I know what I am going to do with Robert, and you will enjoy and love what is to come!
Just be patient! Ignorance is bliss in this season, or so I realized while writing this chapter!
Myrcella watched carefully, hiding descretly in the servant's entrance of this new training room as Syrio Forel, a short curly haired Bravossi, closed the door and turned on heel with two wooden swords in hand, to walk up to Arya. The girl was distracted, quiet and tired despite her normal boundless energy. Without hesitation, he threw one at Arya, who caught it with ease. The man fell into a dancing stance, a few feet from her.
Arya Stark did not seem impressed, her eyes cold and dark and miserable. "I don't want to practice today." She didn't throw her sword away, but she sounded ready to do so.
Syrio Forel actually seemed moved by her words, though mostly amused enough to get out of his stance. "No?"
"They attacked our household guard, we lost five men! My father is hurt. I don't care about stupid wooden swords."
"You are troubled." He walked towards the girl, his eyes actually filled with sadness for the girl.
"Yes."
To the shock of Myrcella, his sword was shaken in the other girls face. " Good! Trouble is the perfect time for training. When you are dancing in the meadow with your dolls and kittens, this is not when fighting happens."
"I don't like dolls and k...(he swiped her arm with his sword."
Syrio Forel's voice cut out like a sharper sword then he was wielding. "You're not here. You're with your trouble. If you are with your trouble when fighting happens..." He stepped back as she advanced, her sword turning out. She parries, he turned around her sword, to be right in front of her, causing her to fall. "More trouble for you. Just so. How can you be quick as a snake... " For a moment they fought, working around their area from the moment she stood up. "Or as quiet as a shadow... As their swords met again, Syrio disarmed her by taking her sword with his hand and quickly turns to place his and her sword at her neck" When you are somewhere else?" With a rare skill he removes the swords and holds them in one hand. He places his hand on her shoulder" You are fearing for your father. That is right. Do you pray to the Gods?
Arya put her chin out and proudly declared. " The old and the new."
'Maybe I should pray to the Old Gods, it seems to imbue their people with such courage and faith we simple lack around here. I crave that bravery..."
"There is only one God-" Her focus returned with a razor interest. "-and his name is Death. And there is only one thing we say to Death" As he lifted Arya's chin with a single finger, Myrcella watched with bated breathe. She wanted, she needed the answer. "Not today." He stepped back and made a dancing stance. Arya took her own step back, just in time for his advance.
'I am glad that she is doing well.' Stepping away from the hidden servants entrance, Myrcella turned down the tiny hall and made her way towards the exit where Dagmir was waiting for her, his warm beautiful face a welcome sight to her. 'I wish I held a fraction of her strength, so few of us do... you are truly a gem to be envied Arya.'
Smiling at the larger man, Myrcella wrapped her arm in his. "I do believe it is the perfect time of day to go on a trip through Kingslanding, don't you?"
He nodded, smiling back at her kindly. "I cannot argue with that, my Lady. Everything has been made ready for your trip. I will be guarding you personally, and your typical guard will accompany us."
"Wonderful. Make sure my mother does not find out, that would be the last thing I need." With a flip of her hair, she let the knight lead her away. "I was thinking about my task, what Arryn assigned to me. I have so little experience with the commoners, I know little about what they would find and be receptive too... so I was thinking it would be a better idea to go into the city and see what they need for myself. Ask their opinions and needs. Then I can and will decide." She looked up at the oddly happy knight. " Have you decided what you would like to do?"
"Yes M'lady." His smirk was soft as he leaned down ever so slightly to whisper to her. "I wish, or so is my current idea, to get the Goldcloaks into Shape by training new members and having them serve. They were unable to save eleven people in a single brawl today, a total failure. I also wish to train or assist in the training of a guard for you and your brothers. The Kingsgaurd is a joke, I wouldn't rely on them if I were any of you. I am not amazing by any means but I could defeat all but your Uncle and Ser Barristan Selmy. I think I'll get the squires and other hedgeknights to join us. Maybe recruit some Baseborns or Bastards. People who would be desperate for the opportunities."
