As the wolf howled again, the young princess opened her eyes. Soft sunlight shone through the windows of her room in the guest house of Winterfell. Slowly, she pulled off the furs surrounding her and hung her feet over the side of the bed. The wolf howled again. The wolf had been howling for near four days, and it had become a constant annoyance to the entirety of her father's party, especially when the other wolves joined in. Myrcella had the feeling that Ned could stop the wolf he called 'Nym' from howling if he wished, he just chose not to. I really hate him sometimes. Myrcella thought. He gets a thrill out of watching us all squirm, I just know it.
After concluding that thought, Myrcella hopped down from the bed. Her bare feet touched the cold stone floor, causing Myrcella to shiver. This place needs some of those hot-spring pipes that Arya told me about… or some thick carpeting. And it's still summer… how cold will it be here come winter? After calling for some handmaidens, she donned a gold and black dress, a newly made one that didn't tighten around her figure nearly as much as her older ones did. Putting on some simple shoes, she departed from her room in the Guest House and walked down the halls to the morning room. There, in the room, were Tommen and her mother, talking to each other.
"Mother… I want to break fast with Ned… I haven't seen him much at all since Brandon fell off the tower!"
"No. You will stay and break your fast with Jaime and me."
"Jaime and I..." Myrcella muttered under her breath. She blinked at her action. Ned was right, she thought, I really have spent too much time near Uncle Stannis. She walked briskly up to the table and sat one of the stools as her mother waved over the servant walking towards them, as if telling him to walk faster. Her mother had been wroth that she had to sit on a common stool, but such was life in the North. As the servant walked over, her mother finally noticed her.
"Myrcella." she said very simply. "How kind of you to join us this morning." She showed no affection as usual, simple acknowledgement was the most Myrcella ever dared to hope for. Whenever her mother did deign to take an interest in her it felt stunted; Ned had once compared it to a child looking at their toys.
"I wished to break fast with my family," Myrcella said with a neutral tone, "after all, this is the last fast I will likely break with you for many moons." Any warmth that had been in the room prior was sucked out instantly.
"Myrcella." her mother said coldly. "You are not staying here with these barbarians. You are Princess of the Seven Kingdoms. You belong in King's Landing, where you can finish your lessons."
"Your Grace." Myrcella replied simply. Not mother… never mother. She may have birthed me but she does not deserve to be called mother. "I was making a statement, it was not in question. Father already told me I was welcome to stay here, as did Lord Stark." Myrcella saw her mother's eye twitch ever so slightly as she said 'father.'
"You are coming back home! I will not suffer one of my children to remain here!" her mother growled harshly. Myrcella, for her part, wasn't paying much attention as she was looking at the food the servant had just brought out. Some bread, jam, and cheeses, but little else. As she grabbed a small loaf, she looked at her mother.
"I didn't ask. I was simply informing Your Grace of the current state of affairs. Besides, you left Ned here for many moons, and didn't pay it a second thought." she said before biting into the loaf of bread. Her mother gave a sharp response, but Myrcella didn't feel like continuing the conversation. The rest of the meal was marked by silence in words, the only sounds heard were the grabbing of food and Tommen occasionally chewing on something happily, before Jaime tried to break the silence, only to fail when the argument threatened to start up again. After finishing her loaf with some cheese and jam, Myrcella hopped off of her stool and ran out of the Guest House. After barely avoiding running down her uncle Tyrion, she slowed down and began ambling across the courtyard.
She walked into the Great Keep, the near silence of her shoes in the dirt shifted to a soft clap clap as she walked along the stone floors. Doorways into halls spread out on all sides, as the entrance to the Lord of Winterfell's audience hall stood at the far end, a bronze direwolf head attached to the top of the door, seeming to look over it, the wolf's paws wrapped around the top corners, as if daring any traitors or assassins to come forward. It sent shivers down Myrcella's spine.
To get away from its sight, she turned and started up one of the hallways on her left. She didn't walk it for long, however, as the hallways mostly gave way to a set of stairs leading upwards into the keep. Taking a simple breath, Myrcella began to climb the steps. Up and up she climbed, watching her shadow dance along the inner wall of the stairs, but she eventually reached the top hallway.
Myrcella continued her excursion by turning right and running down the hall. She stopped when she reached a landing with a doorway. Turning, she started down the hall. Small candles flickered light up and down the hallway as the Princess ambled along. Her shadow continued to dance along the wall as the light continued to flicker in from the torches, even as the sun continued to hide behind the clouds.
As she stepped out of the hall and into the large corridor, any positive feelings Myrcella had possessed were gone instantly as Myrcella locked eyes with her eldest brother. He was dressed in an elaborate tunic with intricate needlework showing his coat of arms, both in gold, of course. How funny… the Blackfyres had a black dragon… you have a gold stag… but you're from the wrong house, Joffrey.
