>>6386307
"I want to see my boy's fury," your father said with a glint of pride in his stormy blue eyes. Right, your house words speak of wrath and ruin, for 'Ours is the Fury'. You forget that some days. As you pondered, your father turned to his squire. "Lancel! Fetch my gambeson, I mean to join Joffrey in the yard today."

As the most hapless of all your cousins scrambled to attend to your father, you rose from the casket's side. Your mentor is with the Stranger now. Almost certainly poisoned. No doubt father had Lord Varys begin an investigation, if the Grand Maester hid his meaning then there's almost certainly a conspiracy afoot. Walking back to the Red Keep, your mind could not help but ponder...

Mother was certainly stupid and arrogant enough that you would not put it past her to murder the man whose efforts kept the realm together, but what in the world could her motive be? Even she's not dumb enough to want the chaos that would unfold if Lord Arryn's murder became public knowledge.

Lady Arryn left for the Vale with her son suspiciously soon after her husband's death, but that also made no sense. You once heard the two of them getting along in the Tower of the Hand as husband and wife do, and she was very enthusiastic about her "beautiful bird". You wouldn't call Lord Arryn a beautiful man, not like your Uncle Jaime was said to be by all the maids. Regal and dignified, certainly, but not beautiful.

You suppose love makes the eyes blind to faults, and Lady Arryn certainly loved her husband. Loudly and vigorously, you're honestly surprised dear Robert was their only child.

If there were Northmen in the court, you might suspect one of them. Lord Stark will certainly be your father's next Hand, as he loves the man as much as you love dear Tommen; the two were raised as brother. By Lord Arryn, now that you think on it, so such thoughts are foolish.

An outside actor, then? Targaryen? Blackfyre? A Targaryen who married a Blackfyre to end the feud of their houses?

"What do you think, Sir Bearington?" Back in your chambers, you posed the question to the first and wisest amongst your stuffed animals with the utmost seriousness. Obviously he did not respond, you're not so young to believe that they would, but it's a useful exercise to voice your thoughts and work through problems. Lord Arryn had a stuffed falcon in his office for that express purpose. "Lord Arryn was the glue that held the realm together after father slew the dragons. He arranged the marriages that tied Stark, Arryn, and Tully... and the marriage that binds Lannister to Baratheon..."

>>6386308
You, naturally, will marry his son. That goes without question. Robert Arryn is as sweet tempered as Tommen, and your match will unify five of the major houses. Especially if one of your brothers - preferably Tommen, no one's wicked enough to deserve to marrying Joffrey - marries a girl from the Stark household. Are there any Stark girls anymore? Father fought a war to marry a Stark girl, it's a shame that she died in captivity.

The answer sudden came to you.

"You're right, Sir Bearington," you told the stuffed creature. Your vibrant, stormy blue eyes - the one trait you inherited from father - glimmer with excitement. "It was the Dornish. They're still mad because Grandfather couldn't keep his Mountain on a leash during the sack. They want to stop me from marrying Sweetrobin and throw the realm into a terrible war between the two blocs! Lion against wolf, stag against falcon, and the poor trouts all caught in between! Well I won't allow it!"

Suddenly, you are very aware of the fact that you are a lone princess, young enough for your concerns to be dismissed out of hand. Well, surely Lord Varys will uncover what you've uncovered, and probably even more of the dastardly Dornishmen's plots. The only man you know is smarter than him is Uncle Tyrion.

Flopping onto your bed, you stare at the ceiling for a bit before deciding to follow your father's advice. When there's nothing you can do about something, you may as well disengage and go do something you enjoy. Since everyone expects you to mope, that means you have plenty of time to play... ahem, engage in your secret hobby.

What is your secret hobby?
>Uncle Tyrion got you a fanciful tome of sorceries from around the world, and you've been practicing!
>You found an old sword among the dragonbones, and practice from a form book written by Sir Duncan the Tall!
>Sneaking through the tunnels that you're quite certain no one knows lead to your chambers.
>Lord Arryn gifted you an alchemist's kit when you expressed interest in it, and you enjoy the almost meditative practice.
>It's not ladylike at all, but you just have so much energy! Push ups, sit ups, lifting heavy things, your Baratheon blood boils for physical activity!
>Write in.

>>6386309
>Sneaking through the tunnels that you're quite certain no one knows lead to your chambers.
Magic is best but I want to see where this one leads to.

>>6386309
>Lord Arryn gifted you an alchemist's kit when you expressed interest in it, and you enjoy the almost meditative practice.
>Write In
Write a coded letter to Uncle Tyrion, we are his favorite niece and he's bound to respond.

>>6386309
>>Uncle Tyrion got you a fanciful tome of sorceries from around the world, and you've been practicing!
We must augur our accursed genetic line...

>>6386309
>>Write in. Sneaking to brother Tommen's room and seducing him.
Follow the family tradition.

>>6386486
+1 to Targmaxxing

>>6386486
I'll switch to this. Still want that letter tho

>>6386457
+1

>>6386309
>Sneaking through the tunnels that you're quite certain no one knows lead to your chambers.
As an extreme vulnerability to this room's security, I want to know those tunnels like the back of our hand. It would also help us learn to soften our step and be aware of our surroundings, given hidden passages are usually dark and prone to casting echoes.

>>6386486
Supporting

>>6386309
>Uncle Tyrion got you a fanciful tome of sorceries from around the world, and you've been practicing!
we like magic here sir

File: Myrcella Baratheon.jpg (469 KB, 1379x1948)

469 KB JPG

With a smooth and practiced motion, you doff your flouncy dress and shift and leave them folded on the bed. The first time you ever went down into your tunnels you came back covered in so much filth and dust that you had to make up the most ridiculous lie as to why your dress was dirty. Lord Arryn did not buy your claim of sneaking outside at night to run about the godswood like a rambunctious tomboy, but your fool of a mother did, and she was the only one you needed to trick.

She seemed strangely happy about that. So much so that she had the tailors make you many sets of squire's clothes for you to run around in and make a mess. They're very simple and sturdy cloth and leather, with a Lion and a crowned Stag prancing at one another on the breast. The only time you wear them besides your exploring is during the sword lessons mother bullied Uncle Jaime into giving you.

You really should be nicer to your mother in your thoughts. She might be the most mediocre mind in your father's court, and she certainly thinks far too highly of her intellect, but she does love you and your siblings.

Even if she spoiled Joffrey into becoming such a rotten apple!

Now clad in clothes people expect you to dirty, and the coolest knife that you pilfered from Father's armory on tucked into your belt, you head into your tunnels to go exploring. Really, you mean sneaking and spying, as there are only a few of the hidden corridors behind the walls that remain unexplored. Hearing everyone's naked and unvarnished opinions taught you so much about the court and the wider world, what people really mean when they say things, and how they are behind closed doors.

You heard Lord Baelish and Lord Varys pick apart your mother's foolish plays together over wine and cheese. You heard the maids gossip about the knights, and saw Grand Maester Pycelle drop his act of doddering old man to write a report to your Grandfather. You saw Uncle Renly and his lover kissing, a knight so beautiful that you can understand very much why Uncle Renly wanted to kiss him. You saw Uncle Stannis and his lover doing a lot more than just kissing, a priestess so beautiful that you can understand very much why Uncle Stannis wanted to do more than just kiss her.

