Chapter 4
A smile came to Myrcella's face as she entered the chambers of Princess Elia and heard the sound of childish laughter filling the room. She stopped at the entrance and smiled widely at the scene in front of her.
Princess Rhaenys was strolling through the room holding her little kitten, speaking to the animal as if it was a child, and her duty to introduce the cat to everything and everyone in the room.
"Good morning, your graces, septa, Sylvia," Myrcella spoke, watching how Princess Elia's hands methodically worked her embroidery hoop, but her eyes seemed far away in the window and the sea. Sylvia, whose own fingered worked her harp, had stopped her soft melody at Myrcella's entrance. The Westerlander lady and the Crownlander traded a knowing look between them.
Much like Myrcella, Princess Elia was deprived of most of her ladies and childhood companions since she was ordered back to court by Aerys. Fearing for the safety of her ladies, Princess Elia sent her Dornish companions to their homeland, knowing they would be no more than hostages in King's Landing. Like we are.
Sylvia Hayford remained with her princess. An unwed woman of two-and-forty, Sylvia maintained a svelte figure and most of her maidenly beauty, with her cooper strands with no hint of silver, a barely wrinkled face, and the seductive green eyes that captivated many. Despite being one of the great beauties of her time, Sylvia's heart belonged to one man only, whose vows made it impossible for them to wed. Any other woman would be forced to marry, for love had little to do with marriage. However, Sylvia was orphaned at a young age and became regent for her brother. Afterward, no men would force her to wed.
The Hayford lady had served Queen Rhaella since they were both freshly maids, in turn being handpicked by the Queen to serve Princess Elia as one of her ladies in hopes of helping the Dornishwoman adapt to King's Landing. It was likely also done as a favor to her paramour, Prince Lewyn.
"My lady," the little princess shouted, running towards her, brown curls bouncing as she did it. Stopping two feet of distance as Myrcella curtsied to her. "Balerion, this is Lady Myrcella. We like her a great deal, but not as much as Asha."
Myrcella couldn't help but laugh at the matter-of-fact tone with which the princess introduced the kitten to her. Likely forgetting she had done the moment Prince Oberyn had given her the pet. Her septa, however, quickly correct the princess for her language and lack of poise. Still, Myrcella smiled brightly. She adored the little girl.
A lively child of three, Princess Rhaenys was a precocious girl, much like Myrcella had been, but unlike her, the princess carried inside her the energy that could outrun a knight. Clad in a yellow silk gown, she was a miniature of her mother, with dainty features, sharp cheekbones, olive skin tone, curly brown hair, and large dark eyes that bespoke of her cleverness. The only hint of her father was in the tiny, pointed nose and pouty lips. She would be a beauty.
"But I like Lady Ashara best. Where is she?"
Myrcella shared a look with Elia, whose dark circles around her eyes said a great deal. Of all her companions, Ashara was, without a doubt, the one Elia missed the most, even if she never said it out loud. Ashara and Elia were more sisters than friends.
But despite the current mood of everyone habiting the Red Keep, Myrcella had hoped the return of Prince Rhaegar would have brought the princess some joy. It did not work. Whatever the spouses talked about, it brought the princess no comfort, something she desperately needed.
Had they not been through enough?
Not wanting to cause her friend any more pain, she bent her knees in front of the child. "The Lady Ashara had to leave for her home for some time. She missed her family a great deal and wished to see them." It was the truth, not the main reason, but a truth nonetheless.
"Did she take Arty with her?"
Confronted with those large dark eyes, so trusting and sweet, she couldn't lie to the child. Ser Arthur Dayne was the princess hero, and Myrcella hoped she would never have to see the day the girl hero-worship of her knight was tarnished. Myrcella knew what as like to worship and crave the attention of someone only to be disappointed. She was Tywin Lannister's daughter, after all.
"No. Ser Arthur is away on business. The Prince, your father, needed him elsewhere." Helping him kidnap and hide his mistress.
"But he'll return?" She asked with a hopeful expression.
"I am sure, princess," Trying to distract the girl, Myrcella turned her attention to the girl's pearl necklace. "You have a very nice necklace, princess."
"Papa gave it to me." She replied, touching one of the pearls. "It was his gift from being away for so long. I did miss him, but I liked to see Arty."
