Their steps echoed through the cavernous Great Hall - Sansa, Cate, and Septa Mordane's. Arya was off with her new dancing master, and Cate didn't envy her. Even if it meant being stuck with the prattling Septa.
"Do you remember your lessons?" She started to quiz them. "Who built the Iron Throne?
It was Sansa who answered dutifully, "Aegon the Conqueror."
"And who built the Red Keep?"
"Maegor the Cruel."
"And how many years did it take to build -"
"Our grandfather and uncle were murdered here, weren't they?" Cate said.
Sansa looked between them curiously.
Septa Mordane paused, sniffing a bit. "They were killed on the orders of King Aerys, yes."
"The Mad King," Sansa piped up.
"Commonly known as the Mad King." Septa Mordane didn't seem too fond of their phrasing.
"Why were they killed?" Sansa asked.
"Because Uncle Brandon barged into the Red Keep demanding Prince Rhaegar return Lyanna," Cate said before Septa Mordane could stop her. "And the Mad King laughed and threw him in irons. Grandfather came to the city to beg for his release, and King Aerys burned them both."
Sansa blanched, and now Septa Mordane was scolding her - it wasn't appropriate for a young lady to be telling such stories, where had she heard them anyway, if she didn't spend so much time with her brothers -
And suddenly there were footsteps echoing again, another person entering the throne room. Cate looked to see Princess Myrcella, and couldn't stop the blush creeping on her face at being caught mid-scolding as if she were a disobedient child.
Septa Mordane was still rebuking, her voice ringing through the room, when Sansa cleared her throat delicately. The Septa whirled around to see the Princess.
"Princess Myrcella!" Septa Mordane cried, fumbling about for words before curtsying, Sansa following suit. Only Cate didn't, and it allowed her to see the flicker of a grin at the corner of Myrcella's lips.
"Septa, Lady Sansa," Princess Myrcella greeted, "Lady Cate."
"You look radiant today, my princess," Septa Mordane said.
Myrcella smiled, all poise and graciousness. "You're too kind. Really, it's the day itself that's radiant. I hope King's Landing is to your liking."
Septa Mordane spouted more niceties about the palace, the gardens, the weather, the princess herself. Cate never took her eyes off Myrcella's face, and for a split second their eyes met.
"Might I steal Lady Cate for the time being?" She asked.
Well of course Septa Mordane flushed with pride - her charge, hers, being asked to accompany the princess after such a huge disaster -
Septa Mordane whisked a protesting Sansa away, and suddenly Cate found her hand in Myrcella's.
"Follow me," she said, pulling her along until they came back into the garden, into the sunlight this time. The air was heady in the noon heat with roses, lilies, lemons and oranges. And something spicy like ginger, a very faint trace of it.
Cate looked around, taking it all in - the fountains, paths lining the rose bushes and leading to views of the Blackwater bay, its waters inky and sparkling.
"There are less ears here," Myrcella said in a low voice.
Cate shot her a glance of surprise, but said, "And your guards?"
"A good pace behind. Don't look."
Cate fixed her gaze ahead.
They strolled in silence for a bit, just listening to the trill of insects in the trees, the gushing fountain and cries of gulls over the bay.
It was Cate who decided to break their quiet. "You know, I never apologized about … for the Kingsroad. For what I did to your mother, for what happened to - with your brother -"
Myrcella looked at her in surprise. "Why are you apologizing?" She wasn't asking, merely wondering aloud. "Joffrey threatened you, Mother demanded your wolf's pelt."
"I acted out of line."
"Nonsense, you did exactly as I told you to." Was there a hint of pride in her voice? "And now your betrothal is broken. What's your plan?"
"I don't have one," Cate admitted. Myrcella chuckled. "But if I had to say now, I'd convince Father to send me back to Winterfell."
"You wouldn't search for a better match?"
"Who'd want the cast-off of the prince?"
"Plenty of lords! Your standing is equivalent to that of a princess - I don't just mean the betrothal - former betrothal, pardon me. But you're the Hand's daughter. You'll be expected to marry well."
