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The Grind (Book 2) Ch.19
🕑 Added 2024-09-02 01:44:52 +0000 UTCAstoria’s spy trip hadn’t gone to plan at all. And that was fine. Daddy always preached to opt for optimum optimism, after all! Silver linings were for suckers when you could look for gold! And there was plenty of gold to find here and now. Why, it was practically a gold rush!
Their day trip had been extended, so Astoria got to spend more alone time with some of her favorite people! Daphne, of course, but also Heather and Atlas. There wasn’t a better ‘straight-man’ in existence than Astoria’s big sister, nor a better vixenish-comrade-in-teasing than Heather, nor a better teasing target and spanking-giver than Atlas! Mmm~, Astoria did love being ‘taken to hand’ as the cherry on top of her usual antics~… The next week or so would be great fun!
Hopefully not longer than that though… Astoria just knew she’d get bored if they stuck around to continue accommodating medieval travel times… Horses and wagons and wheelhouses and walking were just so damn slow!
Morgana’s infamous titty twisters, she didn’t know how the people of this world managed! At least the company was interesting. And she was here to spy, so spy she would. Mother would be interested in her findings, Astoria knew. Daphne was likely composing a mental report as well but she could be so imperceptive in the strangest places. Yes, yes, so-and-so is motivated by such-and-such to secure this-and-that but you forgot to assess their actual personality and what they like to eat for breakfast, Daph! Important stuff! Honestly, how are you supposed to poison someone if you don’t know their favorite style of omelet?
The King was cool (Bobby B!). He actually knew how to have fun. Or as much fun as they could have while still traveling anyway. He knew some great songs and jokes and he was nowhere near as serious as he probably should have been. Plus, he was practically Thor incarnate! Lightning and fury and storm cloud crowns made manifest, oh my!
That big ol’ hammer of his was just the best. She’d seen it swung from the air but on their first stop with the King’s party, Astoria requested to see it up close. King Bobby had been more than happy to comply. It was a wicked headbasher. A good ol’ spine-pulveriser. A right proper bonker. He’d even let Astoria hold it! And then gaped when she swung it around as easily as he did.
“Good gods, girl! What are they feeding you in Castle Hogwarts?!”
“Butterbeer, meat, and Sprout’s special veggies~!”
Robert’s face scrunched up in confusion at that, “… You drink beer with butter?”
Astoria nodded, her expression utterly serious as she spoke of her favorite drink, “It’s much better than it sounds. Practically addictive. I never leave the castle without a week’s supply. Would you like to try one?”
Robert agreed but upon taking his first sip, he sputtered, “Ugh, that’s sweeter than honey and cream! Not for me, lass, even if I could still drink.”
“Good,” Astoria nodded, sticking out her tongue at the King. “I wasn’t going to share more than a sip anyway. More for me.”
Atlas and Heather later offered the King some Fire Whiskey. That’d been a much bigger hit with his royal majesty. He’d been over the moon when he found a drink that actually worked for his awakened bloodline. But then, he’d glanced at his younger two children. The younger prince was frowning openly and the princess had a dim sadness in her eyes. Seeing that, Robert declined any more Fire Whiskey.
Compared to what they’d heard of the King beforehand, that said very good things. Even after finding alcohol that actually affected him, the King was determined to stay sober for his children. It was certainly something worth noting. And the kind of thing that Daphne would completely miss. So Astoria noted it for her!
The younger prince and princess were two more members of the royal party worth knowing. Astoria slid into their lives and quickly stole their friendship. As she did! Tommen was a cute boy of about 10 years old. He liked his cats, the idea of being a great warrior — but not so much the practice that went into it —, and having a sober father in his life.
Myrcella was older and more complex as a result. Still, she was only three years younger than Astoria — at 14 — so Astoria was in a prime position to steal her friendship away! Like a spy! Only… she might have been a bad spy because she quickly came to actually like Myrcella. The princess was gentle and kind yet nowhere near as sheltered as everyone else believed her to be. She had a spine of steel hidden in her that was only visible if you were really looking for it.
She liked fashion, sewing, and songs of every kind, and she watched every sword practice or spar that she could get away with. But she was ashamed and secretive about that latter ‘like’. She’d had certain ‘feminine values’ drilled into her head since birth, it seemed. Noble this, dignified that, ladylike everything, bah! A Lady was what she made herself! Daddy said so! Astoria liked swords and violence and being boisterously blunt enough to kill, and she was still a Lady!
Astoria immediately took to the challenge of convincing Myrcella that she could become whatever her heart desired. She enjoyed being the big sister for once. And she was absolutely smashing the role once she set her mind to it! She even got to help Myrcella with her awakened magic!
Myrcella’s magic was the Lannister line of her mother — who’d also awakened their bloodline according to Myrcella. A worrying prospect if true but Astoria had seen no sign of it yet — not her father’s Baratheon storms. It was a magic of charisma and persuasion, but it wasn’t like the Lannister magic that Hogwarts was familiar with. Jynn the Golden commanded the world with golden power. She didn’t so much affect people directly — according to Atlas, at least — as she did her surroundings and environment.
Myrcella’s magic, by comparison, was one of music and songs. She had a siren’s voice, singing in golden notes and perfect pitch. It could move even the most stoic in the royal party to inspiration or peace. With some coaxing and training, she could even sing illusions into existence. Eventually, Myrcella may very well be casting actual spells with every song she sang.
So, of course, Astoria took it upon herself to help her along. Just as any friendly big sister Witch should! She taught the princess songs from Earth to help her expand her musical quiver and practice singing her will unto the world. Mostly the songs were from Daphne’s collection of muggle CDs. They were certainly better than the Hogwarts anthem… But some of the words and concepts didn’t translate so well…
“Astoria?” Myrcella would ask. “What does teen spirit smell like?”
Astoria could only shrug, “I dunno, I never really thought about it.”