...
The sound of wildlife echoing through the woods as the Hunting party of one Robert Baratheon trampled through the woods. They should have been quiet, encouraging the wildlife to come closer and closer to their party so they could kill it. Or at least, that was the idea. Robert Baratheon, rambling about a new story seemed to take precedence, as it always did in his daily life...
'Why couldn't he had died already?'
Arryn didn't mean it, he wasn't blind the positives of his father's survival. Namely that Joffrey and their Mother had no real power over the throne besides moments of weakness in Robert. However that didn't mean he couldn't or wasn't tempted, as he was at the moment.
"More wine, your Grace?" Lancel Lannister, to the irritation of Arryn, had been unable to avoid going on the trip. However he had been able to get the boy to dilute the wine with several shots of water, after dumping out a decent portion of it. He almost was willing to pray it was enough.
In his typically cruel fashion, Robert ripped the wineskin from Lancel, downing a heavy portion before all but throwing it back at his poor squire.
"Now what was I saying?"
"Simpler time." Renly, who was accompanying them along side a fully armored and clearly uncomfortable Ser Barristan Selmy, croaked out with a clearly miserable tone.
The lights, one brought about only drink or whores or the remembrance of his past as in this case, returned to the man's eyes. "The enemy was right in the open, vicious as you like, all but sending you a bloody invitation. Nothing like today."
Naturally Renly didn't seem to share his brother's excitement for the past, a taste he should have been accustomed to swallowing. "It sounds exhilarating."
"Exhilarating, yes. Not as exhilarating as those balls and masquerades you like to throw." With this typical lack of empathy, Robert bellowed a laugh that filled the forest with his disdain even as they stepped further and further inside. His callousness knew no bounds as he asked the one thing he knew, and Arryn could tell from the man's cruel eyes that he did in fact know, would ignite pain and temper inside of Renly. " You ever fuck a Riverlands girl?"
" Once. I think. "
"I have, and trust me Renly you'd remember." They all turned to Arryn, who had been keeping quiet for as long as he could. 'I cannot allow further divide, if mother truly means to kill Robert then these two need to be allies for what is to come.' Settling a smirk on his face, almost offended, he spoke. " What, I am not blushing virign. I thought I was going to die, so I have been around and about the brothels more then a few times. Made the eight and all of that."
Robert Baratheon, for a rare moment, actually seemed even more proud then when he had stood up to Eddard Stark. "Made the eight, in my time you wouldn't have been considered a man unless you made the Eight."
Renly Baratheon: Those were some lucky girls."
"Yes they were, lots of coin in their pockets to pretending the great Robert's sword didn't bend in the battle." He enjoyed Robert's wide eyes, Renly and Selmy's almost terrified glances at each other. "What, if you can't find it beneath your great belly can you actually say it's getting up. With all that wine." Laughing, without the cruelty he was so wanting to cast at his father, Arryn sent back a playful but mocking grin.
To the surprise of everyone, Robert just laughed, shaking his entire massive belly. " You little shit, with all of the bastards I left in all those bellies I promise you that my sword has never bent in battle." Shaking his head, he turned to Selmy. "You ever make the eight, Barristan?"
Barristan Selmy: I don't believe so, your Grace."
"It seems my fourteen year old son is the only other man among us... Gods those were the days."
They would have covered much more ground, but it was apparently too much for Renly. " Which days, exactly?" Robert turned towards him, anger and caution in his eyes. They all knew why though they said nothing. Simply put, in his current state even Renly, untrained and unseasoned Renly, could defeat Robert in combat. The King was too fat, too drunk, too worn from age and vice to be a threat to anyone. If Renly wanted it, he could have killed him before even Selmy could intervene. "The ones where half of Westeros fought the other half and millions died? Or before that, when the Mad King slaughtered women and babies because the voices in his head told him they deserved it? Or way before that, when dragons burned whole cities to the ground?"
