Strength of the Realm Found in Bonds: Myrcella and Tommen (298 AC)

Myrcella and Tommen had decided some weeks ago that they didn't particularly like traveling for very long distance. The novelty of traveling in the wheelhouse out of King's Landing and breathing the fresh air of the countryside had long since worn off from the long hours spent inside said wheelhouse. What had seemed large and magnificent with at the start seemed to magically grow duller and more cramped the longer the trip went.

This, as a result, had made them anxious for something they never looked forward to back home: bedtime. Because on this trip, bedtime meant they got to get out of the wheelhouse, to either sleep in a tent or in some passing village's inn. They appreciated the former for the sense of real adventure it brought that the wheelhouse could never replicate. The latter simply for giving them a room to themselves.

The latter was the case tonight, as their mother, candle in hand, herded them into the room they would be sleeping, Strength tagging along with their trunks of clothes for the morning, plunking them at the feet of the small room's twin beds.

"Okay, everything's all set for tonight," Strength noted. "Did you two remember to go?"

"Strength, I'm their mother, that's my job," Cersei humorously chided as she set down the candle. "Besides, they did remember, correct?"

"Yes, mother." "Yes momma." Myrcella and Tommen chorused as they climbed into their respective beds.

"That's good," Cersei said as she tucked in Tommen under his blanket while Myrcella crawled under her own – he was old enough to do it himself, but he still loved it when his mother did it for him, and she did love to do it whenever she had the chance. The only other people Tommen would allow to do this were his father, and Strength.

Cersei kissed Tommen on his crown, bid him "Good night, my little lion," and strode over to Myrcella, where she sweetly kissed her on her brow, similarly bidding her "Good night, my sweetling."

As Cersei rose to fetch the candle and go, Myrcella asked, "Can we have a story? Just one, please."

Cersei smiled down at her. "Oh I would love to my dear. But this has been yet another long day and we have so many more ahead of us before we reach Winterfell. I am just as tired as you, and we all need our rest before we go again tomorrow."

"Then can Strength stay and tell us a story?" Tommen piped up, causing a slight tug at Cersei's smile that went unnoticed in the dim lighting. "She's never tired. And she knows LOTS of stories."

"You're right about that, Tommen," Strength warmly smiled as she stood next to him and patted his head. "And I would love to. But that's only if you've been good today, and if your mother decides to let me. Have they been good today?" she inquired to their mother.

Cersei hummed as she put a finger to her chin. "Oh dear, I just don't know. They were just crying their eyes out from the boredom."

"No we didn't!" Tommen cried out in indignation.

"We weren't crying," Myrcella pouted.

Cersei snickered. "I am only joking. You two were very good today, everything that a prince and princess should be."

"Does that mean Strength can tell us a story?" Myrcella hoped.

After a moment of pretending to make up her mind, Cersei acquiesced. "It does, but she can tell only one."

"Hooray!" Tommen celebrated.

"And it has to be short, Strength, you know what I mean," Cersei reminded as she headed for the door to make her exit.

"Yeah, I know exactly what you meant right there," Strength replied.

"Just don't keep them up too late," Cersei reinforced.

"Don't worry, I won't," Strength reassured, then looked to her audience-to-be. "Tell your mother good night before she goes."

"Good night mother." "Good night momma."

"Good night, children," Cersei waved happily as she passed to the other side of the doorway. "I'll see you in the morning." She closed the door behind herself as she left.

At that, Strength picked up the candle that Cersei had left, and took up a position between the children's beds, as the two scooched closer to her. "Alright, now what story would you two like to hear?"

"The Metalsmith in the Moon!" Myrcella voted.

"Really?" Strength asked. "But you've heard that one so many times already!"

"But we like it!" Tommen insisted. "And we like it when you tell it."

"Oh? And why is that?" Strength wondered.

"Because you always sound so happy when you tell it," Myrcella explained.

Strength's eyes widened in surprise. "I do?" She then reflected on all the times she told the story to the two of them, and as she recalled, yes, she did in fact remember sounding happy whenever she told it. "Huh, I guess I do. Well, I guess it's decided then."

"Yes!" The youngest royals settled in, leaning on their arms as they prepared to listen.

Strength's eyes seemed to grow distant, as she told the story once more:

High above the tallest of the trees, the mightiest mountain peaks, and even the most distant clouds of the sky, up upon the Moon itself, there lived a man. Every day, before night fell, he spent every hour fashioning and polishing every white facet and silver face that adorned the sky's nocturnal light. Every day he performed this duty, so that when the world was not bathed in the light of the Sun, the Moon would rise to bring comfort and good sleep to everyone under its eternal watch, while the man rested from his labors.