Daphne, of course, had an answer in her typical deadpan, “It smells like sex. And rebellion. Of finding freedom anywhere and everywhere that you can. Of bucking norms and the expected order imposed on you by adults, even those who don’t know you. It smells like living life with the invincibility of a teenager. Or more literally, it was a certain brand of perfume.”
“Huh…” Astoria paused. “Neat.”
“A-Ahem, I’m not sure I agree in theory, Milady…” Myrcella’s Kingsguard commented. “But it’s a noble idea no matter the interpretation. The liveliness and good cheer of youths in the prime of their lives, that time when your whole life is ahead of you and you’ve only just begun to taste it is certainly something worth singing about.”
Myrcella tittered behind her hand, “I didn’t take you for one to think so deeply on such artistic ideals, Ser Arys.”
“Then I am glad to have surprised you, my Princess,” Arys Oakheart smiled at his charge. He was a handsome man, in that Knightly way that was all too common in Westeros. Honestly, the biggest shame of this new world was the lack of variety. It was all Knight, Knight, Noble Pretty boy, and then back to more Knights… Astoria liked smart boys with glasses better.
Beyond the muggle songs, Heather had been roped into helping Myrcella bloom as well, with Daphne to act as a counterweight. Tomboy Heather to ‘gremlin-core’ Astoria (ahem, Daphne’s words…) to dainty deadpan Daphne. Myrcella needed proof that she really could be whoever she wanted to be. What use was being a princess if Myrcella couldn’t define herself for herself and tell stuck-up ‘ladies’ to shove off? Of course, it didn’t help when the leader of those demandingly stuck-up ladies was Myrcella’s mother…
Cersei Lannister… was just awful by Astoria’s reckoning. The quite literal Queen bitch of bitches. She was spiteful, and cruel, held no love for her cool-ass Kingly husband, and only loved her children as extensions of herself. Astoria saw through her with a single glance. She was a bitter woman with a black heart who thought veiled insults were the height of political maneuvering. Mother, Narcissa, Phoebe, McGonagall, and even Lady Olenna would have eaten her alive…
Even Daphne could match the Queen in her arena of choice during those few times in the beginning that they rode in the royal carriage, “It’s such a shame that Hogwarts settled in the North instead of somewhere… warm and inviting. Somewhere that could really appreciate the intriguing foreign culture you bring to this land.”
“Dorne, you mean?” Daphne raised a single, unflinching eyebrow.
Cersei scowled but masked it quickly, “Not that warm and inviting. Wouldn’t you rather be where everything is happening? King’s Landing? Lannisport? Why, you would have been the talk of either city.”
“We still are,” Daphne deadpanned. “Plus, in the North, we don’t have to deal with overeager septons, septas, and maesters. Or overreaching nobles and court politics. Until we want to, of course.”
Cersei tutted, “Still, your gift was appreciated so much more down South with those of us who truly need it. Wonderful, wonderful thing, that history of yours. So… stimulating… The menfolk could never enjoy it as much as us Ladies.”
“Really? It’s practically required reading for the men of Hogwarts. It does them — and us — good to know what they’re doing,” Daphne casually sniped. “And do you really expect me to believe that no one ‘down South’ kicked up a fuss over the ‘depravity, degeneracy, and oh-my-the-humanity!’ over the most advanced smut the realm has ever seen?”
Cersei’s eye twitched at Daphne’s utterly flat tone, “Ravens and snakes and badgers and especially lions shouldn’t concern themselves with the opinions of sheep.”
“Oh? So you have read the book?” Daphne noted. “And not just the good parts, I see.”
“Of course!” Cersei scoffed as if she was offended. “A whole new history comes to Westeros and you expect the Queen to remain ignorant of it?”
Daphne just hummed noncommittally, “Hmm, as you say…”
It was all so very boring in Astoria’s opinion. At least, the way they were playing the game. Veiled this, veiled that, where were the fireworks?! Astoria was half tempted to say fuck the pleasantries and tell Cersei Cunting Lannister exactly what she thought! Daddy would have given her a piece of his mind, especially for the selfish love she showed her children. They were their own people, didn’t she know?! Flaws — she’d get to Joffrey… — and all!
Unfortunately, Mother had raised her slightly better than that. So Astoria had to settle for whispering her fireworks in Myrcella’s ears in private, “Your mother’s kind of a queen bitch, you know?”
Myrcella, of course, sputtered just beautifully, “I-! You-! Why, I-! Astoria! Y-You, You can’t say that! She’ll have your head! I know she will! I don’t want to lose another friend…”
That last line put a dark damper on Astoria’s enjoyment, “… Another?”
Myrcella worried at her lip — a nervous tick Astoria had noticed about her, “I-I shouldn’t say more…”
“No, no,” Astoria smiled ‘encouragingly’. “I insist.”
For some reason, Myrcella jumped slightly at that. There must have been something in her expression… “I-It’s just…”
The princess hesitated for a moment, looking around. They were alone, secreted away in a tree under the stars so Astoria could get her newly appreciated private princess time. Seeing no one else around, the dam broke. The tragic tale of Myrcella’s friendships came pouring out of her. Once she started, she couldn’t stop herself. Through it all, as Myrcella poured her heart out, darkness descended over Astoria’s mind.
“Everyone I get close to tends to disappear!” Myrcella’s words almost blurred together in her rush to get it off her chest. “My maid Anita, my lady-in-waiting Vectura, the cook Rheas, even little Chieyon who snuck around the Red Keep! And I’m pretty sure she was one of Lord Varys’ little birds! No matter who they are… No matter where they come from… Mother always finds a way to make them… go away… If not her, then Joffrey…”
Astoria’s scowl was legendary, determined, and enraged on Myrcella’s behalf, “Well, I’m not going anywhere, ‘Cella. I’d like to see the Queen try the same with me. Or Heather or Daphne. Perhaps it would even swing back onto her…”
“That-…” Myrcella went wide-eyed, her expression torn. “I don’t want that either…”
Her conflicted voice sobered Astoria and she abandoned her plans of direct vengeance in an instant, “And what do you want, Myrcella?”
