906Hello everyone, I'm sorry for taking such a long time, but I've been utterly busy with work and doing some promo for my book! That's why this chapter is short. I apologise for it! The next one is going to be longer, so don't worry.
Now, as I stated before, the next set of updates are as follows!
-The White Wolf of Winterfell (This Fanfiction it's almost over too!)
-Harriet Potter: The Demon Empress
-Harry Potter x Overlord (One Shot) It's only one more, and it's over.
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Chapter 44
A resounding echo of King's Landing's grand festival reverberated throughout the city and beyond. Seven Kingdoms' citizens thronged the bustling streets, celebrating the end of years of war and suffering. Westeros rejoiced, breathing a collective sigh of relief. With their blessed queen guiding them toward a prosperous future, the excitement for what lay ahead was palpable. And adding that the festivity would last almost an entire fortnight of games, shows, tourneys and melees. There was a lot to enjoy, for everyone, especially for the queen herself.
Being queen, the most important person in Westeros—soon, in the world—made enjoying her own party a challenge. Nobles and commoners incessantly interrupted, with chatter and frivolous requests. She maintained a calm, gracious demeanour, waving and smiling, the perfect queen. The act was exhausting and stressful, yet incredibly ego-boosting. Seeing them bow and kneel, worshipping her image, was exactly as it should be.
Still, there's just so much I need to do, but I should relax for now. Yes, I should defiantly just enjoy everyone worshipping me. Besides, there's a melee soon. Hopefully, I could see someone killing someone. Perhaps a decapitation… that would be fun! Galadriel hid her sadistic smile from people around her and pretended to sneeze.
"Your Majesty?" Ser Barristan called, walking beside the queen across the Red Keep's vast courtyard. Nobles celebrated, their hidden games playing out in the shadows of the festivities.
"Just a tiny sneeze, Ser Barristan," Galadriel said with a smile, hurrying toward the Red Keep entrance. She eagerly awaited someone's arrival.
"Galadriel!" Tommen waved, his youth evident but overshadowed by a burgeoning maturity as he embraced Galadriel. It still surprised her that he was Cersei and Jaime's son. How could such a sweet, kind boy be related to them—or, indeed, to her grandfather and the entire Lannister family? It's a question that will probably remain unanswered.
"Look at you, handsome as ever," Galadriel smiled as those beautiful green eyes of Tommen shine brightly as a blush creep on his cheeks.
"Thank you! You look beautiful, too!" Tommen replied with a smile, making Galadriel smile as well. She then noticed Shireen Baratheon standing nearby, looking a little nervous and out of place. Still, she'd clearly grown; a year older than Tommen, and it showed. The curves were there already, and her face was losing that baby fat quickly, and going to other places.
Shireen would not be a great beauty, like Arianne Martell, or Margaery Tyrell, but she had her own charm, one that it was hard to not see. And for the looks of it. It has smitten Tommen, who looked at her and smile.
"Shireen, come!" Tommen said as the Baratheon heiress approached Galadriel and gave a small bow to her.
"Your Majesty," Shireen whispered shyly. Galadriel knew better; Shireen might be gentle, but her Baratheon blood would soon surface. Once comfortable with Tommen, her brother would undoubtedly witness the famed Baratheon fury if he ever disrespected her—though Galadriel doubted it would happen. Tommen were far too kind. But as time goes by, and both settle for life when they married in years to come, she knew that, like any other marriage, fights could happen.
Galadriel saw Tommen and Shireen as perfectly balanced. Tommen, though gentle and soft-spoken, was still a Lannister—a quick learner who recognised his limitations. He shrewdly used those smarter than himself to his advantage, ensuring his own growth and the well-being of those he cherished. His patience, in Galadriel's view, reflected the best traits of Jaime, Tyrion, and Tywin. Under the right guidance, Tommen could learn and be steered in the right direction, and Tommen knew it. That's why, in another world, Galadriel thought, he would've been a great king and leader. He just needs the right people around him.
Now on the other side.