The necklace turned at least thrice around the girl's little neck, and it was still too long for her. Myrcella hid her feelings being a smile. Her eyes went over the girl's head to Princess Elia's, who could not hide the anger nor the pain she felt. Betrayal. Myrcella's heart tightened in her chest, and she almost scoffed. How could the prince hurt his incredible wife so much? And plays his little girl like that? Were all men the same in the end? Driven by their desires, regardless of who they hurt in the process?
"Princess, it is time for your lessons. We must leave." The septa spoke, trying to usher the girl out of the room. "Say goodbye to Princess Elia and her ladies."
She pouted, but one stern look from her mother made her nod. Princess Rhaenys ran towards her mother and kissed her cheeks. Then repeated the gesture with Lady Sylvia. The girl then ran towards Myrcella and hugged her legs tightly.
"I miss your stories, Ella," she murmured in her legs.
Smiling, Myrcella knelt so that she could whisper in the girl's ear. "After your lessons, I shall find you, and we can go visit your brother, and I'll tell you both a story. How about it?"
"Promise!" the princess demanded, excited.
"I promise, but you must promise to pay attention to your lessons."
"I will," she vowed, nodding her head a great deal and then following her septa.
Myrcella saw the little princess leave, the great door closing once more, with a strange feeling on her chest. She shook her head and walked towards her friends. Elia's crafty hands no longer pretending to work on the embroidered.
"The necklace?" Myrcella asked, wanting to close the subject and then go towards more important business. There was much talk in the streets that the Princess should be informed about.
"Prince Rhaegar is well aware how much I dislike wearing pearls," Elia said with a hand clenched and a mild tone that said all.
Pearls were too much associated with Princess Loreza Martell, seeing them hurt Elia, who still grieved for her mother. Princess Martell had been the only parent Princess Elia remembered since her father died when Elia was barely a baby in the War of the Ninepenny Kings, and she had a very close bond with the formal ruler of Dorne.
Myrcella also had little things that made her remember Lady Joanna, from smells she associated with her perfumes to the jewelry she remembered seeing her mother wear. It did not cause her as much pain as it did to Elia. The Princess of Dorne died not a two years pass, while Mother had been gone for over a decade. Still, she found herself missing Lady Joanna more and more as the years went on. Or perhaps Myrcella missed the idea of Lady Joanna more. She did not know.
"I am sure he had another lady in mind when he bought the necklace."
Madness and stupidity, Myrcella thought bitterly. Who gave a necklace he brought for his mistress to his little girl? Myrcella hoped to marry a man with more common sense than Prince Rhaegar.
"How have you been?" Myrcella asked, sitting next to her friend and holding her hand.
Days had passed since she last saw Elia, the Dornish princess stayed away from court since her husband's return, and Myrcella did not wish to disturb her unless called. Now, seeing her sleepless eyes and fragile hands, Myrcella wished she had come sooner.
Has she lost more weight as well? She was slim by nature, but Elia was almost waif-like nowadays.
"I am sorry. I have not called for you, Cella. I did not mean to worry you," Elia said with a sad tone. "To tell the truth, I've been hiding. I have not been of sound mind to deal with courtiers. Or anyone, for that matter. Even my friends."
"Was Prince Rhaegar's return not a welcoming one?"
"I slapped him," Elia confessed with a little sparkle in her eyes. Good. "It felt good."
Sylvia chuckled. "I would have done far worse was he not the person he is."
"I just..." Elia tightens her hand on her. Myrcella brought them closer to her lap and began to draw little circles on them. "I was so angry. He spoke like all was justified and fixable. As if our lives are not at risk. And that girl! And Arthur! Their audacity. To take that girl to my homeland as if they had not put my countrymen in arms way."
After those frustrating words, Elia's face crumbled, not like Myrcella's own breakdowns, but with silent tears that she did not hide from them. Seeing such heartbreak on her friend's face, Myrcella pulled Elia's head into her shoulder and combed her hair with her fingers. It was silken and smelled of apples. Myrcella loved the smell of apples, for it was a fruit she loved, but also because it was a scent easily associated with Elia.
"I would care little had he found some mistress. It is the way of men of his status. Of men in general, in truth. I would have closed my eyes and pretended not to see it. But this. He replaced me. Or he wanted to. I have no doubt."