Myrcella blinked at her, “… I-… don’t know? No one’s ever asked me that directly.”
“Well, I’m asking now,” Astoria gently coaxed and encouraged.
“I-I suppose… I just wish to live,” Myrcella eventually admitted. She sighed forlornly, “I wish for friends and a family that isn’t constantly split by strain. I wish to pursue what I like and get into mischief like any other girl. Like a girl who isn’t being constantly watched… And controlled…”
Astoria grinned, “I can help with that. I’m very good at mischief~.”
“I haven’t doubted that for a moment that I’ve known you,” Myrcella giggled.
“Then don’t doubt that I’m your friend either,” Astoria said, crowding closer on the branch they perched on and clutching Myrcella’s hands in a promise. “And I’m not going anywhere. Not on your mother’s say-so. And certainly not on anything the prince can say or do. He’ll sooner die than make any of us do what he wants.”
It was telling of the royal siblings’ relationship that Myrcella only smiled slightly at talk of her older brother’s death, saying softly, “That’s treason of the highest order, Astoria.”
Astoria shot her a wicked smirk and wiggled eyebrows, “Then isn’t it fortunate that treason is served with tea and crumpets in Hogwarts~?”
They spent the rest of that night under the stars, joking and giggling with each other. It was likely a first for Myrcella, the only time she’d been able to relax and simply enjoy a friend’s company. Eventually, Astoria coaxed her into speaking of the friends she’d lost. That was a bittersweet affair.
No one had thought to teach the princess to deal with loss. At least, not in any way other than the selfish imposition and cruelty of her mother and brother. Living with them left Myrcella very good at repressing and masking what she felt. But that was no way to live. So Astoria taught her to cope and accept the many losses in her short life. She taught her to speak of those who were gone — to remember them and treasure every moment she had. Tears came fast and furious during that session. Astoria didn’t direct Myrcella’s pain or rage, merely letting her feel without her mask for once. And when she tired herself out under those stars, with the morning’s light just peeking over the horizon, Astoria slipped her back into her bedroll, with the camp none the wiser to their missing-then-returned princess.
The Queen’s love for her children was a selfish, controlling thing, Astoria found. It went past protective and into something mad and all-consuming, something wholly possessive. Astoria wouldn’t be surprised if they were the only things Cersei cared about in the whole world. They and her twin, but not her younger brother. It was greed and jealousy and smothering narcissism masked as love. Even with the fleeting glimpses of it that Astoria saw, it was a terrible thing to witness.
Astoria knew good parenting. It was a product of having the best parents a girl could ask for. Cersei Lannister didn’t live up to a single whit of everything Cygnus and Ada Greengrass had given Astoria and Daphne. She’d done her children no favors. No favors at all. It was a miracle that Tommen and Myrcella turned out as well as they did. Joffrey, on the other hand, was much more indicative of Cersei’s selfish love.
Joffrey Baratheon was practically a storybook picture… of a villainous prince. Even just on the surface, he was spoiled and arrogant. And his surface didn’t reach deep like it did with Myrcella and Tommen. It was merely an act. A mask that had been perfectly painted to be ‘princely’. Or at least, Cersei and Joffrey’s idea of princely. Beneath the mask and false surface, a cruel, sadistic, deranged bully walked among them.
Myrcella shared some of her stories of Joffrey with Astoria. More than anything, the sadism stood out. Joffrey liked causing pain. He reveled in it. There wasn’t a shred of empathy in his soul. He either didn’t care or couldn’t care for how he made others feel. And like the sadistic cherry atop a cake of sadism, there was… that story…
Myrcella told it in hurried breaths as if she still couldn’t believe her own memory. How when they were young, Joffrey had eviscerated a pregnant cat and presented the kitten fetuses to their father as if that wasn’t the mad, monstrous mark of a pure psychopath. Worse still (somehow), Myrcella shared part of the story that few others knew. It’d been Tommen’s cat and Joffrey had simply been bored and impatient…
Astoria almost didn’t know what to do with the information. Other than to avoid the crown prince like Dragonpox, of course. And ensure he couldn’t touch Myrcella and Tommen while she and the others were around. Joffrey Baratheon was fucked in the head. It was only the circumstances of his birth that kept him from being put down like a mad dog. Even then, his mother was seemingly the only one who loved him. Even the maniac’s uncles were wary of him.
Not to say those two were perfect by any means. Jaime Lannister enabled his oldest nephew too much for Astoria’s liking and she could tell he wasn’t nearly as ignorant of the boy’s ‘flaws’ as he made himself seem. But Tyrion at least didn’t put up with any of Joffrey’s shit. He was fine playing the ‘bad guy’ in his family of monsters, taking every ounce of scorn from Cersei and Joffrey so Myrcella, Tommen, and anyone else who fell into their sights wouldn’t have to. After Tommen and Myrcella, he was the most well-adjusted of the Lannister brood. Even with his sharp tongue, drinking, and overly inquisitive mind.
Atlas suffered that inquisitive mind the most as the party traveled. Tyrion spent just about every waking moment shadowing Atlas. It was for the best. Atlas was the most intellectually inclined of them. And he took Tyrion’s inquisition all in good stride, answering what he could, where he could and even admitting when he simply didn’t know something.
Tyrion especially appreciated the New-Hogsmeade-made fountain pen and paper that Atlas lent him to take notes with. They made for a strange sight. A scholarly dwarf on a horse and handsome, bookish Atlas floating along beside him on a broom. For the natives, the dwarf would have been the strange part of that equation. For Astoria and the others, it was the horse.