Even when she warned him that they should stop because a storm approached, he didn't. She seemed to like that and not like that at the same time, which was odd. Besides, her prediction was dead wrong, it didn't even rain that night! Silly priestess.

You saw father practically buried in a pile of beautiful women on his bed, as if they were a blanket, and it looked so cozy that you wondered why he didn't invite mother to join them. Maybe that's why she's always grumpy with him, because he doesn't invite her to enjoy the company of all those soft and cozy women. It can't be because he's doing husband and wife things with them, everyone does that with people who aren't their spouse!

>>6386677
Even mother! She does husband and wife things with Uncle Jaime all the time.

Hmmm. Maybe that's one of the reasons father doesn't like her that much, too. Are both of your parents the jealous type, who get mad when they have to share? That would explain a lot about Joffrey, actually.

With this new profound insight, you make your way to Tommen's chambers to check in on your cutest and most adorable brother. Through the peephole, you can see him and his little friends playing with Ser Pounce under the watchful eye of Ser Barristan. Tommen has gathered himself an entire Court of Pages in his room, the sons of King's Landings nobility whom have all been swept up by his sweet nature. Unlike Joffrey, he is a good boy and any maiden would be overjoyed to have him as her husband.

That's one of the reasons why you write down everything you observe about his behavior in the little leather book that you call your Tommen Observation Diary. Many of those pages can simply be summarized with the words: "My little brother is the cutest in the world!" - as you just can't help yourself from stating the absolute truth - but you are also trying to figure out something very important.

What sort of girls does he like?

If he takes after father, the answer will not help you narrow down the candidates for his spouse. Or, rather, select from any of the Stark girls during the inevitable trip to the North Father is no doubt planning. Father's preference in women is that they are women. It's how he put you in mother, it's how he put that blacksmith boy Lord Arryn visited in his mother, and it's how he put Edric and Mya in their mothers. Sadly, you've not seen the glimmer of attraction spark in his shining emerald eyes towards any girl just yet, and his Court of Pages talks more about rescuing princesses from towers than the princesses themselves.

Oh no. What if he takes after Uncle Renly and his love for beautiful knights? That would be problematic, the realm isn't ready just yet for a Prince who has a husband! Though you've heard tell of "Brienne the Beauty" as a maiden knight blessed by the Warrior. You can only pray that one of the Stark girls takes after her, if it turns out that Tommen is like that.

You take your leave of the tunnels by Tommen's chambers when Ser Barristan's eyes come to linger a bit too long by your own.

You doubt the most legendary of the living Kingsguard can see through walls. Hearing your breathing, or the scratch of your pen upon the the parchment of your Tommen Observation Diary, is hardly outside the question. This is the man who single handedly took a tower to rescue King Aerys, after all. His senses are surely extraordinary, so best to leave before a nagging thought becomes a hunch that there are tunnels in your brother's walls.

>>6386681
Your stormy blue eyes grow stormier as your wandering carries you to Joffrey's room. Nothing pleasant ever gets recorded in the Joffrey Observation Diary, and you doubt that today will prove any different. The summary of entries into the diary is more or less, "Joffrey is the worst." You arrive at your peephole just as he returns from the yard, a sweaty mess covered in bruises with his Hound in tow.

And yet, there's a glimmer of joy in his emerald eyes that isn't normally there, reminding you of Tommen.

"You want me to fetch the Maester, Prince?" the Hound rumbles, his voice far more handsome than his half-burnt face. "His Grace gave you quite the thrashing down there, I'm bloody surprised you can still stand."

"He did!" Joffrey sounds absolutely giddy at the thought of getting beaten up by Father in the yard. You suppose it's rather satisfying, when you push Uncle Jaime just enough that he feels the need to bop you with the practice sword. Joffrey must have done the same with Father. "It was wonderful! Father pushed me harder than any of those nancy squires mother surrounds me with, it was splendid. And did you hear? Did you hear what father said when I struck his helm? There's the fury he said, there's the fury!"

"You're delirious," the Hound says with a fond chuckle, and you see the man ruffle Joffrey's hair. Normally Joffrey would be as furious as you if someone mussed up his perfect hairdo, he's girly like that. The Hound must be right, he is delirious. "I'm getting Pycelle."

"No, dog, having Littlefinger send up Rostalina," Joffrey commands, and the Hound grimaces.

You grimace. Rostalina is the woman who cleans up after the messes Joffrey makes of Lord Baelish's women. Usually your brother just ties them up and smacks them before getting the lusts he inherited from Father out of his system. Sometimes, though, they leave a bloody mess. Those ones never return to his chambers, and usually end up as tongueless scullery maids in the kitchens.

You'd rather not think about the ones that don't. Neither would the Hound, it seems, though he does rumble out a question, "And one of your whipping girls as well?"

"No, not today..." Joffrey groans in pain, a delirious smile on his face. "But a valiant warrior deserves to be nursed back to health by a beautiful woman with huge tits, doesn't he?"

You and the Hound both boggle at Joffrey. Did father hit him on the head? Does he have brain damage? That's the single most normal request you've ever heard your brother make of Lord Baelish's brothels. No girl to beat or to whip or to torment in all the terrible ways your rotten older brother loves, just a woman to nurse him as he paws at her bottom and bosom.

"I suppose he does," the Hound says with an amused sigh.

>>6386683
When the Hound leaves, so do you. You have very little interest in your older brother's sex life, even if it's veering away from the disturbing thanks to father giving him a concussion. Mother and Uncle Jaime might enjoy doing husband and wife things with their sibling, but that's probably because they're twins and have some special connection. It's definitely not normal, but the Targaryen's did it so it's not that abnormal. If you were a Targaryen, you wouldn't mind marrying Tommen eventually, but you're not a dragon or his twin.

No, you're going to marry Robert Arryn - who is just as sweet as Tommen when his mother's not spoiling him - for the sake of the Realm. Tommen will marry a Stark woman... with a large bosom, you've decided. Father loves women with large bosoms, Joffrey loves women with large bosoms, it stands to reason that if he doesn't grow up to love beautiful knights like Uncle Renly, then Tommen too will love women with large bosoms. Sadly, mother doesn't have a large bosom, which is probably why father doesn't invite her to join his cozy pile at night.

You frown for a moment. Your bosom is already as large as your mother's, and you're nearly as tall as her yet, and you definitely haven't stopped growing. You'd rather not be in your older brother's strike zone, but the line of Baratheon and Durrandon has always been broad, tall, and buxom.

Banishing those thoughts, you're done checking up on your brothers. Now you need to decide what you'll do next.
>Go spy on mother. You have the Mother Observation Diary on you as well.
>Go spy on father. You have the Father Observation Diary on you as well.
>Go exploring the deep tunnels. You have the coolest knife, so nothing down there can scare you.
>Sneak into the armory again. The forgotten one that barely gets opened up, there's so many cool things there!
>Go down to the glimmering pools and see if the tide is low enough to go caving.
>Write in.

>>6386684
>Go spy on mother. You have the Mother Observation Diary on you as well.
I spy a conniving dimwit.

