Author's Note: This is a collection of one shots written a while back to enable me to explore Myrcella without the obligation or responsibility that comes with writing a full out tale.
Some of these tales have been posted prior but at the suggestions of my amazing beta-reader I compiled them into one collection for those whom (like myself) love Myrcella may get their fill.
Disclaimer: All this belongs to GRRM up to and including some quotes that were used directly from the novels (because of the scene its written in).
Beta Readers: As always a huge thank you to the lovely Weshallflyaway for helping me make this work! Your help and wisdom is always greatly appreciated.
Ripples
'I just don't know what to do with the princess. She is a bright young thing, yet such a clumsy girl,' Myrcella's septa despaired to another one of the princess's handmaidens. 'Doesn't have her mother's grace that one; such a shame, for she certainly has her beauty and her wit!'
It was not Sandor's place to eavesdrop but it was difficult not listen in when the old hen clucked so loudly even the dead could hear her.
Most who served the princess believed the girl to be clumsy and without grace. The bruises and cuts hidden beneath her gown was evidence enough of her lack of poise. However, the Hound knew the truth; he also knew enough not to speak of it. Not with Joffrey as King, or his Queen mother in denial to the idea that her favourite son would ever intentionally harm his own blood.
Myrcella was not the only one who had become the boy-king's practice dummy. The little bird too, had become Joffrey's latest, broken toy. Though he paraded his cruelty with Sansa for all to see, he was far more mindful to keep his younger sister's abuse well under wraps. A good dog misses nothing, and Sandor was too familiar with sibling brutality to ignore the signs.
Promise me you won't tell mother! Promise me Sandor! Myrcella would beg him whenever he caught the boy unleashing his fury on his little sister. The child need not plead with him, for Sandor knew his place. He was a lone Hound, amongst a pride of lions. One wrong move and they would not hesitate to tear him from balls to brains, if only to make their point clear. Sometimes Sandor wondered if the servants of his father's Keep felt just as trapped whenever they caught sight of Gregor unleashing his hells on either their little sister or him. Such thoughts always left him consumed with rage.
As much as he wanted to destroy the little beast, the Hound refrained. A dead dog was of no use to anyone, least of all a certain little bird and a blonde princess. However, when the young prince grew too vicious in his attack, Sandor knew it was within his rights to step in and demand that he find another toy to break. That was before Joffrey became king. Now as the ruler of the seven kingdoms the boy felt no need to pay heed to his favourite pet.
Sandor watched on as Myrcella convinced her septa that she had fallen while playing in the gardens with one of her friends. The old woman had noticed the princess was favouring her right arm. In truth, the child's shoulder had been recently dislocated after a particularly vicious attack by her older brother. The rest of her arm fared little better. The Hound was no maester but he knew enough from serving in battle how to tend to the girl's shoulder and arm without causing further damage. As always, he spoke of it to no one, for what good would it do?
Escorting Myrcella back to the main solar as per the septa's instruction, the Hound finally broke his silence. 'You should tell your mother about all this,' he rasped, once they were alone.
'What do you mean?' Myrcella was a poor liar, though she did try so hard.
'Most likely got it from her father' he mused in disgust. 'Don't play me for a fool. This will only get worse, child,' he growled in annoyance. The princess was as naïve as the little bird.
'I'm fine, Sandor. He was just frustrated that I got in the way, I deserved it,' the princess softly said. 'And you promised not to tell mother!' she quickly added in concern. Her eyes pleaded silence, but Sandor's patience for Joffrey's needless cruelty was wearing thin.
'Prove it,' he challenged. Myrcella attempted to extend her arm, careful to hide her pain. Frustrated, he grabbed the child's arm, careful not to harm her further, just strong enough to make a point. She cried out in shock and pain, causing him to scowl in disgust. 'A dog can smell a lie, princess,' he warned. 'And someone will find out for true.'
Myrcella, normally calm, looked on the verge of blind panic. 'Sandor, you can't tell mother! You promised that you wouldn't!' she pleaded. 'Promise me that you won't!' she begged, fighting back the tears that came to her eyes. When he looked upon her, Sandor no longer saw the cocky princess he once knew, but a broken child. Despite her royal upbringing, Myrcella reminded him of another little girl he once knew; one who lost her life at the hands of their older brother.
Breathing a heavy sigh, Sandor let the matter drop. Myrcella was right the Queen was in far too much denial to see even the most obvious of signs. 'No princess, I won't tell your mother,' he agreed. It did not mean that he would not tell someone else.
Two days later, while in a drunken state, Sandor confessed the truth to the little bird. That night she chirped her song to her trusted handmaiden, Shae, who in turn told her lover, none other than Tyrion Lannister. A fortnight later, he learned of Myrcella's sudden marriage arrangement to the Prince Trystane Martell of Dorne; much to the queen regent's rage.
Though his part had been small, it gave him a sense of relief. If a dog could help a lion cub break free from her prison, perhaps one day he could help a little bird break free from her cage too.