Astoria herself still refused to ride a horse. They weren’t nearly as fun when you were stuck traveling with a convoy. At least with her broom, she could zip and zag around when stuff caught her interest. Oh, butterfly! Oh, darn, there it goes into the stomach of that starling…
Notably, though, the natives wouldn’t find anything strange about them riding brooms. They’d seen them when Astoria and the others made their initial entrance but from the native’s perspective, there hadn’t been a sighting since. Atlas had weaved a specialized notice-me-not spell over the brooms. So long as they kept to a reasonably ‘horse-sized’ height, their hosts wouldn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. The spell would make their minds fill in the blanks, and naturally, the first place their minds would go would be that the Wizard and Witches were riding horses like everyone else.
It was part and parcel of the theater that Hogwarts had to go through in this new world. They wanted to keep certain things secret for as long as they could. The natives could know about magical flight but not sustained magical flight. So brooms and carpets and spells and whatnot were useful for dramatic entrances but not for prolonged travel around the natives. At least, not without special precautions like Atlas’ spell. Personally, Astoria didn’t really get it. But Daddy said ‘Information is warfare!’ and that was part of the reason she was so keen to spy anyway so there had to be something to all of the secrecy.
Tyrion practically hounded Atlas with questions as they rode (and ‘rode’) but pointedly, it was almost always theoretical and intellectual, not information that could be used against Hogwarts without considerable and rather inefficient effort.
“What color is magic?” Tyrion asked.
Atlas nodded sagely, “Yes.”
“… So, every color?”
“No.”
“None?”
“Also no.”
“Then what color is magic?!” Tyrion repeated in frustration.
Atlas nodded sagely again, “Yes.”
“Alright then, keep your secrets, Wizard,” Tyrion huffed. “What of smell? Of taste, even?”
“I did answer you though,” Atlas said, amused. “The answer to your question is the question itself. The same for smell and taste. How one perceives magic depends on so many things that they’d be impossible to all recount. Not to mention how even the factors vary between people and circumstances. It can be an energy, a phenomenon, a result, an aura, a field, or even just an ideal. If you’re ever in a situation where you really must know what color magic is, just ask the question to yourself. It should lay bare enough momentary truth for you to get by.”
“How… esoteric,” Tyrion muttered, audibly amazed by the concept as he scribbled who-knows-what in that developing manuscript of his. By the end of their journey, Astoria would guess that Tyrion Lannister would be one of the most magically learned natives on the continent.
“Esoteric, yes. That is, quite literally, the name of the game with magic,” Atlas chuckled.
“Yes, I suppose it is,” Tyrion joined in with a bark of laughter. “Along with a few other words. Ethereal, transcendent, heavenly, mystical, immaterial, and so on and so on.”
“Don’t go breaking your brain on me, Imp,” Atlas joked. “I’m becoming rather fond of it.”
“Well, I’ve been fond of it my whole life,” Tyrion smirked back. “I’d hate to go shattering it to pieces now of all times. Not when there’s suddenly so much novelty to learn and explore.”
“It’s just a shame such a bright mind like yours can’t explore magic directly,” Atlas commiserated.
“I’ve my own theory on that,” Tyrion hummed noncommittally, an unreadable glint in his eyes. Astoria swore she saw them dart downward beneath Atlas for a moment when she glanced. “But before that, would you indulge me with a tangent?”
“Shoot,” Atlas nodded.
“Yesterday, you told me about the concept of Animagus,” Tyrion began. “Would that ability to change yourself extend to fixing, say… certain deformities of birth?”
“It wouldn’t be worth it, Tyrion. The cost you would pay to fix something you were born with…? It’s not as if your mind is in the wrong body or your body doesn’t match up with your soul. You’d be changing a fundamental aspect of who you are — who you’ve become and who you’ve always been — even if it is technically a ‘deformity’,” Atlas shook his head sadly. “There’s nothing wrong with the way you are, Tyrion. You weren’t born wrong, simply different. I told you about Professor Flitwick, didn’t I?”
“You did,” Tyrion nodded. “And I’ve long accepted the physical aspect of my existence. But in this, I was actually thinking on more magical lines…”
Atlas’ brow furrowed in consideration, “… Go on.”
“Perhaps my body doesn’t match my soul after all. Or perhaps it does, and that’s the issue,” Tyrion posed. “Perhaps something about my ‘troubled’ birth stunted me spiritually just as it did physically. And to go one step further, perhaps fixing my physical condition would fix my spiritual condition as well.”
“You could also just not be able to use magic, Tyrion,” Atlas said softly.
“Perhaps. But several in my immediate family have awoken magic, including my darling cousin who I haven’t thanked you for returning to us,” A smirk emerged on Tyrion’s face. “And then, of course, there’s always the matter of your many-bristled steed…”
“Many-bristled-… Oh,” Atlas blinked. “Oh, yeah. That might do it.”
Tyrion laughed and pumped his fist as if he’d scored the greatest victory of his life, “Yes! Perhaps the gods are not so cruel after all! So you admit my theory has merit?”
Atlas nodded slowly, “The theory, yes. Your solution? No.”
“O-Oh…”
“But.”
“But?”
“But I might have another route for you to take,” Atlas grinned. “One that involves less complicated, doomed soul surgery, and more tripping magical balls until you break through whatever soul blockage you have like a psychedelic battering ram.”
“… Absolutely none of those words fill me with faith,” Tyrion deadpanned.
“Don’t worry, you’ll have even less faith after meeting the Devil’s Snare~,” Atlas’ grin morphed into a smirk that would’ve made Heather proud. In fact… yeah, there she was, wiping over-dramatic tears from her eyes…
“Devil’s…? That Devil’s Snare?! Atlas?!” Tyrion asked frantically and futilely. “Atlas, don’t do this!”
Atlas just laughed in reply. The pair of them spent the rest of that day’s travels like that, and then Tyrion drank himself into a stupor that night as well. The Imp was terrified for some reason. Seemingly of Professor Sprout — the ‘Devil’s Snare’. Which was just silly. Sprout was perfectly nice and together with Professor Snape, they’d likely be able to do exactly what Atlas said they could. Tyrion would just have to keep an… open mind… when he met them.
