"What does that make her, to me? Will she be the Princess or Dorne, or will I?" Septa Englantine smiled kindly at the Princess as they made their way through the sunlit corridors. The elder woman had offered to carry the bouquet, but Myrcella had insisted, she wanted to present Lady Payne with the flowers herself, seeing as she'd helped pick them. She skipped ahead of her consort excitedly, her features pretty in the afternoon sunshine as she smiled. She was such a pretty child. "How much older than me is she? Could we be friends?"
"You could be friends with her even if she were my age, I'm sure Princess," Englantine replied, chuckling lightheartedly. "The whole world wants to be your friend, sweet child."
"But you know what I mean!" Myrcella had been excited to meet Ylsa since she'd been told there would be another visitor in the Palace at Sunspear from 'the North' as the Dornish kept calling it; in reality, Ylsa was from the Westerlands, and while Myrcella had only ever been to the Westerlands to visit, that was where her mother and Uncles were from. She was excited to have a peer from her side of the world to befriend. Not that the Dornish girls were bad company, but…she was still growing accustomed to how rowdy Dornish children could be. It would be a pleasant relief to meet someone who came from a mild mannered upbringing, like her own had been. "If she's too old she'll think I'm childish."
"She's not too much older, dear, a few years. And until you marry Trystane proper, I'm assuming she will assume the title of Princess of Dorne. If she marries before you come of age, that is." The Septa reached out then and smoothed a flyaway lock of the Princess' golden hair then, tucking it behind her ear.
"Well, why wouldn't she?" Myrcella turned an inquisitive eye to her tutor, honestly curious. "If she's already of age, she should marry Prince Doran immediately, shouldn't she?"
"Well, perhaps there will be some hesitation." Englantine had heard a few whispers through the palace staff that the Prince was in no rush to marry the girl he'd only just had shipped in from the Westerlands, and for Lady Payne's sake, the Septa thanked the Merciful Mother. "Think about it; you and Trystane have so much time to get to know one another before you marry; Lady Payne should have a little time to get to know Prince Doran too, shouldn't she?" Myrcella looked thoughtful for a moment, before shyly nodding her head.
"I suppose you're right. …I wish it would be soon though. I'll be missing Sansa and Joffrey's wedding, I'd like to attend SOMEONE'S wedding. Besides, I've never seen a Dornish wedding gown."
"I'm sure it will come all too soon, Princess. Just be patient." She ushered the girl onwards, climbing the spiral steps up into the tower where Lady Payne's chambers were. The two of them were shown into the front room, where Ylsa and Marlyn were seated on a cushioned lounging chair, both looking far too stiff for a reclined chaise. The former was deep in thought with a pen in her hand, a roll of parchment spread out in her lap.
"Lady Payne?" Myrcella broke the relative quiet first, stepping into the arched lounge room in her satin slippers, smiling rather bashfully as Ylsa looked up.
"Princess!" Marlyn spoke first, as Ylsa for a moment was not sure who it was addressing her; once Marlyn stood to curtsy to the Princess, Ylsa scrambled to follow.
"Princess Myrcella," she greeted hastily, curtsying as well, though the formal feminine greeting of greater-Westeros seemed so mismatched in the loose flowing dress Ylsa wore. Myrcella parroted the action back, though her arms were full of the bouquet of flowers and vines, which she quickly offered to the older girl.
"I've brought these for you, Lady Payne! To welcome you to Dorne!" Ylsa moved to take the flowers offered to her, but Marlyn swooped in before she could, and took them, looking around for a suitable basket or vase to display them.
"Oh, Marlyn, you didn't need to-"
"Let me handle it, Lady Payne!" she tuttered, setting the bouquet in the basket Telen was quick to fetch for them, setting the entire thing on the table in the middle of the sitting area. "There!" Ylsa stood by idly, feeling award yet again having her affairs tended to for her.
"Er…that was too kind of you Princess, thank you," she said, trying to mask her awkwardness by turning back to Myrcella, who blushed lightly, shaking her head.
"Not at all! When I first got here, Trystane brought me enough flowers to fill my entire room, I thought it was lovely, and I wanted to bring you some of the beautiful flowers they grow here as well." Ylsa bowed her head slightly, attempting to graciously accept the welcome, setting her parchment and pen aside; her letter home would have to wait for now.
