Disclaimer: Don't own anything. It's all the property of our Lord GRRM. I only own my OCs!
Author's Note:
With the new season of Game of Thrones out, I've decided to fulfill my long-standing dream of writing GOT fanfiction. Somehow Myrcella is one of the characters (Along with Robb, Ygritte, and many many more characters) that I feel I would have loved to have been explored in greater depth in the shows, and gotten a happier ending in the books. Well, that's what fanfiction is for, right? Let's hope I can do justice to these characters, and please give my story a read!
A Golden Cage
-James Hope-
Abomination.
The word thundered through his head as he stood at the stern of his ship, watching it cut through the waves, speeding towards the capital of Westeros.
Abomination.
Well, guess what father? Here I am, making peace with the man whose very existence you hated, and not only will I bend the knee before him, I plan to give him the gold you stole from our subjects." James whispered, his eyes fixed on the shining domes and towers of King's Landing, "A true phoenix never dies. You're dead, and I'm Lord of Ashburn."
"You know, mumbling to your own self is often considered the first sign of madness." The man standing behind him said with a small smile, moving to stand beside the newly crowned Lord of Ashburn with a grin, "Are you sure you're not turning into your father? All of this is sheer madness James. How do you know Baratheon won't simply lop off your head the moment you step foot in his capital? He seemed more than happy to kill every Targaryen he could get his hands on."
"My last name is not Targaryen, Jon." James said with a sigh, knowing exactly where his bastard brother was going with this. This was not the first time he was having this conversation, and it would not be the last.
"No, it's Hope. And our father was the Mad King's greatest friend and ally, or have you forgotten this?" Jon asked, raising an eyebrow as he turned to his half-brother, and best friend.
"I'm not my father!" James snapped, turning to look at Jon with a glare. "You will have the chests ready, and we will not have this conversation again. Is that clear?"
"Yes, my lord." Jon murmured to thin air, his brother already having stormed back towards the living quarters of the ship.
-Myrcella-
"Did mother tell you why I am to attend court Jeyne?" Myrcella asked softly, trying not to wince as the girl pushed a comb through her locks.
"She didn't your grace." Jeyne murmured, struggling to arrange her mistress' hair in way that she knew would please her mother. A task not made easy by the length or volume of her hair. Luscious golden locks running down her back to her waist, it was Myrcella Baratheon's way of rebelling against a mother she deemed far too controlling. Her mother demanded every week she chop it to a managable length, and every week Myrcella refused. "All she said was that his majesty had personally requested your presence in court today."
"Must be someone important. Papa only asks us to attend court when someone important is coming." Myrcella murmured, closing her eyes as Jeyne braided her hair in a complicated pattern with deft, practised fingers. Papa himself only attends court when someone important is coming. "Who could it be?" She asked, keeping her thoughts to herself. Daughter or not, she had no intention of slandering the king. The walls have ears.
Perhaps it's a betrothal your grace?" Jeyne asked with a soft giggle, stepping back and admiring her work on the princess' hair.
"It does not necessarily have to be mine Jeyne. It could be Joffrey's as well. We're both fifteen, and Uncle Jaime says it's time we were married. Besides, mama seems determined to marry me off to her cousin from Lannisport." Myrcella muttered, pulling a face.
"If it's to be Joffrey's betrothal, I pity the poor girl that will have to put up with him her entire life. I've always wondered how twins could be so different in temperament your grace." Jeyne mumbled, pulling a face herself as she stepped back to allow Myrcella to stand.
"I don't think it's anyone's betrothal Jeyne. Papa just wants me around and mama... Well, she always insists I look perfect, does she not?" Myrcella asked laughing, holding out her arms to allow her handmaiden to wrap the corset around her torso.
"I'm glad his majesty said no to the Lannisport betrothal your grace. A woman of your beauty, you deserve someone far better. The Knight of Flowers, perhaps?" Jeyne asked giggling, as she laced up the corset.
"My father won't give me to the third son of a house, even if it's one of the Great Houses Jeyne." Myrcella murmured breathlessly, her chest straining against the corset.
