Chapter 29: False Identity
Though she had some companions from other houses, Myrcella found herself looking forward to the arrival of her cousin, who was to be her handmaiden at her uncle Tyrion's request. She had realized early on her handmaidens had been made to entertain her by their families, feeling it their duty to befriend her so they had a hope of raising their family's status. Once she realized that it had made their friendship seem false, something she hoped would be overcome by familial ties, even if it was a branch of the Lannisters from Lannisport.
It turned out Rosamund looked much like her, though her hair was straight compared to Myrcella's golden curls.
"If one of you changed your hair you could be twins," Tyrion had said when he introduced them.
Two days later Rosamund spent the morning curling her hair while Myrcella straightened hers. They even changed outfits, letting Rosamund dress in her elaborate crimson gown while she wore Rosamund's blue dress. They spent the day exchanged, and found themselves holding back giggles as Ser Preston Greenfield arrived to guard her and didn't notice that he was stood behind her cousin while seeming to ignore her.
They arrived at Tommen's room where Ser Mandon Moore barely cast a look their way before they entered. Inside Tommen looked up from his book and his brow knit in confusion as they walked to him.
"Myrcella?" He said uncertainly, knowing something was wrong.
"Yes?" Rosamund said, matching Myrcella's voice.
Tommen looked at them both oddly before pulling back slightly, causing Myrcella to break into giggles. "Don't worry, Tom, it's me. We're just playing tricks on people."
"You are?"
"You want to come with us and see how many we fool?" Myrcella asked. When he nodded she held his shoulder. "You can't tell anyone though, okay? You have to pretend like cousin Rosamund is me and I'm her."
"I will, I promise."
He followed them to the kitchens where Rosamund called for her meal, the servants quickly bowing their heads and telling her, "One moment, Princess Myrcella."
Rosamund glanced back at her with smirk while Tommen put his hands to his mouth to hide his held in laugh. Even her other handmaidens couldn't spot the differences, showing reverence to Rosamund while shooting Myrcella odd looks, as if warning her to keep her distance. It made her feel bad for her cousin, wondering how badly things would go if she simply dismissed all the other girls. Maybe she could find some of her bastard sisters and take them as handmaidens.
Even the king himself barely noticed the difference as found them sat on a bench and called out. "Myrcella," he came to a stop before them, ignoring Myrcella while looking to Rosamund, "you were friendly with the traitor's bastard before, weren't you?"
Rosamund blinked in confusion, spotting Myrcella subtly wave her hand so she nodded. "I was."
Standing before her he looked agitated. "Do you think him true? Mother says I need to be careful of him, but he's been at the Imp's side since his arrival and hasn't tried anything. I think he may be honest about father's knighting him making him loyal to us, even more than your taking pity on him and acting a friend."
Myrcella frowned at the comment that she was only friends with him out of pity. If she was herself she'd have said much more, but just subtly waved her fingers, making Rosamund nod. "I think him true."
Joffrey stared at her for a moment before pushing his head forward. "Is that all?!"
Rosamund backed away slightly. "Um…" Myrcella gave her a slight shrug, so Rosamund did her best. "He seems a true knight. I wouldn't act his friend if I didn't believe him worthy."
Joffrey scoffed, standing straight. "You would know better than Mother. She seems to stare at him whenever he passes." He laughed, "I'd worry she intends to wed him just to spite father, but even she wouldn't sink so low."
Myrcella frowned watching Joffrey walk away while Balon Swann followed. He had been taken as kingsguard to replace Ser Meryn Trant after his death during the escape of the Stark girls.
Rosamund turned to her. "Who was he talking about?"
"Ser Jon," Myrcella answered.
"Lord Stark's bastard?" Rosamund asked with surprise. "You were his friend?"
"I still am," Myrcella said, meekly adding, "I think."
Rosamund offered a smile before thinking back. "He's cute."
