Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and works; all other characters and worlds belong to their respective owners. I'm just playing with them.
Betad by
The Unbound
Chapter 26: Day of the Smith
— King Orys Baratheon —
Now, I'd like to point out that I don't necessarily have anything against Doran Martell. He's done nothing against me. He's also done nothing for the Seven Kingdoms or me, simply sitting in Dorne pretending the rest of the world doesn't exist.
Arianne clearly has issues with him, and Mephala has whispered about her fears. She fears Doran is going to replace her as his heir, but that alone is the only thing I know of him. I have to admit I'm mildly annoyed that he didn't even send a raven after I had the Mountain killed, not a word of gratitude. Sure, Arianne made a public showing of appreciation and loyalty, but her father has sent nothing and said nothing.
Even if he doesn't like my family, I'd have expected him to do something to save face if nothing else, and yet… nothing. So, his wife can show Dorne's gratitude instead.
"Relax, my King," Mellario purrs, her dress pulled down to her waist as she traps my cock between her voluptuous olive breasts. She's paler than her daughter, but just as curvy, with the biggest areola I've seen yet. Drooling down onto her cleavage, she helps make my passage smoother as she pushes her tits together and bounces her chest. "Let me relieve your tension."
Both Margaery and Moonshadow have fairly small breasts, incredibly perky but a mere handful. Bella, however, has fairly large breasts and knows how to use them. Mellario blows her out of the water as she suckles on the tip, worshipping my cock. Bella was a whore, Mellario clearly has courtesan training or something similar.
In truth, despite her beauty, I'm only allowing this to happen because I know what her goals are. Despite her Norvoshi heritage, her loyalty isn't really with them. It's with herself and her children. She wants to put herself next to me because she fears Doran will do something stupid and because she wants to support Arianne. She doesn't want things to sour between the Crown and Dorne because it would endanger House Martell, her children. Goals I can respect and permit.
But I can't deny, the part of me that has been growing as Mephala and Dibella whisper into my ear, loves this. She's the wife of the so-called Prince of Dorne, estranged or not. One of my Lord Paramounts. And right now? She's sucking on my balls as she strokes my cock.
It is damn good to be King. It's the same part of me that got excited as Lady Stark stripped for me. It's the part of me that sees the way Lady Alerie looks at me and wonders how far her devotion would go. To put it simply, I really like seeing powerful women submit before their King.
"You truly are a wonderful addition to my council, Lady Mellario," I tease, stroking her hair. I was half expecting it to be a wig, given what I know of Norvoshi culture, but it seems she kept her hair after returning from Dorne.
"I live to please, Your Grace," Mellario replies with that dusky voice, before she takes the tip into her mouth and then just… keeps going. As my unofficial moniker suggests (thanks, Arya), I have a very large cock.
Mellario is the second person to take it fully into her mouth, her eyes widening and her throat bulging as she presses her lips against my crotch. Unlike Moonshadow, she can't handle it for long before she pulls back, panting with wide eyes, but she doesn't hesitate to try again either. Watching Doran Martell's wife drool and gag on my cock in an effort to satisfy me… pleases me. The drool drips down onto her tits as she smiles around my cock, and I once again thank my father for abdicating because being a King really is the best.
"I'm going to cum," I warn, taking my hand off her head as she pulls back until just the tip is inside her mouth and strokes the rest with both hands. With our admittedly limited amount of time, I don't try to hold back as I groan and my hips rut forward. Her eyes widen, and her cheeks bulge as she swallows quickly, trying not to make a mess. Despite her best efforts, some does leak around the seal her lips are making around my cock, dripping down her chin and onto her breasts as she pulls back, gasping for air. The last spurt catches her by surprise, clearly having thought I was done, as it splatters against her face, one eye closed as the string of semen slides down her face. "Thank you, Lady Mellario. Today will be a lot easier with a clear head."
"It was my pleasure, Your Grace," Mellario purrs, wiping the seed from her breast and licking it clean as she rises. Her eyes linger on my cock, still rock hard. "Lady Margaery is a lucky woman."