"Myrcella! What're you doing up here?" Joffrey said cheerfully, grinning as if mother had given him a new toy. Oh great, he is in this kind of mood.
"I don't see why you care. Should you not be with Lady Stark giving your best wishes for Brandon? I don't recall you having done so yet." Myrcella replied. Her brother's face suddenly darkened. Myrcella's breathing caught briefly, before steadying herself. She wasn't afraid of him. There was nothing he could do to her.
"Careful now, sister," he spat, "girls oftimes disappear in a castle like this, only to be found again beaten and bloody." He suddenly smiled cruelly, like a butcher right before he cut his meat.
"True, I guess they'll have to find you before leaving for King's Landing then." she replied with a grin. Her brother's face flushed deeply as his cruel smile turned to frothing rage.
"You dare disrespect your future king?!" Joffrey all but screamed, drawing his ornate dagger of Valyrian Steel with a dragonbone hilt that he had taken from father's armoury. Myrcella felt her heartbeat speed up, but refused to show any fear.
"No, I am putting my brother's mockery back into his own face." she said, striding towards him. "Now move, I have things to do. Go find some other girl to torment." she finished as she shoved him out of the way and continued on. She quickly took off running down the halls. After about a minute she looked back, and realising he had not followed, she slowed down.
Myrcella continued walking along and wished for something to do. While she longed to take her weapons to the courtyard, even the practice ones were still in King's Landing and would have to be brought North, and she didn't have any stakes to practice it with, anyway. She'd probably have to spend the better part of four or five months to make enough stakes to practice regularly with for several weeks, then scout out a flat enough space to ensure the stakes allow for a successful rebound.
Yet she didn't even have a good enough knife to carve stakes with. She doubted Lady Catelyn would let her have one, if what Arya told her was any indication, and she doubted she'd be able to sweet-talk Robb into letting her have one; she didn't know him well enough for that, yet. As she continued in her thoughts, she descended down another set of stairs and continued down another hall. That was when she heard the whistling. Oh Seven Hells, here we go again. The sound was getting louder, so she stood in place and pretended not to notice. She knew Addam would play along if she did that. Indeed he did, as he walked passed her, turned around, and bowed with his hand over his heart lightly.
"Princess." he said respectfully. His face was clenched tightly, even as he tried to force a smile.
"You can drop the act, no one's around." she said lightly.
"Oh thank the Drowned God, I hate the taste of boot on my tongue. But, it is something we must swallow, lest we face the headsman's axe." he replied, showing thankfulness as his face relaxed with a slight frown.
"Aye, you learned that with the Ladies Stark." she admonished, crossing her arms. "You need to be careful with that, you've learned to be too informal with your betters."
"You used to admire that I didn't call you Princess every time I saw you." he muttered, trying not to meet her eyes, as if in acknowledgement that she was right. She knew he was trying to shift to conversation, she wasn't going to let him.
"I do like that, personally, but you cannot act like that with everyone, Addam. Especially once other lords begin visiting King's Landing to offer their daughter's or sister's hands to my brothers', or their own hands or that of their sons for mine own." Myrcella said, moving her hand over her chest. She got a chuckle in response.
"Joffrey is betrothed, and I don't doubt your mother has already unofficially made a betrothal for Tommen with a Lannister cousin. Ned would run away before he was betrothed to any girl. As for you… I hope you don't plan on giving into that, it would be so disappointing." he said, his hand over the bridge of his nose. He then dropped it, moving his hands behind his head.
"Father would never let his beloved daughter marry without her agreeing to the match. I will choose my husband on my own" she said confidently. "And my mother can shut her pretty mouth about it." she said, flinging her arm out for effect. Or Uncle Jaime can shut it for her. The thought alone made her cringe.
"Where is your dagger?" Addam asked suddenly. That snapped Myrcella out of her thoughts.
"What?" she replied, nonplussed, as she dropped her arms.
"Didn't you usually carry a dagger in King's Landing?" Addam asked. He shifted slightly as if trying to remember something important.
"Yeah, but I lost that in a bet on Joffrey's name day," she sighed, "I bet on Uncle Jaime, remember? When Ser Loras Tyrell unhorsed him?"
"How could I not? I owed half the men down at the wharf drinks that night for the same reason." he replied. Addam crossed his arms in thought, before seeming to come to a decision. He quickly untied his dagger from his belt and held it out to her. "Since you won't be coming back with us, you can't get another one. I figure this one'll tide you over. In return for it, just try to keep Theon out of too much trouble.'" She took the dagger gracefully, while nodding in response, not really registering in her mind. He smiled, and ruffled her hair a bit, before turning and strolling off. She unsheathed the dagger and looked at the nice steel it was made out of. Too bad it would probably go towards shaping wood.