Everything in A song of Ice and Fire belongs to George R. R. Martin.
Myrcella Baratheon: Bride of a Northern Savage
Chapter 07
Myrcella Baratheon
Myrcella woke up the next day with a good mood. Last night, she had a great time during the wedding of Domeric Bolton and Sansa Stark. As she rose from her bed, the princess stretched out her arms, yawning, just as the handmaidens came in, obviously to help her get dressed for today. Taking off her thin nightgown, Myrcella merged herself into the hot water of the bath, instantly feeling the warmth of the liquid. After she was washed, Myrcella rose and was given a towel to dry herself. Wearing only her towel, she allowed the handmaidens to tend to her hair when suddenly, Septa Eglantine literally burst in into her chambers.
"My princess," the septa spoke.
"Good morning, septa." Myrcella greeted her politely, but it seem that Eglantine ignored it.
"Don't septa me!" the septa, to Myrcella's shock, hissed. "I have seen what you did on that blasphemous wedding! It is not what I thought you as a princess."
"I do not understand, septa. I did not do anything inappropriate." Myrcella innocently answered, only to whimper when Eglantine pointed her finger at her face.
"Don't lie!" Eglantine scolded her. "A noble lady, especially a princess, does not feed dogs at her table."
Myrcella finally understood what the septa meant. She saw how Myrcella fed Bran's direwolf. She knew that it was inappropriate to feed dogs at the table. At least, for a lady. "Summer is not a dog, septa. He's a direwolf," the girl pointed out.
The septa, however, was not appeased. "It is an unholy beast!" she scowled. "When we Andals came here, this land was filled with creatures of the Other and heretics. With the light of the Seven we purged Westeros and brought life to it. And those northern savages are nothing more but defilers. Your betrothed must get rid of that monster and learn to be a true lord, a follower of the true Gods."
"Careful now, septa." Myrcella suddenly hissed. "You're in the North now, and right now we both are guests. By insulting our hosts, septa, you are breaking the guest rights." The girl did not know where that strength came from, but she also felt discomfort. She really adored Septa Eglantine, who was kind to her, but this was already too much. Scoffing, the septa literally stormed out, like an offended little girl. Having dressed into proper Northern clothing, not the furs that were given to her in the South during her journey to Winterfell, Myrcella went out to the Great Hall to break her fast.
She saw that the rest of the Stark family was already awake, except for Domeric and Sansa as they were absent, though they have not left Winterfell yet. Aside from the family members, the direwolves of Robb, Arya, Bran and Rickon were also present. Catelyn was scolding Rickon to eat properly, as the auburn was trying to stuff his meat pie into his mouth, while Shaggydog was trying to snatch some food from the table, only to be stopped by Grey Wind, Robb's direwolf. Arya was sitting near Bran, but instead of eating she was busy tending to her direwolf Nymeria, trying to clean her fur from the bits of food left.
"Sit still," Arya told her direwolf as Nymeria tried to break free. Bran was sitting, peacefully eating his meal, with Summer sitting beside. Seeing Myrcella, Bran blushed. Seeing this, Lord Eddard turned around and smiled when he saw Myrcella entering.
"Ah, Myrcella, good morning," he spoke in a soft tone. "Did you sleep well?"
"Yes, I did, thank you, Lord Stark." Myrcella answered, blushing from shyness.
"Come, Bran has saved you a seat." Lord Eddard told her, causing Bran to blush furiously in embarrassment. As Myrcella sat, she immediately felt the same shyness radiating from Bran. Seeing them blush, Arya giggled, ignoring the angry glare from Bran. As they ate, Sansa and Domeric joined them, with Lady leading the way.
"Good morning, everyone." Sansa greeted her family, her eyes full of life. She and Domeric had their arms intertwined as they sat at the table together. From the look and smile on the newlyweds' faces, it was clear the two had a wonderful night together.
"Good morning, Sansa," Eddard replied, smiling in return. It was clear that he was happy for his eldest daughter.
"So, how was it?" Arya suddenly asked, catching everyone off guard.