"I'm a lucky man," I counter as I wipe my cock clean and put it away, looking very much like I didn't just get a blowjob from my Master of Foreign Affairs. Similarly, she wipes her breasts clean and fixes her dress. Her lips are a little puffy, and her nipples are noticeable through the silk of her dress, but beyond that, she looks presentable. "I want you to speak with my grandfather about the Royal Bank. As our Master of Foreign Affairs, I want you to aid him in the upcoming negotiations with the Iron Bank."
We've had the first round, but this kind of agreement isn't a once-and-done thing. Even with Marenzo on side, there'll be countless negotiations with the other Keyholders as they try to get as much as they can out of this.
"Of course, Your Grace. Norvos does much business with the Iron Bank, and I know many of the Keyholders by name," Mellario promises, eager to show her worth.
"Then show the others that you deserve this position. You're both a woman and a foreigner yourself, two reasons many will see you as undeserving of the role. Prove them wrong," I order, getting a deep bow from her. I don't even hide the fact that my eyes are on her breasts, but she certainly doesn't mind.
"At once, your Grace," Mellario swears, seeing the dismissal for what it is and leaving me to my thoughts.
Despite being called the Seven Kingdoms, there are nine provinces in my realm. The Crownlands, the Stormlands, the Westerlands, the Riverlands, the Vale of Arryn, the Reach, the North, Dorne and the Iron Islands. Seven Kingdoms simply refers to the Seven Kingdoms that were in Westeros when Aegon arrived and started his conquest. With my deal with Marenzo, Braavos will get two of the ten keys, a twenty percent share in the new bank. That leaves eight keys. Ignoring the Iron Islands for obvious reasons, that leaves one key for each province.
If I want this bank to work, I need all the provinces to accept and use it. The best way to do that is to ensure that each province has a hand in it, which makes it more legitimate than just trusting the Crown with your gold. I just need to make sure I pick people who are loyal to me. Not the Lord's Paramount, and the key shouldn't be inherited. When they die, I'll take it back and reassign it to someone else in that province.
It's part of my plan to force the provinces to interact more with each other, bringing them further under my control and reducing the independence they enjoyed under my father. I want to centralise the Seven Kingdoms' economy in the Crownlands.
One of the issues I'm facing is that the Crownlands is the least impressive of the provinces (excluding the Iron Islands) in terms of resources. Hell, even the Iron Islands have salt and fish going for it.
We grow food, sure, but not enough to support even just King's Landing, let alone enough to export. We also have fish from the Blackwater Bay and the coasts, and lumber, but little in the way of mines or exportable products. As it turns out, making 'the place Aegon landed' the heart of the Seven Kingdoms wasn't wise. I won't be a pauper King, whose only income comes from the taxes of my subjects. I need my land to thrive. I have a few ideas that I'm working on, but making King's Landing both the economic heart and trade hub with Essos of the Seven Kingdoms is going to be important going forward.
The main reason we ended up in such debt, beyond Littlefinger sticking his little finger in the pot and stirring it, is the fact that we import basically everything and export little. Effectively, the Crownlands need some luxury goods to export to cover our imports, or some kind of service we can provide to make up for our deficit.
As embarrassing as it may be, the Guild of Pleasure Houses is the crown's main source of income, besides taxation, at the moment. While I doubt the need for sex workers is going to fade anytime soon, I'd rather not have my wealth be tied to the libido of the men of my realm.
Shaking my head, I get ready and head to the event grounds for the start of the Day of the Smith.
— Margaery Tyrell —
Even her family couldn't complain about the Day of the Smith being focused on Orys instead of both of them. Well, her grandmother could, but it was just grumbling as Orys demonstrated his divine talent for smithing to the Highborn lords for the first time.
They'd all heard of his talent, they'd seen the product of his crafting, but today was the day they'd get to see him in action. The forge he was working at was no match for the Smith's Forge in the Red Keep, a smaller imitation of Orys' massive forge.