Myrcella smiled sheepishly at that. As it was, she felt a child at times despite being only a few years younger and noticing that her body was surely beginning to take shape. She found herself thinking of him differently since his return. At first she'd thought it the beard he'd grown as she found herself wanting to feel it despite having thought nearly every other she saw odd. His wasn't very long, but while he'd been squired to Ser Barristan he left no trace of it much like the Lord Commander did with his own.
She had sensed something different in him, and wondered at times if it was imagined, that perhaps the beard made him seem older or more determined. It seemed as if he'd seen more than she could know, but she was sure there was more to it than some scruff and having seen battle. She wanted to go and ask him what it was, to speak with him, but even with Tyrion she didn't want to risk making her mother angry with Jon if she saw them together. For all she knew, if Cersei saw them speaking she would lock Jon in a cell, saying it was to keep her safe.
"What's he like?" Rosamund asked. She listened as Myrcella spoke of him, telling her stories of their time together as examples of him being not just strong but keen minded, direct but smart enough to be subtle. She told him of how clever he could be at times, of how thoughtful he was of others, how gentle and kind he could be. By the time she finished Rosamund was smirking. "Wow, you really like him."
"Shush," Myrcella warned. She looked down, then after a moment revealed, "I'm thinking of asking Joffrey to have him betrothed to me and legitimized so he can take Winterfell when the war is over. That way we'll have claim to it and know him loyal."
"Do you think he will?"
"No," Myrcella frowned. "Not now. I'd need to convince him, but I fear this war may last long, so I'll have time."
Later that afternoon Myrcella and Rosamund were walking toward her garden when they spotted her mother walking with Ser Boros Blount. They had been changed so long Myrcella had forgotten until Cersei walked straight to Rosamund. "I'll be holding dinner in my solar tonight, bring your brother."
"Yes, my-mother," Rosamund stuttered, giving Cersei a curtsy.
All the fun drained from their prank as Myrcella watched her mother nearly bump into her, forcing her to back away and make room for her and Ser Boros to pass between the girls. As much as she thought it would be fun to trick even her mother, it just made her chest hurt and her eyes burn, cementing how little she considered her. However, even if she was playing a handmaiden, she was still a princess and wouldn't be seen crying.
"We should return to my room and change so I can attend," Myrcella told her cousin.
Rosamund nodded, walking beside her through the keep. The sun was low in the sky when they heard the clang of steel and a voice call out with a laugh, "You'll need to do better than that if you want to wield Dawn!"
"It's so heavy," Edric groaned. "How am I supposed to use it?"
They made their way toward the training ring where they saw Edric Dayne wielding a blunt two handed sword he tried to swing at Jon, who deflected each strike. "It's not too different. You still have a lot of the same options, with a bit of extra weight and a greater reach."
"If it's so great why don't you use one?"
"Preference," Jon shrugged. "They're more meant for groups or cavalry and I'd prefer to face a man on foot with a longsword. You'll get the hang of it though. Ser Barristan wielded one near as quick as he did his longsword."
Edric nodded, swinging at Jon but stopping when he saw the Lannister girls walk up to the rail around them. "Princess," he said bowing his head.
Jon turned to them and arched his brow before looking straight to the straight haired Myrcella. "You two switched?"
Myrcella smiled, biting the inside of her lip as she nodded. She wanted desperately to hug him and thank him for seeing through it. "I thought it fun."
Edric blinked in confusion before on his second pass of looking between them he nodded, spotting the differences while Jon asked, "People fell for it?"
"Of course they did," said Myrcella. "We even changed our hair."
"It looks nice, but everything else is still different."
Rosamund blinked, glancing at Myrcella before asking, "What do you mean?"
"Your eyes are paler than hers," he told Rosamund. "Your face shape a bit different. Your nose and lips too."
Edric arched his brow and listened, noting that he was right, but the differences were slight. Myrcella had slightly fuller lips and though their noses were straight and slightly retroussé Rosamund's was more pointed. The Lannister girl also had a more oval face compared to Myrcella's heart shaped one.
