Celestial Hymn 38 (Patreon)

A/N: for those of you who are unfamiliar with this story, this is ASIOAF x Celestial Forge v2 SI with the usual randomization.

-VB-

Celestial Hymn

Chapter 38

-VB-

Previously on Celestial Hymn…

Robert died… he shouldn’t have died…

That idiot Stark -!

Joffrey cannot be allowed to remain on the throne…

Long Live King Tommen…!

-VB-

King Joffrey’s sudden death sent shocking ripples throughout the Seven Kingdoms.

The North, which heard how King Joffrey executed Lord Stark, became abruptly rudderless as they lost the target of their ire. The Westerlands, which had been ready to answer the call to arms, suddenly found their lord paramount’s grandson dead and the succession in dire straits. The Stormlands also saw two of their dynastic members dead but with their own lord paramount higher on the line of succession.

The other lord paramounts and their kingdoms went into chaos as well.

The Reach didn’t know how to react (or more likely waiting for ideal circumstances to react to). The Arryns of the Vale were quiet. Dorne was gearing up but they also lost some of that steam after the news of King Joffrey’s death. The Riverlands felt lost.

How did I know all of this?

While it was true that King’s Landing was where my cadre of magicians resided, I did have an acolyte or two at all times in the capital of each kingdom and used them to get into touch with all of the ruling lord paramounts and their advisors.

Yes, I communicated with them in realtime to let them know the shit that happened in King’s Landing.

Now, why did I do this?

Part of it had to do with my plan to get all of the lord paramounts together for a Great Council. It would no doubt stretch on and on and on, which would provide me with even more time to get my ship construction finished.

As of right now, I was talking with Lord Stannis.

“The line of succession is clear,” Stannis narrowed his eyes. “Why are you insisting that there must be a Great Council?”

“Because of the late Hand of the King Eddard Stark and the late King Joffrey Baratheon.”

Stannis grunted.

The two of us sat in his solar; I arrived here earlier today via magical teleportation using a temporary portal network that I had my acolyte set up with a bit of my help.

“... You would be closer to the throne if you allow Prince Tommen to have his coronation and become king. Why would you stop that? What are you planning?”

I snorted. I knew he would come out like this: blunt and direct. “Lord Stannis, a war would break out. My magician cadre and I would be called up to serve in my capacity as a vassal of Stormlands if not as the betrothed of Princess Myrcella. This would serve me no good.”

“... You dare say that a war on behalf of my family serves you no good?”

“Of course,” I replied equally bluntly. “It takes time away from my research, magic, and leisure. War is not fun, and I am sure you are keenly aware of that. Why would I not try to prevent that from happening to me?”

“Because you can end any war easily.”

“You overestimate me, Your Highness.”

He grunted again. “And what would the Great Council achieve?”

“Ensure that the North’s pride is soothed with reparations so that there are no wars. You heard what I saw at the execution. How the late king just went back on his words.”

“... It was not a wise decision.”

I nodded. “If King Tommen does not make restitution for his late brother’s action, then his reign will start auspiciously. This will not sit well with any of the minor and higher lords, especially with the Targaryen pretenders still alive and well on Essos…”

He gritted his teeth.

“If you don’t want to, then consider this a favor for what I’ve done for you so far, Your Highness,” I said. “You needn’t support me in the Council itself, only that you support that the council gather.”

He stared at me for a while, trying to search for my goal through my eyes which were the windows to my soul. He didn’t find what he wanted but found enough.

“Very well,” he sighed as he closed his eyes and leaned back. “I will support your call for a council. Of course, if the other lord paramounts don’t agree to it…”

“Discounting Iron Islands, I will do my utmost to see to their agreement,” I replied. “It is, after all, in my best interest.”

-VB-

If my talk with Lord Stannis was shaky but ultimately a foregone conclusion with how much he owed me, then my meeting with Lord Tywin was anything but.

“A council? If the North wishes to raise its banner in rebellion, then we will put them down like the rebels that they are,” he snapped at me with irritation clear in his eyes but not in his voice. “What is this weak talk about appeasement?”

I knew I had to approach Tywin with a different method than one I took with Stannis. Where I argued for my selfish interest to assuage Stannis’s suspicions, I had to argue for my selfish interest to assuage Tywin’s disdain for me. I knew what he thought of me. An interesting but ultimately not an important player.

“Is it a weakness if I am doing it because I find the entire ordeal uninteresting?”

“... Because you find it uninteresting?” he repeated with actual anger leaking through his normally calm if stern facade.

“Of course. The North, the Riverlands, the Vale, the Crownlands, Dorne, Stormlands, the Three Sisters… even Westerland.”

“You speak boldly for a mere lord just because you have some ma-”

And right then and there, I unleashed my magic in its raw form.

This was my latest acquisition from the Celestial Forge: Sorcery. It allowed me to shape my mana into anything I wanted. It was … absurd, even compared to my other powers because for the abilities it gave me, it was one of the smaller gifts I had.

Tywin flinched when a blue aura flared up from around me.

“Magic is the ultimate expression of power, Your Grace,” I began slowly. “It is undiluted, unfiltered, and raw in a way not even personal strength can convey. It is the very essence of your existence and will demanding the world around you to submit and obey.” I pulled my mana back, leaving me looking like a normal, if rich, person. I smiled innocently. “When compared to the pursuit of such intimate power, what are rebellions and lords?”

This was my response to anything that Tywin could say.

‘I am ultimately above you. Don’t expect me to come crawling to your command.’

Tywin controlled himself well. He didn’t even fucking sweat.

“I see. You would even ignore your family, then.”

“Your Grace, we’re not family. Yet.”

Another warning.

‘Don’t try anything too absurd.’

“... I will agree to this council. You are dismissed.”

Without any retort, I got up, bowed, and left.

There was no need to further antagonize Tywin. I got what I wanted.

-VB-

The Reach was easy.

I presented them with my enchanted Damascus swords, and they happily agreed to it.

The Queen of Thorns Olenna did not like me at all if the glare she sent my way was any indication.

-VB-

Renly was equally easy.

I told him that the Reach already agreed, and then gave him a lot of gifts, both magical and mundane.

My greedy liege readily agreed when I told him that there were more such gifts for those who were agreeable to my attempt to resolve the situation peacefully.

-VB-

I didn’t even bother with Dorne, Riverlands, Vale, and Iron Islands.

No, the last one I had to convince was the North.

It was going to be hard.