Celestial Hymn 42 (Patreon)

Celestial Hymn

Chapter 42

-VB-

Alan Marris

I was finally back in my bas- I mean towe- home. I was back home in the Brownspear Barony. I would have to leave again soon if only to show myself for the former king’s funeral and ascertain whether or not I was going to have to do something drastic.

“Master!”

I stopped and turned to my left.

Ah. Right. I forgot.

See, a lot of my acolytes weren’t just smallfolk but there were some nobles as well.

This boy who just ran up to me had been one of the spare noble sons who joined before the war broke out.

“D-Did you succeed?” he asked quietly.

All of my acolytes knew about my mission to stop the war. They helped me with a lot of the teleportation and portal preparations.

“Yes,” I replied. With four of the Lord Paramounts coming to the great council, the others will join as well, if only to not get left out. I will have to meet with the Lord of Dorne and the Iron Islands. Perhaps ask for a representative of the Arryns. “The North has agreed to come and join the Great Council.”

He let out a great sigh of relief.

See, he was from one of the poorer houses in the North. His father had enough sons that he would be expected in battle. However, being poor, their house would not be able to provide much, meaning he would have to fight on the frontlines.

And when a lord fought on the frontlines, death was much more likely than not, especially for a people and land whose culture and military did not consistently make heavily armored knights.

The North was basically Russia if it had not been subject to Mongol rule for two centuries, then Moscow’s tyrannical seven-century-long rule, and actually developed medieval feudalism. Hell, even their situation was the same. Catholics dominated much of Europe and the Orthodox only one large nation and a few rump states prior to Russia’s ascension and expansion. The Faith of the Seven dominated multiple kingdoms, including large swaths of western Essos (though not as densely), and the Old Faith had only the North, the True North, and not much else. Knighthood and feudalism were very much entrenched in the South but weren’t so in the North. Hell, there was even a good chance that the Faith of the Seven in the South was heretical to the Faith of the Seven in Western Essos where it originates from!

See? Lots and lots of similarities. One of the differences was that it was more likely that the South had a stricter lord-smallfolk relationship while the North focused much more heavily on survival. I say more likely because I didn’t know the detail in full and I wasn’t one to study the socioeconomics of two different religious cultures that I was going to leave behind in a year if not six months.

I came from the Vale, after all, and that place could not be the average representation of all of Southern Westeros, right?

Right?

Right.

-VB-

Myrcella Baratheon

Her betrothed came back after meeting with the new Lord of the North.

He was … different. He was a lord but he was not like her mother, father, grandfather, her brothers, or any of the nobles at the court.

Though he was almost ten years older than her, he didn’t treat her like a child.

… But that was because he wasn’t a noble at heart, was he? He was a smallfolk raised to nobility for his artistic talent. He brought magic and wonder. He was now trying to save the Seven Kingdoms from war.

He was dreamy. Or so the court ladies said.

But the same court ladies also talked behind her back, calling her a sow. A bitch who got lucky. A useless spare.

She was just waiting for the day when he would take her away from this snake pit. That’s what her father called the Red Keep before he died.

‘It’s never too early to leave this place.’ That was one of his last words before he died.

‘Yes, it’s never too early to leave this place,’ she thought to herself as she rounded a corner, ignoring the arising murmurs behind her. “OOF!”

She fell backward, only for her movement to become halted when an arm swept around her waist.

“Oh, sorry, Myrcella! I didn’t see you there.”

She blinked and looked up at …

‘Oh, he’s very tall.’

It was Lord Marris.

He let her up, and she looked away from him. When she realized she was avoiding his eyes, she hastily patted down and faked dusting herself to give herself an excuse as to why she was looking away.

When even that excuse ran out, she looked up.

“Lord Marris,” she curtised.

“Crown Princess Myrcella.”

She blinked and looked up at him, meeting his eyes. Whatever she felt previously held nothing to the shock and confusion.

“Crown princess…?”

“Of course,” he smiled. “With King Tommen on the throne, you are the crown princess.”

“B-But … woman can’t become a king.”

“No,” his smile did not grow any smaller. “But you can become a queen if you wish.” He held up a finger. “But only if you wish.”

She cleared her throat. “I don’t care for it.”

His smile grew wider but also warmer. “If that is what you wish.”

She smiled. He understood her, didn’t he? If he was after the throne like so many, then he would be trying to coax her into taking the throne like a few had already tried.

Besides, she wasn’t interested in the throne. She hated it. Joffrey may have … been an asshole, but he was still her brother. Father died because of it, and she was sure of that. Mother went crazy after Joff’s death.Grandfather… he just wanted his grandchildren on the throne.

‘I’m not even a consideration outside of that,’ she thought dejectedly.

“Hey.”

She looked back up. When had she looked down?

He smiled. “It’s gonna be okay.”

… She really hoped it would be.