Galadriel watched Shireen's childish tantrum, remembering the girl was a Baratheon. She saw, though, that Shireen also possessed her father's intelligence and sense of duty. Had Shireen been a boy, she would have undoubtedly inherited the Baratheon strength as well. However, that didn't make Shireen defenceless or naïve. Those blue eyes held the intelligence of a capable woman, one who would undoubtedly strive to keep House Baratheon prominent in Westeros. The same way Stannis Baratheon does, Shireen only had to come out of her shell, that's all.
Both Tommen and Shireen would become a powerful couple in the future. There was no about it.
"You don't have to kneel all the time, Shireen, your family," Galadriel stated as Shireen smiled softly at her.
"It's—hard not to do so. My father is all about image," Shireen replied.
"Yes, I do know that," Galadriel mumbled as she watched Stannis Baratheon standing on the edge of the courtyard, with this stoic expression showing nothing at all. "He certainly keeps up an image for all to see."
A loud trumpet blast echoed through the courtyard, signalling a new arrival at King's Landing.
From afar, Galadriel saw the Martell banner entering the Red Keep courtyard. Oberyn and his paramour, Ellaria Sand—clearly rushing from a King's Landing pleasure house—arrived just in time to witness the Dornish flag's return. Ellaria looked thrilled, and Oberyn had a smug on his face. Behind them, exiting the Red Keep, Arianne Martell and Margaery Tyrell, breathtakingly beautiful in their gowns, followed. Galadriel noted their unusual gait; even the usually composed Mya was limping noticeably.
My apologies, my dears. I was rather rough. Galadriel smirked as Arianne and Margaery, like demure ladies-in-waiting, stood beside her. Their blushes were quite evident. Arianne, with a look of smug contentment mirroring her uncle Oberyn's, winked at Galadriel. Margaery, though softly smiling, held a subtly seductive gaze. Galadriel chuckled at both girls. As she used her large black wings to get them close to her, both girls let a small squeal as the queen smirked at them.
"Behave yourselves," Galadriel smiled, spotting Dornish soldiers and a large carriage. The silhouette of her sister, unseen for years, was visible within. The carriage stopped, the doors swung open, and a very tall girl rushed towards her, startling the queen, who remained frozen by what was she seeing.
"Gali!" Myrcella squealed in joy as she hugged her sister, the queen.
"Myrcella?!" Galadriel gasped, startled by her sister's green eyes. Before her stood not a little girl, but a tall young woman. Years in Dorne had tanned her skin, sharpened her cheekbones, and matured her figure, revealing a beauty inherited from their mother. Myrcella, barely a year older than Tommen, was a woman now, a fact that both awed and unsettled Galadriel.
"Yes! I've missed you so much!" Myrcella squealed in joy, as Galadriel nodded, still in shock.
"You are taller now," Galadriel replied, getting back to reality. "And—a young woman now." Galadriel mumbled, watching Myrcella's chest.
That's mother's chest size already—Gods be good. What they feed you down there?! Where's my little baby sister?! Galadriel cringed internally, as she could not believe her little baby sister was now a woman.
Myrcella blushed, glancing down at herself. She understood her sister perfectly; it was hard to ignore the changes. "Yes," she admitted, "I'm... not a little girl anymore. It's all happened so quickly. I only realised how much when I tried on my old gown."
"Gods, Mother will be surprised," Galadriel smiled, glancing at her uncle Jaime, whose face was a mask of horror at his daughter's body. Jaime was stunned, terrified by Myrcella's resemblance to her mother in her youth. He knew his fatherly instincts would soon take over, especially given Myrcella's gown.
Myrcella then looked at Galadriel's long wings. "Wow, so it's true? The wings and everything else?"
"Yes, all of it," Galadriel replied with a smile.
"Ca-can I touch them?" Myrcella asked with a shy smile, causing Galadriel to giggle.
"Of course," Galadriel looked at, amused by how Myrcella looked stunned at her long wings.
"Can you truly fly? Like—like fly, like a pigeon?!" Myrcella asked excitedly.
"Well, yes, but not like a pigeon," Galadriel chuckled softly, as she heard some giggles from the rest. "Mother doesn't like it. She considered quite dangerous."