>>6386486
Alas, Targmaxxing was thwarted by the presence of Barristan "the Bold" Selmy and the Court of Pages. In recompense, she is now unhealthily obsessed with her little brother and will likely aim to filter out the influence of any conniving women who would lead him astray, ESPECIALLY their mother.
>>6386320
Tyrion is around, you'll be able to talk with him later. And potentially put him on your shoulders, because Myrcella is T A L L.
>>6386457
No need to augur. I haven't been that subtle. Myrcella here has stormy blue eyes, and is taller than her mother at a third of her age. Lann the Clever stole the hair because he thought the confusion it would sew would be funny, and it was. In exchange, Storm Goddess Elenei claimed everything else about her descendant's appearance and physique.

>>6386684
>Go spy on mother. You have the Mother Observation Diary on you as well.

>>6386684
>>Go down to the glimmering pools and see if the tide is low enough to go caving.

>>6386684
>>6386765
Changing to
>Go down to the glimmering pools and see if the tide is low enough to go caving.

>>6386684
>Go down to the glimmering pools and see if the tide is low enough to go caving.

>>6386714
I look forward to sucking up to him. He deserves some familial love in his life. Tommen might be a bit too young for him yet but maybe as a tutor or something...

>>6386684
>>Go spy on mother. You have the Mother Observation Diary on you as well.

>>6386684
>Sneak into the armory again. The forgotten one that barely gets opened up, there's so many cool things there!

Rolled 44 (1d100)

Quick dice roll to see what gets found in the caves.

File: Lady Goldenleaf.jpg (523 KB, 1240x1754)

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You make your way through the tight tunnel corridors and down to the glimmering pools that hide deep beneath the foundations of the Red Keep. The brick and hewn stonework laid by the thousand craftsmen who built the castle - all of them butchered by Maegor the Cruel when they finished - give way to tunnels carved naturally over the course of thousands and thousands of years. At least, that's what Grand Maester Pycelle says, and while he fakes his bumbling and doddering there's not a reason you can think of for him to lie about that.

The pools are your favorite place beneath the castle, and not just because they're so far and deep that you cannot hear the chittering and chattering of gossiping maids and lords. The shining, sparkling, and glimmering way that the minerals that fill the waters of the pool catch and carry light makes them glow with such a pretty blue. They pour into one another like little shelves, filling the dark cavern with light and warmth as steam rolls off the surface and fills the air with a scent like cinnamon and lilacs.

Something about that scent always leaves you delightfully relaxed, yet at the same time fills you with so much energy that you feel like you could run and climb forever.

It's an odd feeling that you quite enjoy. You think there must be some sort of magic in these pools, because bathing in their warm waters always makes you feel better no matter how sick you got, and when you already feel fine they make you feel better than you've ever been! Your growth spurt started around the same time you found the glimmering pools, so maybe that's why you're so much taller and stronger than Joffrey. He's three whole years older than you, three whole inches shorter, and can lift three whole stone less than you can.

Of course Grand Maester Pycelle says that magic went away when the last of the dragons died, and there's no reason for him to lie about that. But maybe the books where he read that were wrong. Lord Arryn often wondered if books were always right, usually muttering the question to himself after you did something 'just like Robert'.

Like that time you punched Joffrey so hard that it sent him flying into the pond, to the amusement of Uncle Jaime and the Hound. Mother got mad, but he deserved it for bullying Tommen!

Or that time you accidentally tripped and fell into one of the castle's maids, only to discover that maidservants were delightfully soft creatures whose bosoms were nice to nuzzle! That got you an awkward talking to from Father and Mother.

Or that time Sweetrobin was having trouble bringing something heavy up the Tower of Hand, so you scooped him and his bags up and carried them both up to his Mother's chambers. Lady Arryn had a strange expression on her face, while Lord Arryn chuckled and said that you were certainly your father's daughter.

As if there was any doubt!

>>6387334
Magic or Mundane, the great pool that feeds into the ocean is low today, lower than you've ever seen it before, exposing one of the tunnels that's almost always underwater. You never got the chance to explore that way before, so even if it means being late to dinner, you're going to go see what's on the other side.

With all due haste, you doff your squire's clothes and leave them neatly folded on the stony shore, high up enough to avoid the tide if it rises. No need to let your undergarments get wet either, for the wool would take forever to dry and lead to too many questions from the maids - or worse, your Mother. Carrying the coolest knife in its scabbard, you wade into the warmth of the great glimmering pool and over towards the tunnel that's usually underwater.

The waters that normally go well over your head only go up to your neck there. The tunnel is long and winding, far longer than you would have been able to hold your breath. The only light is the gentle glow of the sapphire-blue waters, which cast few shadows upon the cavern walls. The tunnel climbs slowly but surely over what feels like an hour's journey, until by the time it opens to a cavern, the warm waters that covered you to your neck are now cool and tepid and barely reach your stomach.

Of course, you hardly notice that.

You're too distracted by the big, glowing tree.

The cavern is like an oasis in the desert, a grove in miniature lit not by the sun, but by the white-gold light of a grand Weirwood tree! The grass was soft beneath your bare feet as you waded onto the small island's shore, and flowers of so many different colors that you could not begin to count them intermingled with the grass, and turned it into a garden of wildflowers. Butterflies and little birds flit about, and a fat bee bumbled onto your shoulder, before floating off to the tree.

The Weirwood here was not at all like the Weirwoods you saw in paintings of the North and the Vale. Those trees had bark of white striped with black, and blood red leaves that never fell no matter the cold of winter. This tree had no stripes to be seen, and its leaves glowed like molten gold and cast light like the summer sun, filling the cavern with warmth and light. Its roots ran all the way through the grass, to drink from the magic glimmering waters that flowed here from the glimmering pools.

It had no face that you could see, but still you called it a Weirwood.

Why? Because it spoke to you, of course!

"You are not Brynden..." the haggard and mystical voice of a woman echoed through the cavern. It came from the other side of the tree, so maybe that was where the Weirwood kept its face? You slowly circled the island, making sure not to disturb the butterflies and the bees as you went. "How did you come across this place, girl-child? The way has been hidden for two and a half centuries."

>>6387335
"I followed the tunnels!" You declare, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Which is was; once you found the tunnels, finding the caves was easy.

"You followed the tunnels?" the woman asks again.

"That I did," you say with a vigorous nod, finally face-to-face with the Weirwood.

It's definitely not a normal Weirwood. Normal Weirwoods have stern and grumpy faces carved into them by the Children of the Forest, to look upon the First Men with judgment and compassion. This Weirwood had a woman all tanged up in its roots and branches, hanging limply with her head bowed and her white hair falling like a shroud over her face. She's every bit as naked as you are, save for the circlet that crowns her, black like iron and studded with rubies.

She's hard to look at because it's almost like their were two of her set atop eachother. One of them is beautiful in the regal way like your mother is, austere and refined, but with a bosom that would be far more to your father's preference. The other is a haggard old crone all shriveled up like a prune, but still cute in the way that old grannies are. Something clicks inside of your head after a moment, and you realize that the granny is the real woman.

"Do you know where you are, child?" the woman asks. Her voice is gravelly and granny-like, beneath all the mysticism that causes it to boom and echo throughout the cave.

You take a seat in the grass before her - careful not to disturb the bees and the butterflies - and look up at her with your stormy blue eyes. Your answer comes in a single syllable, "Nope."

"I shall need to chastise Brynden, then, if his wards have faded so after a mere century," the Lady in the Weirwood grumbles to herself. With a sigh, she asks, "Do you know whom it is you now sit before, child?"

