Disclaimer: I don't own Game of Thrones. I am not profiting from this in any way.
AN: One of my followers had asked what I thought of this pairing on Tumblr. So, I guess I became a bit interested and typed this up.
Queen You Shall Be
The first night of the siege, she was locked in a room with her mother, Queen Sansa, and many other women from the Red Keep just as it she been when her Uncle Stannis had laid siege years ago. She watched as Sansa's fingers fumbled with her skirts, and Myrcella knew that the Queen's loyalties did not lie with her husband. The Queen prayed for victory, but for her brother, not for Joffrey.
"You should be comforting them," Cersei hissed. "You are the Queen. You are the mother of your people, and you should behave as such."
Sansa took a sip of wine and scoffed at Cersei. It was the first act of defiance Sansa had made against her mother, and Myrcella could see the hate that seethed within her mother's eyes.
"What shall I tell them?" she said as she guzzled down the rest of her wine. "Please, let us all pray for the death of my eldest brother. Let us all hope for the gods are good to my dear loving husband."
"You hold your tongue," Cersei snipped. "Queen you may be, but I will not allow you to patronize me!"
"When day breaks, I may no longer be a Queen," Sansa mused with a drunken smile, and Mycella could see that she could want nothing more than to be free of Joffrey once and for all. Sansa filled her glass once more and laughed at herself as she touched the bruise Joffrey had placed upon her cheek. Sansa rose to her feet with a glass in her hands. Myrcella's eyes watched as Sansa crossed the room and spoke to Sandor Clegane. "I'd like to sleep in a proper bed tonight. If you'll excuse me..."
"If it pleases you, my queen," Sandor bowed his head and stepped aside.
Her mother's eyes filled with venom as Sansa disappeared from the room. When her mother glanced upon her, her eyes softened.
"Joff will win," she assured. "You will be safe."
Myrcella believed her mother's the first day, but as the siege continued, her faith in Joffrey's victory faltered.
…
On the second night, Myrcella left her mother against her wishes. She wandered the Red Keep as her thoughts consumed her. She had this feeling that her brother was marked for death, and when brother's men laid down their arms, she would no longer be a princess tomorrow.
She needed to speak with the Queen and plead for mercy. She may not be a princess tomorrow, but she hoped that perhaps the Sansa would convince her brother to spare her family. She thought of Robb Stark. She remembered him to be a pleasant young man. She feared that war and anger may have hardened him – may have made him ruthless like her own brother.
She knocked on Joffrey's bed chambers, the same chambers her father had slept in years before. When the doors opened, Myrcella greeted the queen with a curtsy. "Your grace."
Sansa stared down at her, her eyes wild as a wolf's. Her breath reeked of alcohol as the Queen steadied herself against the doorway with an outstretched hand. Tears stung Myrcella's eyes as she feared that Joffrey might have made the once sweet Sansa cruel and vindictive. She feared that Sansa no longer had a shred of mercy to bare.
"Your grace," Myrcella voice began thin as she stuttered. "It is my understanding that your brother may be crowned King, and I just want to ask for mercy. Perhaps asking to pardon Joffrey would be a stroke too much, but my mother and Tommen..."
"If my brother is victorious, I assure you that your mother will be granted no pardon," Sansa snapped. "My lady mother and my brother will deal with her as they choose."
"My Queen," Myrcella lowered her head. "Please...she is my mother."
"And Eddard Stark was my father," Sansa's voice was sharp as a steel.
Tears now flowed down Myrcella's cheeks. She remembered Lady Sansa of Winterfell. She was such a sweet girl. Joffrey had hardened her, made her cold as the winter snow.
Myrcella wiped the tears from he eyes. "At least mercy for Tommen and I – if you will."
She could see a hint of softeness cross Sansa's glossy, drunk eyes. There was the faintest glimpse of that girl from Winterfell, and when Sansa spoke, her voice wasn't quite as hard. "Yes, perhaps."
"Thank you, my queen," Myrcella curtsied. "You are too kind."
"Yes, yes," Sansa said dismissively. "Now please – I must sleep."
Sansa turned from her and slammed the door behind her. Myrcella stood for only a moment. She thought of returning to her mother, but she found herself walking to her chambers instead. She couldn't bear to be around all of the scared little hens that crowded that room.
…
On the third day, Myrcella awoke to the sound of soldiers barging into her chambers. They were not her brother's men, and she could feel her heart drop. Robb had won, and she was but a hostage in a place she once called home.