"Please, My Lady, sit!" She motioned for the Princess to have a seat with her, as Ellanna went to fetch drinks for the two of them. Myrcella obliged, sitting right beside Ylsa on the chaise lounge, and not across from her in a naively friendly gesture. Ylsa was a bit flustered by her overt friendliness; she wasn't very used to socializing with anyone close to her own age, so she wasn't quite sure if this was normal or not, but she accepted it as graciously as possible, smoothing out her skirts to give her hands something to do.
"Call me Myrcella! 'My Lady' sounds so stuffy!" Her smile was as bright as the sun as she spoke, reaching out to take one of Ylsa's fidgeting hands. "I want us to be good friends!"
"Oh! ….Of course, Lady Myrcella! You may call me Ylsa, as well." Ylsa was, in truth, a bit intimidated by how forward Myrcella was, but she was just a girl. She almost wanted to laugh; despite the Princess' younger age, Ylsa felt as though she was leagues ahead of her. She supposed that was just an unhappy byproduct of her isolation back at home. ….Er, her father's home, now. Perhaps Myrcella's overzealous friendliness was a good thing; Ylsa could do with some more confidence and assuredness. She smiled back at the younger girl.
"How are you liking Dorne so far?" Myrcella asked, eager to hear about her first few impressions. "Everything is so different, isn't it? Even the things they eat are different!"
"Oh, yes, I've been adjusting…rather slowly, unfortunately." Ylsa shifted slightly, still vaguely uncomfortable in the dress she wore. "I'm so used to my old way of doing things….and I'm not a very fast learner, I'm afraid."
"Don't worry, you'll get used to it in no time!" Myrcella and Ylsa looked up at the same time as Ellanna brought them a tray with a tea setting; Ylsa was greatly relieved to recognize the smell of the brewing tea leaves. "Oh, this smells familiar…this isn't Dornish tea, is it?"
"No, it's blackberry tea, I brought a bundle of the leaves from home on the ship with me; it's my favorite, and I didn't know if I'd be able to get any more of it once I arrived." Thanking Ellanna, Ylsa poured both cups, lifting hers to inhale deeply. "My mother and I used to drink this during thunder storms together and listen to the rain fall."
"That sounds lovely! I remember this tea being served in King's Landing; it's a specialty of the Westerlands, isn't it?"
"Yes, though it always seemed like we were shipping more of it out than we were drinking ourselves." Taking a sip, Ylsa let the memories of a happier time come rushing back in on her, before she had to pull her head back out of the clouds.
"I've only visited the West," Myrcella confessed, taking a drink herself. "But it was lovely country. Mother's from the Westerlands, and Grandfather and my Uncles."
"Yes, from Casterly Rock; I visited Casterly Rock with my mother and father when I was very young, but I don't remember much of it."
"Was it just you and your parents?" the Princess asked innocently, and behind her, Septa Englantine and Marlyn bristled ever so slightly. Ylsa didn't cringe though, just shook her head.
"For a while, yes. My mother was pregnant with her second child when she died of sickness. Then it was just me and father for a little while before he married my step-mother. Now she's just had my little brother, Fabian." She paused slightly, pursing her lips. "…That's why I'm here." Myrcella was quiet for a bit, realizing she'd asked a somewhat difficult question, and feeling a bit bad. But to her benefit, bless her soul, she did attempt to lift the mood.
"The Gods are good, though; everything that has happened has led you here! You'll be married to a Prince, and a good one at that!" In her sunny childlike optimism, Myrcella was under the impression that any girl would be more than thrilled to be wed to a Prince, no matter the circumstance. "You could be married to my brother Prince Joffrey; he's a bit scary though. He yells at Sansa a lot. Or my brother Prince Tommen but he's only 13. Prince Doran is better than either of them!" Septa Englantine tried to intervene, to keep the Princess from sticking her foot farther in her mouth, but Ylsa spoke before she had a chance.
"You're right, I should be thankful." Her expression previously had been bordering on wistful melancholy, but she steeled herself, trying to convince herself of her own words. "Prince Doran is a gentleman, I'm very lucky to have had him accept my father's offer."