With a tilt of your head, you think for a moment, and then come to a terrible realization as you speak your thoughts. "I am before... an old lady who is stuck in a tree... oh no! I've been terribly rude, ma'am! You're all tangled there and I'm just sitting here and haven't offered to help. I may be a girl, but I'm stronger than my big brother, you know...!"

The Lady in the Weirwood began coughing and sputtering the moment you called her an old lady, and she doesn't stop as you scramble to her side. Only when you grab her in a hold by the armpits does she speak up and say, "There will be no need for that, child. I wish to remain tangled here, as you put it."

"Oh," you say, letting her out of the hold. Somewhat sheepishly, you step back and away, returning to your seat on the grass.

"You're one of Orys and Argella's get, aren't you?" the Lady in the Weirwood mutters, in the same way Lord Arryn would mutter when he was asking you a question that he didn't really want you to answer. "Argella's eyes and Orys's Orysness. What is your name, girl?"

"Myrcella," you answer honestly, because you don't have any reason to lie. "Myrcella Baratheon. What's yours?"

>>6387337
You can hear the curl of a smile upon the old lady's face as she ponders your question for a moment. After a pause, she answers, "You may call me... Lady Goldenleaf."

You look up at the leaves that are shining through the cavern, nearly falling onto your backside, and ask, "Is it because your leaves are golden?"

"Just like Orys," Lady Goldenleaf says with a chuckle, and the same tone Lord Arryn would have when comparing you to your father. "Indeed, young Myrcella, I take that name because the leaves of my bondstree are golden. It is a fitting name, wouldn't you say?"

You nod, because it is... and then you state the obvious, to let her know that you're not so easily tricked. "And a lot less troublesome than your real name would be, right?"

"Indeed," the woman says with a snort. "Just like Orys."

"So why are you tangled up in that tree?" you ask her. A butterfly lands upon your nose, and it takes every ounce of concentration you have to not sneeze it away. When it flutters off, you say, "It doesn't look all that comfortable..."

The woman ponders for a moment and then says, "My little brother had a nightmare three hundred years ago. As his reliable big sister, it fell to me to make sure that it did not come to pass. Tangling myself with this tree was the most reliable way to live long enough to see it through."

"Is Brynden also tangled up in a tree?" you ask her. He could just be a shriveled old man, but not many people live to see a hundred years!

"Yes, though his is far to the north from here," she tells you after another moment.

You perk up and say, "Father plans to travel north to see Lord Stark in Winterfell soon. Would I be able to meet Brynden there?"

Lady Goldenleaf thinks about it for a long moment, and slowly shakes her head. "No, his tree is further still to the North, beyond the Wall where older things still roam freely in the snows. But you may be able to speak with him, through the weirwoods trees of Winterfell's godswood. If you do, would you pass him a message for me?"

You scrunch your face in thought for a moment. Lord Arryn always told you to think on people's motives and incentives, the whys of why they might ask something, but that's honestly pretty hard. Everyone's so different that figuring out their whys might as well be as hard as counting all the stars! Still, you don't feel anything icky about her, and that intuition never led you astray yet.

"What's the message?" you ask.

"He has made an error that has cost us much," Lady Goldenleaf declares with the same voice your Father has when he makes a proclamation. "What he sees as a circle is not a circle, but reaching out to another branch in ways that muddy his sight of what is to come. That is why his Song will never finish."

>>6387340

You commit those words to memory as best as your mind can. As you do so, the roots of Lady Goldenleaf's tree open up, and reveal a treasure. "My little brother claimed this as a trophy from Storm's End, long ago. It served me well in my youth, but I have grown beyond it now. As thanks for carrying this message to Brynden, allow me to return it to you, child of Durrandon."

From the roots there springs...
>A shirt of fine chainmail. Not of Valyrian Steel, but light as a feather and soft to the touch.
>A sapphire brooch marked with the emblem of Durrandon, in which lightning seems to dance.
>A white staff with red veins that makes you feel impossibly alive when you hold it.
>A box of seeds for your garden, for plant Lady Goldenheart claims shall make your more of what you are.
>A tome in the script of Asshai that somehow you are able to understand, which contains instructions for 'healthy exercise'.
>A ring of Valyrian Steel, with a single piece of amber set within it.

>>6387342
>A box of seeds for your garden, for plant Lady Goldenheart claims shall make your more of what you are.
You know what nobody would bother to look into? A young girl tending to her personal garden.

>>6387342
>A box of seeds for your garden, for plant Lady Goldenheart claims shall make your more of what you are.

>>6387342
>A sapphire brooch marked with the emblem of Durrandon, in which lightning seems to dance.
The heritage mystery box calls to me...

Everything else is interesting, but either too obvious or not for us. I'd take the box of seeds, though. Physiqemaxx and ust be the most enormous lady in the Seven Kingdoms.

>>6387342
An enchanted Qarth dress said to make any men dancing like puppets to your string

>>6387342
>>A box of seeds for your garden, for plant Lady Goldenheart claims shall make your more of what you are.

Some men may make claims that there is such as a thing as a woman too buxom, but those men are akin to uncle Renly, and aren't to be taken seriously.

>>6387342
>A sapphire brooch marked with the emblem of Durrandon, in which lightning seems to dance.

>>6387342
>A box of seeds for your garden, for plant Lady Goldenheart claims shall make your more of what you are.

We should ask Lady Goldenleaf if she would like us to keep this meeting and her special request a secret

>>6387369
+1

Ooooh, magic?
I wasn't expecting something like this...
The quest has taken a turn in an interesting direction.
Now I'm a lot more intrigued

>>6387342
>>6387369
Supporting

>>6387342
I'm torn between two options. I dont like using items that may be lost so things to enhance her is where I'd invest in.

Also is she not an incest baby? Or is it the pool that's giving her Storm eyes and the Priestess referring to her as Storm?

She's infused with magic duento the pool and probably is a super soldier likenthe humans from the age of heroes.

>A box of seeds for your garden, for plant Lady Goldenheart claims shall make your more of what you are.

>A tome in the script of Asshai that somehow you are able to understand, which contains instructions for 'healthy exercise'.

I'll vote for both, seeds that buffnher or a time that gives her exercises that'll pay off long term. She is trying to be a swordsman. Otherwise I'd gone magic Stagg and tried to be a mage.

>>6387465
Not like anyone's gonna believe a what 14 yr old princess about a magic talkingntree that gave her a message.

>>6387387
I took this as her becoming more Amazonian and/or magical. This also increase form?

Asshai is GoT Asia right? So I assume the exercises are wuxia like stuff for warriors, correct? So cultivation for magic and physical stuff?

>>6387743
Nevermind it's somewhere east of Essos. I wonder what makes these excercises special?

>>6387748
Given Asshai's reputation for the esoteric knowledge, I imagine their idea of "healthy exercise" is wildly efficient or completely absurd. Either way, it's probably effective.

>>6387342
>An enchanted Qarth dress said to make any men dancing like puppets to your string
Or if not
>A box of seeds for your garden, for plant Lady Goldenheart claims shall make your more of what you are.

>>6387342
>A white staff with red veins that makes you feel impossibly alive when you hold it.
Sounds like a good gift. Feeling energetic and with stamina helps in life.

>Write-in
>Offer to take care of Lady Goldenleaf white hair
Kindness goes a long way....