"A girl can dream your grace. It's better than thinking about being married off to a 60-year-old man like the Lord Frey, his wrinkled lecherous hands pawing at your breasts." Jeyne murmured, slipping the red and golden dress onto the princess. Lannister colours. The queen never let her daughter wear black, or anything resembling the colours of her father.
"Your grace?" Ser Barristan called out, gently knocking on the door of the princess he was tasked to protect. "I have a message from his majesty. He says court is starting, and he demands your presence."
"Just a minute good sir!" Myrcella called out, giving Jeyne a nervous smile, before checking her reflection in the mirror of beaten silver. Every inch of hers looked a regal princess. Her mother would be proud.
"I apologize your grace, but your father is an impatient man, and he does not like to be kept waiting." Ser Barristan said apologetically, as the princess stepped out from her rooms, closing the door behind her.
"No need to apologize Ser. You are simply doing your duty." Myrcella murmured with a reassuring smile, taking his offered arm. "Do you know who's coming? Why has father asked for the presence of the entire court?"
"It would appear that the new Lord of Ashburn is travelling to court your grace. He comes to bend the knee, and recognize your father's authority. The kingdoms... All kingdoms are finally at peace." Ser Barristan said softly, smiling at the girl he had come to see as his granddaughter. All of her mother's beauty and none of her nature. He often wondered how the gods could have created a child so different from her parents.
"Mama says that Ashburn is a land of peasants and savages. That they kill little children and use their blood to do vile rituals." Myrcella murmured, frowning as she looked up at Ser Barristan.
"You don't sound like you agree with the queen your grace." Ser Barristan asked, raising a bushy white eyebrow at his young ward.
"The books in the library say they must be evil because they have magic. Had magic. Abominations of nature, Grandmaester Pycelle called them. It would be like calling me an abomination, just because I'm blonde and my father isn't. Just because they're different doesn't mean that they're evil, does it Ser Barristan?" Myrcella asked, biting her lower lip as they walked down the steps, towards the Great Hall.
"Very true your grace." Ser Barristan murmured with a proud nod. It was moments like this he wished it was the King's eldest daughter, and not son who would inherit the throne. Myrcella Baratheon would make a fine queen. "Besides, the last Sorcerer King of Ashburn was Aenys Hope, the man who beat back Aegon the Conqueror. Magic disappeared as the line of Ashburn withered, and they were brought into the fold around the same time Dorne was."
"Does that mean the new Lord has no magic? He's just like you or me?" Myrcella asked, looking up at Ser Barristan with wonder. The old man was a fount of knowledge, and she always felt that she learnt more from him than she ever did from her septa.
"That I'm afraid I don't know your grace." Ser Barristan answered with a smile, as he led her into the Great Hall, bowing to her before moving to take his place in front of his father.
"Sooooooo. Who's coming?" Jeyne whispered in her ear, as Myrcella moved to stand with the ladies behind the throne.
"The new Lord of Ashburn. He's coming to swear fealty to father." Myrcella murmured, frowning at Jeyne, "How'd you get here before me?"
"You just walk slow for the old man." Jeyne murmured nodding at Ser Barristan, "Will your father notice?"
"Notice what?" Myrcella asked, frowning as she turned slightly to study her father. Ruddy cheeks. Bloodshot eyes. He was drunk. It wasn't even noon and he was drunk. "He will. He called them."
"Well, here they are!" Jeyne murmured, nodding as the doors opened revealing eight men walking into the hall.
Myrcella frowned as she studied the men slowly making their way towards the throne. They didn't look like savages to her. The two men in the centre were better dressed than most Lords in attendance. They looked so alike that Myrcella first thought they were twins, before the one leading the group latched his eyes on her. Electric blue eyes peered into hers, seeming to scan her very being. The flicker of a smile passed over his face, before he switched his attention to her father, his face turning to stone again.
"To think we were talking about the Late Lord Frey, and your father got you this…" Jeyne whispered, leaning forward into Myrcella's ear, "Why does he have two swords strapped to his waist when he can cut anything with that jawline?"