"Arya!" Lady Catelyn reprimanded in shock, only for Theon to joy.
"Come on, Sansa, tell me how was he. Maybe I could do better," the Greyjoy boy smirked, only for his smile to fade when he saw the deadly glares of Lord Eddard, Lady Catelyn, Domeric and Robb directed straight at him. He instantly lowered his head in shame. Myrcella noticed that she didn't really like Theon, same as Bran, who found the Ironborn sometimes irritating, but at least he wasn't sadistic and cruel like Joffrey, thank the Gods.
Myrcella turned to Sansa, who was furiously blushing in embarrassment. Domeric wrapped his arms around his wife to comfort her. Finally, Sansa found an answer.
"You'll soon found out yourself," she spoke to her sister. "But I can assure you, you will like it. It was wonderful."
Arya groaned in annoyance as she was once again reminded of her betrothal to Ned Umber. Usually, both Bran and Arya would tease each other about their betrothals, but this time, Bran did not do it. Myrcella saw him eating in silence.
Once they finished, Domeric and Sansa went off to pack for their journey to Dreadfort, Lady Catelyn followed them to help Sansa, with Rickon following his mother. Myrcella offered to help, but Catelyn politely refused, stating that she was a princess. Arya decided to go off practice archery. Robb and Bran followed their father to assist him, while learning the ways of ruling with Maester Luwin. At this time, Myrcella usually went to her lessons with the septa, but today she was in no mood for that, with no desire of seeing Eglantine. Now, she fully understood Arya.
Not sure of what to do, Myrcella was thinking of visiting Winterfell's library, but she wanted fresh air, so she decided to head to the Godswood, where last night Domeric and Sansa wed. Arriving at the pool, Myrcella sat. She began inhaling, feeling the fresh air reigning these lands. As days went on, she noticed that she began to like the North more and more, while losing the desire of returning to King's Landing, which is nothing but a pig's den.
Ripples were running across the surface of the water, making the Weirwood shimmer and dance. There was no wind, though. Myrcella was baffled. And then Osha exploded up out of the pool with a great splash, so sudden that Myrcella almost fell. The princess gasped when she saw that the Wildling woman was emerging from the water, wearing nothing.
"How can you swim in there?" she asked Osha. "Isn't it cold?
"As a babe I suckled on icicles, boy. I like the cold." Osha swam to the rocks and rose dripping. She was naked, her skin bumpy with goose prickles. Seeing the princess' face full of embarrassment and shock, she grinned. "What are you staring at, girl? Never seen a woman before?"
"I have so." Myrcella admitted. She had bathed with her mother hundreds of times and she'd seen serving women with her father, the king, too. Osha looked different, though, hard and sharp instead of soft and curvy. Her legs were all sinew, her breasts flat as two empty purses.
"You've got a lot of scars." Myrcella noted.
"Everyone hard-earned." She picked up her brown shift, shook some leaves off of it, and pulled it down over her head. Looking back at the princess, Osha noticed her troubled look.
"You look troubled."
That caught Myrcella off guard. "Sorry," she said. "I've never seen a Wildling, not to mention talked to a one." Seeing the Wildling's look, Myrcella gulped. "Did I offend you somehow?"
"Oh, no, not really." Osha answered. "It's just I forgot you're new here, and I haven't heard someone calling me Wildling for a long time."
"My apologies."
"No need," the woman said. "You did not know."
"If they do not call you a Wildling, then how do they call you?" Myrcella then asked, baffled.
"Free Folk."
"Free Folk?" Myrcella asked.
"That's how we call ourselves," Osha explained. "For we do not follow your southern customs."
"Southern, as if you mean the other six kingdoms." Myrcella took a guess.
"No, all seven." Osha answered. Myrcella nodded, suddenly finding interest in the Wildling. "How did you end up here in Winterfell?"
"I once took Bran hostage."
"What?"
Osha nodded. "Me and a few of the Free Folk, along with some former Crows, that's how we call the Night's Watch, we escaped south. As we journeyed, we ended up in the Wolfswood, when Bran was riding along with his brother and the Ironborn. We took him hostage, but the two older boys saved him. They brought me to Winterfell. At first I was a prisoner, but after some time, I became a servant to the Starks and now care for little lordling Rickon."
