Entanglements, Duty, and Renouncements

A/N: Well, here I am back, with a faster update as promised. I hope you like it, especially as this chapter is going to be the first time we get Bellegere Otherys POV. I felt it was finally time to get some of her first-hand perspective about everything that has changed for her recently and about her new relationship with Arya, given my plans for them in the future. Plus, as I hinted a few chapters ago, there were more letters to be read.

Anyway, happy reading, and please remember to review.

After she stopped listening to her newfound Dornish cousin explain how she had managed to convince her king to pick her suggestion for a dragon name, Bellegere Otherys turned back to her own letter, choosing to start again from the very beginning while they carriage continue on its way to the Stark's ancestral home.

To Bellegere Otherys, Esteemed Envoy from Braavos,

As you journey towards Winterfell, may this letter, carried by the winds and guided by powers beyond the mundane, reach you swiftly. The method by which these words find you is courtesy of Josera Snow, one of my respected bannermen and a skinchanger of notable ability, not unlike my cousin, the Braavosi High Priestess of the Moonsingers that you met upon our departure from your home city. His skill allows this message to traverse the great distances without the need for a castle's beacon. I understand such magicks may be unsettling, especially given the newness of your role and the sudden weight of Prophecy of Liberation leaning upon your shoulders as well. If this method of delivery has caused you any discomfort, I offer my sincerest apologies. It is intended solely to ensure our communication is both secure and expedient.

I understand the challenges you face, and that stepping into the role of a diplomat amidst prophecies and expectations, might be daunting, especially given your lack of experience on the matter. Your concerns are valid, yet I hope to assure you that your presence in the North is both valued and respected. My aim is to make your experience at our court as welcoming and pleasant as possible, understanding the weight of the duty you've been entrusted with by both our realms.

On that note, I wish to share news with you directly that I believe will be of interest in both the Sealord's Palace and the Iron Bank. Our forces have successfully defeated the usurper Ramsay Bolton, marking a significant victory for the North. This swift consolidation of power bodes well for our alliance and, I hope, brings you some peace of mind during your time as an envoy to our court.

I find myself in a rush as I pen this letter; Sansa, ever brave and determined, has gone to confront her tormentor in his cell, seeking closure from the atrocities he committed. I am to join her shortly, to support her in this moment of justice and healing. But before I depart, let me express my anticipation for working with you closely and fostering a successful and long-lasting alliance between our peoples.

Finally, you should know that before I could seal this letter, my sister Arya caught wind of my writing to you and insisted I include a message from her as well. She tells me, with a fierceness only she possesses, that she misses your presence more acutely than the cold of the North and eagerly awaits the chance to show you around the reclaimed Winterfell. She promises the warmth of our home's hot springs will make up for the northern chill, especially once you both find some privacy. I know better than to deny Arya the last word, especially when it concerns matters of the heart. Whatever happiness you bring her, know that it brings a smile to my face as well, especially given all the hardship and darkness she has had to endure these past few years.

With sincere regards and anticipation for the future,

Jon Stark, King in the North and the Trident.

P.S. Arya always knows how to leave an impression, doesn't she? Rest assured, making those she truly cares for happy in her own way is a trait she comes by honestly. We both look forward to seeing you soon.

Bellegere stopped reading then, the letter from King Jon in her hands, feeling the weight of his words. The description of this Josera Snow's abilities and the comparison to the High Priestess of the Moonsingers gave her pause, evoking a sense of connection, not just to the magicks she had witnessed in Braavos from a much-revered figure in her culture but also to the mystical lineage of the Stark. Then she sighed in relief, pleased at the new king's acknowledgment of her discomfort with the unfamiliar now that she had uprooted her life for the sake of her leaders.

As she moved on, she started to think further and further on the rest of the letter's content. Jon's understanding and recognition of her challenges as a novice diplomat in a foreign court touched her. The Northern King's commitment to making her feel welcomed and respected was more than she had hoped for, given her uncertainties about her qualifications and the pressure of fulfilling her part in a prophecy.

More importantly, the news of Ramsay Bolton's defeat brought a mix of relief and validation to the Black Pearl of Braavos. It was a testament to the North's resilience and Jon's leadership, and now she felt more reassured that her mission in the North was not only necessary but also poised for success. The Stark victory, crucial for the alliance, gave made her feel more confident in the first report she will have to send her superiors back to Braavos.

"Good news for a novice envoy like myself," The renown, high class courtesan thought to herself, glad that she had something good to work with from the start and so soon after arriving to the North.

Bellegere's thoughts then turned to Sansa Stark, a woman she hadn't met yet but felt a burgeoning sense of camaraderie with, especially after learning through Jon's letter of her triumph over her abuser. As someone who had witnessed firsthand the darkest corners of human desire and the abuses women suffered, often in silence, within her profession, the notion of justice being served in the North brought a genuine warmth to her heart.