"And we never would have met if he hadn't!" The Princess grinned, before a tiny flash of…something glinted in her sapphire eyes. She let a small moment pass, Ylsa wondering what was on her mind, before she suddenly stood, looking back to her Septa. "In fact, I think we should go pray to the Seven now, to thank them! Ylsa, have you been to the Sept here in the Palace yet?"
"Oh….Er, I haven't. It's slipped my mind, to be honest, I should have-"
"Let's go now then!" Grabbing her hand again, Myrcella pulled Ylsa to her feet, dragging her along behind her as she outsped her stunned Septa, who had not known the Princess to be so devout before. The two younger girls sped along the halls, one pulling the other, the younger wearing a look of deviousness, as their caretakers called out behind them for them to slow down and wait. But Myrcella didn't let up, encouraging Ylsa to speed up even.
"Lady Myrcella, why are we running?" Ylsa asked, a laugh on the edge of her voice from the ridiculousness of the situation.
"We're trying to lose them," she answered, ducking around a corner quickly, pulling Ylsa with her, and motioning for her to duck down and stay silent. As the both stooped, peeping around the corner, they watched as Septa Englantine and Marlyn passed them completely, thinking the two of them had truly gone on ahead to the Sept. As soon as their footsteps were out of earshot, Myrcella stood, motioning for Ylsa to do the same.
"Why? Did you not want them to come to the Sept with us?"
"We're not going to the Sept," Myrcella announced proudly, pleased that her idea had worked. "We're going to the Bazaar in the city!" She started down another corridor, Ylsa hot on her heels. "My Septa never lets me go down without an escort, and when we do, the roads are always cleared, and no one else is around. It's never any fun. When we were talking about the Princes, it sort of reminded me that the life of a Prince or Princess can be sort of…" she motioned vaguely with her hands, looking for the right word. "….no fun. I never got to go to the outdoor market in King's Landing, and now that I'm here in Dorne, with a new friend who's new here too, I thought we could go down to the bazaar together, and experience it truly!"
"Isn't that a bit dangerous, Princess?" Ylsa asked; she'd been down to the town with her escorts in the Westerlands before, but then again, a daughter of lowly House Payne was not such a valuable target as the Princess. "Without guards, someone could try to hurt you-"
"Who will know me here? This is Dorne, no one outside of the Palace has ever seen me! We'll be safe, I know it! Come on!" She turned back to shoot the older girl a pleading look. "I've never had a real friend like you before, only handmaidens, and they don't ever let me do anything fun! Aren't you curious to see real Dornish markets?" Ylsa hadn't given it much thought, honestly, but….now that Myrcella was proposing the idea, she had to admit she was a little curious. And she'd never really done much outside of her home alone before….she did have a point, this could be fun.
"Well….alright, but let's stay together, or else we'll get lost." Holding her hand tighter, as if to cement the idea, Myrcella nodded enthusiastically, and the two of them continued on, careful to avoid being seen by the various guards and staff around the Palace grounds. As they made their way out of sight, they slipped from a gated entrance in one of the back gardens, that Ylsa had a sneaking suspicion Myrcella had known about for a while and been keeping in the back of her mind, and down a secluded flight of inlaid stairs, that led through an alley, and out onto one of the roads that led up from the city to the palace. Finally out of the Palace grounds, they made their way down the main road, and from their it was easy enough to find the grand bazaar; the noise could be heard from streets away.
"I've never seen so many Dornishmen in one place before!" Myrcella excitedly whispered as the two of them slipped into the crowd in the marketplace. Ylsa was feeling a bit overwhelmed by how many people were there and how much noise there was, but she had to admit, a part of her did feel a bit giddy to be out like this! The two girls found themselves gaping at the various wares sold in the booths lining the streets, laughing as they imagined themselves clothed in the various fabrics the peddlers tried to hock.
"Can I interest a couple of pretty Northerners in a fine jade necklace, imported directly from Mereen?" one called out to them, holding up a necklace that at first glance did appear to be inlaid with jade, but as Myrcella and Ylsa drew closer to look, was actually set with something that looked closer to colored green glass.
"Fine silk from Esos!" Another shouted through the crowd, drawing their curious eyes. "Hand embroidered Esosi silk!" The man behind the booth took one look at Myrcella, and a smile split his weathered sandy features. "Ah, I'd recognize hair like spun gold anywhere; am I speaking with a young Lannister girl?" Myrcella looked up at him shocked, to which the man laughed heartily, having guessed correctly.
