(A.N: Reviews and Comments make me write faster!)
Chapter VI
As the sun began to set, the garden was bathed in a warm and inviting glow. Myrcella had instructed a group of servants to set up the cyvasse gameboard there, and now she and the young Stannis were facing each other across a small table, having played for hours. She watched over the screen as the boy carefully arranged his pieces on his side, his brow furrowed in concentration. She smiled at the sight and leaned forward in her chair, enjoying the peaceful moment with him. It was pleasant to finally spend some time without having to hide her identity.
Myrcella moved a piece on her side of the board and Stannis took a moment to consider his options. She knew that he was inexperienced in the game; having just learning the rules of the game the day before, but he had shown a natural aptitude for strategy. His quick mind and his determination to learn was truly something to behold. As Stannis made his move, She saw an opportunity to take one of his pieces ––his last elephant––, and capture it. She watched as Stannis' grunted, clearly displeased with the loss. Myrcella laughed gently.
Stannis looked up at her, a bit embarrassed by his mistake.
"You are getting better," she encouraged him. "It took me weeks before I could even learn half of the rules," she lied, hoping to boost his confidence. " Trystane had been very patient in teaching me." She remembered all those evenings he spent teaching her the game. He was a sweet boy; I hope he is born again. The youngest son of prince Doran had looked past her Lannister appearance and treated her with all the kindness expected of a betrothed and all the courtesy befitting a prince. She wouldn't have minded marrying him, even if he wasn't the most handsome.
She was suddenly reminded of Robb Stark and all of his easy smiles and boyish charm. She was reminded of Renly's natural charisma and handsome features. Myrcella looked at Stannis again. By no means he was a handsome boy, like Robb Stark, or beautiful like Joffrey (and Jaime), but she could not call him homely either. And he wasn't truly plain of face. Solemn, would be the best word to describe him, solemn and guarded. Still a far-cry to the hard, angry-looking and unfriendly man he would become in future years.
"The dornish prince? Your former betrothed?" he asked, bringing her out of her musings.
"Ah, yes, yes," she said turning her gaze back to the board and quickly changed the subject. "Did you make your move?"
"I did. You were distracted," he said flatly.
"Could you tell me?" she asked him.
The boy frowned. "The last time I got distracted and lose track of the game you told me it was my fault," he complained.
"But how would eye know that you did not cheat?"
The boy seemed insulted. "You take me for a cheater?"
Myrcella smiled. Though as odd as it may seem, it was hard to believe that this guarded, solemn and prickly boy would turn into the righteous Lord of Dragonstone. He is a completely different person, she thought. What happened to this boy?
"No… I do not," the girl uttered with a ghost of a smile on her face, and turned her attention back to the game. The boy did the same.
They played cyvasse in silence for a while, the only sounds coming from the tinkling of the nearby fountains and the occasional rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze. Myrcella felt a sense of contentment settle over her. She found some solace in simple moments like these. It reminded her of her days in the Red Keep in her own garden. The girl wondered how had it been kept in her absence.
Most likely, Joff had it burned down and transformed it into a butchery…
She quickly glanced up at the sky as Stannis took his time deciding what move to make, noting how the colours had shifted from orange to pink, and realized that they had been playing for hours. As the game drew to a close, Stannis made a final move that sealed his victory. He was overjoyed, and rose from his seat with a smile on his face.
"Ha! I won!" he exclaimed. Myrcella stared at him in silent surprise. He looks almost handsome when he smiles, she mused. The smile lightened his features and made him look less stern. She smiled back, happy to see him so elated.
"Well played, Stannis," she said from her seat.
The boy, seemingly feeling self-aware, turned his gaze away from her and muttered a thanks. Myrcella felt a pang of sympathy for him. She could sense that this was one of the few times Stannis Baratheon had ever felt at ease, and he was grateful for it, even if he didn't quite realize yet.
He was different from the other boys she had known, but there was something intriguing and compelling about him. Something almost endearing. Myrcella couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she knew that she enjoyed spending time with him.
The boy flushed beneath her gaze. "Is… is there something wrong, my lady?" he asked.
Myrcella blinked, realizing that she had been staring. "No, no, nothing's wrong," she quickly replied, feeling her cheeks heat up in embarrassment. "I was just thinking."
"About… what?" he asked again.
Myrcella hesitated for a moment. "I was just remembering my garden back in my home... Being here brought back some memories," she said, not quite the lie. "It was a very special place for me, I suppose. It was the only place I truly own… or at least felt like I did," she mused. "Is there a place like that for you? In Storm's End, I mean."
"I… am not sure, Myrcella," he said as he furrowed his brow. "I suppose the castle itself is special to me in a way. It's been in my family for generations, and I suppose I feel a great responsibility to it. But I don't have a particular place like your garden, I think." He paused for a moment, then added hesitantly. "I do have a pet Goshawk… She is mine."
"You do?" she asked surprised.
"Yes," Stannis nodded, a hint of pink appearing on his cheeks. "Her name is Proudwing. I found her injured in the forest nearby Storm's End about four years ago… I… I nursed her back to health."