The men brought her to the throne room where Robb sat upon the iron throne. She could not contain her sobs as she feared for her mother. When the soldiers released her, she dropped to her knees. Her fingers touched the cold floor and she watched as droplets of her tears fell on the hard marble beneath her.
"Your grace," she choked on her words as her body rocked with sobs. "If you would be so kind..."
Her voice seemed to disappear within herself. She had never been so terrified in her entire life. She wished that her mother hadn't fought so hard to keep her from Dorne. She would have been safe there, possibly married to someone that could protect her.
She thought of her mothers loving smile framed with her lovely golden hair. Her tears painted the floor as she cried before the king and dozens of his men. She had lost her father only years ago, and now she was to lose her mother. Her heart could not bare it.
"Your grace," her voice trembled as she tried to speak. "If you would be so kind, please spare my lady mother and my youngest brother. My father was taken from me seven years prior. I am assuming I no longer have my eldest brother."
Myrcella did not even think to ask for herself. She only thought of the two people that she held most dear.
"Your eldest brother, Joffrey Baratheon shall be executed upon first light tomorrow," Robb spoke.
Myrcella allowed a few stray tears to fall for Joffrey. He was cruel even to her, and she knew he deserved nothing less. Still, her heart broke for him. He was her blood, and it was her duty to feel for him.
"Your grace, my mother, please..."
She watched as Lady Catelyn paced over to Robb. They whispered amongst each other, and finally Robb turned to her. "Your mother will be sentence to a life of imprisonment. You and your brother will be pardoned."
Myrcella broke down in tears at his announcement. "Thank you, my king, you are too kind."
…
Myrcella did not wish to stay in the castle, but she could had no where else to go. She thought of Sansa, and she wondered if this is how she felt these last years at the Red Keep – like a caged bird. That first summer, she had spent hours at a time in her mother's cell. She would not speak to anyone in the Red Keep but Tommen. She would often see Robb, his mother, and Lady Sansa. She would say her curtsies as a lady was expected and excuse herself just as quick as a mouse.
She did not believe in the old gods of the North, but when fall broke, she found herself wandering in the god's woods. Her faith in the seven gods had been faltering, and she thought of perhaps praying to the old gods that she may leave King's Landing. Perhaps she would be married of to a one of the Tyrells or even a man from Dorne. She could live a life away from the Starks, and she could begin anew.
She crouched on her knees and lowered her head. "My faith isn't strong..."
She paused as she thought on her words before she began again. "My faith isn't strong, and it falters just a bit more each day. I can't say for sure what it is I ask you for. There are those that say my birth was a sin – that I should not ask the gods for a single scrap."
Tears began to form in her eyes as she thought of her mother and her Uncle Jaime. No, her mother loved her King. It wasn't true. It was a lie that the Starks had spread to further their cause. Her Uncle Jaime would never even think to commit such an act with her mother.
"I pray that wherever Uncle Jaime might be that he is safe. I pray that you might find a way to dispel those awful rumors of my Uncle Jaime and my lady mother," she whispered. "I pray that Uncle Tyrion is well in his banishment. I pray that his grace, lord of the realm, Robb Stark may take down my brother's head from traitor's walk. I ask that if you are the true gods that perhaps you may bring me happiness in these dark times..."
She heard a soft Russell behind her, and her stomach flipped as fear spread through her. She slowly lifted herself from where she knelt, and when she turned, she was face to face with King Robb. Her heart seemed to have dropped. He must have heard everything she prayed for.
Myrcella began to tremble as she thought of how Joffrey had dealt with Sansa. She expected for the King to strike her down, but he stood motionless, his eyes searching hers.
"Lady Myrcella," he spoke.
She bowed her head and curtsied appropriately. "Your grace..."
Perhaps he had not heard her speak, or perhaps he wasn't as cruel as her older brother. He offered his arm to her. Myrcella placed her arm only to appease him – to stifle his anger, so that he may not strike her like Joffrey had when Sansa was disobedient. When his arm tightened around her, hear heart stung at the small dishonor she felt towards her mother.
"I do not mean to be cruel," Robb had told her.
"No, your grace," her voice was a bit above of whisper. "Of course not."
She was trembling as they walked through the god's wood. Her heart was hammering against her chest as she feared what kind of violence he may inflict upon her.
