A/N: Thanks for your support and your patience.

Our Blades Are Sharp

By Spectre4hire

33: Myrcella

She felt tears swell in her eyes.

Princesses don't cry, the scolding voice of her mother played in her mind, but even that couldn't deter Myrcella Baratheon's tears from falling.

He was gone, the truth in the words felt like a sharp prick to her chest. Soon the bells will toll, and all the city will learn that her father, their king had died. By daybreak, Westeros will have a new king, that reminder troubled her. Her older brother was on the cusp of manhood, but showed no readiness of being able to handle the burden that was the crown.

"Princess?"

She turned to see the Lord Commander, Ser Barristan Selmy standing respectfully in the doorway. He was quick to bow his head when their eyes met, "Ser Barristan, should you not be with my father?"

Has it happened? A small voice worried in the back of her mind, Is he here to tell me my father is dead?

"He sent everyone away except Lord Stark," Ser Barristan answered solemnly. "Grand Maester Pycelle will then give your father the milk of the poppy."

A sob wracked through her body, she placed her hands on her table to steady herself. She felt fresh tears slip down her cheeks.

"Princess?" The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard sounded uncertain and or uncomfortable.

Myrcella recovered smoothly, using one hand to wipe away any lingering tears that clung to her cheeks, she then turned back to face the Lord Commander, who stood awkwardly in his armor on the precipice of her room. She gave him an assuring look to alleviate his discomfort while inwardly stemming the grief she felt swelling in her heart. "Is there anything you need?"

He blinked owlishly at her question as if he misheard her. "Princess," he said softly, "I think the more appropriate question is there anything you need?"

"Thank you, Ser Barristan." She replied. "My brother," she said suddenly, "Could I see him?" She didn't need to elaborate on which brother she was referring to.

"Of course, princess," he sounded surprised that she would ask him. "I would be happy to escort you, if you'd like."

"I would."

Her spirits lifted for the moment at the thought of seeing her younger brother. She moved across the room to meet Ser Barristan, who stepped aside to let her pass before falling in step with her as they made the short walk from her chambers to Tommen's.

Her younger brother had been sent to his room shortly after father's return from the hunt. He had only been allowed to stay long enough to see father and speak with him briefly before being sent away by their mother.

Like with Tommen, Myrcella wasn't given much time to say her goodbyes to her father.

"Be strong, child," Her father whispered to her, "And smile," he chuckled, before a spasm of pain covered his face, "Your future is bright," he moved his hand to cover hers, she didn't mind the blood that coated his fingers. "You'll be happy in the north." He squeezed her hand, a hazy hue hooded his blue eyes. "One last request from a selfish man," he sighed, "Forgive me for the father I was, and remember me as a better man then I deserve any right to be."

"Princess?"

"Forgive me, Ser Barristan." She apologized hastily, "My mind was elsewhere."

"I understand," Thankfully, he didn't sound annoyed with her for having stopped paying attention. "Your father was very happy you know, Princess."

"Oh?"

"Yes," he told her, "During the hunt he spoke often about how excited he was about your betrothal with Lord Stark's son and heir." Ser Barristan's eyes were alert of their surroundings, but his blue eyes did glance over towards her to show his sincerity and a smile for what he was saying. "He couldn't stop talking about it."

Myrcella couldn't help but return the Lord Commander's infectious smile, unable to deny the happiness she felt bloom in her chest upon hearing this unexpected information.

"He was very happy for you," Ser Barristan finished, "and proud of the woman you were becoming."

"Thank you," She said unsure the words could properly convey her sincerity. "Truly, Ser Barristan.'

He bowed his head. "You deserved to know." He then looked up, hesitance pulled at his features, "It's the least I can do." Regret made his voice sound tight, the muscles in his face were taut, while his eyes looked distant and unfocused for a brief second.

"Ser Barristan?" Myrcella didn't understand the sudden change in the Lord Commander's demeanor.

The sound of his name seemed to snap him our of his reverie. He looked at her with sad eyes, "I failed your father, my king." His tone was contrite. "I am sorry."

"What are you talking about?"

"The boar," Ser Barristan answered in a tone that conveyed she should've understood. "I should've intervened before it lunged at your father." He shook his head. "But your father wouldn't hear of it. He wanted the kill." Barristan's fingers were clenched around the hilt of his sheathed sword. "My obedience cost him his life."