Oddly the words actually seemed to sway Robert, his face wasn't red with rage but instead had an odd calm about it. More a warning then actual anger in his eyes. "Easy, boy. You might be my brother, but you're speaking to the King."
"I suppose it was all rather heroic... If you were drunk enough and had some poor Riverlands whore to shove your prick inside and make the eight." With a look of defiance, he slapped his spear to his other hand and turned to walk away, only to walk into a very done Arryn.
"Enough both of you." He fixed his father with a look that actually held him. "The past was great in parts, but you cannot deny how many suffered for it." Then eh fixed his Uncle with a look that actually seemed to terrify the man. "And you. Seriously? He is your king? That being said what in the modern day does he have to celebrate? His love is dead, he is married to my cunt of a mother, the world is full of arselickers… the past may be all he has at the moment. That being said, Father it is your fault for that part."
"My fault?" Again there was no rage, only warning?"
"You live in your glorious past, you refuse to make the present better. I can think of a bevey of ways to make the present better for you."
Lancel seemed to think this was a good time to leap forward. "More wine, your Gra-" However another look stopped him from all of the others, even Selmy seemed annoyed with him. He stopped, the wineskin torn from him by Arryn who fixed him with something else more empathetic.
"My father has had enough. Your loyalty is kind, your caring is noted but at a hunt you must be careful. Temperance is the name of the came if we do not want our king to fall by a deer, boar or his own spear."
The excuse was perfect, and Lancel nodded leaping onto it with passion and purpose. "Wise words, my Lord Advisor."
"Lord Advisor, I don't think-"
"That's your new title, no in practice any longer." That was Robert, his words heavy but oddly proud. "Your officially a Lord of the Small council. 'Bout time we had someone that could tell me no. We need it. Still just an advisor, you can't Lord over any aspect of Governance but you will be heard in all matters. Now, how do you propose that I make the world better for me? Hmmm?" Though the words were careless, the hope behind them was beyond palpable and potent. A near beg really.
This was the opportunity he was looking for, and being the opportunist he was, Arryn leapt into action without more then a second or third thought. "Well, on a simple level why not get back into your previous shape?" He saw the fear return to his fathers eyes, the same fear that had appeared when they were speaking about his marriages and actually training. Only this time he understood. "Father you would have to work to get into shape and wean off of wine, so you can avoid the tremors. A year at the least, but I can see you doing this. You have the fire for it.
After that you can train others... Ser Barrinstan, the Kingsgaurd could do with some training right?"
The other man, the glorious and powerful knight nodded. "There are few of any merit or skill, mostly they bribe their way on."
"Exactly, a problem you can solve Father. Train them, use you expertise and skill to train them. Your a Knight Father, though you prefer a hammer, you can still use and teach how to use a spear, bow and arrow, sword... a thousand other tools to ensure a legacy worth remembering besides partying and bastards. Hell, maybe you can train my siblings, those cast aside as bastards, make a group of skill warriors since I assume none of my siblings have this haunting illness I have."
There was a moment of silence before Robert slowly nodded. "I'll think about it... what else?"
"Well, you could fight them in spars and combat, yes they would never try to actually hurt you but it would give you a chance to taste and see blood constantly. You wouldn't have to cast so many tournaments and that would save countless coppers we really need. It would also give you a reason to get up every day, other then wine or food. I cannot see Joffrey on the throne yet, he needs more attention and training. I will do my best to guide him but I need you to be on the throne. Putting the crown on a rabid dog before we tame it does not seem wise."
Oddly that somehow made them all laugh, except for a very pale looking Lancel… and, as Arryn would later realize, a very jealous and wrathful looking Renly.
"You are a man on a mission, are you not? Putting your brother and sister through countless lessons, wrangling Joffrey and I, putting Tommen to work under the Kennel Master... what changed?"