"Sush. How do you know which is which?" Myrcella whispered, her emerald eyes narrowing as the man swaggered up to the steps in front of the throne, inches from Ser Barristan, instantly sinking to his knees.
"People talk. A maid from Ashburn arrived a couple of days ago. Apparently the maesters all hate Ashburn, and she's here to make sure there's no poison in anything their Lord eats." Jeyne murmured, lacing her fingers through Myrcella's. "They made good time. She didn't expect her master to be here for another week."
"How do you even know all this Jeyne?" Myrcella whispered with a sigh, studying the man as he remained on his knees. If he was afraid, he wasn't showing it. All his companions were on their knees as well, with four of what she assumed were his personal guard holding large iron chests in their arms.
"I may be the Lady of a Minor House sent down South to serve in court your grace, but I'm nothing more than a handmaiden in the eyes of your mother." Jeyne whispered; her voice as cold as the winds of winter. The Red Keep was good at hardening everyone. "Handmaidens learn things your grace."
"Jeyne…" Myrcella whispered sighing, as she moved to turn to her only friend in the castle.
"Hush. Your father is speaking." Jeyne murmured, nudging Myrcella.
"Rise Lord Hope. I hope your journey was pleasant?" Robert Baratheon asked blearily, his bloodshot eyes struggling to focus on the handsome man standing in front of him.
"Fair enough. We were harried by Pentoshi pirates, but it was nothing we couldn't handle your majesty." The Lord Hope said with a pleasant smile that seemed to satisfy her father. Myrcella knew she wasn't the only one to notice that the smile didn't reach his eyes, which remained sharp as ever, studying her father. Her mother had noticed for sure, but her only response was to purse her lips.
"I'm glad." The king grunted, "It's been sixteen years since the Targaryens Lord Hope. Why is it only now that Ashburn comes to swear fealty to the crown?"
"I was only two when you led the rebellion to oust the Mad King." Lord Hope murmured, sounding as if he was thinking before speaking every word, "My only regret was that you didn't lead your armies to return Ashburn to the fold when my father didn't bend the knee." He continued as the court gasped.
"You wanted your own father defeated boy?" Her father slurred, sitting straighter.
"My honour demanded that I not rebel against my father even as he slipped further into the madness that was consuming him your majesty. It did not stop me from hoping you would lead your forces to return Ashburn to your benevolent rule." The man said, and Mrycella couldn't help but notice that his eyes flickered to her Uncle Jaime when he said this. Kingslayer. Oathbreaker. She knew what he was thinking. It wasn't his fault! She wanted to scream, He saved everyone in King's Landing.
"You're here to rectify that mistake lad?" The king grunted, already sounding bored with the conversation.
"Yes, your majesty. But I do not come empty-handed." Lord Hope murmured, nodding his head as his men set the chests on the floor, popping open the lids. "Taxes owed to the crown for the last sixteen years. With interest." The man murmured, waving his hands towards the chest.
Gold. It didn't faze Myrcella. Her mother always said she was a Lannister, and Lannisters shat gold. The court thought otherwise, as a collective gasp worked its way through the court again.
"How much?" Her father asked, sitting up straighter, rubbing his eyes.
"Six million dragons your majesty." Lord Hope murmured, looking up as her father and Lord Arryn exchanged glances.
"Kneel Lord Hope. Your sword." Her father rasped, sounding irritated. He probably wanted a drink. Or a whore. She wouldn't put it past her father to dishonour her mother in front of the entire court.
"Do you swear loyalty to this crown and House Baratheon and it's descendants?" Her father asked, staring blearily at the kneeling man. He didn't even remember the words right. Her mother was right in wondering how his courtiers put up with him.
"I do your majesty. Till my dying breathe. I swear to serve the crown to the best of my capacity." If Lord Hope was surprised at the corruption of the oath, he didn't show it. He had to be the most level-headed man she had seen. Even her Uncle Jaime reacted to a situation, trying to defuse it with his trademark humour.