"How….I-I don't know what you're talking about!" she replied bashfully, glancing sideways at Ylsa. She was partway telling the truth; Myrcella WAS a Baratheon, after all.
"Don't be shy, pretty girl; a customer is a customer, I'd not begrudge a Lannister coin over any other. Here, take a look at this." As the man turned to sort through a few bindles of silk he kept behind the counter, Myrcella shot a quick look at Ylsa. Ylsa only shrugged; she knew the Dornish did not have such a high regard for Lannisters, and being picked out like this could be dangerous, but the man seemed kind enough, and he was right. Who was a merchant to deny anyone a sale, even a House the Dornish historically did not like? The two girls stood at his booth silently exchanging wary glances, as through the crowd, knowing eyes watched on.
"Here!" Finally finding the correct bindle, the merchant pulled out a roll of exquisitely embroidered golden silk. At the hems, a pattern of tiny lions was stitched, each more perfectly embodied than the last. Myrcella's eyes lit up then, captivated by the pattern, and Ylsa's gaze strayed a bit, as she inspected the embroidery on a roll of loosely woven silk laid out on the counter already. It was nearly translucent, the weaving was so delicate, and the embroidery at the hem was equally as sparse and dainty; yellow flowers on a pale lavender background. It was quite the handiwork, she mentally remarked, wondering what these flowers were. Daisies? No, perhaps poppies. And in her House colors no less. If she'd had any money on her, she'd want to buy some, if not to wear, then just to admire.
"This is gorgeous," Myrcella admired, drawing Ylsa's attention back. "This would make such a lovely dress, wouldn't it?" She held up a corner of the fabric for Ylsa to see, and she nodded, envisioning what a pretty gown such a fabric would make. Myrcella looked back to the merchant apologetically. "I don't have any money with me today, but maybe I could ask Septa Englantine to ask Trystane or Prince Doran to have this bought for me-"
"Am I in the company of visiting Royalty?" the merchant suddenly interrupted, glancing at the two girls, who both looked rather stricken with that slip of the tongue. "Prince Doran and Prince Trystane you say….." His voice dropped in volume a bit, the girls struggling slightly to hear him over the din of the marketplace. "You must be Princess Myrcella, then? So, the rumors are true?" The two girls stepped closer to one another then, as the eyes that watched them through the crowded bazaar kept close watch over their interaction. "I hadn't thought….well then. Why don't I keep this set aside, for when your Prince comes to fetch it for you?" He switched back to his previous volume and joviality, rolling the silk back up, and tuning to set it aside for Myrcella, whose worried expression began to melt. "And for your friend? Anything I can set aside for you, M'Lady?"
"O-oh!" Ylsa was surprised to be addressed, but shook her head quickly. "No, that's alright! But thank you!"
"Suit yourself. Don't worry, Princess; I won't sound the alarm on your outing." He winked kindly at Myrcella, who smiled in return, her guard dropping back down. Ylsa's guard remained slightly raised. "You'd better get going though; still so much to see before your guards catch up with you."
"Thank you!" Myrcella chirped, turning to Ylsa, nodding as she took her hand again. "C'mon!" The two of them moved right along, and, unbeknownst to them, so did their silent watcher.
"Maybe we should buy you a hat," Ylsa said, half joking, but half serious.
"I'm not the only blonde girl in the whole world," Myrcella said, stopping at another stall, fingering a delicate golden bracelet. "Besides; I'm sure he was just being nice. He'll probably wait ten minutes and call the Palace guards anyway, then we'll be whisked away to the Prince who will scold us…or at least me. You're his betrothed, he might not scold you."
"I'd be more afraid of your Septa scolding then of Prince Doran…" Ylsa said, shivering slightly. Myrcella paused at that, thinking for a moment, before making a face.
"…You're right…" she said quietly, worrying her lower lip. "Hmmm…let's just not get caught!"
"Good plan!" Ylsa laughed, and the two of them continued on. As they laughed and made their way around, the silent presence that tailed them continued to get closer and closer, though always just out of their sight. He was, after all, much better at concealing himself than they were. As were the others that followed them, to his dismay.