"I see. How—how is she? After, you know, Joffrey's death," Myrcella whispered, with worried, causing Galadriel to sigh deeply.
"She's dealing with it, but she is still looking for the ones responsible. Just be careful. You know how she is. She is looking for shadows," Galadriel replied with a careful tone of voice, which made Myrcella sigh softly.
"I understand," Myrcella replied before she looked at Tommen, who looked at her with the most beautiful and innocent smile on his face.
"Cella!" Tommen exclaimed, finally having the chance to say hello to his other older sister. Myrcella let a small squeal as she went and hug Tommen.
"Oh, Tommen, I missed you!" Myrcella stated happily, as both siblings hug each other. "Look at you! All tall and handsome!"
"And you're so pretty!" Tommen replied with a smile.
Galadriel looked at the siblings, her expression soft with genuine affection. How could such kind, loving souls come from someone as cruel as Cersei? A true mystery. But her attention turned to a young man, visibly nervous under her gaze. This was Trystane Martell, Doran's youngest son, and Arianne's brother. He seemed quiet and gentle, but as the elder sister, Galadriel needed to ensure he wasn't taking advantage of her sweet, innocent sister. It was the eldest's duty to protect the youngest, as Bukubukuchagama had said.
"Welcome to the Red Keep, Prince Trystane Martell," Galadriel said, her voice regal and authoritative. "I trust your journey was uneventful?"
"It was, your majesty," Trystane replied, as he soon bowed to her. "I—heard a lot from you, from Cella."
"Cella?" Galadriel asked, as she noticed he was using the nickname of her sister, showing how close both had become.
"I mean, princess Myrcella. I mean no offend, your majesty."
"You two have grown close, I suppose?" Galadriel asked as Trystane coughed awkwardly and blushed.
"Nothing like that—that, your majesty," Trystane mumbled before suddenly Myrcella came crashing down, hugging his arm tightly. Clearly not helping with his statement.
"I'm so excited about this party! Aren't you, Trystane?" Myrcella squealed happily, as Galadriel raised an eyebrow as Trystane could only groan.
"I see both of you have become fast—friends," Galadriel said as Myrcella blushed deeply.
"I really like him," Myrcella admitted, completely open and unafraid of anyone listening. "I was hoping you could—well, I know it's official, the marriage. But I want to hear you say it. Give us your blessing to marry."
Myrcella gazed at her sister with pleading eyes. "Please, sister. Trystane treats me with respect. He listens to me, and he wouldn't even touch me inappropriately, even when I want him to! He says I'm too young, but it's never too young to love! I want to give him at least ten children."
"Um, yeah? That's... that's... well, I'm happy. He treats you respectfully and hasn't taken advantage of you. Though I'm starting to think you're the one wanting to take advantage of him. Goodness, I never prepare for this! I don't think I've even given you the talk yet!" Galadriel mumbled, prompting a loud chuckle from Arianne.
"Oh, I like her, don't you think, uncle?" Arianne said, as Oberyn had a big smirk on his face at the scene.
"Very upfront from what she wants. Not afraid of asking for it—or taking it," Oberyn replied as he looked at how tight Myrcella was hugging his nephew. "You've found yourself a great woman, nephew."
Galadriel hesitated, wanting to point out Myrcella's youth, but seeing the love and devotion in those green eyes, fixed on Trystane, she knew it was futile. Besides, Trystane at least seemed kind. Both of her siblings were lucky to be paired with people that would treat them right. It was far better than what their Cersei had planned for them, or what happened to her. So, Galadriel was thankful for that, a small victory.
"And the day is just starting," Galadriel mumbled.
Tyrion strolled through the halls of the Red Keep, his face displaying a tired expression. He had never anticipated being in this situation or caught up in such a scheme, especially when it involved his father. Tyrion found himself unable to defy his father's commands. Moreover, he came to the realisation that his own niece had been manipulating him as a pawn in this intricate game. He felt a mix of shock and admiration.