True, she didn't know much about how often crimes were such as **** were truly punished in Westeros in general and in the North in particular, but the idea that such victories could occur and that even lordly tormentors like Ramsay Bolton could face retribution even if it had to be fought for, offered a sense of hope and satisfaction. It was in sharp contrast to the many tales she'd heard and witnessed, where women's sufferings often went unnoticed and unpunished.

"Mmmm," She realized as a new thought suddenly dawned on her. "As an envoy, I am now in a position of power I had never found myself in before. Perhaps there are some suggestions I could offer the king when he asks for my honest opinion?"

She bit her bottom lip, well aware that she would have to thread carefully if so. Thus, she decided to take some time to think about it later before deciding whether to bring it up or not.

Yet, as her eyes drifted back to the section of the letter that contained Arya's message, a complex whirlwind of emotions engulfed her. The thought of Arya wanting to share a moment of intimacy in Winterfell's famous hot springs with her, an open declaration of desire and affection she now held for her, quickened her pulse.

However...beneath the initial rush of excitement and anticipation, a seed of worry took root, one she had been trying not to think about too much since she was entrusted with her new, very important job. Her recent role as an envoy to the North, representing Braavos, came with responsibilities and potential complications. Whispers about the fragility of political alliances, especially those newly formed and heavily reliant on personal relationships, penetrated her mind as her eyes focused on her new lover's section of the letter.

As such, the possibility of her relationship with Arya turning very sour—a thought she hated to entertain but couldn't in good conscience ignore—could have some serious ramifications, potentially jeopardizing the alliance she was tasked to cultivate and maintain by the mighty Iron Bank, the Sealord of Braavos and the Moonsinger's leadership.

More to the point, the knowledge that she was Arya's first, that what they shared might be a tempest of young love's intensity rather than the calm of deep-rooted affection, added thicker layers of complexity and concern than the furs she was now carrying in the cold, Northern weather.

Bellegere's past had long been marked by transactions of affection and simulated intimacy, and it had left her wary of the depth and durability of romantic entanglements. The fear of inadvertently hurting Arya, and breaking the heart of someone who had shown her nothing but genuine warmth and affection, loomed large, like a Braavosi water dancers challenging her to a duel. And so, she gritted her teeth as the thought darkened her mood, knowing that the potential repercussions of such a fallout, both personal and political, were not something she could just ignore.

Seeking to distract herself from these concerns, she focused back on the conversation between Lady Olenna Tyrell and her newfound cousin, Sarella Sand.

"...ait, did the king tell you how he knew that?" The elderly matriarch demanded, her tone quick as a whip.

The Dornish woman shook her head. "All he told me was that he received an intelligence report or something to that effect from the Iron Bank that led him to the conclusion that Princess Arianne Martell is in fact still alive. But he was in a hurry to reach his dragon so that he could fly towards his army as quickly as possible, so I didn't have time to ask him to elaborate. He promised to tell me more after we met again, though."

"Hmph," Olenna pursed her lips, "well, those bankers have as many spies and enforcers as some of the most powerful kings Westeros has ever seen, so I suppose they would be interested in finding out what happened to the last heir of House Martell, especially after that bloody coup in Sunspear," She reasoned with narrowed, calculating eyes. "And I can't imagine their leadership will be pleased with a chaotic transfer of power in Dornish politics, as that could become very bad for their own business interests. Merchants from Sunspear tends to trade with the cities Essos more often than much of the rest of Westeros, after all.

Then she paused for a moment, giving Sarella a piercing look. "Did any of your half-sisters tried to include you in their plot to betray their kin and their liege? And if so, do you have any idea what they might be scheming to do next?"

Sarella stiffened for a moment at the direct question, and Bellegere had to suppress the urge to cover her mouth with her hand at the old woman's boldness while Lady Margaery openly winced. Before long, however, her cousin opened her mouth again, and she could almost see the physical effort that was taking her not to glare at the grey-haired noblewoman.

"Nymeria Sand sent me a letter before I was exposed as a woman to the Citadel and decided to leave Oldtown as a result, yes," Sarella responded, her tone cool. "In it, she tried to get me to steal some rare books on dragonlore that the Citadel possessed, claiming it will come in handy when "all true children of Dorne" answered the call of Daenerys Targaryen to shake the lion's yoke and get vengeance for their prince. I replied back, saying that I wasn't going to become a bulgar thief on her say so and by extension, give more tinder to the flames of hearsay and **** of those that think only the worst of bastards like her and me." She declared, the fires of conviction shining through her gaze. "And then, I asked her if Prince Doran truly approved of an alliance with the Dragon Queen."