There was a silence in which Arryn decided to be honest. "Hope and fear, realizing that I can stay in the shadows and watch the world fall apart or come out hope that I can put it at least slightly back together... and you are not upset that I put Tommen to work?"
They started walking again, the hunt resuming as they spoke softly. "No, the boy needs work. He has no spine, not like I did as that age. Like you have now. If you think it will help, do it. Why the Kennel master though?"
"He loves beasts of all shapes and sizes, that keeps his interests and makes him more apt to pay attention." He sighed then though, shame and pain filling his heart as his secret agenda came out softly. "They have to kill many of the unhealthy beasts, pups too small and kittens sickly... he needs to learn how to take life and accept that not everyone can be saved. That is what I ordered the Kennel master to force him to watch. He will need to gain a spine, even if it will never be as unyielding as ours. I am doing what I can to prepare him, he needs a lot of progress before I try to organize a fostership for him."
"Foster... who?" This was Renly, who looked genuinely confused.
"I want to place Myrcella with the Martells, and I was considering sending my brother to the North. The Mormants are not a large house but they are powerful and do not put up with weakness. We need more connections to the North, not just a Queen. That House, like their Jorah, would be eager for some kind of redemption. This would solidify a massive connection for us. If they are not a suitable option, then House Stark would be a good place for him for a year or so, but only after I send him either to my grandfather or Stannis. I can see both giving him a spine. I am leaning towards Stannis if I am being truthful, I can see him appreciating the position of training my brother. It would satisfy him gravely… or, if my mother allows it, I would send Joff there instead and send my Youngest to the Tyrells. I have time of course but it is a matter of discussion.
If it suits you father, I would call a congress between the Houses for a chance to add their offers of both marriage and Fostership. I think they all can present a case for everything, but I would ask a serious voice in this. You are many things, known for countless things... but you are unfortunately one to allow others to sway you, if only to escape politics. I wish to help in this so my family is set for a glorious future to be remembered and not fade in the dark ages of stories and tall tales like the damned Targaryans are."
"And what of me, dear Nephew?" Renly's words were soft, offended but muted in a way that sent shivers down his spine.
He had to intervene, or at least try. "I, dear Uncle, will need your help on many things. You alone have a rare skill for organizing mass events, dealing with those numbers, and have a rare charisma. I need your help to learn how to commune with larger groups and to get a message across. Never underestimate your value in this Uncle. You are here to do many things, a small part of that is to help me learn. I hope anyway... now enough chatter. I though we were here to hunt? I see boar tracks, this was."
It was a good thing he stopped talking as pain, familiar and agonizing started to burn in his joints.
'Damn, in my desperation to save my father I forgot my medicine... I may be the one in danger now... fuck!'
Renly glared at his nephew, doing his best to ignore the jealousy as it bombarded his soul. 'Two speeches and he holds more sway over Robert then I ever have.' The words of his lover, pushing him to be king became ever clearer. The knowledge of what he was and could be, the realization that his nephew... 'A dream of nothings, whispered fancies by my lover... he blocks my way even out of the Line of Succession. He could keep Robert alive for years and make Joffrey a puppet king. I cannot believe I never saw it before.
He acts as if he wants no power and yet collects it with a rare fervency that surpasses even his grandfather. He is not even fifteen and speaks with the skills of an orator twice his age. Damn him.'
Restraining his trembling breath, Renly turned his focus to the spear in his hand. How easy it would be to end his problems, he might even blame it on the sickness, the shaking he saw even in the boy's limbs now. He tripped and fell into his weapon, the spear piercing his flesh.
That thought shook him, he almost tripped himself.
'I cannot believe I just thought that, Kinslaying a child... my nephew... ' Sweat broke out across his skin, feverish and guilt ridden. 'Monstrous thoughts... besides, I cannot believe he lacks his mothers spite. He would reveal my secrets on his deathbed just to make a point.'