"What a pretty necklace." The two girls had been too engrossed watched the street performance at the end of the boulevard; a set of trained little furry creatures, monkeys, dancing at the feet of a Bravossi man, whom people tossed coins to as they danced to the music played by a woman with a funny looking stringed instrument. But as someone spoke up directly behind Myrcella, as they were towards the back of the crowd, the naïve girl turned with a smile on her face, only to have it immediately dissolve as the man who'd complimented her set a heavy hand on her shoulder. Ylsa turned suddenly too, to see not just one man, but three, one of them blocking them from the rest of the crowd, and a means of escape. The man who had hold of Myrcella grinned, as the younger girl clutched at Ylsa's hand. The two of them huddled closer together, eyes wide as they realized the three men surrounding them were of a sinister nature.
"What's a Princess and her little friend doing in the bazaar without their chaperones?" another said quietly, as the third motioned towards the alley at the end of the boulevard, as if to chivalrously usher the two girls into the darkness. Neither moved.
"Don't make a scene, Princess," the first man said, as the second drew the dagger at his hip, the beauty of the finely crafted hilt and polished silver of the blade lost on Ylsa as it was held, inconspicuous to the crowd, pointed end to her belly. "Unless you'd like to watch your friend bleed out on the street?" Ylsa glanced at Myrcella, her gut clenching painfully, though knowing it was desperately unwise for her to oblige these men. But of course she was going to, the last thing Myrcella wanted was to see Ylsa be stabbed. Nodding meekly, she let out a terrified squeak as the man who had hold of her shoved her slightly, herding both girls into the alleyway, away from the eyes of the crowd. Or at least, the eyes of most of the crowd.
"Desperately unwise of you, Princess," the first man sneered, as the second took hold of Ylsa immediately, pressing the blade to her neck as soon as no one else could see them. Ylsa yelped in fear and surprise, but a hand was hastily slapped over her mouth, reducing her voice to a whimper. Myrcella tried to reach for her, but was pulled away by the other two, who were grinning wickedly at her. "To be out alone like this; any old braggart could kidnap such an expensive hostage such as yourself!"
"A nice big ransom the Queen Mother would pay for you, I think?" the other man who held her laughed, yanking her by a fistful of her hair to look at him. "If you come quietly, we'll make sure you find your way back to her in one piece."
"No!" Ylsa tried to gasp behind her assailant's hand, but it only ended up a stifled muffle. The blade at her throat was pressed closer as she struggled, cutting a thin line across her neck, at which Myrcella started to cry.
"Don't hurt her!" she pleaded, trying to struggle herself. "Let her go! I'll come quietly if you let her go!"
"That's not how hostage negotiations work, Lannister. You shut up, or we'll do as we please with that one." The first man motioned to Ylsa flippantly, before he paused, and then looked back at the man holding the brunette. "On second thought, why don't we do what we like with her anyway?"
"Stop! Stop, she's betrothed to Prince Doran!" Myrcella cried, biting at the other man's fingers as he tried to silence her. "He'll have your head on a spike if you hurt her!"
"So this is the thing Doran imported to fuck?" The first man, a great brute of a villain, heavy set and sour-faced with a scar running from chin to neck to chest, he regarded Ylsa curiously as tears started to well up in her eyes, before laughing, soon joined by his two companions. "Well, why don't we introduce her to the 'Dornish Way' before she shares his bed? After all, you Northerners are terrible lays until you're properly educated on how to please a Dornishman." Myrcella was stifled just as she opened her mouth to scream, but before the brutish man could advance on Ylsa, and before her captor could drive his blade any further into the flesh at her throat, everyone froze, as Ylsa's captor went stiff. Behind him, another man had drawn his blade across his neck, silencing the vile man. He fell away from Ylsa then, as she lurched away, a sob at the tip of her lips.
"You were foolhardy to prey upon the honored guests of House Martell," the new man spoke, his voice instantly setting Myrcella at ease as he stepped from the shadows. Ylsa looked at him, still terrified, not recognizing his face, though Myrcella obviously did. "Now I'll ask you once, to let the Princess go of your own free will, before I'm forced to retrieve her myself."