"At a distance it might work, but did it truly trick that many people?"
Myrcella nodded. "Near everyone we've met so far."
"Than I fear their minds may be gone," Jon offered with a laugh.
Rosamund snickered at his unknowing insult of the king and queen mother while Myrcella simply smiled. "At least we know yours remains sharp."
"Like valyrian steel," he assured.
Though his ability to see clearly through their act left her smiling the rest of the day, it was only the next that she began to notice odd looks from near everyone she passed. It was almost her nameday before she finally came to know what had caused them.
She and Rosamund had changed again to let Myrcella walk about as she liked without a guard. It was while stood looking out to the Blackwater that she heard the discussion of a passing group.
"You think it true?" One of the women asked.
"The princes and princess do all look like their mother," said another. Myrcella kept her eyes away from them.
"And their father," the first said with a laugh. "I assume it's to be expected if the parents are twins."
Myrcella fought back her confusion, keeping her eyes forward and breathing even.
"That is only if Lord Stannis speaks true. It is easy enough to lie. He surely hopes to discredit the king so he can take his place."
"Rohn said he heard that the Lord was cuckolded by his fool," said the first lady. "That Lady Selyse would sneak away to bed him because Lord Stannis proved incapable in bed."
"A fool?" The lady laughed. "I suppose it's better than a man as firm as a leaf."
They all giggled as they passed and Myrcella turned to see the group walk into the distance. Taking a breath, Myrcella made her way back to her room to take in all she'd heard.
Lord Stannis was saying her father wasn't her father? That she wasn't just a bastard, but one born of incest between her mother and her uncle Jaime? It had to be a lie like the one lady said. Spread to discredit her brother so Stannis could take the throne from him, much like Renly hoped to do.
But then the other spoke true as well. None of them looked like their father, while all his brothers shared their Baratheon looks. Whenever she heard of his bastards, people always spoke as if their looks were confirmation enough, yet she and her brothers all shared her mother's looks.
She found herself questioning everything she knew over those next days. Every time her uncle guarded her mother, every glance or smile they shared, every time her uncle had placed a hand on Cersei's shoulder to calm her ire. Had they been cuckolding her father the entire time? If so then that would mean he wasn't even her father. Her father would be her uncle.
If it were true, then she wasn't a Baratheon. She wasn't even a Lannister. She would be a Waters. She would be a bastard.
How much of her life was a lie? It felt like all of it was, from herself to those around her. She had always heard people speak of King's Landing as a nest of vipers but had never felt it as firmly as she did then. It suddenly felt like she was drowning in lies. Her mother was her mother, but her father was a man her mother not only disliked but cuckolded, making her father her uncle. The servants all lied to her as they kept calling her princess while looking at her as if they thought Stannis' words true. Even her handmaidens soon shared their looks and spoke their lies on top of those used to gain her friendship.
As her nameday came and Myrcella entered her twelfth year she felt as though she were drifting through a pit blindly. She accepted the small gifts given to her by the staff and the larger ones from lords seeking to endear themselves to her family, but barely managed to make her put on smile convincing.
"Are you okay, dear niece?" Tyrion asked after giving her a potted flower from the Neck.
"I'm fine, uncle," she said quietly, brushing her finger against the small goldencup.
Tyrion frowned at her, knowing she would have heard the rumors by now. He'd suspected it was the cause of her ill mood lately. Sliding off his chair, he walked to her and held her hand to draw her gaze. "Do not listen to their lies, sweet girl. Whatever they think does not change who you are. No matter their words, you are a princess."
Myrcella's eyes glistened as she nodded.
Tyrion sighed, brushing a hand across her cheek and kissing her hand. "I heard you took my hint and tricked some of the guards."
"You heard? How?"
"My sworn shield spoke of it," Tyrion offered.
He held back at laugh at how her sorrow faded, a small smile taking her lips as she asked, "Ser Jon told you?"