He almost laughed here, the sound would have only pissed off his brother so he kept it to a low chuckle masked as intake of breathe. Somehow the sound was ignored fully...
Then he saw it. " A Boar, there!" His tone was a whisper, but it took effect. The others, even his nephew fell into a shaky but firm stance. Bow and Arrow curved and ready in hand, a flawless fletching of the arrow aimed to maim or kill. He wasn't sure, but he knew a perfect stance when he saw one, if only thanks to Loras and watching him train for countless hours.
That arrow flew, piercing the beast in the leg. Not a fatal wound but one that would weaken the beast and lower it's chance to escape. The beast snarled, loud and potent it let out a screech, charging towards them as they all flew out of the way.
Robert turned, and with shocking skill rammed his spear into the beast's flank. Selmy followed suit, his sword twisting out to carve a delicate pattern in the beasts opposite side. It screech, kneeling for a moment that allowed Robert to yank out his spear and shove it in the beasts brain straight through it's right eye! It was dead, moments later, a single squeal on it's breath...
They all panted, even Renly who had not participated. The sight of the blood, the reek of new death, it was almost too much. He panted, turning away to mask his disgust.
"This will be delicious. I love boar! So sweat and gamey!" Arryn, in a rare moment of energy, smiled at them all with passion and peace. "How are we getting this back, father? It is massive, almost larger then Lilac!"
Robert laughed, a warm belly laugh that solidified Renly's disdain for his nephew forever. "Good thing we left the horses not that far back, Until then we drag it!"
The two shared a warm laugh, a smile and in that happiness Renly only found despair. Being shoved away by a boy that was all but a stranger to his father not a month before. It was too much for Renly, and his heart closed off entirely from his nephew. Their weak alliance dying as only the urge to surpass and destroy him, to prove his worth over his nephew took hold. A terrifying thought but one he would not ignore.
'Loras was right. I should be king and if that is to pass, then Arryn cannot stay in power. He already has too much influence... his brother can be my heir, so I do not have to have children... I can do this... I can do this. I will do this.'
The hearty song of Robert, a deep bass melded with Arryn's tenor as they started to drag the boar away, the baudy tale of a whore going to war. A song of comradery and nasty thoughts that echoed in his newly hallowed heart.
From her seat in her Sedan chair, Myrcella did her best not to vomit. Heat and the scent of shit was too much, boiling in her lungs even with her newly comfortable clothes Arryn had created for her. Her hair was in a simple braid, not like what her mother would typically allow. Even her dress was shorter, cutting off at her ankles ( though those were covered by long socks) so she could avoid the shit and dirt. She had a goal in mind and clothing would never come between her and it.
She had her curtains pulled back so she could take in the sight of her city, really looking at it for the first time. An immediate need came to her mind, one that not even her brother would notice. It hadn't started from a place of compassion however, but a complaint...
'No gardens, anywhere... no flowers.' She was so accustomed to the idea, the constant surroundings of beautiful gardens around her that she almost felt lost without them.
"Dagmir… how many gardens do we have in the City?"
That threw the man off, but to his credit he somehow managed to answer her quickly enough. "Not many, a dozen or so in the aristocratic sections if I remember correctly... why?"
Her mind surged, the books her brothers had her reading took hold. "How many herbs are used in healing or food preparation. Herbs and flowers?"
"I cannot answer about the cooking, M'lady… " He paused, his mind going through what he knew about healing. "But a great many herbs are used in healing. Willow bark, though not a flower, is used to ease pain. Milk of the Poppy is used for the same... Garlic is used to alleviate infections and burns if I remember correctly."
She could not help the smile that crossed her face. "Stop here!" The Sedan cart stopped, and she all but threw herself out of the chair, looking around with caution and curiosity. Taking in depth, location and ignoring the commoners bowing to her and offering praise.
