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.
A Hound's Advice
Catching sight of the Hound wandering alone in the halls of the Red Keep, Myrcella knew her chance had come. It was not often she saw the scarred warrior both sober and not accompanied by her brother. The young princess was not about to let this opportunity slip, not with time running so short.
Calling his name, she then picked up her skirts and ran to his side. Mother would not have approved of her unladylike behaviour, but the Hound never minded. Breathless and flushed she faced him with all the poise she could muster. A queen does not make requests, she commands, her mother would have said had she been there. Myrcella was no queen, and Sandor was no servant, no matter what Joff or even her mother would believe; he was her friend.
'Tomorrow I am to be sent to Dorne to marry a prince I have never met. What words of wisdom can you give me, Sandor?' she asked in plaintive tones.
The giant man stared at her in disbelief before frowning, causing his burned lip to twitch. 'I'm no bloody maester, princess,' he rasped, in dismay.
'No,' she agreed. 'But you are the closest thing I have to a mentor—to a friend,' she said, attempting to sound more mature, like her mother when she was amongst her royal advisors.
'What wisdom do you want from me, girl? I'm not your father. Nor will I ever be,' he exclaimed.
Having about enough of his foul attitude, the young princess frowned up at him. 'Well if you were a father, what would you tell your daughter had she come to you for advice?' Myrcella challenged.
The scarred man went very silent then. Briefly, Myrcella wondered if she had made the right decision, going to him for advice. Then Sandor met her gaze, his grey eyes oddly wistful, perhaps even sad.
'My grandfather was a good man, unlike my shit father. Used to always say, 'A hound will die for you, but never lie to you. And he'll look you straight in the face.' Those are the words I would tell you to live by.'
In all her life, Myrcella had never once heard Sandor speak of his family. The advice given was a sharp contrast to the wisdom she had been raised to believe. With a sincere smile, and a polite word of gratitude, the princess parted ways with the scarred man. His words were already put to memory.
Years later, in the midst of harsh truths, scandals, and exposed lies, Myrcella found herself considering Sandor's words often. As a child she could not fully fathom the wisdom behind his advice to her, as adult its meaning was entirely clear.
With sacrifice, there comes reward. With truth, there comes power. With respect and wisdom, there comes a ruler made worthy of their throne.
Following the wizened words of an old dog, Myrcella ruled Dorne alongside her husband, prince Trystane, till the end of her days. Though baseborn, and too pure a Lannister by Westerosi standards, Myrcella Martell would forever be remembered as one of Dorne's most respected and beloved rulers.