to make them as renowned as the Kingsguards of old. Boros has taken the worst of this, as while Ser Preston Greenfield is also somewhat lacking, he could beat Boros with one hand behind his back, so Boros has been the focus of Barristan.
He's also stamped down on an affair Preston was having with a draper's wife and Boros' whoring, demanding that they uphold the vows they once swore. Boros is too weak-spined to disagree, but I've noticed Preston's aura has been growing darker and have tasked Varys with watching them both. He's eager to prove that he's useful when he knows the council reformation is rapidly approaching.
Varys already caught Preston trying to sneak away once. I left the disciplining of Greenfield to Barristan, and he's had Preston reduced to the equivalent of a squire for the Kingsguard for now. It's infuriated Ser Greenfield but also proved that he's not as sneaky as he believed, as I gave Barristan leave to follow him and… interrupt Preston's liaisons before dragging him back to the Red Keep. As humiliated as Preston might be, he knows that Barristan is the far greater warrior, and he's scared of him.
He was scared of him before I clad Barristan in blessed steel armour and slapped a Valyrian steel blade in his hands, as the Knight of the Warrior. Now? Preston knows he's about as dangerous to Barristan as an actual squire would be.
At least Boros, for his flaws, is merely fat, lazy and lustful rather than actively malicious. I won't kill Boros for letting himself go. I might have to kill Preston for outright treason if this continues to get worse. Still, 'Ser' Trant's fate has done good work in reminding both Boros and Preston that 'for life' could be quite a bit shorter than they originally anticipated.
Arriving, I watch as the entire room rises the instant Barristan announces me. I have to admit that it never gets old. I don't need people to scrape at my feet and kiss my ass at every opportunity, but knowing that I am the most important person in every room I enter does thrill me in ways I won't ever admit out loud.
"You honour us with your presence, Your Grace. I understand that this week is incredibly important to you. The Vale thanks you for taking the time to see us during such an event," Lord Royce greets as the retinue of Vale highborn all say similar things as I take my seat at the head of the table.
The Blackfish is less eager to kiss my ass, but gives me a grateful nod as I turn to him.
"I always have time when such severe issues are afflicting one of my provinces," I start, looking over them, and more importantly, their auras. For the most part, I see nothing worth worrying about beyond the clear ambition shining through Harrold Hardyng's aura. "Ser Blackfish, tell it to me straight. What is Lysa Arryn's mental state?"
"Bluntly, Your Grace? She's mad. She all but announced her affair with Littlefinger, and has had several good men killed over speaking poorly of him. Before we left, I had to have her sedated by her maester and locked away in her suite for her own good and the good of Vale, but it was a… controversial decision," Brynden explains with a scowl.
"Because you're a Tully, and should have had no power to do so, even as her Uncle," I finish for him. Even if he swore loyalty to the Vale as the Knight of the Bloody Gate, a Tully can't drag away the wife of their former Lord Paramount and the mother of their heir, even if Lysa is also a Tully.
"Aye, Your Grace. I originally planned to take her away, but the late Lord Arryn had many loyal men who had sided with her, as she is her son's regent. They claimed that to drag the regent of Vale out of the province would essentially be kidnapping, and made it clear they'd oppose me," Brynden agrees. "So, we agreed to the middle ground of sedating her until she gathered her wits. Frankly, some of them seem outright in denial about her affair and refuse to believe that Robin could be a bastard. In fact, many have bought her claims that Littlefinger was framed for murdering Jon Arryn to cover for the Lannisters' doing so."
I've sensed Daedric influence coming from the north, but not far enough north to be Hircine. Is another of the Princes pulling strings in Vale? Damn it all.
"It gets worse, I'm afraid," Lord Yohn Royce cuts in with a scowl. "We received a raven that Lysa was freed from her 'captivity' by a group that truly believes the Lannisters killed Lord Arryn and… purged those who were falsely imprisoning her before we lost contact with the Eyrie."