Immediately her eyes found a women, one with a basket of some sorts and lots of children. She walked towards her, grabbing coin from her purse and handing it to the women. Coppers only, knowing well enough that a gold dragon would endanger her. Still, the feeling of Dagmir behind her along side her personal guards eased any worry she had.
"My dear, I have a question if you would answer it for me."
The women went red, her body shaking as she tried to bow despite the basket and babe in her arms. "Anything, M'Lady."
"Wonderful... I am thinking about commissioning gardens in local area and I would like your thoughts on them."
The lady seemed a little confused. "It sounds lovely my lady, Sunflowers and roses would be a blessing in this dreary place. Like your personal gardens in the palace, I have always wanted to see them in person. Oh I saw some of them when I was at the Hands tournament just days past!" Weary but kind the women's voice echoed with the same passive arse kissing fear of so many... but still Myrcella appreciated the kindness for what it was.
"Oh those too, of course who would not want a touch of beauty and the scent of roses about, but I was thinking about a communal garden. Winter is coming sooner then we think, and having some herbs for healing and cooking in a communal garden would alleviate your struggles I think. My brother is planning on having many trained in healing. I cannot think of another idea that might help my people flourish in the coming hard times." She smiled, looking at the women, taking in her clothes and drab dirty appearance. " I would also talk to my brother about establishing these gardens right by healing buildings. Perhaps I can also ask him, my Brother Lord Arryn of the Small Council, to pay for those that would take care of the gardens. We would pay handsomely, women would be preferable of course. Healers, especially those with skills in childbirth and care would be welcome..." Impulse took over and with open arms she declared.
"In fact all of you, pass on the message. This will come to pass. If you are interested, I will come back here in three weeks with my brother. We will interview those with the skills we need. Only come if you are serious. We will pay for training and all of that but you must be serious. Am I clear?"
Her words echoed in a silent street before cheers followed suit and with that, Myrcella felt powerful for the first time.
If only she knew how temporary that feeling would end up being...
Or how easily it would or could turn to hate...
Sweet Summer Child...
"Now, please, part so I can pass. I wish to evaluate a few more sights!" Oddly enough they listened and the cheers followed her through the city.
Dagmir, when she turned to him, was pale faced. " You must be more careful my lady. Others could have used that to hurt you... I appreciate admired your candor and kindness, but you must be careful. Please, if you feel the need to speak as such, tell me first... so I can be closer to you."
It was hard not to nod apologetically to the man, his worry adorable as it was kind. "Of course."
Ned, with exhaustion and wariness, walked into his personal chambers with a heavy heart. The knowledge of his most recent council meeting, knowing what Tywin had allowd Sandor Glegane to do. Mocking his wife's house with their sigil left at places of atrocities… War was coming and Kingslanding was not a place to keep his daughters.
Sansa and Arya, both sitting on his bed with curious and cautious hearts, looked at him expectantly. Only Arya seemed to understand the true depths of the look in his eyes, for she was on the edge with a pained look in hers.
"I'm sending you both back to Winterfell."
Sansa, to no surprise as she had the most to lose, spoke up first. "What?"
"Listen."
"What about Joffrey?"
Arya didn't seem to be as pained, but the loss of her lessions echoed in her eyes. "Is it because of the attack a few days ago? Is that why you're sending us home?"
"In part, yes but not entirely." It was an easy thing to say, seeing how it actually managed to sway his youngest and more stubborn child. "
Or so he thought. " You can't. I've got my lessons with Syrio. I'm finally getting good."
It was hard not beg them, to get them to understand.. .pity they were so young. "This isn't a punishment."He kept his tone low, soft and sweet as he pleaded to his beloved children. "I want you back for your own safety."
Arya, single minded as usual, just sighed. " Can we take Syrio back with us?"
" Who cares about your stupid dancing teacher? Girls aren't supposed to learn how to fight." Sansa's snarl, the cruelty in her voice alarmed Ned as he wondered if the South had tainted his daughter. " I can't go. I'm supposed to marry Prince Joffrey. I love him and I'm meant to be his Queen and have his babies."