As he finished his first product, they oohed and aahed appropriately, watching the King of the Seven Kingdoms finish his project. She already knew what he was making, because he'd asked her for input on the design as he revealed the pair of matching rings, true masterpieces of beauty and craftsmanship.
He cooled them with that serious look on his face he always had when forging, holding them up before he smiled. Turning to her, he ignored the crowds as he approached her. She'd known he intended to forge their wedding rings since he measured her ring finger, curtsying to him as he reached her.
"My King," Margaery greeted, as he took her hand and slid the ring onto her finger. It was a perfect fit, of course, and she felt the warmth of Lady Mara course through her veins as the power within the ring engulfed her. Orys explained that it would provide near-complete resistance to all but the strongest poisons and diseases, while slowly healing any wounds she sustained. It wasn't like his miraculous healing, which cleared wounds in seconds, but even grievous wounds would slowly repair themselves as long as she had this. The joined crests of House Baratheon and Tyrell gleamed in the light as she turned her hand to display it better.
Lifting her hand, he placed a soft kiss on her ring finger as she accepted the second ring. Lifting his hand, she repeated his gesture with a beaming smile.
"My Queen," Orys replied, stroking her hair out of her face. They still weren't technically married by law as the final vows were on the Day of the Mother, but nobody pointed that out as Orys called her by her soon-to-be title.
She could hear whispers of Lady Mara blessing their union, both rings holding a piece of her divine power, but she had eyes only for Orys. As the whispers grew in strength, Orys rolled his eyes lightly as she sighed and gave her a soft kiss before turning to the crowds. Even at their wedding, it seemed impossible to get any time to themselves.
What mattered was that they appeared to be the perfect couple to the world. With such a sweet display, nobody would suspect that Orys had been fucking Mellario's tits. She'd asked him not to keep his liaisons a secret and he'd done exactly that. She did not blame him, well aware that his libido was nigh-uncontrollable.
She had a weaker blessing herself, and it felt like her body constantly rebelled against her. Even now, her thighs were damp under her extravagant dress. The crowds wanted their King, but all she wanted was to drag him off and make sure the rings were the only thing they'd be wearing for the rest of the day. The fact that he'd resisted his urges long enough to have their first time together spoke of his incredible self-control. If using Mellario's massive breasts helped him relax, so be it.
In fact, the only issue she had was that she'd have to try to keep a straight face when she spoke to Arianne as the girls of the court rushed her to admire her ring.
— King Orys Baratheon —
Retaking my seat, I hide a tired sigh as people stare toward me. They aren't looking at me, mostly, but instead at Ser Barristan and his new armour and shield. The white and gold armour is a little gaudy compared to what he normally wears, but nobody can deny its usefulness.
Made entirely of blessed steel, the armour combines the durability of Valyrian steel with a divine blessing to ensure that he can face the monsters in the north when the time comes. I'm thinking of calling it Chalice Knight armour, as the Forge was blessed by the holy water poured from the Chalice of the Mother.
If I'm going North, I intend to stack the decks long before I get within arm's reach of more of these monsters.
"If I may, Your Grace, do you intend to make more of this blessed steel?" the High Septon asks, once again sitting beside me as a guest of honour. With the influence the Faith are getting, it's important to keep him on my side without insulting the Highborn by giving them too much. It hasn't escaped me that I share the same moniker as Baelor the Blessed, a very controversial King. In some ways, he's one of the more beloved Targaryen Kings, but in other ways, he was seen as a weak-minded zealot who gave the Faith far too much.
"I intend to make a suit of armour for each of the Knights of the Seven, but it is not a simple task to make blessed steel. For Valyrian steel, Lord Zenithar has granted me the knowledge to craft it, but I do not need his assistance each time I work it. For blessed steel, I have to call upon the Seven to aid me, and I need not tell you that expecting them to answer my call comes with risks. King or not, the Gods don't answer to me, and I'd rather not take their assistance for granted," I explain easily, seeing the understanding on his face.