"Littlefinger's shadow is long indeed," I sigh, running my hand through my hair (knocking my crown in the process). It's an old habit that's grown more problematic since I started wearing a crown. "Lysa's insanity will not be permitted to send the Vale into madness, I can promise you that. As we speak, the banners of the Stormlands, Riverlands and the Crownlands are gathering to march north and put an end to the madness the Boltons have caused with their opportunistic actions. I will be going with them, and we shall be making a detour to the Eyrie to put an end to this madness. Lysa Arryn, regardless of the legitimacy of Robin Arryn, is clearly unsuited to act as a regent for Vale."
"House Tully won't oppose her removal," Bryden responds plainly. "I've sent word to my brother, though he was already on his way to King's Landing beforehand. I can't speak for how he'll take her future sentencing, but she will find no allies in the Riverlands willing to fight on her behalf."
"Which leaves one significant question. Is Robin Arryn the rightful heir or not?" Yohn rumbles, stroking his beard with a deep frown.
"I have asked the maesters to investigate matters, as we know Jon Arryn was looking into genealogy before his death. We've also found evidence that Littlefinger, at least, believed Robin Arryn to be his son," I explain. 'Evidence'. Yeah, evidence I pulled out of my ass with Mephala's aid. It's easy to forge documents when Littlefinger's soul will do much to stop the pain.
Suddenly, he doesn't enjoy chaos as much. How odd.
"But there is no way to know for sure?" Harrold asks, hiding his frustration. He's the next in line to be the Lord of the Eyrie, and if his cousin turns out to be a bastard, then the position is his by right of his blood. "Can't the Gods-"
That's about as far as he gets before Lady Anya Waynwood clips him around the ear. He's her Ward, and while she's also hoping Robin is a bastard, she's not as brash as he is. It's funny, he's around mine and Margaery's age, but he feels so much more childish. I also know he already has a bastard of his own. Varys really is going above and beyond to prove how useful he can be, and Nocturnal's ravens hear much.
Lady Nocturnal herself has been occupied pulling strings in Essos, but the others don't think she's acting against me, so I don't mind her causing some chaos on the other side of the Narrow Sea.
Do you know who else uses ravens? The Crone. While I intend for most of the Seven to be members of the Nine Divines, I reach out to Lady Nocturnal and get her attention. It would not do to neglect my Daedric patrons, after all. Mephala does not care for the spotlight, weaving her webs in the shadows. Perhaps it's because she's the one I call on the most, and has my ear more than the other Gods.
I originally intended Julianos to be the Crone, despite the gender difference, but while they are both mystical in nature, Julianos is a God of Magic, and the Seven have long opposed magic. It's taken some careful wording to make sure that my 'blessings' are seen differently. Frankly, it works better to keep Julianos in reserve for either an Old God or a god in Essos, where magic is more openly accepted, than to try and push for him to become a member of a religion that scowls at magic.
Getting the faithful to accept magic will not be a short-term task. Especially while the maesters still hold such sway over the highborn of the realm. Pushing for too much of a change could cause the entire scheme to collapse and fracture the Faith, which is the last thing I need.
"My apologies, Your Grace. His youth causes him to allow his mouth to run ahead of his brain sometimes," Lady Anya says, well aware that her Ward just all but demanded the Gods act on his behalf before a King that is, by their understanding, extremely devout.
"It's fine, Lady Waynwood. While his words were… crude, as it happens, he might just be right," I explain with an easy smile, waving off her worry. "I do not intend to strip Robin of his title based on divine visions alone, but both the Mother and the Crone can aid in revealing the truth of his parentage. Still, while his parentage remains in question, I cannot risk allowing the Vale to be stolen away by a bastard, and as such, I intend to appoint a new Lord Protector of the Eyrie and the Vale of Arryn, a title Yobert Royce once held during Jeyne Arryn's minority. Lysa and Robin will be taken into the crown's protection while this matter is decided, and Lysa's punishment is settled."
Harrold barely hides his scowl at this, clearly aware that it won't be him, but he replaces it with a thoughtful smile so fast I would not have seen it if I wasn't looking for it to begin with. Yohn and Anya both pause, sharing a look before they turn back to me. They don't mention it, but I can tell they're impressed that I know the Vale's history well enough to pull out that little tidbit.