Speaking as if through his mouth, Arya spoke the words he was not brave enough to say. "Seven hells."
" When you're old enough, I'll make you a match with someone who's worthy of you, someone brave, gentle and strong... "
Sansa was not having that. " I don't want someone brave, gentle and strong. I want him!" Somehow she did not realize it, but his daughter spoke the truth of Joffrey, of his lack of anything deemable. Arya noticed it, chuckling lightly. The insult to the brat prince was enough that Ned had to look down, masking his laughter and smile. " He'll be the greatest King that ever was, a golden lion, and I'll give him sons with beautiful blond hair." Her words were like a spark, triggering the fires within as he contemplated her words.
The visages of each of the royal children came to mind.
His youngest snorted. "The lion's not his sigil, idiot. He's a stag, like his father."
"He is not. He's nothing like that old drunk King." Her hatred of his old friend aside, no matter how much it pained him, her words and their meaning acted as the final straw. Everything started to settle in place.
"Go on girls, get your Septa and start packing your things."
Ned turned away and walking towards his desk where a very special book lay.
Sansa almost screamed. "Wait!"
Her sister grabbed her arm, show casing how much stronger she had gotten as she pulled her away. "Come on."
Despite being taller and a little heavier, Sansa could not fight back. "But it's not fair!"
Finally with a silent room, Ned sat on a chair and opened the book on his desk, The Lineages of The Great Houses of Westeros. A book he had been given my Maester Pycelle weeks before. A book that had meant so little before, despite being the last thing Jon Arryn had ever looked at before he died. Until now that was.
Turning a few pages before stopping at House Baratheon, and so Eddard Stark began to read and allowed everything to fully settle into place. Understanding and fear and doubt melding into one as he spoke. "Lord Orys Baratheon, black of hair. Axel Baratheon, black of hair. Lyonel Baratheon, black of hair. Steffon Baratheon, black of hair. Robert Baratheon, black of hair. Joffrey Baratheon... Golden-head."
He looked up, imagining each and ever one of the royal children.
Joffrey, cold and unyielding, marks of insanity and vileness apparent with any threat to his power. The lack of intelligence in his eyes, so similar to those most affected by the Targaryen tendency to breed within their bloodline. The weak frame, small body and lack of combative skills.
Beautiful Myrcella, tall and strong for her age and gender. Beautiful golden curls and green eyes, perfect skin and a delicate beauty that matched none of the wildness that came with being a Baratheon. She was not bulky or thick, but sharp and strong like a willow branch.
Tommen, small for his age with a delicate heart and passive voice. Green eyes and golden hair that edged on a sandy color, features identical to a young Tywins. Nothing of Robert in him...
Arryn, tall even for a Lannister with an intellect and cold fire that matched his vile grandfather. An orator that could sway even Robert's temper, a dedication and repulsion for wine that seemed too intelligent for a child though none noticed it. His loathing of Robert, his willingness to use him instead of brute force. The sweet soft whispering of a Lion before it prey, not the mindless charge of the Baratheons. His weakness and illness, something seen before in the Targaryens due to their long history of interbreeding, a trait that appeared in the Southern families that bred with them over the years.
The soft beauty they all held, so much like Cersei...
"And Jaime..." Eyes more Jaime's green then Cerseis. Hair more curled like his then waved like Cersei's... lips almost all identical to his. "He is their father... and Arryn's affection for him... he knows."
Chapter end, tell me what you think in the reviews.
This was shorter then normal but powerful and fun and I loved it. Myrcella's dreams, her charity is in character! She has gardens in the series, I cannot see her not working in them or having them be a source of inspiration. She is harder to write, as there is so little on her, but that makes it a fun challenge!
So many goals despite the dangers to come... so much fun, a tipping point where success will not be so less possible! I love it! This is going to be epic! This is what I have been waiting for!
Love, your Ninja Overlord,
Mika!