My relationship with the Gods remains a point of confusion for the realm entire. Most are still uncomfortable referring to them by their 'true names', and seeing my frequent communions with them has only elevated my legend. Still, I think it's important to make it clear that they don't answer my call so freely because if I let people think I can command the gods to answer my demands, it's only a matter of time until people bring their demands to me, expecting me to command the gods for them.
"Ah, of course," the High Septon agrees quickly, eager not to look like he was expecting the Gods to freely offer their aid.
"The situation in the North is a cause for concern, even for the Seven, so they're lending me more aid than they would in normal situations. It's their will to ensure the Knights of the Seven have the tools to put an end to the undead monsters," I continue. "They seem familiar with the God that is responsible for the Bolton's new curse. The name 'Molag Bal' has been whispered into my dreams. The Prince of Domination, the Lord of Brutality."
"Truly, this is a dire situation if even the Seven themselves are concerned over this Old God," he replies, but I shake my head.
"No, Molag Bal is not one of the Old Gods. Of that much, I am sure. Hircine is, but Molag Bal is an invader in the North, from beyond our seas," I reply, laying the foundations as I get his attention. "The Old Gods have been asleep for a long time, and they possess less direct influence than the Seven. I suppose that's why Molag chose the North and Iron Islands for this… invasion. Hircine was simply the first to awaken to counter Molag's intrusion in the North."
"Do you think more of the Old Gods will awaken?" he asks, frowning slightly.
"I do, but it is no cause for alarm. Just as there was an agreement between the First Men and the Andals, so too was there an agreement between the Old Gods and the Seven. The North and beyond the wall is their domain, and the rest of Westeros belongs to the Seven. It is not the place of men to interfere in the pacts of the Gods," I explain simply. "In truth, we want the Old Gods to awaken. The Seven were the first to reach out in this… new age of Gods, but once the Old Gods are active again, abominations like Molag will find invading our realm far harder. We are fighting on the mortal plane, but another war is going on in the realm of the Gods. By removing Molag's agents on the mortal plane, we weaken him for the Gods to strike the blow that will drive him and his influence out of Westeros."
The advantage to Mephala and Dibella's games, constantly hounding me with visions of depravity, is that people assume I'm speaking to the Gods or having visions that are more than just lewd suggestions. So, when I say things like this, people think I actually know what I'm talking about and not just pulling all this out of my ass. My words are the words of the Gods.
So, if the Faith disagrees and tries to push the Seven into the North, they're going directly against the Seven's will. Funny how that happens.
"Does that mean that the Sept of the Snows is going against this pact?" The High Sparrow finally asks, a thoughtful frown on his face.
"No, not quite. In the same way that hunters in the South are praying to Hircine for success on their hunts, the presence of followers of the Seven in the North is not an issue. Were the Seven and the Old Gods not at peace, perhaps, but with their pact, a slim number of faithful in the North is not going to cause any issues," I bullshit. "Their pact permits the worship of the Old Gods in the South and the Seven in the North as long as it is not the primary religion. Or, at the very least, that is my interpretation of their visions, and they have not corrected it. The Gods do not communicate as we mortals do, and I've had to spend many hours considering their messages."
If I want this to work, I need the Faith to not get all riled up by their newfound power and start thinking of marching North to bring the entirety of Westeros under their banner. Even as the Blessed King, I can't stop them if they get too power hungry without having them turn on me. As such, I need to make them think that doing so would be going against the very will of their Gods. It means their most zealous followers will be the ones least likely to call for a crusade because the Seven themselves don't want that.
And given the fact that I plan for Lady Kynareth, one of the Nine, to become the face for the Old Gods, the Seven don't want that because one of their own will be leading the northern religion. Hircine makes a poor face because… well, he doesn't care about anything that isn't the hunt. Good for defending the North, less good for encouraging the growth of the religion of the Old Gods.
