Celestial Hymn 47 (Patreon)

Celestial Hymn

Chapter 47

-VB-

Doran saw a thing of fantasy. No, a thing beyond imagination.

He gazed upon the flying ship and felt himself grow terrified.

The Magic Lord was here.

Why was he here?

D-.

That rumor.

Princess Myrcella’s poisoning.

‘Of course,’ he thought despondently. ‘We’re the primary suspect.’

He knew that the Magic Lord had been busy. He visited his liege lord. He visited Lord Lannister. He visited Lord Stark. He visited Stannis Baratheon. Four more important kingdoms of the seven.

They didn’t have a reason to poison the princess. More than that, poisoning wasn’t their tool of choice. Not even Tywin Lannister would poison people. Starks probably didn’t even understand poison.

He watched as the flying ship - longer than any ship he’d seen in his life - slowly hovered down from high in the sky toward the northern gate. It was a declaration of intent for it was normally the northern gate that any land-based armies would have to siege.

But why land there when he could have landed or hovered over the city? Perhaps he couldn’t?

And then, as the ship finally lowered itself down enough that he could see its top from where he stood on his castle balcony, he saw the flag.

The white flag of truce.

He felt like collapsing. Oh, no. He did collapse to his knees.

Anger quickly rose up after the relief came and went.

He pulled himself up on his shaky limbs. Pain from his gout shot through him but his anger was greater.

How dare that magician threaten him and Dorne…? How dare he march upon his doors with what was clearly a warship?

How DARE that -?!

He stopped.

He took a deep breath.

And Prince Doran Martell let his breath out slowly.

‘The first thing I must do as I always have, as I have been taught by my father, is to act in Dorne’s best interest,’ he thought blankly to himself as he turned away from the balcony. ‘My pride, my joy, my love… All of it will serve Dorne’s interest. An anger that cannot be contained will be contained. It will be directed. It will be unleashed. But not now. Not when it does not serve Dorne’s interest.

‘For the Prince of Dorne is the Kingdom of Dorne.’

-VB-

Was it auspicious for my entrance into Sunspear to be heralded not by the guards but my Celestial Forge? And cranial implants that just popped into my head underneath the skin and bone?

I strode into Sunspear’s castle and then to the throne room with no resistance. Soldiers kept everyone out of the way.

And now, I stood before Prince Doran Martell of Dorne, surrounded by his family and court. The Court of Old Palace reminded me of a mix between Arab, Persian, and Indian courts with a heavier focus on Arab and Persian than Indian features.

I noted that the Red Viper was here. He looked pissed but passed it off successfully as cool indifference. You can’t fool my magic, bud.

“Greetings, Prince Martell,” I said and bowed slightly.

“... I would say it’s a pleasure to meet you, Lord Marris, but you have landed your flying warship at the northern gate.”

“It seems I have, Your Grace. It is, however, with a very good reason.”

“The poisoning of Princess Myrcella Stone.”

“... I care not what you call her,” he smiled. “But she is still my betrothed.”

Doran observed me with curious eyes that had softened just a tad bit. I wouldn’t have recognized it had I not been buffed to hell and back by my magic and other perks of the Celestial Forge.

“We are suspect.”

“Yes.”

“And you think just showing up will make your imagination a reality?”

“Of course not,” I snorted. “But I have the means to force people to speak the complete and utter truth. Acolyte Hosus!”

The same Red Keep acolyte who dedicated every waking second of his time to studying magic stepped up with a box held up by both of his hands. He opened it and showed a necklace. It was of silver with a crystal clear quartz pendent. It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t expensive.

It was, however, magical.

“Anyone who holds this necklace must speak the truth or the quartz will turn blood red. Acolyte Hosus, use the necklace. State one falsehood and state one truth.”

“Yes, milord.” He grabbed the necklace without a single moment of hesitance, let another acolyte take the box away. “I hate Lord Marris.” The necklace bled red. “I love magic.” The red light disappeared, leaving the quartz clear again.

The crowd around us oh’ed and ah’ed.

“Of course, I could be doing a trick. I could have made it so that certain phrases will just light up red. So Hosus, will you speak what I want to hear in three different forms?”

“Yes, milord. I poisoned Princess Myrcella.” Red. “I ordered someone to poison Princess Myrcella.” Red. “To my knowledge, I am involved in some way to the poisoning of Princess Myrcella.” Red.

“... It seems like a fancy tool,” Doran admitted. “But tell me, why should I bother with it?’

I smiled.

This was the part that was the riskiest of it all.

“Because I did find a trail, however, cold,” I replied smoothly. “To a merchant who visits Dorne frequently… but a merchant who we found dead. By poison.”

There was a stir in the nobles.

Even the Martells looked shocked.

“Had this been an era of peace, such a cold trail without definitive proof would not have been enough for anyone to raise a question. It could be a coincidence, after all!” I laughed. Then I lost that laugh and adopted a blank, half-lidded stare. “But this is a time when nothing is certain. And a princess related to your hated enemy, alone and terribly sad, is a very soft target, isn’t she? Remove her and it’s one step closer to avenging the late consort princess, isn’t it?”

“You dare accuse us…?” Oberyn growled.