"Replace you?" Myrcella asked, confused, "Why would he replace you?"
"Oh, Cella," she cried. "Rhaegar told me such maddening tale. Of second marriages and Targaryen's traditions. He would give Aegon a Visenya as well as a Rhaenys. Two sister wives as if he was the conqueror with the real Balerion instead of a kitten. And the prophecy. Because, of course, he could not be like all men and be simply be chasing after his lusts. No, he justifies it all with his cursed prophecy."
"He's mad like his father," Sylvia whispered.
"He didn't sound mad. He sounded confident." Elia retorted. "Assure of himself in ways I had not seen it before."
"And the Stark girl? She just accepted his words?" Myrcella asked.
Lyanna Stark was half a girl, it was true, but even at that age, Myrcella had known the nature of men and women. And history. Does the girl not know their country's history? Do they not teach highborn girls in the north?
Myrcella doubted it, for she could not imagine Prince Rhaegar falling in love with an unlettered woman. It had to be love he felt for this girl. Prince Rhaegar was not his father who lusted after Myrcella because she reminded him of her mother. And Prince Rhaegar did seem the type of man to fall for a pretty face.
Not when he had Princess Elia as his wife.
"I know nothing of what she thought or imagined. Honestly, I refused to ask about her. This girl I barely remember, but who I cannot help but hate." Elia's turned her eyes to hers. "Am I being cruel, Cella?"
"No," she whispered to the gentlest woman she knew. "You are well within your rights to hate this woman. If Rhaegar does believe he wed her, she is a treat."
It was poorly to say something like that about a girl who was barely six and ten. Could such a young person be a treat?
Myrcella remembered Cersei, the well, and Melara. She was a child then. If a child is capable of that, a young woman can do much worse. Alys Harroway and Daena Targaryen were enough evidence to attest to that.
Elia's lips curled slightly. "You sound a bit Lannister now," she said not in an unkind tone, but then her eyes turned serious. "I thought it would be you."
"Me? I would be what?"
"My replacement. I knew it the moment the Maester told us I could not have another child. I saw in his eyes. He would replace me with another. And he showed you favor above all others."
"Elia, I would never-"
"I know," Elia said with certainty. "I know you simply just enjoy your talks because he is one of the few people in here who can speak the same language as you."
Myrcella shared a small smile with Elia. It was a current teasing between them. When Myrcella picked up a book, they liked to say she began to speak of it like it was written in a different language. And, it was the truth that Prince Rhaegar was one of the few who could keep up with talks of old history and theology.
"Still, Elia. Even if I did love him, which I don't, I would never betray you."
"No. You're too good for that. Your father isn't. I apologize for what I am about to say, Myrcella. He would not hesitate to kill me if he could put his daughter on the throne. The moment he knew – and he would know – that Rhaegar wanted you, my days would be numbered."
Myrcella couldn't look at Elia, for deep down, she knew her words weren't a lie. Her father would always put his status and the family name above all other things. Especially Dornish princesses who he saw as being "in his way". He would not care how much it would pain Myrcella to lose her dearest friend, her one true sister, not if one of his daughters would end up as queen. Not even if he had to force Myrcella at sword point into the sept to get married.
Despite her hurt, she tried to bring some hope and confidence back to her princess. "You are a Princess of Dorne and the future Queen of Westeros, no matter what Rhaegar thinks he can do. He prays to the Seven as we do, and he cannot have two wives. We are not in the time of Maegor the Cruel."
"But what if it is the time of Daemon Blackfyre? What if Lord Stark looks at his sister's child and thinks to make himself a kingmaker?"
Myrcella knew next to nothing of this young Lord Eddard Stark. All she knew was that he was raised by Lord Jon Arryn and was very close with Lord Robert Baratheon. He was a second son with powerful friends, and that should have been enough for someone in this damn castle to know something of his character beforehand, but all they knew was what Ashara told of the young man, and she painted him like a maiden in love would, not as a courtier. Shy and sweet were not exactly traits of a political mastermind. But neither were traits of a commander, and he was part of the trio that was winning the war.
"He already is," Sylvia finally spoke. Her green eyes reminded her of Chataya's insightful ones. "He and Jon Arryn. Do you think this war will end with Rhaegar on the throne? If he loses, he's a dead man. If he wins... I do not know, but half the kingdom has rebelled against his family. That comes at a cost."
