Chapter 34 – Myrcella's Mistake, Myrcella's Joy
Myrcella
Dacey struck at her, but Myrcella blocked the strike with her shield. She could sense the force of Dacey's shattering blow through the wooden shield and her heavily padded sparring clothes, but Dacey's attempt to hit her had been repelled. Unlike many previous blows, which Myrcella would still feel on her body tomorrow and the day after tomorrow. Myrcella hadn't managed to land one single blow against Dacey, but Dacey had hit Myrcella at least seven times with the dull practice sword. For an extremely short moment the unsuccessful attack brought Dacey out of balance and Myrcella quickly stepped forward to strike against Dacey. Myrcella aimed at her unprotected left shoulder, but Myrcella wasn't fast enough. Dacey rapidly turned aside and Myrcella's sword only brushed Dacey's arm. Even with a sharp blade the blow would have been harmless. Again Myrcella hadn't been able to hit Dacey, but now Myrcella's blade had at least touched her. This was her greatest victory against Dacey so far. Dacey raised her sword to strike against Myrcella and Myrcella raised her shield over her head to counter the predictable strike. But instead of attacking with the sword, Dacey slammed her shield against Myrcella now exposed lower right hip. It felt like an explosion of wildfire. With a surprised scream Myrcella fell to the ground.
"Ahhhh, that was really painful", Myrcella said and pressed her hands against her aching hip.
"Now you've lost", Dacey said with a triumphant smile and offered Myrcella her hand.
Myrcella took it and Dacey pulled her on her feet again. Warm sweat was running down on Myrcella's face, but Dacey wasn't even exhausted at all, Myrcella noticed. Myrcella dropped her shield and stroke her dishevelled hair from her face.
"How are my fighting skills?", Myrcella asked Dacey with a sarcastic smile.
"You are as deadly as a butterfly", Dacey answered with a smirk.
"What? Am I so bad?", Myrcella said.
"It was a joke, Myrcella. You are not a natural talent, but your skills have improved significantly", Dacey said.
"But you are still too slow and your moves are predictable. Your biggest mistake was covering your head entirely with your shield. You should always be able to watch your foe and you should always be prepared for attacks with unusual means. We primarily have shields to protect ourselves, but it's very easy to use a shield as a weapon. In a fight to the death, everything is a weapon. A wooden stick, a piece of fabric, a pebble, the sand under your feet, your fists, your teeth. Everything. A fight to the death has no rules. Only a fool follows rules in a real fight", Dacey said.
"Just like in the Game of Thrones. The Game of Thrones is a timeless battle to the death between thousands of players, not just between two warriors. Everything is allowed and there is just one rule: You win or you die", Myrcella spoke.
"That's your world, not mine. My world is this", Dacey answered and grabbed the hilt of her sword.
"There are some similarities between the Game and a sword fight: Use every weapon you have. Always pay attention to your enemy. Survive. Win", Myrcella said.
"But you didn't always pay attention to me and you didn't win", Dacey answered laughing and touched Myrcella's shoulder.
"That's...actually true", Myrcella answered and blushed.
"We should go to our tents now. It's already late in the evening. You have another meeting with Renly tomorrow", Dacey said.
"You're right, let's go to my tent. Fine wine for you and spicy hippocras for me", Myrcella answered and took Dacey's arm.
"You know I don't like wine. I prefer mead, ale and beer", Dacey said.
"You are indeed a true Northerner. But don't worry, you will get your beloved beer", Myrcella answered.
"You fight well", an extremely tall, blond woman said and approached them.
The woman had been watching their sparring match from the distance. She was the tallest woman Myrcella had ever seen. She was almost as big as the Hound. The woman was wearing a heavy plate armour. Her face wasn't pretty and her nose had been broken more than once, but she had very beautiful, pale blue eyes.
"Thank you, My Lady", Myrcella answered and grinned.
"Oh sorry, I didn't mean you, young girl. I was talking about her", the tall woman said and nodded at Dacey.
