A/N: Hey everyone! Sort of short chapter this week but, in my defense, I live in Texas and it's been a wild time. Good thing I have power to get this chapter to you! Mostly focused on Cersei and Myrcella this time around, but there are other characters moving through. Enjoy!

Chapter 33: A Family on the Ledge

Cersei had been drinking practically since she got the news. She shifted back and forth between wine and harder liquors, desperately trying to avoid the nightmare that was sobriety. At least the alcohol slowed her thoughts. Slowed her memories as they folded back on each other, spiraling back to three years ago.

Back then, she had known several things but refused to connect them together. She had used quite a bit of wine trying to keep the realization gnawing at the back of her head at bay. She had hoped she drowned it forever.

But her old sin of willful ignorance had risen back to meet her from the darkness of the past.

She knew that Joffrey had been in a car crash. She knew that it had been bad and that the other person in the crash may have died. She knew that he had fled the scene for fear of being caught. And she knew that Ned Stark had died that same night in a car crash. She had all of the pieces of the puzzle. She had simply refused to piece them together.

Because one thing stood out above all the things she knew—and that was Joffrey's panic. He was trembling when he went to her, his hands cut from shattered glass, his green eyes wide and glassy. He was stumbling over his words, and he was asking her for help. He hadn't asked her for help in a long time. Not since he became a teenager. But in that moment, he was scared and he needed her.

So, she had given him help. She helped bandage his hands. She cleaned him up. She told him to disappear for a few days. It wasn't strange for him to go off to one of his hiding places for a week at that point. Since his father had died, it had been all too typical. She told him to get rid of the car once he left. To buy another car if he needed to. They certainly had the money. She said she would make excuses for him if anyone asked where he'd gone.

No one had asked. Ned Stark's death had distracted from everything. They were all so focused on how it happened and why. And she should have known. Maybe she did. But she did not want to believe it.

Now, she had to believe it. That Joffrey was behind the death of Ned Stark. That it had been intentional and not an accident. That someone had blackmailed him, and he may be in danger. It was an awful lot to deal with, and the wine was the only way she was getting through it.

She told her father she would try to contact Joffrey. And she meant it. If he was in danger, she didn't want him out somewhere alone. But she knew that if she tried to call him, he would not answer. Just like always. He only needed his mother when he needed to get out of trouble. If he had a hint that she might drag him back in—well, he would shut her out entirely.

But I have to try, she thought. I have to at least say I tried.

She studied her phone for a long time. Then called the number.

It rang and rang and rang. And, predictably, went to voicemail.

She took a deep breath, trying to clear the fog from her mind. Then she spoke.

"Joffrey. I'm not sure where you are right now. It's been a bit since you've been back to the house. But call me when you get the chance. It's important." She swallowed a lump in her throat. "Please."

She ended the call before she could dissolve into begging or tears. She thought of hurling the phone across the room but opted to finish her wine instead.

"Mom?"

She turned and saw Tommen hovering in the doorway. Her sweet faced youngest. He never ran off to do terrible things. Never stepped out of line at all. He could stand to rebel at least a little bit. She worried for him when he had to face the real world. But in that moment, she wished Joffrey had gotten even a sliver of his kindness.

"Tommen." She set her glass aside. "I'm sorry. Difficult day at work. Did you need something?"

"No," Tommen said. "Just…if you're trying to find Joffrey…you should talk to Myrcella."

"Myrcella?" Cersei asked.

"Yeah," Tommen said. "She's always been good at reaching him even when he's hiding from everyone else."

Cersei's brow furrowed. She hadn't known that. Joffrey hadn't given his siblings the time of day in a long while. At least from what she heard. "Is she."

"She is," Tommen said. "Because she's not in charge of anything like you. But she's also not scared of him like me." He winced as soon as he said it. "I didn't mean it like that."

Yes, you did, Cersei thought. "It's all right," she murmured. "I'll…I'll try Myrcella. Thank you, Tom."

He nodded once, resting a hand on the door frame. "Something bad is happening with him. Isn't it?"

"Yes," Cersei said after a moment. "Something very bad. But let me handle it Tommen. You don't have to worry about your brother." She exhaled. "He's not your responsibility."

Tommen nodded and continued on his way, leaving Cersei alone. She ran a hand through her golden hair, feeling numb in the continued haze of wine. Her family really was coming apart at the seams. And she had no idea how to bring it back together.

But she could start by calling her daughter.

The Tyrell manor was a source of both peace and loneliness for Myrcella. On one hand, she enjoyed being away from the city, allowed to roam free through the rooms and gardens of the extensive property.

But it also felt very empty to her at times. A house full of strangers. Even Margaery, kind as she was, couldn't spend all her hours with Myrcella. She had a wedding fast approaching, and the preparations consumed her.

Often, Myrcella found herself missing her friends in the city. More often than that, she found herself missing Beth. Maybe she was only meant to be her bodyguard, but Myrcella had gotten used to having her close and she wanted her close again soon.

She'll be here for the wedding, Myrcella thought. Only a week away now. You'll see everyone again soon.