Atlas took pity on the Imp the next morning and elaborated on his plan. Most of the mumbo-jumbo went over Astoria’s head. She quickly found more interesting things to do with Myrcella and in helping Heather prank every bedroll so they farted when someone laid down in them. Unfortunately, the party arrived at their destination before the prank could truly see fruition. From there, the King’s business took over.
The party had ridden west from the site of the battle, leaving the King’s Road behind them. Eventually, they joined up with the River Road on a track for Riverrun. Perhaps naturally, Robert went straight to the top of the Riverlands right out of the gate, aiming to command the Kingdom through its Lord Paramount. That, of course, meant detouring well away from the King’s original route North to Riverrun and calling upon House Tully if Robert hoped to muster the men he needed to quell this little ‘disagreement’.
Riverrun was an impressive castle. Mostly for its location, in Astoria’s mind. It stood at the fork of two rivers, with a large, dammed ditch across the third side. No doubt when the ditch was full, the castle would be practically invincible to any conventional siege or army. The castle’s high, dusty-red walls and towers were almost a secondary consideration after the perfect locale.
Outriders had been sent ahead to announce his coming and the King was welcomed openly at Riverrun. They were introduced to Edmure Tully, who was acting in his father’s stead. The true Lord of Riverrun was apparently bedridden and on his last legs. But the King’s business would wait for no man to die.
The situation they’d run into on the King’s Road was described. Edmure was appalled but unsurprised. Even when greeted by an old friend in Patrek Mallister — who along with Marq Piper was now the King’s ‘honored prisoner’ — Edmure didn’t raise an eyebrow. Instead, he told the King that his banners were already being called and informed them of how the situation in the Riverlands had changed while they were on the road.
Harry Rivers had fled back to Stone Hedge — House Bracken’s seat of power. From there, he sent out word of Lucas Blackwood’s ‘betrayal’ and begged all who could to help him gather proof to present to the King. On the other side, Lucas Blackwood had returned to his family’s seat much the same, abandoning his pursuit of Harry Rivers to gather another host to ‘bring the bastard to justice’.
Word of the escalating feud spread like wildfire throughout the Houses of the Riverlands. And more than a few, it seemed, jumped on the situation to gain personal power, pursue ambitions, or settle feuds of their own. Chaos was slowly but surely engulfing the Riverlands. Every noble House except House Frey had called up men. The Freys were the only exception because — as Astoria gathered — the Late Walder Frey wouldn’t make any decision he couldn’t weasel out of, even if it was to save one of his too-many sons’ lives.
Through it all, the King was positively ecstatic, “Finally! Fucking finally! This is the first interesting thing to happen in ages! Gods, I don’t know whether to thank the feuding fucks or fucking execute them!”
Still, Astoria quickly found herself bored to tears. Literally! It was right back to square one! She’d first gone sneaking and spying on the King because all she’d been able to do at Hogwarts was hurry up and wait. And now, she was hurrying up and waiting all over again! Only, she wasn’t in the best castle in the world. She was in Riverrun… And instead of waiting for the King, they were waiting for an army. So. Much. Waiting… Honestly, these waiting ninnies could’ve made Astoria bored of lewding!
Well… maybe not that far. Atlas was very good at keeping her attention. But Astoria wanted some action to go along with her ‘action’! Spankings on the battlefield and off it! Astoria lasted all of a day before leaving Riverrun to fulfill her original intentions for this trip… Sneaking! Spying! Super special super secret mission time!
… She was immediately caught by Daphne.
“That’s so unfair! How do you always do that, Daph~?!”
“My Big Sister Senses™ were tingling,” Daphne deadpanned.
“Bullshit! I was as sneaky as one of Luna’s Wompi!”
“Which don’t exist. Which is why I caught you.”
“Yeah?! Yeah?! Well-! No dubsies!” Astoria proudly declared.
Daphne rolled her eyes but still played along like Astoria knew she would, “Darn. Sisterly Double Jeopardy. Foiled again.”
“Damn straight!” Astoria crossed her arms and nodded furiously. “So you have to come with me now. You know the rules, Daph.”
“And so do I~!” Heather’s singing voice cut right through their Mexican Sisterly Stand-off. “So where are we going, girls~? What trouble are we Witches getting into today~?”
“Ask Story,” Daphne said flatly. “This is her super special super secret spy mission.”
“It is?” Astoria blinked, momentarily shaking an all-too-catchy song from her head (Damn you, Heather!!!). “Oh, yeah! It is! We’re-…!”
She paused for dramatic effect, earning a grin from Heather and a flat stare from Daphne, “-Going to spy on that Blackwood guy!”
“To what end, Story?” Daphne deadpanned.
“Lalala~! Can’t hear you or your too many questions!”
“Heh~,” Heather snorted. “So why are we doing this, Astoria?”
“Hmm? Oh, why didn’t you ask~?” Astoria happily answered Heather’s question, pointedly ignoring Daphne’s imaginary hands around her neck. “Didn’t you think it was kinda odd? Their stories, I mean? Both sides based their actions entirely on hearsay. Their maesters told them this and that and ‘just happened’ to escalate a family feud more than twice as old as the Great Wall of China now of all times?”
“It had to happen sometime,” Heather shrugged.
“I suppose…” Astoria considered for a moment before shaking her head. “But no. That’s not how people work. They were perfectly fine hating each other from a distance. Maeve’s Taint, they even defined themselves on it! Until now… Until a bastard and a spare — both semi-deniable assets for their Houses — awoke magical bloodlines and somehow rallied their father’s men for essentially mutually assured destruction. I’d say there’s something more happening behind the scenes, especially with those two maester guys who seemingly started this all.”
Daphne stared at her for a moment after she finished her reasoning, “… I’ve never been more proud of you.”