"Thanks, Lady...?", Dacey answered.
"I'm Brienne of Tarth", the tall woman answered.
House Tarth of the Sapphire Isle. A small but proud house from the Stormlands and vassal of House Baratheon. Their heraldry a yellow sun on a rose-coloured field and white crescents on a blue field. Myrcella knew the sigils of most houses in Westeros, thanks to her education at the Red Keep. Unlike her brothers she had always been listening carefully to the maesters.
"I'm Myrcella Stark and this is Lady Dacey Mormont, my personal guard, Lady Brienne", Myrcella said.
"So you are the Queen consort to the King in the North. Forgive me, I didn't know, Your Grace", Brienne said and bowed.
Dacey grinned, Myrcella noticed.
"You don't have to bow, Lady Brienne", Myrcella answered.
"Lady Brienne, you are Lord Selwyn Tarth's daughter. That makes you a lady, whether you want to be or not. You have to accept what you are", Myrcella said.
"I'm a warrior, not a lady", Brienne answered.
"I'm a warrior and a lady. That's not difficult", Dacey said with a teasing smile.
"I have been watching your fight. You are better than most men in this camp, Lady Mormont", Brienne said.
"Maybe you are even better than me, Lady Brienne. I can see that", Dacey replied.
"Who taught you how to fight? In Westeros women are supposed to wear silk, not steel", Brienne said.
That was the harsh truth, Myrcella thought. Poor Brienne. She should have been born a Mormont or a Wildling. Beyond the Wall, a woman like Brienne would be a mighty warrior-queen, leading her own pack of savages.
"My mother put a sword in my hand as soon as I was able to walk", Dacey said.
"Your mother allowed you to fight?! I had to beg my father for many years until he finally gave me his permission", Brienne asked confused.
"My mother didn't allow me to fight, she forced me to fight. Just like every woman on Bear Island and I gladly learned how to fight. Fighting is my life. We defend our precious island together with our men. Against Wildlings, Ironborn and everyone else who dares to attack our home.", Dacey said.
"I would love it to be a Mormont", Brienne said with a sad smile.
"You would indeed be a fine daughter of Bear Island. On Bear Island, women like you are respected, not mocked and despised", Dacey answered.
"Maybe you should participate in Renly's tournament tomorrow. I certainly will and you should think about it too, Lady Dacey. I would love it to see another strong woman fighting against those cocky and arrogant knights", Brienne said.
"A tournament? Jousting is boring. Jousting is something for arrogant, southern fools", Dacey said.
"It will be a melee", Brienne said.
"That sounds much better. I will think about it", Dacey answered with a smirk.
"Very good. I'm already looking forward to this, Lady Mormont", Brienne said.
"Sleep well, Lady Brienne. If you want to fight me, you will need all your strength", Dacey said with a slightly cocky smile.
That kind of behaviour was unfamiliar for Dacey, Myrcella thought. Usually the tough she-bear was a stoic and introverted person. Maybe it was her bad influence, Myrcella told herself amused.
"Come, Dacey. The night is dark and cold, but my tent is warm", Myrcella said and took Dacey's arm again.
"Good night", Brienne said with a kind smile and bowed before Myrcella.
"She's a remarkable woman. A true warrior. And she has more honour than all those handsome, arrogant knights in Renly's camp combined", Dacey said, while they were walking through the night.
"Oh, Dacey, did you just call some of those lofty and vain southern boys handsome? Boys you could easily defeat all at once", Myrcella spoke giggling.
"Wait...No?!...You're jealous, aren't you?", Dacey answered and pinched Myrcella's arm.
"What?! No! Of course not. But tell me, Dacey? Who is handsome?", Myrcella said laughing and stopped next to a large fire bowl.
"Hmmmm, Loras Tyrell is extremely handsome. He's such a beautiful man. More beautiful than most women on Bear Island", Dacey spoke.
"The Knight of Flowers. Such a shame he will never please a woman. Who else?", Myrcella answered with a deriding grin.