>>6387741
If Myrcella takes care of it, I don't think it will be lost. What is picked, is both a gift and a precious object at the same time. She would value it, such is her intellect...

Myrcella is a good kid. That's what matters.

In part. It seems the pool had many beneficial effects, if it goes beyond what has given so far who knows. The Age of Heroes is very shrouded in myth this pool, is probably one last remnant of that age.

>>6387743
It could lead to different things. Certainly healthy ones.

Essos in its entirety has many many inspirations taken from cultures and history of Asia. Not just that either though.

In part. Its a region very connected to the esoteric and magic. Also the mysterious, shadows, eldritch even demonic. Asshai has not the best reputation.

>>6387768
I wasn't talking lost as in her misplacing it but lost because someone took it away, destroyed it or dropped.

Books have knowledge that can both be shared and memorized. The seeds I guess she's eating instead of planting. Which I assume is going to be a slight all around short term upgrade vs the exercise focused long term physical upgrade.

>>6387768
Then there's how Westeros looks at magic, plus the Mc already started warrior training. A staff would take up her hands and signal she's a mage. Even then I'm tempted by the staff.

>>6387772

Exercise requires a strong foundation to realize its full benefit, being an ubermensch will allow greater potential.

>>6387757
>>6387748
With 'healthy exercise' in quotes I honestly thought "oh that's just a magic Kama Sutra"

So, to make it clear since I thought I was not being subtle, Myrcella is actually a Baratheon. Lann the Clever stole the color of her hair because "I thought it would be funny, and it was." Elenei, in retaliation, claimed every other characteristic of Myrcella.

The manual is not a Kama Sutra text at all, none of these options are lewd. In D&D terms, it is something akin to a Manual of Gainful Exercise, and would teach Myrcella some basic martial arts forms and stretches. If the Plant is the Spirit Root equivalent for a Cultivation novel, then the Tome is the Scroll of Ancient Techniques that no one has heard of for ten thousand years (but Fatty Wang will recognize instantly and explain to the class).

...

Sam Tarly is Jon's Fatty Wang, isn't he?

Also, the traction on the Meme Dress has given me a stupid idea. You could have prevented this by not suggesting it, but now it's too late. It's not a valid option for voting because there was no write in option, but don't worry, it has influenced the quest and is already Canon.

Both the seeds and the books are long term buffs that will have an immediate effect. The other items are more immediately useful, but will not have as much long term benefit. Seeds will be more of an expansion on mystical powers, manual will be more of a "body cultivation"/physiquemaxxing style thing.

As a reminder, Asshai was once known as the Great Empire of the Dawn prior to the Bloodstone Emperor fucking everything up for everyone else. I need to double check, but I'm pretty sure that guy brought the Long Night. The Tome being a GEotD relic is what makes it special (all of these date back to them, for I'd call that age the Age of the Gods).

>>6387342
>>A ring of Valyrian Steel, with a single piece of amber set within it.

>>6387885
>Also, the traction on the Meme Dress has given me a stupid idea. You could have prevented this by not suggesting it, but now it's too late. It's not a valid option for voting because there was no write in option, but don't worry, it has influenced the quest and is already Canon.
Your terms are acceptable. When are we getting the dress

>>6387885
"In retaliaton", you FOOL Elenei, it just makes Lann's joke even funnier!

Seeing as the book ISN'T anything weird (well, it is, but you know what I mean)...

>>6387361
>>6387342
I'd like to change by vote for the book. Also, the idea of Bobby seeing us exercise and joining in, smash cut to him being ripped again is a very funny idea. It won't happen, probably, but it's a thought.

>>6387885
>The manual is not a Kama Sutra text at all, none of these options are lewd

Well you're quite misleading, aren't you.

>>6387342
>>6387741
Change to
>A tome in the script of Asshai that somehow you are able to understand, which contains instructions for 'healthy exercise'.

File: 8b3f49c66839199ebaf86b92e(...).png (1.32 MB, 1000x1400)

1.32 MB PNG

The treasure even comes with a treasure chest that will let you carry it back. Shaped from black ironwood and fastened with golden brass, the stag of House Durrandon - now House Baratheon - is emblazoned upon its broad flat face. It doesn't look at all like the big, curvy treasure chests illuminated in Tommen's copy of The Unsung Tales of Dunk and Egg, but from the latchkey and the lock you know for a fact that it's a treasure chest. Of course, with the key already in the lock, it's not a well defended treasure - you need no Dunk to bash it open or a nimble-fingered Egg to undo the latch.

Your eyes sparkle when you see the treasure within. Taking it delicately into your grasp, you lift it up so that you can get a better look at it in the light of the tree. "It's so pretty...!"

"These are the seeds of the Blood Blossom," Lady Goldenleaf tells you, sounding quite proud of herself for some reason. She must have spent a lot of time cultivating the grimly named flower so that its seeds could be here. "You can add the petals of a single flower to your morning tea each day, and in time your spirit shall grow vast and your body shall growth healthy and strong. Though I would caution against adding more than one flower to the pot at your age, for the vigor of such brew can be quite overwhelming..."

She sounds oddly wistful about overwhelming vigor and all of that, in the same way Father gets when he talks about Bessy's bosom. You make a quick mental note that two flowers should be reserved for husband and wife things when you're older. One question remains in your mind, as you examine the real treasure within the box. "Why does it only have one shoulder strap, though?"

Lady Goldenleaf makes a choking sound, but before you can rush over to help her, her voice returns to normal, "Shoulder strap?"

You hold up the treasure in her direction.

The dress in your hands is woven of resplendent black silk that has an ever-so-subtle pattern of stormclouds woven into it in light shades that glimmer in the light of the tree. A belt of gold medallions carved with runes of the First Men hugs the waist, its buckle set with a black diamond flanked by two prancing stags. Gold thread trims the hem, which falls unevenly, either riding high upon the thigh or falling just past your knees. It rises like those Qartheen togas to only one of your shoulders, clasped by a golden fork of lightning. A mysterious chain falls from the clasp, which ends in a brooch, another set of black diamonds set in a broad golden disc engraved with stags.

It's a strange brooch, though. The pin in the back is much smaller than it ought to be, reminding you more of mother's earrings than anything else. You suspect it's to be worn like a badge, maybe pinned parallel to the forked lightning?

>>6388068

It's obviously meant to be worn above another dress as an extra layer. Wearing it on its own would be highly indecent! Something with short sleeves, as a pair of black silk gauntlets patterned with a golden net are folded beneath it, which should reach just past the elbow. There is also a strangely asymmetrical pair of socks with a similar pattern to them that seem to cut off just below the scandalous hem, with a set of shoes that shine like gold.

There is also a strange piece of gold in a vague c-shape with soft padding on one side whose purpose you cannot make heads or tails of. Why does it have the symbol of a lock engraved upon it?

Lady Goldengrass' head rises as you present the outer dress to her, staring at it with a pair of vibrant purple eyes. Her mouth moves for a moment, but no words come out for a solid minute. "I forgot that was in the same box as the Blood Blossom seeds."

You tilt you head at her in curiosity. "What does it do?"

"The dress charms men," she tells you plainly. "The golden undergarments protect your virtue incase the wrong sort of men are charmed. I am given to understand that they spared Lady Argella further indignities, when her men revolted."