“Really?” Astoria cocked her head. “Not even that time with the spoiled mangos and the flying foxes and those muggle girls who were bullying you at the mall-?”
“… A close second then.”
And with that, Astoria won two allies to her side for super special super secret spying! Of course, Astoria knew that Daphne was only indulging her because she felt like she had to. Which was fair. If Astoria’s spy mission had been denied outright, who knows what she would have gotten up to while stuck in Riverrun? Not even Astoria did… Her ‘gremlin mind’ (a phrase trademarked by Daphne) went to strange places sometimes…
The three of them left a note for Atlas and left long before he had a chance to see it. After that, they flew north. Without the limits and precautions of traveling with the natives, they made great time, finding the seat of House Blackwood — Raventree Hall — in only a few hours. It was an impossible castle to miss. More specifically, the giant dead Weirwood Tree to rival an Earth Redwood was impossible to miss.
The tree was taller than the castle itself, with a canopy of barren, bleached branches that spread overhead like a heavenly firmament. The whole castle was cast in a Weirwood shadow. Above, here and there, Ravens made their perch in the firmament. They were nothing compared to the flocks that gave the keep its name. Come darkness, their numbers would swell into the hundreds — black, squawking stars against the white branches of heaven.
“Do dead Weirwoods still grow?” Astoria asked almost absently.
“I wouldn’t put it past them,” Daphne deadpanned in reply.
“If they don’t, how old must this tree have been before it died…?”
“Well, the Blackwoods are First Men,” Heather considered aloud. “And their stories of the Brackens poisoning the tree are a keystone of their legendary feud. To fit their stories, it must have ‘died’ — I have my doubts about that. I’d bet it’s not nearly as dead as they think — between 12 and 8 thousand years ago. And it probably lived for twice that long before that to get this big, if it’s not still growing, of course…”
Daphne audibly rolled her eyes, “Merlin, this world is ridiculous to the point of stupidity sometimes.”
Astoria nodded, “You can say that again.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Oh, come on, Daph~… Say it again!”
“No.”
Astoria enjoyed bickering with her sister as the three of them found a way into Raventree Hall. Thankfully, notice-me-not spells were gifts from the best of Magic. They were able to land in the great Weirwood Tree’s courtyard without raising any commotion. At least, no commotion from any human sources… The ravens in the branches above — still a few dozen in strength — began to caw as if heralding their arrival and dead branches swayed in unfelt wind and welcome.
“It’s not the worst feeling,” Heather shrugged.
“We’re being greeted by a dead tree,” Daphne retorted flatly.
“We don’t know that it’s greeting us,” Heather said unconvincingly. “It could just be a coincidence.”
“Atlas would be able to tell,” Astoria shook her head. “Him and his scary sense for magic.”
“It’s probably fine,” Heather grinned irreverently. “Not like we’re walking into a castle built around a dead god tree with more history than the Pyramids or anything~…”
Daphne sighed in utter exasperation, “Must you tempt things so?”
“But, of course~,” Heather singsonged. “Where’s the fun in letting it lie~?”
“Not dying horribly,” Daphne deadpanned. “The fun is in not dying horribly and having our souls stolen by a creepy dead god tree.”
Still, they forged on. Into the castle’s keep, they went, under the cover of Heather’s invisibility cloak. It was a tight fit but Astoria would never mind getting nice and cozy with Daphne~! Oh, and Heather, she supposed… There was something to be said about her short, curvy figure sandwiched between them.
They walked the halls without much direction for a while. Though they saw servants and guards and the castle’s many staff, they went without notice. The combination of a notice-me-not spell and an invisibility cloak even let them eavesdrop more often than not. What they overheard allowed them to start putting together a rough map of the keep and painted a picture of the tense situation, inside and out.
That Lucas Blackwood bloke had arrived back at Raventree Hall the day before last. He’d rejoined with a portion of the forces they saw on the original battlefield. And immediately, he was summoned to answer his father’s questions. None of the servants or staff were privy to that conversation but that didn’t stop rumors from spreading. First, from the men-at-arms who returned with Lucas, and then, from rampant speculation.
The soldiers didn’t hesitate to speak of the battle. Of their Lord’s noble cause and finally catching that treacherous Bracken bastard and then of the King’s interference and the bastard’s flight from justice. It seemed their blood still ran high despite their failure. The men were eager to see their liege’s eternal enemy brought to heel.
But they also told horror stories of that short battle. Magic, foreign and terrifying, had been used by armies and against armies for the first time. A fair few unlucky men spoke of the men who’d fought next to them being burned alive, or frozen in their own skin, or skewered by phantom blades, or ripped to unrecognizable bits and pieces by beastly transformations. Likewise, the awakened mages of the Blackwood army spoke of unleashing their magicks and the horribly awesome feeling of being practically untouchable in the chaos. More than Knights or siege engines, it seemed that the medieval battlefield had found its tanks…
So close to the event, the stories were hardly glorified. They weren’t the songs of greatness that would inevitably come. They were the unprocessed traumas and tortured dreams of men who thought they would die on that field. It had a sobering effect on all three Witches and left an air of tension throughout the castle itself. Brothers and sons spoke of the horrors of magic on the battlefield. Yet few if any expressed any desire to do differently. Their courses were set, their sword arms were ready, and they were committed to fighting by their Lord’s side in whatever was to come.
By chance, they eventually happened across Lucas Blackwood himself. He looked worse for wear but he hid it as best he could. Weary determination held his head high. He’d sent himself off to war and stumbled on his first step. Yet he was certain he was still in the right and determined to see his decisions — folly or not — through to the end. He was only as old as Heather and Daphne…
They trailed him as he was summoned to his father’s solar and slipped in after to listen in on the conversation within. Lucas’ father — Lord Tytos Blackwood — was a tall man with a stern-set face. An awesome cloak of raven feathers covered the back of his Lordly chair. Another of his sons — the oldest, it seemed — was with him, waiting for Lucas’ arrival.