"What if my children are the price? What if instead of a half-Dornish babe, they think better to place a child of the north on the throne?"
"It won't happen, Elia," Sylvia said with confidence. "Lyanna Stark and her family can say all they want, but the child is a bastard, and Westeros has learned their lessons with the Blackfyre's."
"I wish I had your confidence, Syl," Elia said softly. "But I cannot help but think this is far from over."
"Let's change the subject. How is the world outside these walls?" Sylvia asked her in Rhoynar.
"Turning more against the King," Myrcella answered in the same language. But with a broken accent and not as a fluid of speech. "Most loyalists have turned to Prince Rhaegar now that he has returned. They hope he'll end the Rebellion and then put an end to his father's reign. The smallfolk hate the king more with each passing day. The streets are being kept at peace because the Gold Cloaks and most of them are using barbaric methods to do so."
"The Lord Commander said the streets are peaceful." Sylvia countered with uncertainty.
"Last week, he arrested ten men and their entire family because one gold cloak heard them calling Prince Rhaegar king as well as Robert Baratheon. They tortured those men to death, and three children didn't die in the cells because I keep giving them food and medicine."
Myrcella was angry and did not hide it. She had been visiting the cells every day since it happened, barely able to sleep because of the horrors she would imagine when her eyes closed. She had found a young boy of two-and-ten dead in a cell once, and it had horrified her. He had been tortured and left to die by Aerys confessors. From that moment on, Sandor never let her be the first inside a cell.
When Myrcella expected King's Landing could not horrify her more, someone always managed to surprise her.
"The Commander of the gold cloaks doesn't see the problem in putting young children in cells. To make matters even worse. There is a pregnant woman in the cells as well. Her husband was killed for treason. Or better, he died in the torture chambers, refusing to name his wife and sister as a co-conspirator. Still, the man's sister was arrested and declared a traitor without a hint of evidence. Her punishment was being tossed to the barricade."
"Seven Hells." Elia cried out while Sylvia, who had gotten up during Myrcella's tirade, ran herself tired by pacing around the chamber. "We are putting children and pregnant women in cells, now? And innocent women are raped by the men who were supposed to protect them? No wonder the people hate us." Elia spoke in an angry tone.
Myrcella shifted in her seat. "The King has offered to dine with me. A private one." Elia's fingers laced on her trembling ones. "Perhaps." she tried to speak, but the words were failing her. "Perhaps," she swallowed. "I can get the king to let me take in the children and the woman."
Elia's warm hand touched her cheekbone. "I fear for you, Myrcella."
"I fear for us all," Myrcella confessed. "Still, I won't have the image of dead children and women in my mind if I can help it."
.
.
Myrcella was not surprised to see a man clad in light armor outside her door. She was still abed clad in a sleeping gown and robe, Lyra's hand softly petting her hair. Myrcella had not left her chambers in three days. People must be questioning why.
Let them. I am so tired of this. Of Aerys games, and the courtiers judging eyes. I want peace and quiet.
"My lady," the knight said with a careful tone.
Ser Darry looked restless, but the usual kind smile he gave her was weaker. But she was almost pleased to see that the two Gold Cloaks he picked to get her were one of the few who still deserve that cloak. Still, one of them, the youngest, couldn't help but look horrified at her.
What I imagine I must make. The great lion of Lannister daughters with red eyes, a cut lip, purple bruises all over her arms, and barely concealing marks all over what should be hidden places.
"I cannot take your maidenhead, my beloved. No matter how much I wish, I won't have the sheep speak badly of you. You are my queen-to-be, not Rhaegar's whore."
She had been so stupidly pleased with it until she learned better.
Who knew Aerys could get so creative? Myrcella pushed back the tears that were beginning to form in her eyes.
Lyra had not left her side, and the pregnant woman – Anna, her name was Anna, could help her too, but kept most of her time in the antechambers with the kids.
Aerys had confined Myrcella – and her wards, as Aerys had called them - to the upper floor of Maegor's Holdfast. Myrcella slept in the closest chamber to the King's Apartments that had not been used since Shaera Targaryen was queen, while Queen Rhaella used the floor below them. The message was clear for all who knew.
