Celestial Hymn 58 (Patreon)

Celestial Hymn

Chapter 58

-VB-

Stannis Baratheon

As words filtered in, Stannis began to realize just how big Lord Marris truly was. He had an idea when he saw the skyship and how Lord Marris exchanged a few days in bed to crush an army in the thousands. He saw the portals that connected Brownspear and King’s Landing. He saw the acolytes and how quickly they were beginning to become a force of their own.

Then the news hit.

Of the conquering skyship high over Dragonstone, raining down red and yellow lights of death as thick as tree trunks upon the invading dothraki. How those lights scythed through the three dragons with ease and the would-be conqueror of Westeros. Hundreds of ships burned and tens of thousands scorched to death in a manner of half an hour.

He understood right there and then that Lord Marris… he was another Targaryen yet not. He could have conquered Westeros and made it his own kingdom. His own empire, even, if he thought to conquer the rest of the world. If dragons didn’t stand a chance against his skyship - his warship - than what could.

Lord Marris had this capability this entire time yet chose not to use it for violence and conquest.

That … confused him.

It was the right of the strong to take, but this was an unfair system that the rule of law sought to prevent. So why did a man who so easily stood up to Lord Paramounts and conquerors alike stay still?

“Well?” he asked.

Lord Marris looked up from where he sat behind his desk, fiddling with crystals and metal discs for another one of his magic projects.

“... this is something I’ve read, and I want you to answer me honestly, okay?” Lord Marris replied as he set his tools and the crystal down.

“I will if you do not feed me nonsense.”

“It isn’t,” he assured before looking at him in the eyes with a dead stare. “Everyone wants the emperor’s crown but how many would-be emperors want his desk?”

It took Stannis but a moment to understand and another moment to think the quote, because it had to be a quote, to be stupid.

“You are strong enough that the desk in question is not a problem.” Robert wasn’t as powerful as Marris and he certainly didn’t care for the desk. No, the “desk” in question only mattered to those who cared about the desk and its

“Is it?” he asked with a smile.

“No,” Stannis affirmed. “But you don’t care about the ‘desk’ in the first place, don’t you?”

“... No, I don’t. Even getting the rest of the Lord Paramounts to make the Regency Council instead of descending into war irritated me.”

Stannis raised an eyebrow. “You consider bringing peace to Westeros as ‘irritating’?”

“Of course,” Marris huffed. “I could’ve stayed at Brownspear with Myrcella and Tommen and be completely safe. I would have just worked with my acolytes and made new and flashy magic and fun things. But no, I found myself herding cats.”

After hearing and reading the events of Dragonstone, Stannis accepted the surety of his statement, even if he didn’t like it one bit.

“I do not appreciate being compared to a cat.”

Marris stared at him before he nodded. “I apologize. You are definitely not a cat.”

Stannis stared at Marris as if he was going to add something to that. He didn’t, but he probably wanted to. Stannis knew that he wasn’t the most affable individual either. Better than all of the other Lord Paramounts, but certainly not liked. If he were to describe himself… then he guessed that a bull was the best way to describe himself.

Seeing that he was still waiting for a more detailed answer, Marris continued. “Ruling helped me achieve what I wanted, Lord Stannis, and having achieved what I wanted, which was a financial base to support my experiments in magic, I didn’t need to keep climbing,” he finished. “At least until I got the betrothal.”

“With Myrcella.”

“Yes. In a way, that was the point where my plans got overturned. She started off as a responsibility and duty… and then someone I defended because I wanted to,” he replied. “She’s such a sweetheart, you know?”

“And that was enough of a reason to create that skyship of yours.”

“Yes,” he replied. “But its purpose is multi-fold. Security is merely one of the lesser reasons.”

Stannis didn’t want to believe that … but Marris always remained honest with him.

“And are any of those other reasons ones you would tell me?” he asked.

He grinned and didn’t reply.

Rolling his eyes, Stannis excused himself and left the man to tinker away with his gadgets.

At the very least, he knew that there wouldn’t be another era of chaos while Marris remained here.

-VB-

Myrcella Baratheon

“You … wish to leave.”

“Yes,” her betrothed, the Mage Lord, replied casually while he continued to eat.

She didn’t know how to feel about that. He did mention that he would leave before, but it remained ambiguous until now.

“Where would you leave to?”

He paused. “Well, there are other worlds, you know.”

No, she didn’t know.

“I could make a big enough portal to cross dimensions to reach other worlds with people or just explore the more barren worlds filled with oddities in this universe,” he continued. “Because I’ll be honest, Myrcella. Westeros and the rest of Planetos is a horrible place in general. Better than some that I know, but still not great.”

“Why do you say that?” she asked. She’d already finished her dinner, so she could give this her full attention.

He paused again from eating, chewing and swallowing before he answered her. “Well, the gods, for one.”

“The gods?”

“Yes. The Seven Who Are One are the … arguably the best group of gods, but they aren’t the strongest, you see.”

No, she did not see.

“I never met them, so I wouldn’t know, Alan.”

“Okay, then let’s put it this way. If they were strong, then they wouldn’t have needed me to do some things for them. I am still the Voice of the Seven, you know.”

No, she actually forgot about that. Then she had an epiphany. It was why magic was suddenly so readily accepted by the septons! Why they never spoke up against it once he proved himself as the Voice of the Seven!

“... Do they talk to you often?” she asked. It felt odd to talk to Alan now that she realized he was semi-divine or at least divinely ordained.

“Not really. I’ve already done as they have asked, and I suspect that once it is time for me to leave, I will no longer be the Voice.”

“Oh,” she muttered. “But why leave, then? If you have the Seven behind you, ready to support you…”

“Because this world runs on a cycle. Or so I believe,” he replied. “The Seven are ascendant now but for how long? The Old Gods slumber but they were never alive so they cannot die and thus will one day wake up. They are individually stronger than the Seven, who are much more dependent on their worshipers than the Old Gods. That’s not counting whatever is over in the demon lands in the far east, further east than the Empire of Yi Ti. There are black stones that originate even before the Targaryens and the Valyrian Empire. And … all of this is really an excuse.”

“Then what isn’t an excuse?”

“I just don’t like Westeros. It’s more trouble than it’s worth.”

… She didn’t know what to say to that.