“Lucas, my son,” Tytos said, his hands steepled before his mouth as if in thought or prayer.
“My Lord Father,” Lucas gave a respectful, nodding bow.
“I have spent a day from dawn to dusk trying to comprehend your motives and actions, turning them over and over in my mind, thinking of nothing else. And still, I find myself coming up short,” Tytos broke then, a loving father imploring his son for answers. “Why, Lucas? Why…?”
“… It rankled me, Father,” Lucas eventually replied, his voice filled with a soft, simmering rage. “It rankled me so, I’ll admit. I was livid. I was furious…”
“What, my son? What could drive you to such reckless madness?!”
“That-! That damned bastard! He sought to use the gift of the gods against us! He sought to profit from Old Gods he and his no longer even believe in!” Lucas raged, letting it all out. “Fashioning himself a Mage King was a worse crime than even his birth! I couldn’t let it stand. Never.”
“Yet you do the same, my son,” Tytos reminded gently.
“… I do,” Lucas admitted with shame.
“Oh, my boy,” Tytos sighed. “You should have come to me. You should have consulted your elder. That is what I am for, my purpose as a father is to guide you. In that, even I would agree with the Faith of the Seven. Yet you acted without me and brought damnation down on our heads.”
Lucas had nothing to say to that, simply bowing his head.
“I had to consult with Lord Bracken, you know,” Tytos said almost absently as he continued.
Lucas whipped his head up to gape at his father. Beside the Lord, the silent Blackwood Heir did the same. He could no longer stay silent as his father and younger brother spoke, “Father-! How could you?!”
“I had no other choice!” Tytos roared. “No other choice at all but actually open positive communication with our family’s most ancient enemies, may I ever live in shame. This is what my sons have driven me to… History… She will not remember me kindly. But my shame has not been fruitless, at least.”
“I must insist that you cease such madness immediately, Father!” The Blackwood Heir declared. “It cannot be borne! They are Brackens! War would be preferable to working with them!”
Tytos turned to stare at him, “Surely, you cannot think that in truth, Brynden…?”
Brynden Blackwood scoffed, “Of course! I was the one who helped call the banners that Lucas led against the magical bastard and his overreaching ambitions!”
Tytos shook his head sadly, an almost physical weight on his shoulders, “It seems I’ve failed you too, my heir. You were young yet when Robert’s Rebellion touched these lands. So young that you only ever heard the glorified songs and heroic stories. Never the realities of a war that quite literally ripped our ancestral homelands in two…”
“And now, we are faced with the same. No, we inspire the same,” Tytos continued soberly. “This will not be like King Robert’s culling of Balon Greyjoy and the Iron Islands, my sons. We’ve pushed our home to civil war. Our familial and familiar feud has escalated beyond reason. Others are latching onto it as a cause for war, wars for their own ambitions. With ill-thought actions, you two have pitted brother against brother and father against son. And still, you say peace is not worth it? When all I have to do is talk to a man in the same position and situation as I?”
“He will lie to you, Father, and stab you when your back is turned,” Brynden insisted. “They are Brackens. It is what they do! I would not have you dishonor yourself and your legacy so pointlessly! It has come to war and so we will strike down the treacherous Blackwoods once and for all!”
Tytos stared at his eldest son as if he didn’t recognize him, “And when Lord Bracken claims that he doesn’t know the slight that supposedly started this all? When he is just as clueless and without Cassus Beli as I? What then, Brynden?”
“It will not come to that, Father,” Bryden said with unearned confidence. “He lies, and they will come to light sooner than later. We can prove it. Send for Maester Kean. He will put your mind to right.”
“No need, my Lords,” Another man entered the solar, aged and dressed so much like a monk except for the jangling chain around his neck. “I am here. And I bring dire news.”
He waved a letter in the air once to emphasize his point before laying it in front of Tytos. Tytos opened it and read with a tight jaw, “I don’t recognize this writing. It isn’t Lord Jonos’ hand.”
“No, my Lord,” Maester Kean bowed deferentially. “It is my sworn colleague’s hand, Maester Edam of Stone Hedge. Circumstances conspired to have him transcribe the letter for Lord Bracken, it seems.”
Tytos grunted as he finished reading the letter, laying it down and going still in thought, “… This. This makes little sense. Lord Jonos has done an about-face since his last correspondence with me. He claims full knowledge of his bastard’s actions and even endorses them in the same line that he attacks me personally!”
“As I said,” Brynden arrogantly claimed, moments away from smugness. “His lies came to light. Sooner rather than later. He couldn’t help himself. He’s only a Bracken, after all.”
“… He declares his House against ours in the King’s name,” Tytos said.
“We must do the same, Father. Quickly now, before they have a chance to get word of their declaration to others!” Lucas quickly put forth. “The men, they will fight behind me. They’ve proved that already against the Bracken bastard. Let my magic win us the day!”
Though the other men in the room didn’t notice, Maester Kean winced and twitched ever-so-slightly at the mention of magic. Heather, Astoria, and Daphne saw, watching the ‘unassuming’ maester like a trio of hawks. Other than the unnoticed wince, he was the perfect picture of a dutiful servant.
Tytos sighed, “It seems we have no choice now. Lucas, you’ve led us into this chaos and you will continue to lead the day. Bring glory, honor, and victory to our House.”
Brynden looked like he was about to protest his younger brother getting all the glory but a glare from his father set him straight back into his seat. He winced, “… You have my faith, Brother. I shall support you as I can.”
That was about when Astoria urged Heather and Daphne out of the room, unable to contain her whispered comments any longer, “… What the Hell was all of that?!”
Heather nodded as the three of them found a private corner, “That was the most suspicious bloke I’ve ever seen and they didn’t even look at him twice. ‘Oh, this guy you’re writing to? Yeah, he suddenly can’t come to the phone but he totally went back on everything he said to you’. Bullshit!”