Once, her chambers had been the Queen's, for they had a small pathway to the King's Apartments. But time distanced them more and more from the king's until Queen Naerys finally had the upper floor adapted to what became the official Queen's Apartments and also the nursery. They were fine chambers, the finest after the King's Apartments. The other apartment became the rooms for the king's favorite. Jaehaerys the Second had no favorite but his sister-wife, so she had the chambers adapted to her likings, keeping the official rooms also to herself. Aerys had many mistresses but no favorite to occupy the place for long enough to leave an impression.
Still, despite the comfort and luxury around her, she preferred a small cell to this.
"Lady Myrcella," The knight tried to speak to her.
In her far-away mind, she wondered why Jon Darry was not wearing white. Wait- Jon Darry is at war with Prince Rhaegar, Ser Barristan, and Prince Lewyn. Jaime became the only Kingsguard left, so he was to guard Aerys at all times.
To calm her quick thoughts, she blinked at the men at the door. "Ser Willem?"
The Queen.
"What happened?" she stirred.
Ser Willem looked towards the men and back to her.
He could not be that shocked by her state. He served Aerys since his early years as king. Still, their pity angered her. "Speak! One of you has to have a tongue."
"My lady," one of the gold cloaks knelt before her.
He could not be past his mid-twenties. He was of a broad frame with pale hair and blueish eyes. A much-desired coloring, but that in his case contrasted terribly with his big nose and small eyes. "There has been news from the Trident. Prince Rhaegar is dead."
"What!" Her heart began to beat faster, her blood pumping for the first time in too long.
"The Usurper was victorious." He added. Myrcella noticed he said it neutrally. "Her Grace has need of you. The King ordered that she and Prince Viserys were to be sent to Dragonstone."
"What of Prince Rhaegar's children?" She knew better than to ask after Elia or even herself. Aerys would not let two of his most valuable hostages slip through his fingers.
"Her Grace asked the king to take her grandchildren with her, but he has refused." He stopped himself from continuing.
"Lyra, get me a simpler gown. I don't care what is as long as I can get inside it fast." Lyra nodded, and Myrcella turned to the man. "Ser, get up from the floor. What is your name?"
"Ser Corwyn Waters." Lord Lucerys Velaryon bastard. One of them, at least. Could he be trusted? Lord Velaryon was one of Aerys' most loyal men. And he was still kneeling before her, for some reason, and it was annoying her.
"I told you to stand, Ser. And tell me all, for I won't have you hid anything from me."
"His Grace has made a bill of inheritance. Prince Rhaegar's children are to be disinherited in favor of Prince Viserys, and any child His Grace might still sire."
With me. Aerys planned to send Queen Rhaella to take the septa's veil and marry her. Would that please her father? Would he care if I was wed to a monster as long as I was Queen?
"Her Grace is preparing for her departure and has called for you, my lady." Willem Darry spoke, and in his slightly demanding tone, seemed to have found his spine once more.
Jonothor Darry was a King's Man through and through. He seemed to have little trouble with his duties. His elder brother still had some compassion inside him. And his loyalty was not to the King but the Queen Rhaella. He disliked Myrcella because of the attention the King paid her. Blaming her for it like most men tended to do. But she would have him over his brother since his loyalty was in the right place.
"I shall go meet Her Grace."
.
.
Queen Rhaella's empty eyes frightened Myrcella in a way not even Aerys touches did. The Queen had once been a beauty, but her body was broken. The repeated pregnancies and the heartbreak of losing most of her babes, as either stillborns or miscarriages, painted a body that still endured suffering to this day. But her eyes were the worse. They were a beautiful shade of violet, but they were the Stranger's eyes. There was no life inside them, and at times it seemed there was no life inside Queen Rhaella either.
Queen Rhaella's empty eyes frightened Myrcella in a way not even Aerys touches did. The queen had once been a beauty, but her body was broken. The repeated pregnancies and the heartbreak of losing most of her babes, as either stillborns or miscarriages, painted a body that still endured suffering to this day. But her eyes were the worse. They were a beautiful shade of violet, but they were the Stranger's eyes. There was no life inside them, and at times it seemed there was no life inside Queen Rhaella either.
Aerys killed this once-proud woman from the inside. Am I to be the next? It was a daunting but current thought of hers.