Grief strummed Myrcella's heart upon hearing the details of her father's mortal demise. She had heard hunting accident, and scant information trickled out following that which left her unable to properly determine what had actually happened.

"I'll have someone else take you the rest of the way," Ser Barristan's melancholy voice broke through her thoughts. The Lord Commander had taken her silence as a sign of her anger, a dismissal that she wanted nothing to do with him.

"No," She held up her hand to stop him from leaving her side. "That won't be necessary."

It was difficult for her in those passing seconds trying to keep her focus on the present while her heart was on the past trying to process what she had just been told.

"My father wouldn't want that,"she placed her hand on his arm, "My father trusted and respected you, Ser Barristan, and so do I."

"Princess," Ser Barristan looked down at her hand, uncertainty laced his tone, "I failed-"

"No," She stopped him before he could go any further, "My father was not a man who let others fight his battles." Myrcella reminded him, "Your only failure would be to let this affect your duties moving forward, Ser Barristan," she steeled herself before meeting the Lord Commander's gaze. "Do you understand?"

He straightened up immediately, "I do, Princess." Relief came instantly to his expression.

"Good," pleased at how that was handled, Myrcella continued towards Tommen's chambers. She was comforted upon hearing the resuming heavy footfalls of her protector, Ser Barristan.

"Princess!" A frazzled looking Septa Eglantine appeared before them, "I was just about to send for you."

"What is it, Septa?" Myrcella kept her voice calm while her eyes surveyed the Septa's haggard appearance.

"It is your brother," she answered, "The prince," she amended, "He wants to see you," the Septa's eyes lingered on her, "And only you."

"Of course," Myrcella wouldn't let her voice crack with worry at the thought of something wrong with Tommen. "I will see to him now."

The Septa's relief was immediate and palpable. "Thank you, Princess," she bowed her head, "I fear nightmares have been troubling the young prince."

"I understand," Myrcella nodded, "Mayhaps, speak with a maester about a tonic to help him sleep?"

"Of course, Princess," Eglantine agreed, "I will see to it, myself."

"I will wait outside, Princess," Ser Barristan was already moving to his position outside the doors that led to Prince Tommen's chambers.

"My brother will be relieved upon knowing you are now guarding him, Ser Barristan." She then stepped into her brother's chambers which were mostly dark, save for a few candles that had been hastily lit upon Tommen waking up suddenly.

In light or darkness, she was confident that she could navigate her way through his chambers, having been here more times then she could count to have it memorized or close enough. It was ahead where Myrcella saw her brother's large four poster bed, the crimson canopy only partially removed, obstructing her brother from seeing her.

"Hello?" her brother's timid voice greeted her.

"Tommen."

"Myrcella!" His voice cracked with relief and joy.

"I'm here."

A candle was lit on the nightstand by her brother's bed, allowing her to see him. She didn't like what she saw. He looked pale, and beads of sweat appeared across his face. "Tommen, what's wrong?" In her worry, she hastened her steps to cut the distance between them.

"Nightmares," he mumbled, his face shying away from her so that she couldn't see his eyes.

"About what?" Her hand cupped his cheek, but she made no effort to force his face to meet her eyes. She'd let her brother look to her at his pace not hers.

"J-Joffrey," his voice wavered, his lips quivered, and Myrcella felt tears brush against her fingers.

Her heart ached for her brother, hearing the pain in his small voice. "It's alright, Tommen," she soothed him, quick to wipe away the tears on his cheeks, "It was only a dream."

"It was so scary," Tommen hiccupped, "He threw me in the Black Cells!"

"I would never let that happen," Myrcella assured him. "Never."

That seemed to placate him. It was enough to have him turn to face her. His green eyes shimmering with tears, but she saw the glint of hope in them from her promise.

In that moment, she felt a burning coil of hatred directed at their older brother in her gut. Knowing he was responsible for making her brother so afraid. Joffrey's cruelty, had inflicted wounds upon Tommen that had her worried she might not be able to heal. Tommen didn't deserve such nastiness directed at him. Myrcella couldn't think of a more kinder, more innocent person then her younger brother. It only highlighted her brother's malice that he could be so willing and craven to direct his vileness towards someone like Tommen.

"Princess?" Ser Barristan's voice broke through her thoughts.

"Yes, Ser Barristan?" She looked over her shoulder to see him standing there.