Your eyes narrow just a bit at the implication against your ancestor. "Father and Grand Maester Pycelle both said that Orys won Storm's End by his kindness to Lady Argella."

Lady Goldenleaf shakes her head. "Orys was a good natured puppy of a man who had a hard time comprehending the baser nature of men. The men who mutinied against Lady Argella, on the other hand..."

Putting down the dress, you hold up the strange golden undergarment. "And this protected her from them?"

"Those who touched her with impure intent found themselves flung back by the wind and the rain, or so I've been told," Lady Goldenleaf says, and she doesn't even raise an eyebrow when you immediately slip it on, at least how you think it ought to go. She does raise a slight eyebrow when they vanish completely, leaving nothing but a faint golden birthmark on the back of your hand, in the shape of a lock. "So that's how they work. I only ever borrowed the dress, back when I was competing with my dear sister for our husband's attention."

You poke the back of your hand, on the birthmark, and the strange undergarments clatter to the floor. Putting them back on, they vanish again. Young as you are, sneaking through the tunnels of Red Keep taught you all about the relations between men and women. You'd rather never experience the less happy stories that you've seen throughout the keep for yourself.

Joffrey wasn't the only one in the castle who enjoyed inflicting unwanted pain.

He was, however, the only one you couldn't see cast out with a whisper to Mother of how he stared at you - or in the cases when you caught women at it, Tommen - with lecherous eyes.

Happily there weren't many.

More happily, the servants all appreciated how you made those problems go away.

>>6388069
"So, husband and wife things, just like making tea with two flowers, got it," you say, jotting that fact about the dress in the back of your mind. Another problem creeps into the back of your mind that makes you want an answer. "Why were you and your sister married to the same person? The Old Gods and the New both frown upon a man taking more than one wife into his household. For we have made you in our image to be companions to one another, a husband and his wife. And in this companionship we charge you to together build your homes with the hands of the Smith, and be as the Father and the Mother to your children."

You can hear Lady Goldenleaf roll her eyes, "Yes, I too have read the Seven Pointed Star. They were not our gods until well after we were wed, and we were such a happy and prosperous family that the Most Devout gave us special privilege to remain such even after we converted."

"That makes sense," you say, though the talk of the gods appears to have put Lady Goldenleaf into a foul mood.

"I'm sure it does," she replies with the same grumpiness as your mother when you've said something she thinks is foolish but she cannot truly chastise you for because it's also right. "Now, then, I shall keep the waters low for the moment, and you shall return to the keep with your gifts, child of Durrandon. Run along now, before the tides grow too high."

You fold the dress up and put it back into the box, next to the many vials of shiny, luminiferous seeds. Making sure the latch is locked up tight, you take out the key and put its chain around your neck. "Take care, Lady Goldenleaf! I'll return on the morrow."

"You most certainly will not, child," the grumpy old lady harumphs. "You should not have been here in the first place."

"But who else is going to brush your hair?!" You ask with a happy wave.

Because you're far more clever than you let on, you don't give her any time to respond. By the time she stops sputtering at that, you've long since scurried through the shallows, back again through the cavern tunnels to the warm and glimmering pools. Lady Goldengrass left the waters so low that you only need dry your feet, before slipping back into your squire clothes and climbing back into the keep.

===

Weeks pass by, and you soon fall into a new daily routine.

It takes you a little bit of effort and a few small fish as a bribe, but you quickly teach Ser Pounce to bring you an offering every morning. Rats from the larder now water your blossoms with their blood, just as the instructions with the seeds say. The oldest way was to water the garden with the blood of executed criminals, but most men take the Black these days so there aren't enough for that tithe. Besides, if you asked, you'd almost certainly get stranger looks than Joffrey when he showed off the guts of that cat!

>>6388070
The flowers only need a little blood to grow up strong. It takes but a sennight for the first of the blood-red blossoms to bloom, and soon you have more of the seven-petaled flowers than you know what to do with. You did not try the double strength tea, no matter how tempting the thought might be to understand its effects on the mind and body.

Though maybe you arranged for a certain maid and manservant who you've seen dancing around the issue for months on end to share a cup of it together.

It did exactly what you thought it would.

In entirely unrelated news, those two are now happily married. Finally.

After you water the plants, Uncle Jaime spends an hour putting you through your paces with the smallsword. It's not like the intense training the squires get, more of a dance or a sport, but it's still more activity than you'd spend in the sewing circle. Oh, your septa tuts and twitters when she spots you in the yard, but both Father and Mother approve of your tomboyishness - a rare agreement between the two - so that is all she can do.

A quick bath before breakfast, and then onto the lessons that take up most of the day. From the Septa you learn your embroidery, and from Grand Maester Pycelle you learn a highborn lady's work: accounts and finances, the management of staff, and all the other intellectual duties expected of the lady of the house.

You're a good girl, so of course you're the best of them all. Even Elaina Rikker, the cleverest and laziest of your handmaidens, needs to put in some work to keep up with you.

The rest?

Well, there's a reason why you and Elaina get to leave your lessons early. She goes off to read in the library with the promise of some sweet story for your mother, and you sneak off in your squire clothes to visit Lady Goldenleaf. She tolerates your presence when you return with a brush and some oils for her hair, and a pair of pilfered shears to cut it just right. Even old ladies like to be kept neat, and while she keeps her hair and head bowed for dramatic effect, she happily tells you stories and secrets while you attend your hair.

All old ladies love to tell stories. Hers are of magic and of dragons, and of relics left by the Freehold - and before then, the Great Empire of the Dawn. She also teaches you how to still your mind, to feed your emotions to one of the Fourteen Flames and empty yourself of all your worries. "As a practice. You've a spark that few enough have in this day and age, and it ought to be nurtured."

>>6388071
Which of the Flames do you find yourself most attuned to?
>First Flame, the Flame of Ignition
>Second Flame, the Flame of Healing
>Third Flame, the Flame of Life
>Fourth Flame, the Flame of Hope
>Fifth Flame, the Flame of Love
>Sixth Flame, the Flame of Pride
>Seventh Flame, the Flame of Sight
>Eight Flame, the Flame of Truth
>Nineth Flame, the Flame of Limits
>Tenth Flame, the Flame of Pain
>Eleventh Flame, the Flame of Joy
>Twelfth Flame, the Flame of Wonder
>Thirteenth Flame, the Flame of Conquest
>Fourteenth Flame, the Flame of Death

Soon enough, Mother's wheelhouse is ready. It took them a whole month to build one suitable for the journey north, because she quite insisted on bringing every luxury of home with her. The work is truly absurd, a carriage the size of a small cottage that will almost certainly break down every handful of miles. But she refused to take a boat, and suffer the Manderly's Hospitality. You know not why, they're godly folk with as much wealth as you can find in the North, but she refused.

Perhaps their current lord was their suitor? You met him once, at the Tourney celebrating Tommen's birth, and he was exceptionally large - even larger than Father! Father's largeness might be one of the reasons mother doesn't get along with him, though...

How do you take the journey?
>In the wheelhouse with Mother and Uncle Jaime.
>In the carriage with Father and Ser Barristan.
>Riding side saddle like a proper lady.
>Riding with a split skirt like a proper tomboyish girl.
>(Write in)

>>6388072
>Twelfth Flame, the Flame of Wonder
We seem to have held onto that childish wonder. It sounds right for Myrcella.