"Renly, of course. My mother told me about the young Robert Baratheon. In his younger years Robert must have looked exactly like this. Like a young god. Oh...sorry, I didn't want to mock your late father, Myrcella", Dacey spoke.
"You didn't mock him. You gave the old drunkard more credit than he ever deserved", Myrcella answered coldly.
"Myrcella!? King Robert was your father! How can you talk about him like this?!", Dacey said shocked.
"Yes, yes, yes. King Robert was my father. He was a horrible father. He never cared about his childr...about Joffrey, Tommen and me. He used to beat my mother and he enjoyed to mock Jaime and Tyrion. He drowned himself in wine, emptied the Realm's treasuries and he regularly dishonoured my mother and himself with his precious whores. He loved the dead Lyanna Stark more than the living beauty at his side. What would you think about such a father? Would you like him?", Myrcella told her with a scoffing smirk.
"Sorry, Myrcella...I didn't know about that. But do you really despise your father? Don't you love your father?", Dacey replied and softly pressed Myrcella's hand.
"Dacey, of course I love my father. It's complicated, but I love him", Myrcella answered and thought about Jaime. About Jaime's smile, his laughing emerald eyes, his glittering golden hair and his joyful voice. Jaime, imprisoned in a dungeon at Riverrun, her beloved father a captive of her beloved husband. The world had gone mad.
"It's nice to hear that, Myrcella. You almost scared me, do you know that?", Dacey said.
No, nothing could scare you, Myrcella thought and touched Dacey's arm.
"Your Grace, My Lady? May I interrupt you? I have something I want to show you, Queen Myrcella", a familiar but unwelcome voice spoke behind Myrcella's back.
Myrcella calmly turned around and she looked into the smiling face of Lord Baelish. A kind smile on his lips, but ice in his eyes, Myrcella thought. Did he just listen to their conversation?!
"Lord Baelish, it's always a great pleasure to meet you. Do you have a gift for me? I like gifts", Myrcella said.
Dacey stepped closer to Lord Baelish and gave him a chilly look. Littlefinger ignored her.
"Yes, it's a gift. A gift from Lord Tyrion, your beloved uncle. A sign of his good will. I wanted to give it to Cat, but unfortunately she isn't here. So I will present it to you, Queen Myrcella", Littlefinger said and approached Myrcella.
Tyrion? She hadn't heard about him since her wedding. What kind of gift could he send her? Tyrion was acting Hand of the King now, but that was everything Myrcella knew.
"Lord Baelish, this is close enough", Dacey said and put her hand on the hilt of her sword.
"Forgive me, Lady Mormont. I would never harm anyone. I have only good intentions", Lord Baelish spoke smiling.
I don't know what you want, but even a White Walker would have better intentions than you, you weak, craven, little sycophant, Myrcella told herself.
"Dacey, he's not a threat", Myrcella said.
Her biggest lie ever, Myrcella thought and forced herself not to grin. Dacey stepped back, but she kept her hand on her sword.
"Would you follow me to my tent?", Lord Baelish asked and offered Myrcella his arm.
"Of course, My Lord. Please, show me the way. A little girl could easily get lost in that vast camp", Myrcella spoke and gave him a perfectly faked smile.
Littlefinger responded with a false smile of his own. Myrcella noticed the amused and cruel laughter in his cold eyes.
Then Myrcella took Littlefinger's arm and allowed him to lead her. Dacey followed them, her icy, grim eyes always focused on Littlefinger and her hand on her sword.
"Lady Mormont is a perfect guard. Always watchful and vigilant, always at your side, ready to strike your enemies down. An impressive woman", Littlefinger said, while he was leading Myrcella.
"I can hear you, short man", Dacey growled.
Like a she-bear, Myrcella thought and pressed Littlefinger's arm a bit harder than necessary. He didn't seem to notice.
"You are very close to your queen, Lady Mormont", Littlefinger said with a mocking smile on his lips and blinked at Dacey, and Myrcella.