"Septa Eglantine has returned," he informed her.

"Good," Myrcella was relieved to know that at least her brother could have a restful sleep this night. "Can you bring it to us?"

"Of course," Ser Barristan didn't sound the least bit bothered at such a thankless task. His armored footsteps echoed in the chambers as he made his way to Tommen's bed.

The sight of Ser Barristan seemed to lift her brother's spirits which Myrcella had counted on knowing how much he admired the Lord Commander.

"Princess," he handed her the tonic, before turning to regard Tommen, "My prince."

"Ser Barristan," Tommen said, a smile was quick in forming, "Will you be guarding my chambers tonight?"

"Absolutely, my prince," Ser Barristan answered without hesitation, "It would be my honor."

"Thank you," Tommen stirred under his covers.

The Lord Commander's reply was a kind smile before he excused himself from their chambers and returned to his post.

"Drink this," Myrcella was holding the small vial that contained the tonic, as she put it to her brother's lips, thankful, but not surprised that he listened to her instructions without incident.

He drank it in two sips, before returning his head to his pillows. "Will you stay?"

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be," she brushed a few strands of his golden blond hair out of his eyes. "Now, sleep my sweet brother."

"The King will see you now."

The message soured her stomach. She hated it, this wasn't the man she loved, but the boy she hated. She knew one day the title would pass from her father to her brother, but she never thought it would come to pass like this.

I wasn't supposed to be here, she thought. She had hoped to be far away when the fateful day came when her brother would inherit their father's crown. The only solace she found was that Joffrey was under the age to rule in his own right, and would need a regent for another year.

Myrcella allowed none of her discomfort to show towards the messenger. She gracefully got out of her seat and moved across the room to the Small Council Chambers. Guards dressed in Lannister red flanked the doors, with the one on the left opening it for her, but neither made any other movement to acknowledge her presence.

Stepping into the chambers, she spotted him at once, lounging in the seat that had been father's.

No, it was different, she corrected herself, the seat her father sat in when he went to the Small Council meetings had a proud stag of House Baratheon emblazoned on the back, this chair had the stag of House Baratheon, but also the lion of House Lannister, the two animals were in combatant.

From a distance she couldn't deny her older brother was a handsome man. Even when sitting, he couldn't hide his tall and slim frame. His hair long and golden was carefully combed to stay out of his eyes. He was dressed in crimson and gold, his doublet had roaring lions stitched onto them. She had heard servants and noblewoman alike chattering way like hens about her brother's handsome features and bright green eyes.

They were fortunate, she thought, that they hadn't the opportunity to glimpse the ugliness that lay beneath his handsome facade.

Joffrey hadn't noticed her arrival. His attention on a small hunting knife that he was currently using to carve into the table, an action that he seemed to be enjoying.

"Am I early?" She announced her presence. Myrcella looked around the room to see it was empty save for her and her brother. Looking behind at the doors in which she came through, she did spot one other person, Ser Mandon Moore, who stood as still as a statue in his milk colored armor, his eyes meeting her gaze from behind his half helm.

"Sister," Joffrey looked up from what he was carving. "No, you're just on time."

"Where is everyone?" She asked, keeping her tone light, but inside she couldn't quell the small tendril of apprehension curl in her chest.

"I requested to meet with you alone," he stood from his seat, "As their King, my Small Council honored my request." He sheathed his hunting knife, but his eyes never left hers.

"Oh?" Myrcella wouldn't let him sense her discomfort. "I'm honored. You must be so busy with your preparations."

"Fret not, dear sister," he assured her. "I'll always have time for you."

The words had a way of wanting Myrcella to wrinkle her nose in disgust, but she made sure her face remained poised, a mask of indifference, carefully crafted to protect her from her brother's malice.

"How kind of you, brother."

"This must be a trying time for you."

Had he been a stranger to her, Myrcella would've been deceived by his tone and charm and thought them sincere, but she knew her brother better than that.

"The arrest of your future good father…" Joffrey was looking and waiting for any reaction she may have, but she wouldn't allow herself to be bested by him despite the genuine hurt and anger she felt churning within at the thought of Lord Stark currently wallowing in the Black Cells under the order of her brother.

A failed coup, she had dismissed the justification of the arrest as soon as she heard it. News that had devastated her when she discovered what had happened in the Great Hall, the slaughter of Lord Stark's household guards as well as his household within the Tower of the Hand.