"Very well. The Lord Hand and I have decided that Ashburn and you in particular should be rewarded." Her father mumbled, exchanging another glance with Lord Arryn. Lord Arryn was worrying Myrcella. The man had always been like a grandfather to her, but now he wouldn't even look at her. He had always been gaunt, but looked as if he had been wasting away for the past month.
"Reward, your grace?"
"You saved me the trouble of calling the banners lad. You saved me a costly war. You came here with enough money to turn a Lannister's head." Her father roared, collapsing into laughter as the court chuckled along with him. What a bunch of sycophants. There was nothing funny about what he'd said.
What would he give him? He didn't need land, and he certainly didn't need money. A place on the small council? A meaningless title?
"I want to arrange your betrothal to my only daughter." Her father murmured, as Myrcella froze, her brain unable to process the news. He couldn't. He wouldn't. The gods couldn't be this cruel. They had been joking!
The look of shock that had flashed across the young Lord's face had been quickly replaced by the passiveness that had dominated his features since the moment he had stepped into the Great Hall. Do you feel anything at all?
It had been a trap. She was being sold off to a man to test his loyalty. If he truly intended to remain true to the crown, he would jump at this proposal. For which Lord would not want to wed the princess? If he refused, if he found an excuse, then...
"It would be my immense honour your majesty." He said, finally returning to his feet, as an audible sigh of relief escaped Lord Arryn's lips.
This had been his idea. He planned it. Could they be so naive? Could they not see the third option he had? Did they truly think if he had any intention of supporting one of the remaining Targaryens, his marriage to her would stop him? She would be his wife, trapped in a castle far from home, unable to do anything.
"You can't seriously give our only daughter to this... This abomination!" Her mother's screech broke her train of thought, and Mrycella winced. Her father wouldn't like that. She was questioning his authority in court, making him look weak, while insulting the Lord of a major house. All in a single breath.
"You don't tell me what to do woman! I'm King! I've made my decision!" Her father roared, and Mrycella knew her mother would be covering up her bruises tomorrow. Sometimes she wished her quarters weren't next to her mothers. She heard things no girl of five-and-ten should have to hear. "Girl! Daughter! Come here!" He continued; his face flushed red as he panted with rage.
"Your majesty?" Mrycella murmured, sinking into a clumsy curtsey, after having received a helpful push from Jeyne.
"Your mother..." He growled, shooting a dirty glance at her, "Would have me marry you off to some stinking Lannister cousin of yours. The boy squires for me. Looks like a weed. Probably can't even lift the handle of my warhammer. Now you Lannisters might shit gold..." He mirmumur, shooting a look at her Uncle Jaime this time, "But Lord Hope doesn't seem to be doing too bad himself. You look like me, back when I was younger. How old are you lad?"
"Eight-and-ten your majesty." The man murmured, as Mrycella sneaked a look back at him. How could he do it? His face looked as if it were carved from stone. At least he was only three years older than him. He looked nothing like her father. How drunk are you papa?
"Aye. Fine age. Your mother seems to think that shit squire of mine is a better match than him. What do you think daughter?" He asked, as he let loose a burp.
He was embarrassing her mother and her family, his own daughter, not to mention himself. Did he have no shame?
"I agree with whatever choice you make father. You know what is best for me." Myrcella murmured, trying not to cry. She was a lioness. Lions did not cry.
"Fine. It is done. What're you shits staring at me for? Today's court is done! Baelish! Get this coin into the treasury, and use it to pay of the Queen's bloody family!" Her father thundered, stepping down from the throne and wobbling down the steps, his Kingsguard and her mother in tow. "Come on boy. We have to plan your welcome feast!" He grinned, slapping his new friend on the back as he led him out of the Great Hall, the Lord's own entourage following the king.
"Cella... Come on. Your grace. Let's go." Jeyne whispered, and tugging the stunned girl away from the throne, back towards her quarters.
Myrcella allowed the girl to lead her, as she tried to wrap her mind around what had happened. She was to be married to an unknown man, and would soon exchange one golden cage for another.