"You fucker!" the first man bellowed, enraged that some skinny imbicile had offed one of his comrades, and he lunged for him. But the smaller man easily dodged him, using his momentum against him, and pinned the large man against the alley wall, twisting his arm up behind his back. "No? Alright. Have it your way." His blade was suddenly thrust through the back of the larger man's throat, and he stepped away, flicking his blood from his knife as his victim slid to the ground, gurgling through his last breath. The third and final man tried to hurry off with Myrcella in his grasp, but was quickly thwarted; the mystery man, with utmost precision, threw his blade through the air, sinking it soundly into his skull. Myrcella stumbled away from him, running for Ylsa, crashing into her open arms.
"Are you alright!?" Myrcella sobbed, looking up through tear-heavy eyes at the small cut Ylsa bore on her neck. Ylsa just pressed her hand to her face, too upset to answer, the two of them halfway hysterical at the ordeal. The lone man left standing went to retrieve his dagger, wrenching it from his last victim's skull and drawing out a handkerchief to clean it of the attacker's blood. Then, turning towards the two girls, he smiled.
"You're unharmed, Princess?" he asked, and Ylsa looked up at him then, tensing once more, but Myrcella only nodded.
"They hurt Ylsa," she muttered, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. The man approached them, pulling an unsullied handkerchief from his sleeve.
"Let me see," he said, looking expectantly at Ylsa, who swallowed deeply.
"Who are you?" she asked, her voice wavering. The man chuckled, shaking his head.
"My apologies, Lady Payne. You must think me no better than those men, but I assure you I am no threat; I've come to rescue the two of you, and bring you back home." He dipped his head in a short bow. "My name is Oberyn Martell, pleased to make your acquaintance."
"Prince Oberyn," Ylsa parroted, as Myrcella drew away from her, to let Oberyn inspect Ylsa's cut. She stood in silent shock at who he was as he tipped her chin up with one hand, dabbing at the blood that welled at the corner of the thin injury with the handkerchief with the other.
"You two are lucky it is no worse than this," Oberyn said, straightening up. As he did so, several soldiers rushed into the alleyway with them, slower than Oberyn by a long shot. They seemed surprised to see him there. "You realize what a high target you are, Princess Myrcella? You put not just yourself in danger, but Lady Payne as well." His words were harsh, but his voice was soft, a gentle chiding as Myrcella teared up once more.
"I'm so sorry," she squeaked, covering her face with her hands. "I just wanted to see the bazaar! I didn't mean for…for any of this…"
"If I had not seen the two of you sneaking around the back entrances to the Palace, who knows what terrible things might've happened. We might never have seen you again, Princess. Lady Payne might've fared far worse."
"We came as soon as Septa Englantine reported the two of them missing, Prince Oberyn," one of the soldiers stated, stepping forward, and Oberyn chuckled darkly.
"And you likely would have come too late, had I not intervened when I did." The soldier bowed his head solemnly at this, but Oberyn was not mad. He merely regarded the girls with a cool head. "Come. I know the entire Palace is awaiting your safe return." He reached out to lay a hand on Myrcella's shoulder gently, motioning the two of them to follow the procession of soldiers back to the castle. He fell in line behind the two of them, who kept their heads bowed as they followed their guards.
"Thank you." Oberyn seemed surprised as Ylsa slowed to walk nearly beside him, glancing at the Prince shyly. "Please don't let Prince Doran be too upset with Myrcella. It was my fault, I should have been watching out for her-"
"Calm yourself, child," Oberyn chuckled. "My brother is not the type to punish curiosity, nor is he known for his cruelty. Besides. You two are not the first girls to be known to run off on your own and ditch your attendants. And Myrcella is almost a woman herself, the blame for the situation will not rest solely to you, nor her. After all, it was not either of you who chose to be cornered in that alleyway."
"But I should have stopped her from going. I shouldn't have gone along…."
"We all crave adventure, Lady Payne. Living within the confines of the Palace can get tiring, trust me, I am the last man in Dorne who would begrudge you a bit of freedom." He smiled warmly to her, his dark eyes twinkling slightly in amusement. "The two of you lack the street smarts to be left on your own though, so in the future, at least let a few guards know so they may keep an eye on you?"
"Of course!" Ylsa nodded quickly, which set Oberyn to laughing again; he had such a kind laugh, she thought.