"Suffice to say, I never heard back from her," The highly educated woman went on, "and barely a fortnight later, Tyene, Obara, and her joined that twice damned Ellaria in choosing to spit on my father's beliefs by killing Myrcella Lannister, a girl under House Martell's protection, and in his name no less," She explained, her tone growing more seething and venomous with every word. "As if that wasn't enough, they then decided to go one step further by killing my father's dear brother and his nephew in a hypocritical quest for vengeance and out of a desire for control."

Sarella took a long, deep breath as her tone startled the inside of the carriage into silence. Then, she turned once more to Tyrell Matriarch. "So, if you would be so kind, Lady Olenna, please refrain yourself from referring to those traitors as my sisters. That bunch of kinslayers lost the right to call me that with the murderous stain of their actions."

Bellegere watched, holding her breath and finding herself unable to tear her eyes away from the two tense women that were unblinkingly staring at each other straight in the eye. Before long, however, Olenna Tyrell gave her cousin a nod with a look that she could have sworn reflected more than a little respect.

"I can see how you may have taken offense at my words," The so-called Queen of Thorns said, raising her hands in a placating gesture. "Rest assured, I didn't mean to imply you were also a traitor to House Martell, as I get the feeling our new Sorcerer King in the North and the Trident must have little patience for treachery given the circumstances of his...first ****," She said slowly, as if still struggling to taste the implications of the words she said. "Between that and the magical means he used to gather details about crimes those two spineless Freys committed during the Red Wedding, I imagine he wouldn't keep you around in his new court if he didn't think he could trust you and your advice."

"Still, I apologize if I insulted you," The Tyrell Matriarch continued, her tone curt yet diplomatic. "Mostly, I asked because I wanted to know if you had any idea what those kinslayers were scheming."

Sarella examined Olenna's face closely for a blink-less moment before she bowed her head. "In that case, apology accepted. And I in turn, apologize if my temper got the better of me when addressing you, Lady Olenna. But as I am sure you can understand, when the news reached me about the full extent of their treachery, I...did not take it well," She admitted, her tone strained.

On impulse, Bellegere placed a hand on her newfound cousin's shoulder, feeling the sadness and sympathy welling in her own dark eyes while Sarella turned her face to her. She sighed deeply before giving the envoy a bittersweet smile.

Then, she shook her head as if to clear before turning her head back to the elderly lady. "As for what the treacherous Sand Snakes and my father's hypocritical paramour may be scheming right now, like I said, based on Nymeria's letter, I have reason to believe they want to establish an alliance with Daenerys Targaryen. Even if they succeed, however, I imagine that will take some time."

As the carriage fell into a thoughtful silence following Sarella's words, Bellegere bit her bottom lip, finding herself musing on the stark contrast between her past and present.

She couldn't help but marvel at how swiftly her life had taken a turn from the familiar corridors of luxury and secrecy within the courtesan houses of Braavos to the unpredictable and treacherous landscape of Westerosi politics. A few days ago, her greatest concern was maintaining her esteemed reputation, ensuring her clients left satisfied and her standing among the other courtesans unchallenged. Now, she found herself embroiled in plots and counterplots that spanned continents, navigating alliances that could alter the fate of realms.

Shaking her head in disbelief, Bellegere pondered the peculiar fate that the Prophecy of Liberation had woven for her. "Why me?" She thought, a grimace touching her lips before she could suppress it. "Why would such a prophecy point to me, of all people, as the first envoy to the court of a prophesied champion for whom many Braavosi had been waiting for centuries? Why not someone with a lifetime of diplomacy under their belt, someone who knows how to navigate these treacherous waters with ease?" The absurdity of it all made her chuckle softly before too long, the sound lost in the shuffle of the carriage moving over snow-covered roads.

All the same, as her tense laughter faded, it was replaced by a deep, contemplative sigh. Bellegere knew that she had to acknowledge the reality of her situation. This was the hand she had been dealt, however ill-prepared she felt to play it. Inexperienced or not, she realized that there was no turning back now. The stakes were too high, and whether she liked it or not, her role in this unfolding drama could very well tip the scales in ways she couldn't yet imagine.

"So be it," She whispered to herself, a newfound resolve hardening within her. "I may not have chosen this path, but I will walk it with all the grace and strength I can muster. If my presence here can bring about even the smallest improvement, then I will consider it a victory." And with that thought, Bellegere straightened her posture, her gaze drifting back to the landscape racing by on their way to Winterfell.

Thinking of the Stark's ancestral seat brought Arya's face back into her mind, and the reminder that they may be reunited soon. And despite the enormity of the situation, the thought made her smile.

So, Bellegere decided to focus on that, choosing to draw strength from her lover's promise to make her feel welcomed in her homeland.

A/N: Well, I hope you enjoyed this one. We return to Ironrath for more with Jon, Sansa and co in the next one. They have their own dealings to take care off. Not to mention the execution of a certain, hated sadist to finish planning :P Until next time and thanks for reading.