“If you don’t want to be accused, then don’t form a habit of using poison,” I snarked back.

He drew his sword. “Such-!”

“STOP!”

Everyone stopped and looked to Prince Doran.

“I will also add an incentive,” I spoke up once a moment of silence passed. “Should all of your present family members prove that you have not been involved in Princess Myrcella’s poisoning, I will cure your gout and teach you how to avoid further episodes.”

The court broke out into a frenzy, and Doran stared at me blankly.

We stared at each other in a contest of wills.

But it was neither of us who acted first.

Arianne Martell, who had been watching quietly, stomped up to us, very unlady-like, and snatched the necklace out of Hosus’ hands.

“I, Arianne Martell, had nothing to do with the poisoning of Princess Myrcella!” she declared with a glare thrown my way.

The necklace remained clear.

I smiled. “Wonderful!” I smiled. She threw the necklace at me, turned, and returned to her father’s side.

A young man who had to be Quentyn Martell was next.

“I, Quentyn Martell, am uninvolved in Princess Martell’s poisoning in any shape or form.”

Clear.

One by one, the little ones came and went.

And only Oberyn and Doran were left.

Oberyn sauntered up to me, grabbed the necklace with his gloved hand. “... I do not like you.”

Clear.

“I don’t expect you to,” I replied nonchalantly.

He snorted. “At least you have balls of steel, little lordling.”

“I suppose being a lordling is better than being without a title.”

“... I, Oberyn Martell, had nothing to do with Princess Myrcella’s poisoning.”

Clear.

“... Honestly, I expected it to be you,” I hummed. “Your brother loves Dorne too much to needlessly risk it.”

“Well, I am happy I am proven wrong. Doran, hurry it up so this bastard can heal you!”

He brought the necklace to his brother.

Doran met my gaze.

He held it up for everyone to see.

“I, Doran Martell,” he dramatically began. “And my household had nothing to do with the poisoning of Princess Myrcella.”

Clear.

Well, shit.

Who the fuck was I going to blast then?

I smiled. “Wonderful! I didn’t need to wipe out Dorne from the map! That would have been so bad on the coastlines everywhere, you know.” I laughed. And with a wave of my hand, the gout I saw on Doran’s big toe disappeared.

He blinked and looked down.

Yes, the gout was gone.

“Gout,” I began equally dramatically. “Is caused by an accumulation of uric acid, which is normally filtered by our kidneys and pissed out. This means either your body is not healthy or you are eating too much food that causes gout.” Despite the shock, people listened intensely. “Such foods include red meat, alcohol, and sweets. Avoid those foods or eat them very sparingly, like once a week and not in a large quantity, and you will keep gout from returning. Any questions before I leave?”

“Yes,” Doran said. “Did you think I would simply let you go after what you pulled?”

“... Prince Martell,” I laughed. “I had the Stark’s entire army behind me when I did the same thing. Do you think that you can stop me when the baby Lord Stark couldn’t?” I paused and smiled as I tilted my head to the side, making myself look slightly unhinged for the theatrics of it. I wanted to sell the idea that I was too dangerous to mess with. Someone who would burn an entire kingdom on a whim. Which I definitely could. “Or that should anything happen to me, my warship will remain still?”

Right on cue, my little frigate let out a blaring alarm that rang throughout the city.

A storm siren.

It was an utterly inhuman sound to those who haven’t heard it before.

“Because, Your Grace, magic can be used to make unliving things … alive,” I grinned.

Ah, I could read what you’re thinking about me right now from your faces.

Psychopath.

Sociopath.

Degenerate.

It just meant that my plan was working.

It’s one thing for a sane person to make demands. It’s another for an insane person.

Doran, though, saw right through me yet he did not call me out on it.

It was, after all, a cheap trick for both of us to leave this stage without much harm. In fact, the Martells might even come out ahead because of the truth telling necklace that I happened to not ask to have it returned. It still hung from the prince’s hands, and from the way he tracked my eyes staring at it, he knew it too.

A give and a take behind a play for the audience to see, because I realized something.

What if Myrcella didn’t want to come?

What if she wanted to stay?

My actions then had to not harm her after I left.

Pissing off the Martells?

Yeah, that’s a very quick ticket to death.

Settling a dispute like this? Getting the confirmation I wanted and them gaining something in return?

Hopefully, Doran will talk to his brother and snakes about the underplay we did there.

“Then take your lapdogs and leave, madman,” Doran hissed.

“By your leave then, Your Grace,” I bowed.

And thus the curtains closed.

Politics.

Gah, it’s so fucking complicated now that I have to worry about Myrcella. If she chooses to stay.

… Shit, I could have avoided all of this if I just stayed long enough to ask her what she thought about leaving.

-VB-

Perks Obtained this chapter:

5.008: Cranial Implants (Warhammer 40k Adeptus Mechanicus)
The brain of every magos undergoes extensive modification over time, but you have put great care into preparing your mind for the Machine God's mysteries. Beyond the gene-alterations and bionic sub-systems that have boosted your intelligence, regulated neuro-chemistry reduces the influence that hunger, pain, fear and other flesh-distractions can have upon your thoughts. Your ability to enjoy these things are not impeded. Further neurological modifications will be faster and easier to adapt to with less worry of rejection.