“They quite literally can’t suspect the maesters,” Daphne said flatly. “It’s unthinkable in their society. Their positions are so secure and normal that it’s almost physically impossible for them to be viewed with suspicion. Like if a librarian was plotting treason against the Queen.”
“Madam Pince would never!” Astoria gasped. “Oh… Oh, I see your point.”
“So what do we do?” Heather asked. “The civil war is properly rollin’ now. We can’t hope to stop it on our own.”
“We find do what the native idiots can’t,” Daphne deadpanned. “We look at the maesters with suspicion and find proof that they’re fucking everything up for everyone.”
“Spying, spying spycraft~!” Astoria vibrated with excitement.
It didn’t take long to find the Maester’s Quarters. They were located in the tallest tower of the keep and they could hear the ravens within from floors away. Once they did, the rest was so easy that Astoria couldn’t help but pout.
Heather snorted, “The idiots are so bloody complacent. He just left an obviously coded letter lying around for anybody to see?”
“Maesters are quite literally beyond reproach in this society,” Daphne replied. “He likely doesn’t think he has anything to hide or that anyone would even think to look.”
Heather hummed a laugh and made a show of looking the coded letter up and down, “Still, this is all gibberish.”
Astoria rolled her eyes at that, “It’s just a simple cipher.”
Daphne joined her scorn, “Gryffindors. What did you expect?”
“Fine, fine,” Heather chuckled. “I’ll leave the sneaky, snake stuff to you Slytherins. Just hurry up and decode it, yeah?”
“Hmm, if he was smart, he’d keep the cipher key on his person…” Astoria pondered aloud. “But we already know he’s not smart. So where would he hide a key~? Where, oh where, are you, Mr. Key~?”
Daphne just raised an eyebrow at her antics and waved her wand over the letter without fanfare, “We’re Witches. You do remember that, right?”
“Fine, just take away the rest of my fun, why don’t you?” Astoria pouted.
Minutes after that, they were making a tactical exit from Raventree Hall, stealing away with a duplicated letter. The maester would be none the wiser. He and his partner would have no idea of the damning evidence against them until it was much too late…
My esteemed colleague and partner in conspiracy,
My position is still secure for the moment. Our misdirections have borne fruit. The father is still clueless. Even with the son’s return, he only futilely seeks to understand what is happening. But events have spiraled away from our intentions. This is no longer the mere historic feud between two Noble Houses that we aimed for. I shudder to think what the rest of our order would do if they learned of our unintended impact. But there is still hope to turn the situation to our mutual profit. Continue as planned, my partner. We must seize the fathers as well as the sons now. After everything has settled, we will be the two foremost maesters in the Riverlands. Then, the Citadel will be made to give us our proper due…
IIIII
Bonus Pics (sauce below)
Comments
TheRavenbrand
Hell yea kill all the bad maesters
General_Rain
It is interesting that both book series Harry Potter and A Song Of Ice And Fire have a story plot that revolves around a prophecy. The story Worm is somewhat similar as the head heroes are trying to alter the future to prevent an apocalypse from what I have been told. It would be fun to see how Hogwarts would fit into the story if they landed in Brockton Bay next. With them bringing allong some of the locals to bolster their population. The Worm story has a few versions of earth in it where people transfer in between already.
General_Rain
Technically there are four items related to death if we counted the Death Veil in the department of mysteries at the ministry of magic. The veil was just not related to the Peverell brothers. It may mean they created the Deathly Hallows based on researching the Veil and might have worked in the ministry before their deaths.
General_Rain
Bobby B is about to get all the evidence and incentive he could want to be the first king since the original Targaryen conquest of Westeros to Rick Roll all over the Riverlands and remind those petty nobles and maesters who truly wears the crown.
dryskies_btb
Probably not nightly but she is part of the harem. Or at least 'coven-adjacent'. She joined up in the epilogue of Book 1
Dan W
“Atlas was very good at keeping her attention. But Astoria wanted some action to go along with her ‘action’! Spankings on the battlefield and off it!” When'd he start giving Astoria nightly attention?
jp9901
Astoria is just a wonderful character to read! Her friendship with Myrcella, her hyperactive but skilled mindset; its beautiful to read.
DerkKill
You could and it's just an imaginary visual aid, the heights of Atlas' harem; also this is a somewhat logical question but how do the 3 relics of "death" interact with the new universe
Kasikan
I'm surprised that Astoria didn't point out to Myrcella that it's only treason if you're a part of the kingdom sworn to it or a family to conspire against it. Otherwise it's not treason. Which is why Varys happily does everything he does, because he's not one of them and has no problem doing anything to gain more power for himself and his plans at their expense. Now for the Maesters. They literally only added a single letter to the word master and go around acting like everyone should do as they say and trust them. It's no wonder their society is completely fucked. Never trust an order that claims all knowledge and forces everyone to go to them for anything from healing to how to run their own kingdoms. It's obvious they're going to screw over the families and ensure they're nothing more than slaves to them.
dryskies_btb
Did you notice that the maesters are acting on their own? This isn't the grand maester conspiracy trope (yet). It's just two old fools manipulating things for their own benefit. But it does show that the maesters are just as corruptible and ambitious as anyone else. The big overarching stuff will come later...
Handyandy
"It was greed and jealousy and smothering narcism masked as love." Narcissism?
Fallen_Angel249
Switch Eagle to Raven
Aeon
"their destination the prank" -> "their destination before the prank" Tftc
James (Silencian)
Never gonna give you up! Never gonna let you down! Thanks for the chappiez. Maestors fucking around, soon finding out. Wonder what Atlas has been doing while witches wander off in search of mischief.
dryskies_btb
1: mika.mae.main 2: kuroitsune 3: cassierayxo 4: leighbunbun 5: rintohsaka 6: kittyp0wer 7: mei minato (maybe?) 8: juchloe
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