And so the man lived, every day and every night, alone in the Moon.

Then, one night, a comet passed across the Moon, disturbing his rest. He looked upon the Moon, and was thankful that the comet had not damaged his hard work and carefully-forged craft. But then, he saw something curled up in one of the Moon's many little alcoves. The form was small, but was soon made apparent to be a girl, fair to behold even in her youth. The man came to the girl, and upon discovering that she had no family, he decided that he should be hers.

With that, the man and the girl became father and daughter, and the man found a new happiness in playing with his new daughter. But his duties could not be abandoned, and so he did his best every day, so that he might spend more time playing with his daughter when night fell.

But the man quickly found that his daughter, like all children, could very easily grow bored when left alone with nothing to do and no one to play with. And it saddened him, for he wanted his newfound daughter to be happy, but neither could he allow his work to be neglected. He would look down at the world, and wish that his daughter could have other children to play with, like those below.

And so, relying upon his skills as a smith, he fashioned for his daughter a doll, like those of the girls of the world. But unlike theirs, this Doll could walk, talk, and play like it was a little girl itself. He showed the doll to his daughter, and she immediately fell in love with it, playing with the new doll all the day long, allowing the father to perform his labors without worry, and return to his daughter with the fall of night.

As time passed, the father would make more and more dolls for his daughter, making each one different from the last. Every color of the rainbow was used to color their eyes, and the strength and power to perform great wonders for his daughter's delight was given to them. The father was eventually able to even allow the dolls to assist him with his labors, so that they could be completed more swiftly, and he would be able to spend more time with his beloved daughter.

But the building of the dolls took its toll on the father, making each new day more laborious than the last, and each new doll more difficult to make. He realized that he would soon pass into the next world, and his daughter, having grown even fairer and more beautiful into the fullness of womanhood, could only watch as her beloved father began growing too old to continue playing with her as he had before.

One day, the father took up his labor one last time, refashioning and reforging the surface of the Moon so that its light would never be extinguished completely, and so that it would never require his labors again. Unfortunately, he had exhausted too much of his energies crafting the dolls for his daughter's companionship, and he collapsed from the exhaustion into his daughter's arms.

His daughter looked down upon her father, as he looked up at her with love in his eyes. He told her how much he loved her, more than even the Moon, and he told her to be happy, no matter what. His daughter, sorrowing over her father's imminent passing, looked upon his unfinished labor, and put forth her own energies to complete his duty. Long had she played, but never had she worked, yet work she did, for though it pained her to labor, it was as nothing to the pain of losing her father, or the pain of him leaving her with his duty incomplete.

Long and hard she labored, into even the night. The dolls, seeing their eternal playmate hard at work, put aside their games and joined their beloved mistress, utilizing their wonders to aid her to ensure the eternal burning of the Moon's light. It was the hardest thing they had ever done.

But they finished it.

The Moon shone bright in the sky, and though it may sometimes be dimmed, it is never gone. The daughter returned to her father, who could only gaze in awe at his daughter's handiwork, and profess his undying love for her. And with that, he passed in peace.

The daughter had no tears left for grief – she had already shed millions in the course of her labors - only peace remained in her heart. She then turned to the dolls who had given her so much, and she realized, had so much more to give.

"My time with you is at an end, my dear friends. There is nothing left for you here. So go to the world below, where many more are friendless and alone. Go to them, and be as good and wonderful a friend to them, as you were to me."

Her final will spoken, the daughter lay with her father, kissing him one last time, and both she and he dissolved into starlight, and their forms passed into the deepness of the night.

And so, by their hundreds and thousands, the dolls leapt from the Moon to the earth below, seeking the lonely and friendless, so that they might bring company, friendship, and love everywhere they went.

With the conclusion of the story, Strength looked up and saw that Tommen and Myrcella had fallen asleep, blissful smiles upon their lips. A smile graced upon her own, Strength tucked the two children back under their blankets with their heads upon their pillows, laying a kiss upon each of their heads as she did. She then went to the door, quietly opening it as she stepped out.

She looked back into the room to the two sleeping peacefully, hopefully dreaming of sweet and wonderful things. "Good night you two. I love you."

She blew out the candle, and closed the door.