"Cella," the queen spoke in a hoarse tone. The fingerprints around her pale throat as the fingernails and bruises covering her body made Myrcella almost cry out.
Instead, Myrcella knelt on the ground before the woman whose body seemed to crumble with each breath. Taking the queen's hands with her own, she noticed the bruises and the covered fingers. Did she break them fighting him off?
If Queen Rhaella did fight off her husband, what did it say of Myrcella, who let Aerys do what he wished with her?
Was I compliant in those acts?
Does it make me his mistress?
His whore?
"What has my brother done to you?" She asked not with pity but with sadness.
"Think nothing of it, Your Grace," Myrcella replied quickly. "His Grace has not touched me in the way he touched you."
He has not raped me as he did you. He did much to Myrcella's body and made her do much to his in turn, but he had not done that.
And I let him.
"Oh, sweet Myrcella," Rhaella touched her cheek, and only then did Myrcella notice her tears.
How am I so weak-minded? The Queen had to suffer him for decades, and where I am, crying on her?
"I am truly sorry for the pain you've been through. For what Elia has been through."
"What of your pain? Your sadness?" She asked gently.
"I am not long for this world, Myrcella. You have been a daughter to me, the only one I saw grow, and soon I shall see my other children. So do not worry for me, for I will be at peace."
"I cannot help it, my Queen. You have been a mother to me, and the Gods and Lady Joanna forgive me, but at times you have been more a mother to me than her."
Rhaella gave her a gentle smile. "She won't blame you for it, Myrcella. Be jealous, perhaps. Joanna could be a jealous woman, but she would never blame you for finding a mother's touch elsewhere. I just wished I could give you more of it."
Myrcella couldn't stop her tears, nor could the queen.
Don't go. She wanted to beg like a child. Don't leave me.
"You have a great deal, your Grace. More than I deserved." For I have betrayed you.
Rhaella's eyes turned sadder. "You have too kind of a heart and carry the guilt that is not yours to bear." She felt strong fingers, stronger than she expected, pull her chin up. "You've been a bright star in these later years of my life. A treasure I shall take in my heart on my next one. Do not feel guilty for this nor what has happened to this day, Myrcella. You are not to blame for what Aerys has done. Never. If nothing else, promise me that."
"I... I." She was lost for words.
"Promise me, Myrcella. You are not to blame for any of this."
Myrcella swallowed hard. "I am not to blame for any of this."
"Now, you must believe that as well. As women, we suffer much in this life. But we are also capable of enduring a great deal. You have a bright future ahead, and, one day, all this will be no more than a dark chapter in the book of your life."
"Your Grace-"
"Rhaella. Call me Rhaella."
"Rhaella," she tried it. It made her feel warm and sad. "I cannot thank you enough for what you have done for me. And for your words. I wish to be able to make them justice."
Rhaella's fingers played with one of Myrcella's curls. "You have already, Myrcella, and I shall go to my grave knowing the queen who will follow me will be as good as Queen Alysanne."
Myrcella blinked. "Your Grace?"
"All things come to an end. And all dynasties as well. The Gardeners were the greatest family Westeros had seen, and they perished against my ancestors. The Mudds, the Harrens, and so many others are all but pages in our History. But the Dorrandons transformed and adapted, and now it is House Baratheon's Age. Steffon's boy shall be King, I know it."
"Viserys and Aegon-"
"Are a boy whose father is mad, and a babe whose father is dead. One had a broken mother, and the other a Princess who should be a Queen but won't be. All we can hope for is to transform and adapt to this new era. You will be the Queen of this new Age."
Myrcella shook her head. "No. I won't be Queen of anything. I want a house with a garden or a life of servitude to the Faith."
"Oh Myrcella," Rhaella gasped, "how can such parents create such a marvelous creature? I do not know. But you will have all the gardens you want and servitude as well. To the Faith, to your husband and King, but above all, to your country. And I know you are up to the task in ways I never was."
Myrcella kept on denying it. "Lady Lyanna is Robert's beloved."
"And she ran away with his enemy. She will be spoiled goods the moment Robert Baratheon finds out the truth."
"Cersei, she is more beautiful, younger, and much more regal than me. She was the one who was to be a Queen, not me." Even their mother had known, and Cersei had been barely four when she passed away.