"A wise decision, Your Grace," Anya approves. The Lord Protector of the Eyrie and the Vale of Arryn is not the Lord Paramount, but it is a position that was once used to allow someone from outside of the Arryn House to act as the effective Lord Paramount until Jeyne was old enough to take up her seat. They'd simply be the regent until the question of who the rightful heir actually is. "House Waynwood appreciates your swift response to this crisis, and will support whoever you deem worthy of the title."
"As will House Royce," Yohn agrees. Somehow, I get the feeling that Harrold is going to find himself with a Royce wife by the end of the month. Effectively, they can both win that way. Brynden gives them both a look before quietly rolling his eyes, clearly unconcerned with the politics of what happens after Lysa is taken into custody.
With the main issue settled, at least for now, the next matter comes to logistics. When I have a Master of War (or Military Affairs, I haven't decided yet), they'll be the ones to handle calling the banners and plotting out routes, but for now, I lean on the knowledge of Lord Yohn and the less important Vale highborn who came to King's Landing. We'll be travelling through the Riverlands as well, but as Hoster is currently on his way to King's Landing, hoping for the healing waters to lessen his ailments, that won't be much of an issue, and Ser Blackfish is instrumental with his knowledge of both lands. The big question is whether Lysa has locked down the Bloody Gate to prevent us from entering, but with so many highborn who know Vale so well, we have options to get around it.
One day, I'm going to enter the Spiral Skein so that I can stab Littlefinger's soul a few times for just how annoying this man has proven. I've plucked the thorn out of my side, but my wound is still bleeding, and the fucker was poisoned, too.
With the wedding still ongoing, the meeting doesn't last nearly as long as it could have, thankfully. The Vale retinue is left happy that I'm taking their issues seriously and that I have an actual plan. As much as I love my father, I do mentally curse him a little for how much trouble his leadership style continues to cause. Most of the Vale retinue were fully expecting me to be sitting on my ass with no care for what happened outside of the Red Keep because I'm his son.
It's a worrying precedent because it means that I should expect this from the other highborn who haven't seen me firsthand will probably be thinking the same. I find myself grateful for this over-the-top wedding because it means that a large number of highborn have seen me in action, and word will begin to spread that I am not my father.
Falia, filling Bella's role well, is quick to supply me with a drink (juice, not wine as I have a public appearance), as I get changed and prepared for my involvement in today's festivities. Most of the events are planned for the night, since the Crone's thing is lighting the way through the darkness, and it requires things to actually be dark for maximum effect.
Of course, Lady Nocturnal prefers the dark. But, I passed Dibella off as the chaste Maiden so this is far less heretical.
— Bonus Scene — Robb Stark
King's Landing smelled bad.
For all that had happened, that was the thought that he couldn't get out of his head. With his new gift, his senses were fine-tuned, and King's Landing smelled really bad. The Red Keep was more tolerable by far, but he found spending time outside it downright painful and he often found excuses to leave King's Landing itself to head into the Kingswood in pursuit of fresh air.
Dacey called him a wimp for it.
It was this terrible smell that he blamed for how long it had taken him to notice something that he should have spotted on day one.
Lord Hircine had blessed Arya. His little sister carried a gift, just like him. She wasn't a werebeast like him or Dacey, but Hircine's scent was on her and Nymeria. Even Lady had a smaller version, as the pair of Direwolves followed behind Arya wherever she went. Not Sansa, but that was unsurprising. Sansa had never been the outdoorsy type.
He'd asked Dacey about it, and she'd confirmed that she'd noticed the same thing. Her senses were more finely tuned than his, and she claimed Arya had likely been blessed before Dacey herself.
And yet, he found himself hesitant to bring it up in this place where the walls had ears, and their mother wasn't letting the girls out of her sight after the near-miss in Winterfell. Her protectiveness had skyrocketed after he had almost lost his life. Of course, Jon did lose his life, and she didn't seem to care about that beyond being upset that the King had legitimised him after his death.
Watching as Arya played with Princess Myrcella and Shireen, he frowned to himself. Hircine had saved his life, for that he was grateful, and yet he found the idea of a god paying such attention to his sister… worrying, and he had no idea who to talk to about it.