She had been nothing better than one of his whores. A man had thrown enough money at him, and her father had sold her to him.
One month ago:
"So, you're saying this boy has been writing to you for the last three years?" Robert grunted, as his squire poured more wine into his cup. Bloody Lannister. He seemed to be surrounded by them these days.
"His bastard brother has been corresponding with us for longer than that. Ashburn has no appetite for war your majesty." Jon Arryn murmured, arranging the last few letters in front of him.
"So why didn't he come bend his knee?" Robert grunted, looking blearily at his Hand, and the bald eunuch sitting next to him.
"It would appear the boy is just as honourable as our dear Eddard Stark. He would not move against his father as long as he was alive, but he had no intention of moving against his king either." Varys tittered; his hands hidden in his voluminous sleeves.
"Hmph." Robert grunted, spilling half the wine in his beard as he emptied the cup.
"This will be a golden chance. We don't need to fight another war." Jon murmured, looking at his ward.
"Yeah. But his father loved that mad bastard. How can we trust him?" Robert grunted, holding his cup out for more wine.
"My little birds tell me hates the name Targaryen even more than you, your majesty." Varys tittered, a satisfied smirk on his face. "He hates his father with a passion as well. He'll be loyal to you, if only to spite the memory of his father."
"Why?" Robert grunted, banging his cup on the table.
"That, I don't know your majesty." Varys murmured, "My little birds have a tendency to disappear in Ashburn, for reasons unknown. I only get bits and pieces of information."
"Fine. What else do you know?" Robert grumbled, looking down at his cup.
"He's sailing here your majesty. He'll be here within a month." Jon murmured, trying to hide his disappointment in his ward. So much potential. All wasted.
"Along with a substantial amount of gold." Varys finished, "He plans to declare it's the unpaid tax, but I'm sure it's a bribe to get in your majesty's good books."
"How much gold?" Robert grunted, looking at the smug eunuch.
"A VERY substantial amount." Varys tittered, "Millions of gold dragons."
"A bribe to get in my good books, or for me to leave them alone while they conspire behind my backs?" Robert grunted, looking at the two men.
"I'm sure he only wants good relations with the crown Robert." Jon sighed, rubbing his knees. The weakness seemed to seep into his bones these days. Nothing the Grandmaester did seemed to help him. "But there is a way… We could ensure their loyalty. They're a secretive kingdom, and have historically been detached from the rest of Westeros. This… This could be a chance to get a powerful ally whose last name isn't Lannister." Jon finished stiffly.
"Aye. Wouldn't that be great?" Robert grunted sarcastically, "What do you propose Jon?"
"You're looking for marriage alliances. Your son and daughter are both five-and-ten. Instead of marrying Mrycella off to that Lannister boy, you could propose a marriage alliance to him when he comes to court. If he truly wants to closer ties to the crown, he'll jump at the prospect. If he declines… Well… We'd know, and can prepare accordingly." Jon finished darkly, looking at his king.
"I don't know what I'd do without you Jon. Aye… it's a good plan." Robert murmured, after studying his hand for a moment, before stumbling to his feet, "But now, I have a feast to attend."
"A solid plan my lord." Varys tittered, as the two men spied the retreating form of their king.
"Aye." Jon said with a sigh. It would be good to get the princess away from King's Landing. Especially if Stannis' suspicions panned out. She was a good girl, and the circumstances of her birth didn't mean she had to suffer for the sins of her mother.
Author's Note:
I hope you liked it! I've always wanted to write high fantasy, and I realized this fanfiction would be a good way to get some practise with world-building, character development and the like!
As you guessed, James Hope is my OC, and Ashburn is a kingdom I've added to Westeros, making eight in total. I've always been disappointed in the lack of overt magic in ASOIAF and Ashburn will basically be a kingdom steeped in magic. If you want to know more about the Kingdom, be patient, all be revealed. Mainly through interactions between Myrcella and James, but then, I've always been a hopeless romantic.
I hope you enjoy this story! Do leave me a review!