It was said, he had tried to usurp the throne from Joffrey.

Lies, Myrcella had refused to believe them. Lord Stark was an honorable man and their father's best friend. He detested politics and power, and to think him selfish enough to make such a bold, reckless move. It was unthinkable for the Princess.

"I have need of you," Joffrey was unable to hide his disappointment that he couldn't get a reaction out of her. "A way to prove your loyalty to your king and family."

Myrcella felt as if a heavy stone had sunk in her stomach. "How may I serve?"

That seemed to please her brother immensely. "You will write a letter to your betrothed, Robb Stark." Joffrey's mouth twisted at his name. "You will tell him that he must come to King's Landing. He must swear fealty to me as his new king, bend the knee to me, and swear to serve me faithfully and only then will he be permitted to succeed his detained father, as the Lord of Winterfell, and Warden of the North."

She could tell her brother was enjoying it all: the words, the command, the power, he now wielded. His eyes danced with triumph, his lips forming a triumphant smirk.

It was worse than she feared, she realized in silent horror. Her mind racing at how to write such a letter to her betrothed. How could she ask him to make these concessions when her brother, their king had Robb's father in chains in the Black Cells?

She didn't know Robb well, but she knew him well enough to know that he would not respond well to these demands. Thankfully, her brother didn't have Sansa or Jon to hold as hostages or worse prisoners to use to threaten Robb. That was still a sore point still for her mother and Joffrey.

"Mayhaps, if we released Lord Stark," she began, struggling to find a way to make this an easier request for Robb to answer willingly.

"No!" snarled Joffrey, "Lord Stark is a traitor!" His face flushed red in anger. "He will remain in the Black Cells. His privileges as a Lord were forfeited after his seditious act against his rightful king!" He pointed an angry finger at her.

Myrcella took her brother's outburst with a knowing look, inwardly disappointed at Joffrey's shortsightedness and stubbornness, but sadly, not surprised.

"Forgive me," the words burned her tongue, but she said them all the same. "I was only trying to soften the blow for my betrothed."

Joffrey scoffed, "A woman's heart is too soft." His hand moved to rest on the pommel of his beloved sword, Lion's Tooth, "It is why men rule and women follow." He took a step closer towards her.

Myrcella stayed her ground, her eyes locked on his. She let the defiant act stretch on for no more than a few seconds before bowing her head to look meek in his presence. "Of course, brother."

"Now that your role is understood," Joffrey drawled, "You will write the letter," he gestured to the far end of the table where quill and parchment were waiting. "It will be approved by mother and the Small Council."

"Then allow me to get started," Myrcella moved to take her seat, but Joffrey matched her steps and then blocked her.

"Do not fail me," He warned, "I am your King now. You must obey me." He held his hand up to her face as if wanting to caress her cheek.

The idea was enough to rile her stomach in revulsion. However, she knew better then to show any such discomfort, and remained quiet.

"Fail me and I will undo your betrothal in an instant."

She stared back at him, refusing to let him think he won. That he was able to get her upset. It reminded her when they were younger, when he would bully her to try to get her to cry, if she did, then he thought it a success. If he didn't then he'd keep trying until he got frustrated or bored, or both. That would prove to be a bad combination.

"Then don't let me keep you waiting," she stepped around him and slid into her seat.

Joffrey didn't move, she felt his shadow fall over her. "After all, it would be such a shame for you to leave the capital." He bent down, his mouth to her ear, "Tommen would miss you terribly." A cackle followed, "But don't worry, I'd make sure he doesn't get lonely."

Myrcella's grip on the quill tightened, looking down at the blank piece of parchment before her. She refused to move her head until the shadow of her brother was no longer in view.

"I expect it to be sent before even fall tonight," he called out before the door shut behind him.

Forgive me, Robb, knowing in some way she was betraying her betrothed by writing this letter, by looking as if she was siding with her brother, her family over him. That she didn't care about Lord Stark being imprisoned…

That was when she felt the tears swelling her eyes. She took a calming breath and then lifted the quill and began to write.

A/N: I added scenes in chapters five and nine. I also edited chapter thirty, removing parts because it belonged to a subplot that I've since dropped.

Chapters twelve and seventeen are in the process of being rewritten and will be uploaded soon with new scenes and some other changes.

Thanks for reading,

-Spectre4hire