"Lady Stark doesn't seems to mind you," the 14-year-old noted.
"It took some time to gain her trust," Osha simply answered. "At first, she was insistent on having me beheaded for threatening her favourite son. Then we had clashes due to me being a Free Folk, and worshipping the true Gods, not to mention she wanted me to stay way from her children as far as possible. But then, we began to find common language."
As the two sat there, Myrcella was fully engaged in a conversation with Osha. The Wildling, no, Free Folk told her much about the frozen lands Beyond the Wall, about giants, direwolves, and even mammoths. Myrcella heard about elephants from Essos, but in her view the mammoths were far more wonderous creatures.
Just as they talked, Lady Catelyn approached them with a few manuscripts in her hand.
Catelyn Stark
Cat found the princess quick as she heard her giggle within the Godswood. Catelyn smiled as she saw Myrcella sitting and talking with Osha. From what she saw, the princess was making friends in the North, especially with Osha. Osha was the first to notice her presence.
"Milady," she greeted.
"Hello, Osha." Catelyn replied. "How's the water?"
"Fine for me," Osha answered.
"You should try our hot pools," the Tully woman advised her. She then turned to the princess. "Myrcella, I've brought you some letters. A raven has brought them just now."
Curious, the golden-haired girl kindly took the papers and began reading them. When she read the first letter, Myrcella's smile faded. However, she soon found some comfort when reading the second and the third one.
"Are you alright, Myrcella?" Catelyn asked.
"Septa Eglantine," Myrcella almost hissed.
"What did she do?" Cat asked, feeling concerned for the girl. She remembered catching Septa Mordane mistreating Arya at her lessons, favouring Sansa. Shocked and angered, Cat threatened to have the old septa banished from the North. Mordane immediately fell to ground, pleading the Tully woman to give her another chance. Reluctant and out of sympathy for the old woman, Catelyn complied. She feared that the princess' septa was doing the same.
Myrcella explained to her. Septa Eglantine saw Myrcella feeding Bran's direwolf, and sent a report on this to the queen last night. The queen, Myrcella's mother, began imagining things, stating that the "Northern savage" had his savage beast rip off the princess' hand. Cersei was demanding the king to wage war against the North, only for receiving more punches from her lord husband. From what Tommen wrote to her, she threatened to write to their grandfather Tywin, but no answer has come from him. To make matters worse, the rumour of Myrcella losing her hand was spread across the city, if not across the Crownlands.
"Myrcella, please, do not be angry at your mother," Cat tried to calm the princess down. "She's just worried for you."
"Thank you, Lady Catelyn," Myrcella genuinely thanked. "But I'm afraid she really cares about controlling me. My mother is not the most pleasant woman in the Seven Kingdoms. Of all of her children she cares for Joffrey, only because he is her firstborn and thus, the Crown Prince, the future king, and look what that led."
"What? Myrcella, tell me, what.
"He's a monster." Myrcella spoke. Catelyn almost gasped. She barely stood there as Myrcella told her one of Joffrey's horrible antics, while Cersei covered him up, pampering him. Catelyn thought about herself. She felt horrified as she understood that she was almost becoming a horrible mother like Cersei in this way, when she was constantly at odds with Arya, unlike Sansa. Catelyn felt that Arya believed her favouring Sansa over her.
When Myrcella finished, Cat pulled the princess into a hug. "Oh, my poor child. You're a sweet, little girl, and did not deserve this."
"Thank you." Myrcella answered.
"That princeling sure is a cunt," Osha added, causing Catelyn to give the Wildling an angry glare.
"Well, at least, I also got a letter from Uncle Tyrion," the princess then added. Cat smiled, happy that Myrcella had someone who cared for her. At least it was Lord Tyrion and Prince Tommen. Her smile then slowly faded as she remembered about Arya. She needed to think about what to tell her second daughter, for it was going to be a serious conversation.