>Riding with a split skirt like a proper tomboyish girl.
Although I presume we stop for the night and get to hang out with our Father and Mother. If so, maybe see if we can slip them some tea, presuming we brought enough for the journey north. It'll help keep them in good health!


I still hold out hope for the narrow chance of revitalizing Bobby and, possibly, his marriage with the aid of some 2x strength tea. Maybe 3x considering how... large... he is.

Also QM, I have to ask; are you happy that the other GoT quest is absorbing all the board's autism, or would you have preferred MAXIMUM ENGAGEMENT?

Rolled 46 (1d100)

>>6388105
>Spoiler
Aight, this roll will be for ya gurl reigniting/actually igniting the spark in her parent's marriage.

>>6388072
>Eight Flame, the Flame of Truth
By her own nature, Myrcella has been spending her days observing the truth of things from those tunnels.

>>6388150
>>6388072
>Riding with a split skirt like a proper tomboyish girl.
Forgot the second part of my vote

>>6388072
>Third Flame, the Flame of Life

>Riding side saddle like a proper lady.

File: Myrcella Heightmogging th(...).jpg (81 KB, 975x599)

81 KB JPG

>>6388138
This is not a "no", by the by, this is a "possibly, but if it happens there will be unforseen consequences."
>>6388108
A quest gets the engagement it gets. More is nice (the engagement for the last post wowed me), but I'm not sure if I could keep up with MAXIMUM.
>>6387991
>Well you're quite misleading, aren't you.
In retrospect, I see how that was misleading. I was thinking "why are there a bunch of stretches and meditations in an exercise manual" when I put the quotes there, not "it's seggs", but it definitely implied "it's seggs". No going back now, though, the blood lotus has been obtained and a path to demonic cultivation has been opened that Myrcella will never take because it's what Joffrey would do.

Also, for everyone's comprehension of the sheer heightmogging Myrcella enacts upon the entire royal family (except her father):

>>6388173
Unforseen consequences are the name of the game, baby!

And Myrcella's only like, 14 right now. She's probably going to match Bobby in height in a few years time. In fact, I'd bet she'll end up looking like "What if Prime Robert was a girl and also blond".

>>6388072
>Riding with a split skirt like a proper tomboyish girl.

>Nineth Flame, the Flame of Limits

Don't know much about the flames, so I'll go with limits here.

Too bad we went with the magic boost option instead of focusing.

>>6388072
>Third Flame, the Flame of Life
>In the carriage with Father and Ser Barristan.

>>6388173
Question for the QM:
Several of the more recent posts talk about Maester Pycelle, but in the OP of the thread, it mentions how "Old age and a sudden sickness claimed" him.
I assume that he was merely sick for a time and has now gotten better, but I want to ask and double check in case I'm mistaken.

>>6388072
>Third Flame, the Flame of Life
>Riding side saddle like a proper lady.

>>6388072
>Fifth Flame, the Flame of Love
>Riding side saddle like a proper lady.

Oh man I can't wait to find an occasion to wear that dress

>>6388072
>Fifth Flame, the Flame of Love
>In the wheelhouse with Mother and Uncle Jaime.
Find love with our heirloom items

>>6388203
I think he wrote "Pycelle" instead of "Jon Arryn" on accident.

>>6388201
The Fourteen Flames are each a flavor of the Wheel of Time Flame and Void, with a bit of the Eight Gates added in. The purpose is feeding your emotions into them and entering a flow state where you pull off things that are on the cusp of human ability. You didn't go purely with magic.

Chainmail was Warrior Path
Brooch was going to focus on your bloodline.
Staff was for invoking the gods/shamanism.
Flower seeds are for expanding your spirit/qi/essence what have you.
Book was for achieving PEAK PERFORMANCE in terms of physicality.
Ring was for general magery, akin to Gandalfs ring but lightning instead of fire.
>>6388182
Yeah, Myrcella and Joffrey are of an age where they're still growing. Joffrey will likely end up just shy of 6 ft. Myrcella will be just short of her father (Elenei was beeg, and so Myrcella will be beeg as well).
>>6388203
Ah, I see the issue. It's the Oxford Comma, the critical comma that turns one sentence into a completely different one. "Let's eat, grandma!" vs "Let's eat grandma!"

Lord Arryn was the one who died. Grand Maester Pycelle claimed that it was Old Age and Sudden Sickness. The comma between sickness and claimed changes it from a statement that Grand Maester Pycelle was claimed by old age, to Grand Maester Pycelle claiming that it was Old Age and Sudden Sickness (that took Lord Arryn).

>>6388351
I hope we can circle back for some of the others eventually. The brooch and book especially, although if I had to choose between the two I'd say the brooch because the Durrandons were really cool. Everything else I could take or leave.

>>6388072
>Fifth Flame, the Flame of Love

>Riding side saddle like a proper lady

>>6388072
>>6388201
Change to:
>Third Flame, the Flame of Life
>Riding with a split skirt like a proper tomboyish girl.

>>6388351
OK so we're truly dealing with Qi. What does it do in this universe? Low fantasy like wuxia or can it go high like xianxia?

>>6388072
>>Third Flame, the Flame of Life

>>In the carriage with Father and Ser Barristan.

So if we've began cultivating, it follows that there will be others. We should complain that Joff gets a badass bodyguard and we don't.

>>6388455
>>6388459
Really depends on how you define "qi" and "cultivating". I don't intend to slurp Chinese religious practice as if it's the be all and end all, but meditation, self improvement, the use of elixirs to improve one's power, the strengthening of the soul are all gonna be there. They are largely already there in ASoiAF, between the things the Warlocks of Qarth do, Weirwood paste making you stronger with magic, Euron chugging his elixirs. Just planning to have more of the magic things involved.

TL;DR: Don't expect "muh golden core" or "he's reached body strengthening stage" or anything so formal. Do expect things like there being ancient techniques, elixirs that may or may not work depending on how reliable the source is, and everything involving Brynden and Bran to be a fucking acid trip of time bending conceptual dreamworld nonsense.

>>6388072
>>Third Flame, the Flame of Life
Feel like that's the Baratheon Flame
>Riding with a split skirt like a proper tomboyish girl.

>>6388504
In the end we must prepared for Bran the Broken's time travel technique, it's quite powerful.

File: Uncle Jaime.jpg (160 KB, 850x1063)

160 KB JPG

Threee weeks into the three month journey to the North, Mother's wheelhouse turns back for King's Landing when the Maester of Darry announces the joyous news that she is carrying a fourth royal child.

This surprises absolutely no one who had been paying attention to Mother and Father's behavior over the past six weeks. Two Blood Blossoms with their morning tea and suddenly every shouting match between them - of which there were many - ended in one them going in for a furious kiss and dragging the other to their bedchambers. Better than that, they clearly enjoyed it, as you stopped after two weeks and they still kept at it like a pair of randy newlyweds, even in the wheelhouse. Oh, Mother still dallied about with Uncle Jaime when she could, and Father still kept his cozy blanket of beautiful women, but that was to be expected.

From what you've observed, rare are men and women like Uncle Renly, whose heart only has enough love for a single person. Some overflow like Father, others split their affections evenly like Uncle Stannis, but most only have small fleeting flickers beyond their best kept flame.

