Chapter 28: Prayer
It had been four days since the end of the tourney, and the beginning of Griffith Snow's prayer ceremony. The whole keep was abuzz ever since the incident with the King, and the few lords and ladies that strictly followed the faith were praising the soon-to-be knight. While the foolish complained about his station as a bastard. It was obvious to most, that the boy had gained the Queen's favour, was now well-liked by the King, and bastard as he might be, was the son of the Hand of the King.
Myrcella gnawed at her fingernails as the carriage slowly trundled its way through King's Landing's packed streets. The loud shouts of vendors and the crowd livening up the city. She glanced out the mesh window, through which she could see the fine outline of the dragon pit in the distance, its dark dome an ever-standing reminder of the ancient power of the now-extinct House Targaryen.
It wasn't long after, that her carriage slowed to a halt. Stepping outside, she was immediately hit by the hot humid air she was so used to. The gardens, as always, were packed with people but to her surprise, they didn't seem to be heading inside but were instead listening to one of the septons, who was surprisingly standing just at the bottom of the stairs, next to him two men and a boy, each armed. "And let the mother guide us on our way, her ever-present love, warm our hearths in the winter to come."
As she and Ser Arys climbed the stairs, she noticed the knight place a hand on his blade, and looking up ahead, she noticed two, quite large, men standing before the doors, a large wood club in each of their hands. They must have been the two dumbest in King's Landing because as she approached, they both stepped forward to block her way. Myrcella flinched, as she heard the hiss of Ser Arys drawing his sword and the two men before they readied their clubs. "You stand before Princess Mycella Baratheon, stand aside or I will be forced to act!" The knight's voice was clear and commanding but the two guards didn't even flinch, she wasn't sure they were smart enough to feel fear.
Suddenly the doors to the great sept creaked open slightly and out stepped a short boy with close-cropped gold blond hair. He seemed focused on a letter in his hand but when he reached the two idiots he looked up and frowned, "Princess?" heathen blinked and bowed, "Princess!" She giggled, now this one seemed a lot more reasonable. The boy quickly turned to the two men, "Put your damn clubs away, or may the Others have you!" He then turned back to her, "I apologise your highness, you may have their heads if you wish it."
Myrcella knew that many a lord would take the offer and her brother would even revel in it, but, "No it's alright." she would not be like them. The boy smiled, "Thank you," he then stepped aside and opened the door for her.
Past the doors, and into the entrance hall they went above them suspended globes of coloured leaded glass. Before them a pair of double doors and as they went through they entered the sept-proper, in front of them seven broad aisles meet beneath the dome. Lining the walls were seven large transepts. A few of them were occupied by some lords and ladies. She even recognised a few of them, Lady Rosby, Lady Gaunt and even Renfred Rykker, Lord of Duskendale.
She smiled as she noticed the hunkered form of Griffith Snow, kneeling before the altar of the maiden. "Ser Arys!" she ordered, and reaching into a bag at his side the knight handed her a waterskin.
Her steps sounded unnaturally loud as she approached the transept, the sound echoing off the walls of the massive hall. She felt the nobles' eyes on her and raising her head, she made sure to wake tall and proud. Before the boy, lay a pile of armour, shining and glittering as the light of the candles danced off its polished sides. He shifted ever so slightly as she sat herself down next to him. For a few moments she just watched him, his face regal and still, she had never had the chance to just look at him, and obviously no one else had either. He bore no resemblance to his father in any way shape or form. From what she had heard at Winterfell, he was the twin brother of Jon Snow, Eddard Stark's other bastard, but they looked nothing alike. She frowned, but put it aside for the moment, she'd have time to think about it later.
Raising the waterskin she placed it to the boy's lips, "Drink." she whispered. Still keeping his eyes closed and hands clasped, Griffith tilted his head upwards and let the fluid spill into his mouth. A few spilt to the side and disappeared into his hairline. Moving back into his previous position, the boy mumbled a few lines of prayer.
Myrcella was about to leave when she remembered something important, and kneeling down next to the boy whispered in his ear, "Many said not to tell you since it would distract you, but I think it's necessary for you to know that, your father was attacked a bit over a day ago and now lays recovering in his bed chambers. He has also resigned from his post as Hand but my father plans to force him to stay."
She then slowly stood and began making her way back to Ser Arys and afterwards the Red Keep.
Weekly Power Status
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Ranking 
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stone