So long as she was here in the manor, she tried to do what any girl from a wealthy family should—make connections. Her mother told her she had a natural way with people and that she could use it to her advantage. Myrcella never thought much about how she could use people, but she agreed it was better to be liked and admired than otherwise.

She talked with Margaery when she could. Margaery also had an easy way with people, though there always seemed to be an underlying intent behind every word that she spoke. Myrcella could tell, at least, that she was smarter than she let on.

Margaery's brothers also came and went from the manor. Loras most of all. He was the youngest and the least involved in the business, but he seemed quite involved in the wedding. He had a very pretty face that made girls Myrcella's age talk and talk. He'd done a lot of modeling, like his sister, and Myrcella had to admit he was very attractive.

Willas and Garlan did not quite have their siblings' perfect looks, but both were handsome enough. They had a more natural charm about them which did not seem so motivated by other things and Myrcella enjoyed talking with them when she got a chance.

And then there was Olenna Tyrell. The woman intimidated Myrcella. The few days she took tea with her, she found herself sitting straighter in her chair, wanting to impress her without knowing why. She reminded her and awful lot of her grandfather. A master at business who hid his hand even from his own family. But Olenna liked people a bit more than her grandfather. Or at least she appeared to like them more. She asked Myrcella lots of questions during tea time.

"Where do you intend to study now that you've graduated?"

"Does your family mean to involve you in the business? Or do you have other ambitions?"

"How are your brothers? Seems Joffrey is never where he's meant to be. I don't suppose you know when he'll grow out of that. If he will."

Myrcella answered her questions as best as she could. But she tried not to speak too openly with the woman. Like Margaery, there was intent behind her kindness. She wasn't curious about Myrcella as a person. She was curious about her as a Baratheon and a Lannister. Myrcella was still naïve to many of the ways of business, but she knew that much.

The Tyrells were not the only ones moving about the house. All manner of employees and wedding planners could be seen through all hours of the day as the wedding drew nearer. They were setting up a pavilion in the garden, decorating the whole house with a strange mix of Baratheon and Tyrell colors. Yellow and black and green could make a strange combination, but the designers managed to make it look tasteful. Not a surprise. This would be the most expensive wedding in a decade.

And then there were Myrcella's uncles. Naturally, she saw Renly at the manor several times. He seemed in good but nervous spirits about the wedding. He spent a great deal of time with Loras. Even more than he spent with Margaery. They had been close friends for some time, so she supposed that wasn't surprising.

What was surprising was her uncle Stannis' visit to the Tyrell estate.

Uncle Stannis was…a hard man to say the least. He almost never smiled and Myrcella didn't have the faintest clue how to talk to him. When her father was alive, he talked often about how boring and frustrating Stannis was. Her mother didn't like him much. Neither did her grandfather. From what she heard, his position as head of the Baratheon company made it very hard for the Lannisters to make deals with him. He was firmly aligned with the Starks.

No surprise that he didn't like the Tyrells very much either. Their families were rivals. So Myrcella was surprised when, during one of her typical walks about the manor, she heard him and Renly speaking in the front hall.

"Good of you to come by," Renly was saying.

"I had very little choice," Stannis said flatly. "You haven't been at the office and there are some things best discussed in person."

Myrcella paused, creeping to the archway and peeking around the corner. They were at the foot of the stairs—Renly dressed in his usual extravagant colors and Stannis in his rigid black and white suit. They really couldn't be more different. If she didn't know any better, she wouldn't guess they were related.

"I've been very busy with the wedding. So many details to think of." Renly turned, gesturing to the front hall which was beautifully decorated with yellow roses. "What do you think of the place?"

"It's extravagant," Stannis said. "Exactly the sort of thing I'd expect from the Tyrells. And from you."

"Somehow that doesn't sound like a compliment."

"Good. It wasn't intended to be."

Renly sighed. "Believe me, brother. I know you don't approve of this match. But it could end up being very good for our company."

"I doubt that."

"We work in the same industry, do we not?"

"We are rivals in the same industry," Stannis said. "That's a rather large difference."

"Rivals can sometimes become allies," Renly said.

"Is that what Olenna Tyrell told you when she proposed this match?"

"Olenna proposed nothing. This is between Margaery and me."

"I'm sure it is," Stannis said, in a tone that made it clear he thought the opposite. "But regardless of your motivations, you trust your fiancé's family too much."

"And you don't trust anyone," Renly said. "Your resistance to making new allies has set the Baratheon family back."

"Too many allies can be a danger. More people to stab you in the back," Stannis said.

"Then maybe you should be more willing to let go of old ones," Renly said. "But you insist on clinging to our contracts with Stark Industries."

"Because we keep to our contracts and our promises or we lose trust from others," Stannis said. "It's very simple, Renly. We keep to our word and we act cautiously in choosing to whom we give it."

"And you're the best person to make those decisions I suppose?"

"Yes. Better than you, at least. Better than Robert as well," Stannis said. "Neither of you ever took it seriously enough. This wedding just proves it. It's a fanfare to cover a terrible mistake."

"Guess it's a good thing I didn't make you my best man," Renly said. "You'd give a terrible speech."