Myrcella smiled, feeling a warmth in her chest. "That's wonderful," she said sincerely. "I'd love to meet her sometime."
The boy appeared shocked and blushed to an even deeper shade of red; he quickly averted his gaze. "Please don't get your hopes up, my lady. It's not that impressive," he said. "She hardly flies, just flaps her wings a little and follows me around the castle. Robert calls her Weakwing, as he has a Gyrfalcon that never misses her strikes while Proudwing doesn't fly higher than tree tops." He paused for a moment. "My great-uncle, Ser Harbert, told me to try a different bird. He says that I am making a fool of myself with her. He told me that… that I should abandon her."
She could not stop herself from saying. "Don't."
Stannis met hers again, but before he could utter a word another voice interrupted.
"Here you are."
Myrcella's attention was drawn to the approaching figure of Tygett Lannister, whose curious gaze was fixed on the young Baratheon. Although Myrcella had never met Tygett in person, she was familiar with him from tales and old portraits. He was renowned for his warrior spirit, standing tall with a stern demeanour and possessing a formidable reputation on the battlefield; a reputation that was evidently deserved judging by the scar on his . Moreover, he was handsome, with a golden mane and beard that mirrored the lion emblem of their house. Myrcella recalled her mother describing him as the most handsome of her grandfather's brothers.
But the presence of her uncle also meant something else. The hunting trip has ended, and everyone was back.
"Uncle," Myrcella said as she rose from her chair, she granted the man a curt nod. "I am glad to see that you have returned."
The man turned to look at her; his deep green eyes gleaming with in the fading light of sunset with unspoken reservation. "Cersei," he said, his gaze turned to the Cyvasse board with an odd look, then to Stannis, then back to her. "I am glad to see that you are entertaining our honoured guest"
Something in the tone of his voice told Myrcella that he was not. The man turned to Stannis again and gave a curt nod. "Young Stannis."
The boy straightened his posture. "Ser," he replied, his voice deepening. Boys often did that to try to sound more manly, it was something that amused Myrcella every time she witnessed it.
"You must forgive me for disturbing your… evening together. But Lord Tywin has requested his daughter's presence in his solar immediately."
What did he want now? She wonder, nervous. "Of course, uncle," Myrcella said, trying to keep her voice steady. "I will go to him at once." She turned to Stannis, giving him a small smile. "Thank you for the game, Stannis. I enjoyed it very much."
The boy blushed once more and looked to the ground, she could see a small smile appearing on his lips. "So did I," he said.
Her smile widened at that before turning to follow her uncle.
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Myrcella walked into the solar and found Lord Tywin pacing back and forth, his hands clasped behind his back. His expression was stern and unreadable, but she could sense his impatience and cool anger. Her grandfather always had a way of making people feel small, and his presence alone was enough to make Myrcella feel uneasy.
"Father, you requested my presence," she said tentatively, announcing herself.
Lord Tywin stopped his pacing and turned to face her, his cool green eyes piercing through her. He was livid. "What happened to you?"
She was taken a back. "You must forgive me, but I don't understand what you mean, father," she said cautiously.
The Lord of Casterly Rock took her cautiousness for an insult. "Are you dim, Cersei? Did you hit your head as well?" he asked, his voice sharp as a whip. "I ask about your hand. What happened to it?"
Her mind raced for a response, a believable lie to tell her grandfather. She couldn't possibly tell him the truth, about Maggy the frog. "I fell," she said, her voice shaking slightly.
Lord Tywin sneered mockingly. "Did you happen to fall onto a blade then?" he asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Maester Theobald has informed me of your injury. It was the cut of a blade."
"It was an accident," Myrcella tried again, her voice barely above a whisper. "I...I cut myself with a dagger."
Her grandfather's face grew even colder at her admission, yet he bought into the lie. "And why were you handling a dagger?" he demanded. "Girls do not play with such weapons."
She said nothing and looked to the floor.
"I should beat some sense into you, child," he said, his words laced with anger. "But harming your face would only worsen our situation. Your injured hand is damaging enough."
"Father, I did not mean to cause harm to our house," she said, looking up at him with wide eyes. "Please, tell me what to do and I will."
"There is one thing," Lord Tywin let out a heavy sigh and shook his head. "Cersei, what I am about to tell you must be kept a secret," he said, his voice low and serious. "I am planning on betrothing you to Prince Rhaegar by the end of the tourney."
"Now I understand, Father," she said as she nodded. She had heard her mother telling her once something about this. The king would ultimately reject Lord Tywin's offer and the prince will wed the princess Elia of Dorne. The innocent woman who saw her children brutally murdered by her family because of war and ambition. "I will not bring upon myself more injury and shame. I promise."
"I also need for you to stop this… friendship you have made with Lord Steffon's son," Lord Tywin said.
Myrcella was taken aback. "What? Why?"
"Because it's unseemly for a girl of your birth to befriend a boy," he replied. "People whisper, you ought to be mindful of that."
She knew better than to argue with Lord Tywin. It was better to keep her head down and do as she was told. "I will do as you ask, Father," she said again, trying to keep her voice steady. "May I explain this to him?"