"He did. He said it a decent enough trick for those who don't know you, but not enough for those who do or with half a mind." Tyrion patted her hand before stepping back. "Surely that is enough to show you how ignorant most are. If such a simple trick can fool them even when they spend their days serving you, why would trust them to do anything but accept such a simple lie from a greedy man?"
"But…" She sighed. "There are things they say which make sense."
"Like what?"
"None of us have father's looks, only mother's… and uncle Jaime's."
Tyrion wished he could find everyone who spoke a word of it and have them rot in the dungeons, but it would do little to console her, and only make it seem more true. "All that means is Lannister blood is stronger than Baratheon blood."
"But I always heard even father's bastards shared his look. All of them."
Tyrion's face sank at the thought of the bastards slaughtered after Robert's death. "They are born to weak women. For all her faults, your mother is gifted with Lannister blood and beauty which she luckily passed on to you and your brothers."
Myrcella looked at the goldencup flower. "Did uncle Stannis and Renly ever care for us? Or have they always hated us?"
Tyrion frowned at the hurt in her voice. "I doubt that, but greed grows large in them and they will do anything to feed it. Even cast aside those they care for. Children have slain their own parents and siblings to try and claim lesser things than the Iron Throne."
"It isn't worth this," Myrcella said with a sniff, reaching up to wipe her eyes.
Tyrion stepped forward and raised his arms to pull her into a hug, gently patting her back as she trembled and quietly cried into his shoulder. "I know. It isn't, but greed makes men fools."
"All of them?" she asked pulling back and sitting up.
"There are some good ones," he said somberly. Seeing her frown, he wondered if his plan might work out for the best. Though he could do something sooner to ease her heart.
Myrcella kept to her room most of the day, but left for the feast in honor of her nameday which was barely a third of what Joffrey's was even after his canceled tourney. She wondered how many thought ill of her now they suspected Stannis' words true. They must think her an abomination, yet she would remain a princess, dressed in one of her finest green silk gowns with traces of gold.
While she ate she saw Jon sat with his usual group near the end of the low tables. His squire, who always seemed shy around people, showed no hint of it as he spoke with Sam and Thoros, laughing at the old priest's reply. Jon simply smiled at them briefly, tapping the rim of his mug before turning his head slightly to glare at the table across from them where Ser Jacor Hogg and a group of men laughed.
His soured expression remained as he downed his mug and looked to Sam. His face brightened some as Sam spoke, a small laugh taking him before a louder one came from the other table and he turned again to glare at the men who laughed. Thoros spoke quietly before Sam did as well, and Edric frowned looking to Jon.
She watched Jon shake his head and look to them, pressing his fist into his cheek until a suddenly another laugh came from the opposite table and he rose. "Jon!" They said in whispered yells, Edric rising and reaching to stop him, but Jon pulled his hand away.
Myrcella and everyone who heard his friend's pleading whispers turned to watch Jon grabbed the back of Jacor Hogg's doublet and yanked the burly man from his seat while throwing a fist into the man's face. The moment Jacor hit the ground Jon was on top of him, pummeling his wide face with punch after punch. Sam and Thoros rose with Edric, who ran over the table and past Sam to thrust his shoulder into one of the men laughing with Jacor who moved to attack Jon.
Thoros punched a man about to kick Jon's head, knocking him back to the table while Sam pulled at Jon's shoulders to try and make him stop, but Jon just dug his hand into Jacor's thick throat even deeper. His second punch had cracked the bone beneath Jacor's left eye, which leaked blood through its lids to join that from his mouth and crushed nose, turning Jon's hand scarlet.
The room seemed to rise as gold cloaks hurried to break them up, Thoros and Edric pulling Jon off before the gold cloaks could. They grabbed him and brought Jon before the high table where Joffrey wore an amused smirk tainted by his disappointment that they hadn't let Jon simply beat the man to death.
"What is the meaning of this?" Cersei demanded, glaring at him for disturbing the feast despite earlier looking as though such a sight would be a relief to the boredom she felt.