There was something about that sentence, the phrasing, that had Cate throwing her head back laughing. "I don't like to live up to other people's expectations."
Myrcella laughed a bit at that, but it came out hesitant. "I ..." She paused, gathering her thoughts, emerald eyes blinking up at the sun. "That must be nice to do."
"What, not living up to other people's expectations?"
Myrcella laughed again, that nervous, unsure giggle, but said nothing this time.
"You do that," Cate assured her. "Reading about the Dance -"
"Shh!" Myrcella darted a glance around them.
"- No one would expect you to do that."
"No one is supposed to know I read that."
"What else do you read?"
That gave Myrcella pause - a more pleasant, thoughtful one. "I remember you saying you like reading about legends?"
"Yes."
"I love the legend of Elenei and the Storm King."
"The daughter of the Sea God?"
"The one who fell in love with a mortal. To protect themselves, Elenei and Durran built Storm's End, where they weathered out the rage of the gods." A smile spread across her face, one she must have not noticed because it was sweet, shy, unguarded, like on the first day in Winterfell. "I've always loved a tale about forbidden love withstanding all storms."
"Me too!" Cate exclaimed.
Myrcella threw a look at her, and Cate flushed. Why did she always say exactly what popped into her head whenever she was around the princess? "I, well, I never read much of Elenei and Durran, but I love Aemon the Dragonknight and Queen Naerys. Especially how he fought in her honor and won a tourney for her."
"Is that what you want?" Myrcella teased. "A knight to defend your honor, to name you queen of love and beauty?"
"I want to be the knight," Cate blurted out. Her heart was racing at the admission. No one, not her mother, her father, Sansa or Arya or even Robb and Jon knew her deepest desire. She had known, always known perhaps, but to say it aloud was treason to herself because it could never be. Yet here she was, telling a girl she barely knew - "I never wanted to be the queen, or even the princess."
"I never cared who I was in the story, I just wanted to overcome the odds."
Cate snuck a glance at Myrcella. The two of them had stopped walking, and were looking over the bay from up high. A pavilion cast cool shade over their heads as they leaned against the low stone wall.
Oddly, Myrcella wasn't looking at the ocean. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her knuckles white as they gripped the wall.
Once again, Cate couldn't help herself. "What do you have to overcome?"
Her eyes flashed open, emerald gleaming in the sun as they gazed over the water. "Right now?" Myrcella's head turned, and those emerald eyes found Cate mid-stare. Something in Cate's chest jumped a little at being caught. "A lot."
From behind them, someone cleared his throat.
Both of them whirled around, coming to face a short man with a pointed beard and wily green-gray eyes. He gave them a knowing smirk.
Annoyance flashed through Cate at the thought. What does he have to know?
"Lord Baelish," Myrcella said, not bothering to hide the surprise in her voice.
"Princess Myrcella," Lord Baelish said back, bowing effortlessly as any high lord. "I see you've found a new companion."
Something tugged at the corner of the princess' mouth, but it was gone in a flicker and she gestured to Cate. "Lady Cate Stark, eldest daughter of the Hand."
His grin suddenly turned on her. "Ah yes, Lady Catelyn's daughter. I might have guessed by the red hair - you certainly have the Tully look."
Cate didn't know whether to curtsy or not, but Lord Baelish bowed to her as well, sparing her.
"You knew my mother?" Cate asked once he was done.
That grin never left his face, and it was beginning to unnerve her. "I've known your mother for a long time. I'm an old friend of the family."
"Is there anything you needed me for, Lord Baelish?" Myrcella asked.
"Your brother is looking for you."
Cate realized what it was about that smile - it didn't reach his eyes.
Myrcella took Cate's hand, giving it a squeeze. "Come riding with me in the Godswoods tomorrow. We can hawk."
"That sounds wonderful." And it did, it really did.
And then Myrcella had left, walking back down the path they'd traversed together moments before, this time accompanied by Lord Baelish. Her beaten gold curls gleamed in the sun.