Lord Tywin stared at her in silence, his expression cold and unreadable. Then he sighed. "Sure…"
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"I see…" Stannis said after hearing her. "No more cyvasse then?"
She smiled apologetically. "We would have to be more subtle… I suppose."
Stannis fell silent, his expression inscrutable. Myrcella waited nervously, unsure of what was going through the stern man's mind. Finally, he spoke up in a grave tone, "But before we… 'start being more cautious', there is something I need to ask you, Myrcella."
She nodded, bracing herself for whatever he was about to say. "Of course. What is it?"
Stannis hesitated, clearly awkward. "Was your future... uh… good? Or pleasant?"
Myrcella's mind flickered back to the many wars and conflicts that would befall the Seven Kingdoms in the coming years. She remembered the bloodshed and chaos of the stories of King Robert's Rebellion and the downfall of the Dragon Kings, the Ironborn uprising years later, and the battles with the North, the Reach, and even Stannis himself during her time.
"Why do you ask?" she asked, trying to keep the edge out of her voice.
"I… I wanted… I mean, maybe we…" he said, stumbling over his words., but he composed himself. "I mean, you could try to change it, if you want… if you think it would be for the best."
She frowned. "I have thought about it, and I already made some changes." Myrcella remembered the kindness towards Tyrion and her rejection of Jaime. "But there are things that I just don't know how to tackle."
"Perhaps… I can help you, " Stannis suggested, his voice oddly hopeful.
Myrcella considered his offer carefully. Stannis was not like other children his age; he had a strong sense of duty and was wise beyond his years. "Are you certain you want to get involve?" she asked.
"I am," he replied without hesitation. "If you want me to." Myrcella smiled at him, and he blushed and looked away.
"Then I would like that very much," she replied.
The two lapsed into silence, lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Stannis cleared his throat. "So… What happens after the tourney?"
"My memory of it all is a bit muddy, but I know that Aerys will reject the betrothal, and the prince will wed Elia of Dorne instead," she said. "Prince Rhaegar will later start a war that will bring down House Targaryen's three hundred years of rule, by stealing away Lyanna Stark."
Stannis looked visibly shocked by Myrcella's words. "Prince Rhaegar will start a war by stealing away Lyanna Stark?" he repeated in disbelief. "But what happened to the Seven Kingdoms? Will they divide once more?"
Myrcella hesitated. "No, the Iron Throne will pass to the house most closely related," she said, and noticed the realization landing in Stannis' mind. "House Baratheon will become the ruling house, and your brother Robert will become King."
Stannis stood up from his chair. "What?!" he exclaimed in disbelief. Stannis paced back and forth, his mind clearly racing. "What about my father? Does he…"
"He and you mother die before the war starts," Myrcella interrupted gently. "In a shipwreck off the coast of Storm's End after returning from a trip to the east."
Stannis halted his pacing and turned towards the girl, his face etched with a mix of shock and sorrow. "My parents," he mumbled, his voice heavy with emotion.
"I am sorry," the girl said. "I was meaning to tell you, I swear it, but I wasn't sure when would have been the right moment to do so."
Stannis nodded slowly; his eyes downcast. Suddenly bitter laugh escaped him. "Is there a good time for that?"
"I suppose not…" she muttered apologetically.
Stannis took a deep breath and regained his composure. "Thank you for telling me this, Myrcella."
"It's the least I could do," she replied.
There was another silence between them, but it was not an uncomfortable one. They both seemed lost in thought, contemplating the revelations that had been made. Eventually, Stannis spoke up again. "So… would Robert make a good King?"
"No…" she said immediately and almost without thinking. "But he would be better than Aerys in his later years, or so I am told. The Targaryen madness overtook Aerys and… he got killed by his own Kingsguard."
Stannis nodded gravely. "I see. And what of the other great houses? How will they fare after this war?"
Myrcella sighed, suddenly feeling weary. "Most will suffer. The Baratheons, the Starks, the Tullys, the Arryns, the Tyrells, the Greyjoys… all will have their own losses to bear. But mostly House Martell, they were dealt with the worst, I am afraid."
He frowned. "And what of the Lannisters?"
Myrcella hesitated. "The Lannisters will… play a significant role in the war, and later suffered as the other houses did," she said finally, choosing her words carefully. Stannis studied her for a long moment, as if trying to read something in her expression. But whatever he was looking for, he did not find it.
"Very well," he said at last, his voice heavy with resignation. The boy frowned again. "What happens to House Martell? You said that they suffered the most, and that the Princess Elia wedded Rhaegar…"
"Yes. She and her children would meet a horrible, horrible end." Myrcella shuddered as she remembered the gruesome details. "Prince Oberyn, her brother, will die seeking revenge for them, and after that…" I was murdered, she wanted to say. "I don't know, I died after after that."
Stannis stared at her. "But we can change that. We can change things."
Myrcella smiled at him, hopeful. "Yes… we might"
A.N: So yeah, update! Hope you enjoy this one!
Next chapter will the Taragryens arrived at Casterly Rock and the tourney starts.