"The man spoke vile things of the princess, your grace," Jon told them, standing tall and firm. "Things I dare not repeat. Things no knight would dare speak, let alone at the feast celebrating her name day."
Cersei's ire faded some as she glanced at Myrcella, who wore a somber smile. Jon had defended her honor, but that it was questioned at all was a reminder of the rumors. Joffrey arched his brow. "Did anyone else hear his words?"
"My companions, and any close enough to hear them," Jon said nodding back to where they had sat. "They spoke loud enough for me to hear from the neighboring table."
Joffrey waved his hand. "Ask those around them. I'll have the tongue of any man who lies."
That was enough to make any who might have lied speak the truth to the gold cloaks, telling them of the man's crude comments. Once they returned and told Sandor, the kingsguard shot a glare toward the bloodied man before making his way to Joffrey and whispering the words so only he could hear.
Joffrey's face darkened some, nodding before he stood. "Ser Jon acted as a knight defending my sister's honor. Ser Jacor Hogg, for your slanderous words you will spend the day in a cell, and in the morning we shall have your tongue and two fingers from each hand. Let us see what you would do then."
The man was clearly terrified, and tried to yell but his pain paired with his swollen lips and broken bones made it near impossible to say anything coherent by the time he was dragged from the room.
Joffrey turned to Jon. "Ser Jon, I thank you for you honesty and haste to defend my sister's honor."
"Though perhaps next time it would be best to ask the man outside, or have a guard handle him," Cersei added.
"I apologize," Jon said with a bow. "I behaved rashly, allowing my anger to take control. I will seek to be better should any dare to question the princess' honor again." He turned to Myrcella and bowed again. "And I apologize for disturbing your celebration, princess."
Myrcella shook her head. "I thank you for acting on my behalf, Ser Jon. There are few finer gifts than knowing I have those who would defend me even at risk of themselves."
Jon bowed to them once Joffrey dismissed him, returning to his table. One of Tyrion's savage men came to speak to him, and shortly afterward Tyrion excused himself. "I'll need to speak to my sworn shield on his behavior before I'm too drunk to remember it," he said with a laugh as he left the table.
Myrcella watched him head down to Jon's table, pulling the knight aside and speaking to him quietly. When Jon nodded, Tyrion swiftly grabbed his jerkin, pulling him low and held his finger to Jon's face in a clear warning. Jon simply smiled and nodded, patting Tyrion's raised hand and speaking something assuring enough to make Tyrion release him and pat his cheek. With a final few words he laughed and turned, returning to the table where he stopped and squeezed Myrcella's shoulder. "I apologize if my sworn shield has hindered your enjoyment of the feast at all, dear niece."
"He hasn't," Myrcella assured.
He nodded, patting her arm lightly. "Enjoy yourself, just not too much."
She was confused, tugging at her sleeve lightly as she nodded. "I will."
Tyrion glanced toward Jon, who was leaving the hall, before returning to his own seat and telling Tommen a quick joke to make the boy laugh.
Myrcella said farewell to Rosamund and Sandor, who escorted her to her room. It was only once she had stepped inside and latched the door that she heard a slight shifting sound and gasped, turning to find Jon sat in her room with a harp in his lap.
"I'm sorry to intrude," he said with a smile, "but I thought it best few know of my gift."
Myrcella's fear gave melted and she smiled. "Of course."
He motioned to the chair across from him, sat before her window letting pale moonlight fill her room. Myrcella swiftly sat and watched him strum the strings, testing them and adjusting a few before looking to her.
"No laughing if I mess up, okay?"
"I swear."
"I wasn't sure what kind of song you'd prefer, or if you had any favorites I should learn, so I had Sam help me make one up. I hope that's alright." Jon took a breath as he looked to the strings before closing his eyes. He ran his fingers across them silently before finding the first to strike.
Myrcella sat in captive silence as she watched him play and listened to his song, or her song perhaps. One written by him for her sake. She watched his fingers dance across the strings, occasionally opening his eyes for a second to glance at them and make sure he was doing it right before closing them. He'd clearly practiced enough to make it second nature.