The High Septon goes quiet for a moment, clearly deep in thought. I am well aware that some of the Most Devout have already brought up the idea of using the mess in the North as a reason to try to end the worship of the Old Gods, as Lady Nocturnal's ravens see much. By preventing Molag Bal from being seen as an Old God, I can prevent that. It turns the Old Gods from the antagonists into allies against this foulness.
But the North is a hot topic and one he deigns to avoid, as, unlike with the Drowned God or Molag Bal, a considerable number of my realm worship them. Lord Stark is the perfect example of that, a powerful, respected lord whose family follows the old ways. If he continues to decree them, he risks alienating the North further, and my actions have made it clear that I would not tolerate such a thing. Much as I must play nice with the Faith to keep their support, they must follow my lead if they wish to keep the favour they enjoy.
Instead, we turn our attention to safer topics as we chat about both Braavos and the Sept Beyond the Sea, and the construction of a new Sept in Pyke. With the Drowned Gods priests sacrificed and so much of their culture outlawed, now is the perfect time to turn the Faith toward the Iron Islands. The Ironborn will resist, of course, but the Sept would have my protection, and if they burn it down, as they often do with Septs, I'd have all the cause I needed to crush them once and for all.
With the hope of spreading to the Iron Islands, where the Faith has always been resisted, and Braavos, where they have little to no influence, the Most Devout will ignore the North. I may have shut down their hope for spreading their influence to the northern province, but by giving them new targets, they won't mind. I'll need their support in spreading the Seven to Braavos anyway.
At the end of the day, we can't just show up in Braavos, where many religions are followed, and demand conversion. What we can do is be the only religion offering visible miracles and let things progress as they naturally would. If the Sept Beyond the Sea can provide genuine miracles, the other religions will naturally fall behind. Of course, that will provoke aggression from the failing religions as they lose followers, so some measures will have to be taken.
But it benefits me to spread the Faith, because as the Blessed King, I'm the closest thing to a living avatar of the Gods. If Braavos is converted, they'll look to me for the same reason that the people of Westeros are looking to me. It'll make it easier to push to expand my Kingdom down the line if the cities I add already see me as a living Saint of their religion.
It's also why I intend to use Lady Kynareth to gain a similar, if weaker, status amongst the followers of the Old Gods. It's not been missed that I performed an incredible feat of hunting just before Hircine showed himself. I want to turn my status of being loved by the Seven into a wider position of being blessed by all the Gods of my kingdom, Old and New. The North is too independent for my tastes, after all. Anything that makes them look more fondly on the Iron Throne aids my long-term plans. Lord Talos is somewhere in between Old and New God as it is, and can serve as a bridge between the two pantheons.
"There is a matter I wished to discuss with you, Your Grace," the High Septon says after our discussion trails off, getting my attention back to him. He's a needy one, and any conversation with him feels like it drags on eternally. Whenever I feel like it's trailing off, he finds a reason to continue it. "With the Chalice of the Mother in the Grand Sept, we have received an immense amount of attention and, by extension, donations. The Most Devout have found ourselves wondering what the proper use for such an influx of coin would be and wondered if the crown had any suggestions. After taking our tithe to maintain the Grand Sept, of course."
He's pretty good at his job, because he knows the financial situation of the crown isn't great after Littlefinger, and the benefit of securing his place by my side is worth more than the coin itself.
"Having too much coin must be the greatest issue of all," I joke, thinking for a moment. "This influx comes from the power and generosity of the Mother, and as such, it should be spent in a way that respects Lady Mara and her teachings."
"Indeed. One must never forget to pay respects to the Gods, especially when you are benefiting from their grace," the High Septon agrees quickly. It's not exactly what he wanted; he wanted me to take the coin and place myself in his debt, but he can't be seen as being less faithful than the King.
Lady Mara herself approaches, my body giving off a soft glow as the light shines down on me, and I close my eyes, listening to her. Lord Zenithar assists, taking her desire and forging it into a means to improve the Kingdom's development.