Stannis stook his head and started to turn. Myrcella ducked quickly back into the hall, pressing back against it to avoid being caught eavesdropping. She heard footsteps as they moved away, their voices now too low to hear.

"It seems they're always fighting, doesn't it?"

Myrcella spun around to see Margaery standing shortly behind her, leaning against the archway that led into the parlor. She had a glass of sparkling wine in hand, though it seemed a bit early in the day for alcohol.

"They say that's what brothers are like," she continued. "But I'm not sure. My brothers have always gotten along fine."

"My brothers don't," Myrcella said. "But Joffrey doesn't get along well with anybody."

"Doesn't seem so," Margaery said. "That may be one of the few things Stannis and Renly agree on. They don't like your brother." She sipped her wine. "Sorry. That was rude of me."

"No. It's not. I don't blame them," Myrcella said. "Do you get on well with Stannis?"

"Not particularly. He doesn't trust me very much, you see. He thinks I've seduced Renly with the aim of gaining more influence over the Baratheon company. Considering they are our rivals and all." She gave a little laugh. "He doesn't believe in our love."

Myrcella tilted her head to the side. It didn't seem Margaery believed much in their love in that moment either. "But…you do love him?"

"Of course," Margaery said absently. But her smile was tight as she spoke.

Myrcella chewed on the inside of her cheek, thinking of how to phrase her next question. "It is also good for your family. Isn't it?"

"To make a match with the other prominent food distributor in Westeros? Yes. Very," she said. "A lucky coincidence I suppose. That I also have such strong feelings for Renly." She gave a little smile. "But everyone will always focus on the politics. The business." She studied Myrcella. "You'll understand as you get older. For girls like us, nothing is simply about our feelings."

"Margaery."

Myrcella turned and saw Renly coming down the hall.

"I was just looking for you. Oh, hello, Cella." He gave her a pat on the shoulder as he passed. "Can I borrow my fiancé?"

"Yes, of course," Myrcella murmured. She watched Margaery put on a bright smile as she went with Renly. He was smiling too. But both their expressions looked like carefully painted masks to her.

"For girls like us, nothing is simply about our feelings."

No. Myrcella knew that well enough. Feelings had not been the only thing at play when her mother married her father. Myrcella doubted she would be allowed to choose her partner with only her heart.

It was the sad reality of belonging to such a notable and wealthy family. They had every privilege in the world. But their lives…their lives belonged to those that pulled the strings.

They simply had to make the best of it.

Myrcella was still turning over what Margaery had said hours later when she got a call on her phone. A call from her mother. She smiled and answered.

"Hello, mother."

"Hello, dear." Her voice was tired. Myrcella identified that at once. "How are you? Staying safe?"

"Yes, I'm very safe," Myrcella said. "With the wedding coming up, the estate is on constant watch. No dangers can slip past." She circled around her room. "It should be a lovely wedding. I'm looking forward to seeing you."

"Yes. I'm sure it will be very nice," Cersei murmured.

Myrcella swallowed hard. "Are you…are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine."

"You're not. Something is wrong."

There was a heavy sigh in the receiver. "I never could hide it from you, could I? Even when you were young. You always saw when I'd been having a difficult day."

Her voice was sort of airy. The way it got when she had been drinking. Myrcella sank slowly onto the bed. "So what made today difficult?"

"I can't get into everything right now," Cersei said. "But I…I've been trying to reach your brother."

"Joffrey? Is he missing?"

"Sort of. More that he doesn't want to be found."

"That's not unusual I suppose," Myrcella said.

"No. But it's very important we know where he is," Cersei said. "He hasn't been answering for me. I hoped he might answer you."

Myrcella bit the inside of her cheek. He might. There had been a few times when Joffrey was off the grid that she called him because she hated to see her mother so worried. Joffrey was an ass. He never thought about anything but himself. But sometimes he was her older brother. Sometimes he remembered that and picked up the phone.

"I can try," she said. "What do you want me to say to him when I do?"

There was a long silence on the other end. Then: "Tell him he needs to come home. That he could be in danger if he doesn't. Tell him…tell him there's still time to figure this out."

"Figure what out?" Myrcella asked. She was scared now. "Why is he in danger? Did the people who came after me come after him?"

"No. But…they might," Cersei said. "Just do what you can, Cella. You might be the only person he'll listen to."

Myrcella felt a lump in her throat as she swallowed. Then she let out a breath. "I'll try. I promise."

"Thank you," Cersei said. "You're…you're a good girl. Stay safe. I love you."

"I love you too."

She hung up the phone. For a long moment, she stared at in her hand, completely unsure of what to say. It wasn't that she couldn't talk to Joffrey. It's just that the stakes seemed so high. What if she said the wrong thing and chased him further away? Further into danger.

It doesn't matter, she thought. Mother wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. I can at least try.

She had to. For every terrible thing he had ever said and done he was still her brother. And if she had to pull him back from a ledge, she would.

A/N: We'll see how Myrcella's call with Joffrey goes next time (if she is able to reach him of course. And we'll be back to Arya. But I hope you enjoyed this week's chapter. Review, subscribe and I'll see you next time!