The song seemed so light at first, but grew somber and sad with deeper strings, almodt dark and mournful yet remaining resolute in a way. It rose in parts, rousing and hopeful before sorrow came again and she felt her chest tighten watching his face show hints of emotion that came through his fingers. Just as it grew even quieter and grim she found it rising slowly, mixing with deeper chords as she saw his brow tighten slightly, looking determined it grew quicker before cascading into a gentler, peaceful melody.
Once the final chord fell silent Jon exhaled and looked to her. His smile faded when he saw her wiping tears from her cheek. He swiftly set the harp aside. "Hopefully it wasn't so bad it drove you to tears?"
Myrcella shook her head and laughed. "Not at all."
"You liked it then?"
"I loved it." She sniffed, wiping her face of any tears before rising to her feet. "Thank you for the gift, Ser Jon."
She saw a sly smile take his lips briefly as he stood. "That wasn't your gift."
"It wasn't?"
Jon shook his head. "That was me paying my end of our deal from the tourney."
Myrcella arched her brow. "But you said it best they not know of your gift."
"Aye, it is best they don't know." He said, stepped forward and brushing his fingers through her hair as he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. Myrcella froze slightly before closing her eyes and tilting her head toward his, pressing her lips to his in return.
After a moment he stepped back and they separated, each smiling sheepishly before Jon glanced at the door. "Tyrion helped me because he thinks the song your gift. I hope that was okay?"
Myrcella beamed at him. "It was."
"I had a feeling it was something we've both wanted in a way," he said with a solemn smile. "Was it your first?" When she nodded he smiled. "Then I have claim to your first kiss and being the first to write a song for you."
"And I will cherish both forever."
"As will I," he assured. "But if I'm found here I fear I'll lose my head, and Tyrion threatened me if I spent too long."
Myrcella nodded, but when Jon moved to grab his harp and depart she stepped forward and reached for his cheek, standing on her toes to press her lips to his. Without the shock of it, she made her kiss fiercer, parting her lips more to feel more of his lips before she sank back to the ground. Pulling in her lips she smiled at the hints of wine mixed with the taste of him.
Jon's shock at her forwardness gave way to a smirk as he took the harp and bowed to her. "Sleep well, Myrcella."
She kept her hands entwined in front of her as she turned her head to watch him move to the door. "You as well, Jon."
As they went to sleep that night, dreaming of what could be between them, neither knew that those dreams could never be thanks to the letter Tyrion was crafting. A letter to Doran Martell, prince of Dorne.
AN:
I imagine Rosamund and Myrcella switching places wouldn't be something they only did on the ship after her departure or for Arys' trick with Arianne. So I thought it a fun way to intro a chapter focusing on her perspective.
I couldn't not make Jon be the one to notice right away. Others in the keep I imagine would have noticed? Tyrion and Sandor. I'd doubt even Varys or Littlefinger, more because they think so little of Myrcella than any lack of intelligence. Tyrion would obviously know, but Sandor I imagine pays enough attention to notice.
I don't think Joffrey necessarily cares much about Hobb's insult to his sister as much as it just being an indirect insult toward him as well, but he plays up the sister defense angle for the public. Joffrey's punishment should be hint enough at what Jacor was saying. If not just let me know and I'll answer in the comments if anyone really cares enough to know.
For anyone wondering, Jacor Hobb is made up, but meant to be related in some way to the Hobbs of Sow's Horn. Originally I had it as Lothor Brune, mostly to piss off Littlefinger, but he's too quiet to draw Jon's ire in such a way so I just made it some low knight.
At this point Jon has been practicing the harp about two years, I think? So he should be good enough that his song at the end is actually pretty good. Of course it's all bitter sweet as they finally kiss but clearly are going to be separated again.
Next Chapter: Robb sends Cat to treat with Renly and sends Dom with her to speak with Loras.