"Do you recall when we first met in Winterfell?" Robb asked.
Mycella revisited that memory briefly. She shivered when she remembered that she had been quite taken with Robb at the time. The thought made her feel as if she had been knifed in the gut.
"Yes, your grace," her voice quivered.
She remembered when Bran had fallen. Yes, fallen, she reminded herself. The stupid boy had just fallen on accident, and everyone had pointed the finger at her mother. She would tell herself this often, and each time, she believed herself less and less. She hated herself for doubting, but after all that occurred, there had to be more to the story.
"I wish that the gods had blessed us with a better path," he said thoughtfully. "I wish there had not been so much bloodshed."
She felt as if needles were pricking her skin. Her heart was beating against herself, and she felt her anxiety consume her. She pulled herself from Robb's grasped and stared up at him.
"Is it true?" she exclaimed, forgetting her formalities. "What your brother saw that day...is it true?"
She looked up into his cobalt eyes, and in his gaze, she saw the truth for herself. Her heart felt as if it had been slashed into pieces. She wrapped her arms around herself defensively as she fell into a fit of tears.
Robb drew her into his arms and as she drenched his clothes in tears. For a moment, she had forgotten that whom she was with. She just needed comfort even if it was from him. She quieted her tears when she noticed him caressing the small of her back. She allowed herself to look up at him.
"You are kinder than Joffrey had been to Princess Sansa," she said as she pulled away from him. "Thank you, your grace."
She excused herself and parted from him as fast as she could. When she returned to her room, she threw herself on her bed and wept.
…
After that night, Myrcella did not cry anymore. She made an effort to be kinder to the Starks. She would sew with Princess Sansa often, and she would make conversation with the Queen Reagent Catelyn Stark when she could.
The next time she saw Robb, she did not feel anger towards him. She had understood why he acted the way he did, and she was grateful that he had the kindness to spare her mother. She bowed and said her curtsied as she always did, but this time they were not false.
She returned to the god's woods one evening. She had caught Robb in mid-prayer, just as he had caught her that day. When his eyes turned to her, she apologize and attempted to excuse herself.
"No, stay," he commanded.
A surreal feeling washed through her. Myrcella wasn't quite sure whether she wanted to leave or stay. She drew in a small breath, and then crouched next to Robb. Her heart fluttered slightly when she glanced into his blue eyes, and she felt a tinge of betrayal towards her mother.
"You've grown so beautiful," he complimented.
"Thank you, your grace," she whispered as her cheeks burned.
He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss upon her lips. Then, he withdrew from her. "I've been wanting to do that for days."
Her heart was pounding as conflicting thoughts rustled through her head. She felt wrong, not because he had kissed her, but because she had liked it.
"You are to wed Roslin Frey," she reminded.
"I don't want to wed Roslin Frey," he said.
Her breath caught in her chest as he looked into her eyes. "What do you mean, my King?"
"I want you to be my Queen."
…
She did not speak of her betrothal to her mother, and a week after her marriage, she was could not bare to show herself to her mother. On the seventh day after her marriage, she stood before her mother's cell with a crown upon her head. Myrcella knew that when her mother gazed upon her crown, that it would break her heart, but she needed to for her mother to see. She owed her mother the truth if anything.
The doors opened and her mother smiled up at her. Then, Myrcella watched as her mother's smile seemed to dissolve within an instant. Tears flowed down her mother's cheeks as she stepped closer.
"He forced himself upon you, didn't he?" she said. "He made you marry him, and he rapes you every night to get at me."
"No," Mycella spoke. "It was my decision, mother. I know – I know about you and Uncle Jaime."
She thought her mother would deny her the truth, but she just turned her head away from her. "I can't begin to understand why, but I have forgiven you, mother. I still wish to see you."
She would not look at her. Her voice was tight and stern when she spat, "Leave me. Leave me so that I may grieve for you."
She walked over to her mother and touched her cheek. "I still love you."
Her heart seemed to shatter as she looked upon her mother once more. Then, she walked to the door as her heart swelled with pain. When she had prayed to the god's for happiness, perhaps she had forsook what little happiness her mother had left.
She gave her mother one final look before she left. "I shall see you tomorrow, mother."
And when she close the door, she prayed silently to the old gods that her mother would find it within her to forgive her for her betrayal. She noticed the sun setting through the windows. She would return to her king tonight. She should feel guilt for the pain she brought upon her mother. She should, but she didn't.