Now Myrcella felt extremely uncomfortable and she was freezing. Lord Baelish's arm was colder than ice, but his eyes were even colder.
"I'm always close to Myrcella. And right now my blade is close to your heart, short man", Dacey answered.
Stop it. You are doing it wrong, Dacey, Myrcella thought. He is laughing at you. Blunt threats don't scare him.
"You are glad to have such a protector, Queen Myrcella. Lady Mormont absolutely...adores you", Littlefinger taunted Dacey.
In response Dacey heavily blushed and quickly looked away from Littlefinger. Littlefinger had managed to knock Dacey out with his poisonous words. Myrcella could smell his cold-hearted joy. She suddenly felt a strong desire to beat him to death with her bare hands.
"Lord Baelish, please, let us hurry. I'm so eager to see your gift", Myrcella said smiling and slightly clawed her nails in his arm.
"As you wish, Your Grace. I live to serve", Littlefinger mocked her and started to walk faster.
"Lord Baelish, it's nice to see you. I have been looking for you", a kind, female voice called them.
Littlefinger, Myrcella and Dacey stopped and they turned around.
It was a lovely young woman, dressed in green and gold. She had long, flowing brown hair and warm but observant eyes. Her figure was womanly and elegant. The woman's posture was a bit flirty, but not brash. The woman's dress was fashionable, but a bit too revealing for Myrcella's liking.
Myrcella noticed the complete lack of larger jewellery. Her mother Cersei was always wearing aggressive, armour-like pieces of jewellery and Myrcella had adopted that for some rare, important occasions, but this woman wasn't wearing metal at all. She was a bit older than her, but not much. The woman wasn't wearing a crown, but every part of her was royal. Truly royal.
"Queen Margaery, do you enjoy the evening?", Myrcella greeted her.
"The stars are beautiful, but it's a bit windy. You are Robb Stark's queen, aren't you?", Margaery said.
"That's correct, Your Grace. I'm Robb Stark's wife", Myrcella said.
"Please, call me 'Margaery'", she answered.
"Some people also call her 'Robb Stark's brain'", Littlefinger spoke with faked kindness.
"Please, shut up, little one", Dacey said angered.
"I don't think she likes you, Lord Baelish. A shame", Margaery said laughing.
"Not a shame, just common sense", Dacey said.
"We haven't met each other, My Lady. I'm Margaery Tyrell", Margaery said and bobbed a perfectly elegant curtsy to Dacey.
"Dacey Mormont", Dacey said and curtsied.
Myrcella had to hold back tears of laughter. In her entire life she hadn't seen anything funnier than Dacey's curtsy in full armour, with sword and mace at her hip.
"You are the heir of Bear Island, aren't you?", Margaery said.
"Yes", Dacey replied laconically but with a kind smile.
"Have you been...sparring?", Margaery asked and looked at Myrcella's padded clothes and her tousled golden hair.
"Yes, Dacey is a good teacher, but I'm a horrible student", Myrcella answered laughing.
"Amazing", Margaery answered with a surprised smile.
"The Queen in the South, the Queen in the North and a famous shieldmaiden. It seems I'm a powerless, little man in the company of three mighty women", Littlefinger said with a mocking sneer.
"Be on your guard, Lord Baelish", Myrcella said laughing.
"I'm sure he is. I have to go now, grandmother awaits me", Margaery said.
"I have already met Lady Olenna. I admire her. She is a very wise woman", Myrcella said.
"That's exactly what grandmother told me about you, Myrcella", Margaery answered.
Now Myrcella really was confused. That was something she hadn't expected.
"Thank you, Margaery. That's...surprising", Myrcella answered.
"I don't think so. You are a smart woman and you just get the respect you deserve, Myrcella", Margaery spoke.
"I agree. She's a gift to impress people. I don't know how she does that", Dacey said and touched Myrcella shoulder.
"Good night, Myrcella and Dacey. Good night, Lord Baelish", Margaery said and then she left.
