Myrcella sat up in her bed, looking around. She was alone, which was strange. She hadn't been left alone since she had been brought here. Where 'here' was, she was not entirely sure. No doubt people had told her, but the last couple of weeks were quite blurry, and she couldn't remember. The room she was in was nice, though not as nice as the one she had stayed in at Sunspear. There was no looking glass, which she found strange. She had been cut very deeply, and she wanted to see if it had left a scar. Some battle scars looked quite nice, even handsome. But that was on knights. Would a scar look as becoming on a little princess dressed in silks?
The door creaked open, and the Maester entered, a balding man with watery eyes.
"Princess!" He seemed surprised. "I did not expect you to be awake so early. I hope you have not been up long."
Myrcella shook her head. "No, I had only woken just before you entered."
He smiled at her. "And how are we feeling today?" His voice was gentle.
"Much better." She smiled. It was true. Though the side of her head still hurt, it was more of a dull throb than anything else, whereas the pain before had been enough to reduce her to tears if she was not given something for it.
"Excellent." He set about prodding her head, peeking under her bandages. "These will be able to come off today."
"Will there be a scar?" She asked.
He paused, and the look he gave her was tinged with sadness. "Princess... You are quite lucky to be alive. You should never forget that." He sighed, and closed his eyes for a moment. "There will be a scar, yes. But that is not something you need to worry about right now."
"Ah... Alright." His response confused her, but she did her best to push the issue to the back of her mind.
"Now, I want you to tell me... Do you remember what happened?"
Myrcella shook her head. This question had been asked before, but she had been unable to answer. Now, her head was clearer, she could think properly, yet she found the events of that moment still eluded her.
"You don't remember anything at all?" The Maester sat at the side of her bed. "Just think for a moment. Try to remember."
The little princess closed her eyes. What had happened... Everything had moved so quickly, a flurry of colour, of noise, of blades. Her horse had reared back, someone had swung their sword at her, then... Pain.
"Princess?" The Maester's tone was worried.
"I..." Myrcella opened her eyes. "I don't remember." She gave him a small smile. "I'm sorry."
"I see..." He considered her for a moment. "Do you remember the man called Darkstar?"
Myrcella nodded. "Ser Gerold Dayne... He was... strange."
"Yes, strange is indeed a good word to describe that man. Princess, Ser Gerold was the one who attacked you."
"He... He was?" Myrcella furrowed her brow.
"Yes."
"Why?" She had gotten the impression that the knight had been less than fond of her... But she could not believe that he had wanted to kill her.
"We are not sure. He was also the one who killed Ser Arys."
"Ser Arys...?" Something was wrong. "No. He couldn't have. I remember. There were men, on the boat. They... They shot Ser Arys full of arrows." Her lip trembled slightly at the memory, but she did not let herself cry. She was a princess, she had to be strong.
The Maester seemed taken aback by this. "Is that so? It... It seems I have been misinformed." He stood quickly. "If this is the case, I must speak with Prince Doran at once." He headed quickly for the door, and left without a word.
Myrcella sat in her bed, dumbfounded, trying to understand what she had been told. Things simply were not adding up. If only she could remember what had happened...
Someone came into the room to remove her bandages, and this time, they were not replaced with new ones. Her head felt strangely light without them. She reached a hand up to touch the ear they had been covering, but she was stopped, and informed that she mustn't poke at it.
That night, as she ate her supper, she requested a maid bring her a looking glass. The girl was extremely reluctant to do so, but Myrcella insisted, and she eventually relented, and brought a small hand mirror.
Princess Myrcella Baratheon could not make sense of what she was seeing. The scar that ran across her head was worse than any she had seen on any man in King's landing, save the Hound and her Uncle Tyrion. And her ear... She lifted her hair up, to get a better look, for surely she was mistaken. But there was no doubt. Her ear was not scarred. Her ear was gone.
She told herself that she was a princess, that she was a Baratheon and a Lannister, and that she had to be strong. She told herself all these things, yet it made no difference. She could not stop the tears.