"She's learning," Tyrion muttered, a chuckle from behind him confirming his suspicion. Podrick and Bronn, he knew without turning, were following with amused expressions. He sighed deeply. "Go on, laugh about my imminent death."
Bronn scoffed loudly. "Imminent death? Because they are you about to marry that sweet heart? Yes, such a painful death is coming out for you."
"She is a child—"
"She is not a child, no more at least," Bronn replied quickly with a chuckle. "She is taller than you and has lived here for a while now. She has seen worse than you. Like that little fucker."
"Being compared to Joffrey is an insult on itself, and also, you should be careful if those words aren't heard by any of my sister's spies," Tyrion muttered slowly. "She is deluded to believe someone close to her did it."
"Mm, and—did someone close to her did it?" Bronn asked, looking at Tyrion with an amused look on his face.
"Suspecting me, are you? Whose gold lines your pockets?" Tyrion retorted, a hint of seriousness underlying his jest that Bronn caught before scoffing.
"Not enough people," Bronn replied, causing Tyrion to sigh.
"As much as I would like to claim victory over my nephew's body, it was not me. And my beloved sister knows that, I hope," Tyrion stated as soon as he arrived at the chamber he was dreading to reach. He looked at the wooden door and sighed deeply, checking his clothes to ensure they were as perfect as they could be.
"How do I look, Podrick?" Tyrion asked as the young squire looked at him.
"Great, my lord," Podrick replied.
"He looks ready to fuck, that's how he looks," Bronn snickered loudly.
"Not now," Tyrion replied, knocking on the door. Shortly after, Catelyn Stark opened the door, her expression stoic and cold, clearly displeased with the situation. The marriage of Tyrion Lannister and Sansa Stark was a bitter pill for the Starks to swallow, especially for Catelyn. Despite her reluctance, the family matriarch understood she couldn't prevent it and thus made sure Sansa was aware of all the stakes involved.
Sansa Stark knew the North's plight was dire, and in defeat, accepted her life would forever be entwined with a Lannister. A small comfort: she'd be closer to home, a short ride from Winterfell. But it was clear that Catelyn Stark was not going to welcome Tyrion Lannister to the family with open arms.
"Lord Tyrion," Catelyn said, with a tight tone of voice.
"Lady Stark," Tyrion replied.
"Not anymore. My son's wife is now officially Lady Stark," Catelyn replied.
"I see," Tyrion said, his tone respectful. "I hear Lord Stark has a daughter. Congratulations, my lady. House Lannister will send a gift." Catelyn's jaw tightened, a flicker of displeasure crossing her face, but she bit back whatever retort sprang to mind. Tyrion noted her self-control with approval.
"My son will sure be grateful for the gesture, my lord," Catelyn replied before both heard a small sigh, soon enough, Tyrion lay eyes on Sansa Stark, who was wearing a beautiful gown, showcasing that she was in fact, not a child anymore, but a young woman.
Sansa Stark's beauty was undeniable, yet her face held a lingering resentment, a weariness that touched everything. Tyrion couldn't blame her; after all she'd endured, she was now betrothed to the family responsible for her father's death and the slaughter of countless Northmen. She couldn't fight it, knowing the North's future hinged on the Starks securing southern allies.
"Lord Tyrion," Sansa said, while giving a small courtesy.
"My lady," Tyrion said, not knowing what he should say. "You look beautiful."
Sansa allowed herself to smile, if not just a bit.
"Thank you, my lord," Sansa replied and soon enough, without even thinking, Tyrion offered his hand, which Sansa took.
They walked slowly, preparing for many long days together. Catelyn watched her eldest daughter, hand in hand with the man she'd once tried to have killed, and prayed for peace and happiness for them all.
Author's Note!
Again, sorry for such a short chapter, but it was to get back to work and update something, in order to get back online with all the fanfictions.
As well, for those who wish to know about my original work, my novel, well, it's in Spanish, but I'll try to get someone to translate it. Still, it's going to be awhile. I cannot post the link for my work, because this page doesn't allow it, but you can check it out on my Tumblr! It's Kindle version!
See you all in a few days with the next update!