A sweet and beautiful rose in the darkness, Myrcella thought. A rose with very sharp thorns.
"Follow me, My Ladies. We are almost there", Lord Baelish said.
This time Myrcella didn't take his arm, she took Dacey's. Littlefinger gave them his usual mocking smirk and they followed him. Littlefinger had been so cold and icy, but Dacey was warm and kind. No one could hurt her with Dacey at her side, Myrcella thought.
After a few steps they arrived at Littlefinger's tent. It was guarded by a group of shady hedge-knights. None of them was displaying any heraldry, neither a Lannister Lion, nor a Baratheon Stag. That was fitting, Myrcella thought. Lord Baelish was loyal to no one but Lord Baelish.
They entered and Myrcella promptly noticed a large, wooden box, wrapped into the banner of House Stark.
"What is this, Lord Baelish?", Myrcella asked.
"Just a sign of House Lannister's good will", Lord Baelish answered.
"Thank you, My Lord. I will return Lord Eddard Stark's remains to Winterfell. My father-in-law will rest next to his brother, his sister and his father, in the crypts of Winterfell, where he belongs", Myrcella spoke.
Domeric
He was standing on top of the largest tower of the Dreadfort. It was his favourite place. From this tower, Domeric could see everything. The vast lands of his father. Large, dark forests, wicked moors and jagged mountains. When the sky was clear, it was possible to see the Wall far in the north, but today it was too misty. Unfortunately it was often misty at the Dreadfort. Maybe even the sun was frightened by the Dreadfort, ancestral home of the most feared and despised family in the North, maybe in Westeros.
Of course this didn't bother him. Domeric was proud of his family. People had always despised them. But no one had ever dared to laugh at the Boltons. The Boltons were feared from the Wall to Dorne, thanks to their banners, thanks to their history, thanks to their living traditions.
Domeric closed his eyes and listened to the wind. He loved that. Domeric loved the cool breeze on his face and the murmuring sound in his ears. It helped him to relax, to stay cool.
"Coolness is a Bolton's most important quality", his father had told him once.
Most people feared his father, including Robb Stark, the Young Wolf and the North's greatest hero since the days of old. Even Robb Stark's beautiful and bold wife feared his father. They feared his cold, colourless eyes, his quiet, whispering voice and his emotionless face. But Domeric didn't fear his father, he admired him. He admired him, because he was able to understand him.
"Emotion is valuable, spare it for those who truly deserve it." That was another wisdom his father had taught him.
"Domeric, my love. I have something for you", Sansa called him.
Domeric opened his eyes again and turned around to his wife. Sansa, his beloved Sansa. She deserved emotion, in her presence he allowed himself to smile.
"Yes, Sansa?", Domeric answered and approached at her.
Sansa's belly was slightly swollen. Their child, he thought. Their child. Sometimes Domeric still couldn't truly believe it. He was a Bolton, member of a despised family and son of the most dreaded man in the North, but he was married to such a beautiful woman and that woman was pregnant with his child.
Lesser men would call it 'luck' or 'fate', but Domeric knew better. Luck didn't exist, fate didn't exist. He got that wonderful woman thanks to the careful and wise planning of his father. Planning that was part of even greater plans. Plans even Domeric didn't know to their full extents.
"A raven from my brother", Sansa said and gave him a small scroll.
"Thank you, my love", Domeric answered and kissed her pale cheek.
He broke the Direwolf sigil and started to read. The content was interesting. Truly interesting. It seemed that the Young Wolf's luck was fading. Something Domeric and his father had expected. His father had made preparations for that case and now it was time to collect the harvest.
"What does my brother's letter say?", Sansa asked him.
"A task. We have to fix some little problems in the North", Domeric answered and kissed her again.