"Your sister is a vain girl who believes herself to be very clever when in reality she is nothing but cruel and contemptuous. How your father cannot see that, I do not understand, but he was always blind when it came to the women of his family. You are all a Queen should be and more."
"I don't want to be a queen, Rhaella. I never did." She couldn't keep the trembling of fear from her tone.
"Not all Queens are like me, and not husbands are like Aerys. Steffon's son, I heard a great deal about him, for even hidden away I have people who speak to me." Like Myrcella. "He won't be faithful to you. Especially not while he is a handsome, young king. His appetites are well known. But you won't be a Naerys, nor will you be me."
"All I wanted was to marry a gentle man who would allow me peace and books."
Rhaella Targaryen looked even sadder by her words. "I was once like you. I knew a man, a knight, so brave and gentle he was. I was barely four and ten and was about to be given away as a bride to a brother I never liked and treated me even with disdain. At times, I think I wanted to be him more than I wanted him. I was a mere child-woman, after all. But I think about it at times. Imagine what would have been like: a simpler life."
Myrcella held onto Rhaella's hand until the maids returned with the water for her bath. Not wanting to part from the Rhaella, she washed her thin silver hair and helped her dress. She kept her tears at bay for the entire time and a more gentle expression than the horrified looks some of the maids were giving her. She is the Queen! Show her some respect, Myrcella wanted to shout. She held onto the Queen as they climbed inside the royal wheelhouse. Her eyes found Jaime for the first time in days. He looks broken too. Myrcella wanted to cry and shout at the Gods. Rhaella patted her hand, and Myrcella leaned softly on her shoulder. Prince Viserys climbed on her lap, and Myrcella began to braid his long silver hair.
The journey was made in silence.
Rhaella kissed each of Myrcella's cheeks as a goodbye. The tears Myrcella had been keeping at bay began to wet her cheekbones.
"I wish you the greatest of fortune, sweet Myrcella." The Queen whispered.
Viserys looked between the two of them, his expression confused. In an act so unlike the retiring prince, he pulled on the skirts of Myrcella's gown.
"Aren't you coming, lady Myrcella? My mother will miss you," he said with a pout.
"I will miss her too, and you, my prince. But we'll see each other."
I hope under better circumstances.
She watched their ship leave the bay, and something heavy settled on her soul. Myrcella wanted to shout at them to return to her. She only did it in her mind, where her thoughts and pains were free to torment her.
It cannot be the last time I see her. Queen Rhaella might return to court. And if the new king did not allow her to leave Dragonstone or forced her to become a septa, Myrcella would follow her gladly.
"We should go back to the Red Keep," someone had told her.
Yes, back to my red jail.
Author's Note:
GabiLime14: Thank you for your ideas. Elbert will be coming up next. And Ser Barristan might have more chapters than I planned. I want to write a Jaime POV so much, but I also want to keep him for a big moment. Perhaps the wedding?
Guest (1): I did have some trouble writing chapter 3, perhaps it passed to the story. But I'm glad you still keeping up. Elbert will play the role of her main supporter. I am not sure his personal arc will go…. He does need a wife, any idea?
Lordfinn: The big sin was Melara's death. But I have been teasing Myrcella's preference, I was pleasantly surprised that you noticed. I am not really sure about Robert's type. We have little information of the mistresses he took only that he loved (supposedly) Lyanna. Elia and Rhaenys will die… Aegon, well, we shall see. Myrcella needs to be torn over her duty and her loyalty. And her found family and her blood family. Myrcella's temper is something that must be scary… the ones who rarely get angry usually are frightening to deal with when they get mad. I find it kind of funny that people still imagine Cersei is on the table for a wife to Robert (at this point in the story only Myrcella believes so). Myrcella is the most popular lady in King's Landing and perhaps the entire country.
ackslash24x7: Thank you for your kind words.
AAALLlIII333: In a gloomy and tragic way, Elia herself gives the reason why she'll die. I might, in a later arc, perhaps a third and final act, bring Young Griff to the table. The third act, if I write that far, will be an invasion from the east – it can be Viserys or Aegon (fake or real), I am not decided yet.
Lordfinn: Myrcella is a bit of a fashionista. She loves her leggings. Robert might love them more.