"Lady Mara is displeased with the treatment of those without parents," I finally speak, opening my eyes as they glow with golden light. "She wishes for the Faith to take in the orphans of the realm, giving them the love of a parent that fate has denied them. An orphanage, here in King's Landing, run by both crown and faith, to teach these children and give them a chance at a better life. Septas dedicated to the Mother will run it."
"If that is Lady Mara's will, then it will be done," the High Septon agrees, his voice hitching as he speaks her name. Sorry, I know you wanted me to indebt myself, but you've got your marching orders from the Gods themselves. "Is there room in King's Landing, Your Grace?"
"There will be. I intend to expand the city, as it has long since grown bloated. Soon, I will appoint a Master of Development for this very task and the task of improving the development of the realm entire," I explain, my voice just loud enough to carry to the Highborn closest.
King's Landing is crowded beyond belief, but we have space to grow to the west. It hasn't been done because it would be an expensive undertaking to expand the massive walls that surround the city, but I won't have the capital and seat of my power be such an eyesore. A large part of the city is taken up by the long-dormant and useless Dragonspit upon the Hill of Rhaenys. It needs to go because it's just a decrepit structure that time and damage have left in a state of collapse. Tearing it down to make space near the Grand Sept is just logical.
I wonder if Tyrion will praise or curse me when he finds out he's the one I'm slapping with the title of 'Master of Development'. His knowledge will be useful going forward, and he's already doing such a good job with the Street of Silk, the sex trade and my brothel empire. I intend to make Uncle Tyrion the Head of House Lannister of King's Landing, removing him from Grandfather's oppressive thumb and freeing him up to do the hard work for me. It's a position of honour and respect, but it's going to be an immense amount of work.
When King's Landing smells like roses and stands as a shining jewel of the Seven Kingdoms, people will have the 'Halfman's' name on their lips. Knowing my Uncle, it won't be the only thing on the lips of the women. Not that I can talk anymore.
"As for the more immediate future? Hmm," I say, stroking my chin as I feign thought. "Perhaps a new position in the court is needed. A… High Almoner. Yes, that would do it. Someone tasked with ensuring that the alms of the crown and faith alike find themselves in the hands of the truly needy," I suggest, seeing his eyes grow wide with that all-mighty ambition of his. Another role in my court where the Faith would have influence. Or, realistically, a role that lets me spend the Faith's gold without owing them a damn thing.
"A most wise decision, Your Grace. Perhaps someone such as Lady Alerie could handle it? The Hightowers and Tyrells alike have long been known for their generosity and none would doubt the integrity of your own Goodmother," the High Septon suggests.
"This wedding shows the immense generosity of my Goodfamily. The Smallfolk have been eating well during the feasts," I agree. The Tyrells have arranged for a massive feast for the smallfolk of King's Landing to show off just how much food the Reach has to spare, all to get Margaery the best start to her life as Queen as possible. "In the future, such a role would all be under the duties of the Master of Faith to name, but as that seat has not yet been created, Lady Alerie would be most fitting."
I give it an hour before every Highborn at the wedding has heard of the Master of Development and Faith seats.
"You truly intend to reform the Small Council, then?" the High Septon asks, his interest apparent.
"I do. The Small Council served its purpose for many Kings, but the Seven Kingdoms have grown in population over the years, and it simply isn't enough. Too much gets missed by expecting a small council to handle the affairs of the entire realm," I explain. "The Masters of Development, Faith, Military Affairs, Trade and Foreign Affairs are seats I intend to make when the situation in the North is settled."
Foreign Affairs is already filled, of course, but that leaves four seats that the Highborn can fight over. And that means proving how useful they can be to me. When there are empty seats, it always causes the same thing. Everyone who thinks that they might be able to get that seat rushes to impress the crown.