Myrcella
Together with Dacey, Myrcella was drinking in her tent. Beer for Dacey and hippocras for Myrcella. Lord Eddard's bones had been safely stowed. When Littlefinger had presented Lord Eddard's remains, Dacey had almost attacked him. In Dacey's eyes it had been a desecration to give the bones of the honourable Ned Stark to a man like Lord Baelish. The North had loved Ned Stark and the North would never forgive Ned Stark's murder by the order of her brother. Dacey's outburst of rage had reminded Myrcella of that. Joffrey had murdered Ned Stark and she was Joffrey's sister. Myrcella had to be more careful. Of course Dacey would never ever harm her, she was absolutely loyal to her, but some other Northern Lords were not. She had to finish her business at Renly's camp as soon as possible and than she had to return to Robb's side. Things had to be done. Things to strengthen her and Robb's rule. Myrcella remembered the frequent hateful glances from many Northern Lords. After her return to Riverrun, this would end. This would end for ever. No one would challenge her and Robb's rule, neither openly, nor in secret. It would be bloody and brutal, but luckily Dacey was at her side to protect her.
"Myrcella, what are you thinking about?", Dacey said and smiled at her.
"About the future", Myrcella answered and took a sip of hippocras.
"You shouldn't think about the future. Not now", Dacey said and emptied her mug.
Dacey was capable of drinking large amounts of beer or ale, but she was not a drunk. Dacey never lost control about herself.
"Maybe you are right. The future may be dark, but at the moment it's warm and beautiful"; Myrcella answered laughing.
"Correct. By the way, sorry for my explosion in Lord Baelish's tent, but I couldn't endure his evil sneer any longer. They way he was talking about Ned was...disgusting. Too much lies for me to swallow", Dacey said and refilled her mug.
"You don't have to apologise. I wanted to beat him up too. I seriously considered to give you my permission", Myrcella said and blinked at her.
"Lord Baelish is an evil little man", Dacey said after a sip of beer and took a deep breath.
"Yes, that's true. And he is dangerous", Myrcella answered and drank some hippocras.
"But...but what he said, Myrcella...what Lord Baelish said about you and me...it's...true. He was right", Dacey suddenly said.
"Dacey...You don't have to be afraid. Say what you want to say", Myrcella answered and took her hands.
Dacey was trembling, just like Myrcella.
Why am I trembling?, she asked herself.
"Myrcella, it's true and I can't lie to myself any longer...That evil little man was right. He unmasked me", Dacey spoke.
Her voice was shaking and she had tears in her brown eyes.
Myrcella looked at Dacey's blushed cheeks, she looked in her sad eyes. It wasn't the alcohol, it was something different. And now Myrcella could see everything. She could understand everything. Now she knew everything. It had to come so. There was no escape. They were lost.
"Quiet. I know", Myrcella answered and smoothly put her hands on Dacey's hot, burning cheeks.
"Myrcella?! What are you doing?", Dacey said.
What am I doing?, Myrcella asked herself. What the hell am I doing?
"I know what you want and I know what I want. You can't lie to yourself any longer and I can't lie to myself any longer", Myrcella whispered.
"Don't move", Myrcella said.
And then Myrcella did it. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips on Dacey's lips and it was wonderful. Just wonderful. Myrcella tasted her and Dacey didn't resist. Her lips weren't soft, they were hard. Hard but warm. So kind and warm. Warmer than fire. Myrcella could taste beer on Dacey's mouth. Aromatic, spicy and strong. Dacey wasn't trembling any more, Myrcella noticed. She took Dacey's dark, short curls in her hands and opened her eyes again. Dacey's eyes were still closed. Myrcella softly touched Dacey's closed eyelids with her fingertips.
"Open your eyes again", Myrcella said.
Dacey did and now their eyes finally met each other again. Myrcella could see the joy in Dacey's eyes, just pure and innocent joy.
"Have you lost your mind?", Dacey whispered smiling.
"Yes, I think I have lost my mind", Myrcella answered and kissed her warm, hard lips again.
I'm falling into a pit, Myrcella thought. I'm falling into a deep and dark pit, Myrcella thought and wrapped her arms around Dacey.