"Princess!" Septa Englantine rushed towards Myrcella as the two of them were brought into the main foyer on the ground floor of the Palace. The woman's face was flushed from worry as she clutched at her ward, hugging her tightly, before stepping back and shaking her by the shoulders slightly. "Don't you ever do that again! We were worried sick, we didn't know what had happened to you!"
"I'm sorry," Myrcella apologized again, as her Septa gasped at the sight of her puffy and tear-streaked cheeks.
"What happened!?" she demanded, looking from the Princess to Ylsa, the both of them flushed a deep red with shame, as not only were their attendants and guards present, but the Prince and Trystane as well.
"A few bold men had it in their head that they would like to sell our little Lioness off for a ransom," Oberyn chuckled, waltzing in behind them, moving to stand beside his brother, who was sat on edge in his chair in front of the girls. "One of them got to Lady Payne before I could intervene, I'm afraid."
"What!?" The Prince looked from his brother to Ylsa quickly, and had half a mind to rise from his chair himself, his damn foot be damned! But Ylsa quickly shook her head, pressing her lips together in embarrassment as Marlyn tuttered up to her, fussing about her cut.
"It's nothing," she insisted, not meeting Doran's eyes. "It was my fault-"
"They've been dealt with?" He turned to Oberyn, eyebrows knitted together in a deep scowl over his dark green eyes. Oberyn nodded once.
"Oh yes, I took care of them."
"Good. Lady Payne, please." He held his hand out to Ylsa, trying to keep his gaze from being too severe, or his voice from showing his worry. Ylsa slowly complied, stepping towards him and laying her hand in his, to which he grasped with both his hands, rubbing his thumb over the top of hers. "If anything had happened to either of you-"
"I'm sorry, Prince Doran," Ylsa said quietly, looking away. Doran looked from her, to Myrcella, and sighed.
"Septa Englantine, I leave the Princess to you. Trystane." He glanced sideways at his son. "Why don't you go with Princess Myrcella and her consort. She looks like she could use someone to help dry her eyes."
"Of course," Trystane said, just a bit too happy to comply, rushing after them with his guard. Doran then turned to his brother, nodding once.
"Oberyn, thank you," he said, giving him a weighty look. The younger man just smiled, shrugging nonchalantly.
"My blade needed the practice," he said, somewhat flippantly, as he moved to exit the foyer. Doran watched him go before finally turning to Ylsa and her consort, glancing at Ellanna.
"Please prepare a hot bath for Lady Payne and dressings for her wound; she's had a long day."
"Of course," Ellanna said, bowing her head, recognizing that the Prince was dismissing everyone present in an effort to be left alone with Ylsa. Shooing a nervous Marlyn and an amused Telen away with her, Doran was finally left with just Ylsa and Areo, the latter of whom decided was a good time to proceed to have a 'coughing fit' and excuse himself to track down a drink of water. Finally the room fell silent, with Doran still clutching Ylsa's hand in his.
Ylsa stood awkwardly, both embarrassed and fidgety; here she was, with her betrothed whom she'd only just caused a mountain of trouble and worry, who she had only ever met with once, properly. What was she to say in this situation? Luckily, she needn't say anything yet, as Doran broke the silence.
"You are truly alright?" he asked her, squeezing her hand slightly. This small gesture caused her to glance at him finally, meeting his eyes, and once she did, she could not look away. "They didn't hurt you further? They didn't-"
"No, my Prince," Ylsa said, cutting him off as her blush flared back up. "I'm fine, truly."
"They shouldn't have touched you," he said solemnly, a somewhat unreadable expression on his face. It wasn't quite anger, it wasn't quite sadness. It was somewhere inbetween. Ylsa swallowed hard.
"They only held my arms, my Prince, and throat, that's all. Prince Oberyn intervened before they could disgrace you further-"
"This isn't about that!" His voice rose slightly as he cut her off, and her eyebrows flew up in surprise, just staring at him speechlessly. "Your body isn't mine to cause disgrace, I don't care about that! They shouldn't have touched you because you did not want it!" His stare was hard, but earnest, and he did not allow her gaze to break away, even for a second. She remained still, captivated by such a stare as he held her hand in his grasp.
"…Nothing happened," she reiterated, finally able to look away. "I'm sorry I caused you so much worry."
"Don't do it again, Ylsa." She flinched slightly, as he used her first name, but it wasn't unpleasant to hear him do so. "Please."
"I promise. I won't."