Master of Trade encroaches on the Master of Coin a little, but I've spoken at length with Grandfather about it. Littlefinger proved that having a single man in charge of the finiances of the entire kingdom is a mistake. I trust Grandfather, but he's on the older side and it will make more sense to make the seat now than when I have to find a replacement. Reforming the council just once is the best choice, and that means making any Seats I want to fill now, not down the line. The Masters of Trade and Coin will both work together for the profit of the Seven Kingdoms, but also serve as deterrents from corruption. Littlefinger would have had a much harder time in his schemes if he shared the control of the Crown's coin with another.
I can't tell if he was proud of my foresight or annoyed that he trained me so well that it's caused him to lose some of his own influence. Still, with House Lannister gaining a Valyrian steel blade and Jaime back, he didn't oppose me.
The Master of Faith will not be a Septon but a Highborn who has both the Faith and Crowns blessing, a middleman that ensures the Faith's issues are brought before the Crown and vice versa. That disappoints the High Septon a little, but he knows not to push matters when the result is still the Faith getting a seat at the table.
But perhaps the most important part of that is the revelations of today mean that he needs to talk to the Most Devout, and that means he goes away. As useful as he is, it's always tiring to deal with the High Septon.
Which means I can go back to spending time with Margaery as I approach her, placing a hand on the small of her back as she gossips with the Highborn daughters who are eager for her attention. She brightens up at my presence, giving me a swift kiss as she introduces me to her followers.
— Bonus Scene — Mya Baratheon
It was a strange thing, to no longer be a bastard.
She, and many in the Eyrie, had long suspected who her father was, but she never expected King Robert to give her a second glance. When she was called to King's Landing, she came with fear and yet… she found family. A father who genuinely seemed to want to get to know her, and several siblings. The Queen Mother was not welcoming, but nor was she cruel, tolerating Mya's place by her father's side. Joffrey was… well, Joffrey, but Tommen was a sweet b,oy and Myrcella was eternally curious. Bella was fun, as well.
Orys himself was the one she'd had little chance to speak with, but it was understandable since he was eternally busy. She'd been surprised when he named her the Master of the Horse, giving her an honoured position looking after his royal steeds. It was a position she was comfortable in, close enough to her old job that she didn't feel like an imposter or parasite. She had her pride, like all Baratheons, it seemed.
And then he legitimised her.
From Mya Stone, bastard of the Eyrie, to Princess Mya Baratheon.
It was still a shock, to go from seeing the sneers when dealing with Highborns to having them bow to her as she passed. She had her own maid now, a room in the royal quarters.
"Like this?" Myrcella asked as Mya chuckled and adjusted her little sister's grip.
"Not quite," Mya corrected, riding behind her as Lady Brienne rode beside them. Lady Cersei had asked her to take over Myrcella's riding lessons, and she was happy to do so. Myrcella was a curious and quick child, when she wasn't bothering the King.
It… wasn't bad. It wasn't bad at all. Especially given the chaos in the Eyrie, from her talks with Lord Royce and the Blackfish.
And yet, there was one matter that left her mind racing. Mychel Redfort. Her lover. The boy who'd taken her maidenhead and swore he'd marry her when he became a knight. She wasn't blind to his house's disapproval of their relationship back in Vale, but Mychel swore he'd marry her regardless of his father's opinion.
Now? Mychel was openly pushing for them to marry as soon as possible, and it forced her to ask herself a simple question. Did he want to marry her because she was Mya or because she was Princess Mya Baratheon? He'd often hidden their relationship, and while he claimed he wasn't ashamed to be with a bastard, his actions said otherwise.
Now? His family was openly spreading rumours (admittedly true ones) that Mychel had taken her maidenhood to try to drive away other suitors. And so, she was left with the question of just how true his love for her was.
Her mind went back to the blessings her Kingly brother and his wife to be shared, the rumours that Margaery could see the very bonds of love, and she made her mind up. She'd ask Lady Margaery and King Orys for their opinions on this relationship before she let the Redfort's use her for their own ends.
But for now, she had a precocious princess to teach.
Author's Note: The wedding will never end. Have I mentioned how much I love writing party scenes? No? Oh yeah, I don't. Still, Unbound is fun so ah well.
Written: 28/11/2025