Author's Note: This is a collection of one shots written a while back to enable me to explore Myrcella without the obligation or responsibility that comes with writing a full out tale.
Some of these tales have been posted prior but at the suggestions of my amazing beta-reader I compiled them into one collection for those whom (like myself) love Myrcella may get their fill.
Disclaimer: All this belongs to GRRM up to and including some quotes that were used directly from the novels (because of the scene its written in).
Beta Readers: As always a huge thank you to the lovely Weshallflyaway for helping me make this work! Your help and wisdom is always greatly appreciated.
Of Wolves and Lions Part 1
Myrcella's Kingly father was deep in his cups when he called her over to him at the great feast table. The young girl quietly joined his side, ever eager, and hopeful too. Her father never had much interest, or time for his only daughter yet young Myrcella loved him as any child loved their father.
With a sad smile, the drunken king reached out touch a strand of her long blonde hair. The child held her breath as she wondered what was going through her father's mind. Her uncles, Jaime and Tyrion, often said she had a smile that lit up the room. So Myrcella gazed up at her father and smiled her sweetest smile. With baited breath she wondered if her septa had told her father about how she wrote a full sentence all by herself. Or that she was now able to read the simple message her great uncle Kevan had sent on her name day. Myrcella was well advanced for a child of five years of age; with a good understanding of reading, writing and numbers. She hoped Father would be proud of her for being such a good student. The thought made her heart race with joy, for it was a rare thing for Father to speak such words to Joff and her.
'You were never meant to have been born of lion's blood,' he said instead, with a heavy sigh. Young Myrcella knew not how to respond. 'Stags and lions make poor bedfellows,' he muttered to himself. Uncertain what her father meant she simply stared up at him in confusion.
'You were meant to be born of wolf's blood,' he continued in sorrowful tones. 'You're too good for those yellow-haired shits. You may look a lion, child, but your heart is entirely a stag's. Never forget that, child. Never!' he pressed on. 'Gods willing, you will one day marry one of Ned's sons then my descendants will finally have wolf's blood in them.'
Myrcella was excused soon after from the feast table. She departed for her chambers, with a head full of questions and a heart heavy with disappointment. All she wanted was for her father to be proud of her, to know she was his little princess.
No gods would ever change a lion's coat into a wolf's pelt. It was Robert's greatest disappointment, and Myrcella's greatest shame.