Tommen and most of the women return back to King's Landing with her, escorted by the Lannister men and two of the Kingsguard you are glad to be rid of. Some might compare Ser Boros Blount's appetites to your Father's, but your Father's happiest when his beautiful ladies are happy, where Ser Boros is much more like Joffrey in that regard. As for Ser Meryn Trant, he's the sort of man that you make sure never to be caught in a room alone with, as soon as you understood what those fleeting gazes of his meant. Mother will be fine, though, he's her loyal lapdog and she's well out of his strike zone.

"Seven above, I'm glad that perverted geezer's gone," your favorite handmaid - and the only one who stuck with you on the journey North - says far too loudly. Elaina Rikker has droopy amber eyes, a long fat braid black as the night sky, and riding posture that looks more like she's napping in the saddle than riding her pony. "Fair maidens like us were in danger, with him around."

"You shouldn't speak ill of the Kingsguard, Elaina," you chastise one of the few people you can call a friend. Elaina was always the most troublesome of your handmaidens, when it came to maintaining propriety and obeying her betters. That's why you like her so much. With a playful smirk, you add, "Especially when it's true."

Uncle Jaime, who rides before you in the procession atop your own mare's sire turns back to you with a playful smirk and asks, "Which one?"

You and Elaina share a quick look with one another, and then as one you say, "Ser Trant."

"Really," your Uncle sounds surprised at your immediate and unanimous answer. "I've never heard such about Ser Trant, while Ser Boros has a reputation that rivals... well..."

He gives a meaningful look towards the carriage where your Father rides with Ser Barristan.

>>6388590
"Well, Ser Boros is a lot like King Robert, in that he loves women with plump tits and fat asses," Elaina speaks so plainly and sweetly that it takes your Uncle a moment to realize what she said, and when he does his expression is positively aghast. Far less sweet, her voice drops to sharp and scathing when she says, "Ser Trant prefers their unflowered daughters, whenever he can have them."

"Does he, now..." Uncle Jaime's face darkens for a moment, before it brightens back up and asks, "And just where did you learn to talk like that, young lady?"

"Where else but the court?" Elaina drawls, and that earns her another laugh from your Uncle. "If you listen closely enough, you may hear the single drop of decorum the lords of Westeros share with one another..."

"I'm surprised you didn't return to King's Landing with Mother, Uncle," you pivot the subject away from decorum and Ser Trant, two things that Elaina could berate for hours upon end if you let her. "I know how much you love Father's company, but I recall you being quite protective of Mother when she was carrying Tommen."

You get another laugh at that. Uncle Jaime cannot stand your Father.

"Well, vices aside, those two are reliable knights who will keep her safe," somewhat glum at having his sworn brothers' flaws brought up, Jaime explains. He perks up a bit, giving you a sly grin, and says, "Moreover... were you aware that her daughter the princess is a willful tomboy who decided to ride all the way to Winterfell ahorse? While prancing about in boy's clothing, no less! She did not even have the grace to ride side saddle like her handmaiden, for shame..."

Elaina gives you a smirk, for she is riding side saddle like a proper lady, her yellow skirts flowing gently in the breeze as her pony clops forward.

"Boys would wear breeches," you retort, gesturing to the way that your flowing and baggy divided skirts differ from the far-too-tight pants of a boy squire. Your tunic - black and trimmed with gold threads, the silk patterned with prancing stags - is also not a tunic, but a blouse. "This is a blouse and riding skirt. A perfectly traditional woman's garb for riding horses that dates back to centuries before Aegon's conquest."

"It's a tunic and pants," you Uncle declares.

"Nope, it's not a tunic," you tell him, and you're right.

"A tunic would button in the opposite direction," Elaina agrees with you with a lazy nod. "Princess Myrcella would never wear men's clothing, that's clearly a blouse with a Dornish riding skirt, Ser Jaime."

"Dornish Marches riding skirt," you correct her. The distinction is important, as the Dornish fashion has cut outs to bare the wearer's hips, while the style of the Dornish Marches does not. Nevermind the fact that the two fashions almost certainly were born from one another, with how much cultural exchange went on between those lands. "As a daughter of the Stormlands, it would be quite scandalous if I wore the Dornish fashion."

>>6388592
"They're pants," your uncle, in his ignorance, instance. "I'll give you that they're not breeches, but they're certainly pants."

With a shake of your head, you deny his claim, "No, no. Pants would get tucked into my boots, because they're worn by men and men are expected to wade through muck and mud if need be. A lady's divided riding skirt would not get tucked into my boots, because while a lady of the Dornish Marches is expected to ride and stand ready to defend her family's keep, she's still a lady."

"Besides," Elaina chimes in. "They're a skirt. You don't tuck a skirt into your boots, you tuck pants into your boots. That's just common sense."

"I see." Your uncle's tone makes it very clear that he doesn't. His eyebrow arches as he takes in the way the men are dressed, and a wry smile spreads across his face when he notices that all the men have tucked their pants into their boots. "I suppose that makes sense. Of course, babysitting her troublesome, tomboyish daughter on the way north was just a favor to my dear sister. We'll be meeting a certain someone at the Crossroads Inn..."

===

As it turns out, it was Uncle Tyrion!

Your father greets his favorite imp in the manner he greets everyone he likes: loudly, boisterously, and with joyful sincerity. Tyrion brought with him a small wagon train of gifts from Lannisport, but more than that it's his good humor that finds him quickly welcomed into the caravan north. He and Father are quite alike in many ways; they have the same sense of humor, the same preference for sleeping in blankets of beautiful women, and the same drive to see those women enjoy themselves just as much as they do.

Tyrion brought your father a splendid clock, whose rotation tells the story of his rebellion in truth. How the Stag, the Wolf, and Falcon tore apart the Dragon with the support of the Trout. How the Rose wilted and the Sun set as the Dragon died. How the Lion welcomed the Stag into the Dragon's court as a Dog smashed the Dragon's last eggs. A grim tale, but the truth.

For Joffrey, he brought a fine arming sword that leaves your older brother beaming. It is good castle-forged steel with a golden-brass lion's head upon the pommel, and a guard like a pair of steely stag's antlers. The grip a weave of leather straps, dyed red and black to symbolize the unity of Baratheon and Lannister blood.

For Uncle Jaime, a finely detailed and richly illuminated map of the newly arranged sewers, which for some reason leaves the both of them grinning like dogs. It looks like maps of the Sunset sea, with certain cisterns being marked as Here there be monsters, and each tunnel being giving a grand and ostentatious name.

>>6388593

For you, he brought...
>A fine smallsword. Good castle-forged steel, much like the blade he gifted your brother.
>A book on astrology and the magics of the stars, noted to be "historical beliefs" to avoid accusations of heresy.
>A splendid dress of Yi Tish Silk and Myrish lace, with plenty of extra fabric for the tailors to let it out as you continue to grow.
>A Valyrian Puzzle Box, allegedly recovered from the Land of Always Summer, but more likely manufactured in the port of Braavos. Still a fine amusement and place to hide secret treasures.
>A tome recounting the traditional folk histories of the Squishers, known to the Citadel as the Deep Ones.
>A set of fine Pentoshi hairbrushes to help maintain your perfect rolling curls.

>>6388594
>A book on astrology and the magics of the stars, noted to be "historical beliefs" to avoid accusations of heresy.
I really want that other book but mere folk tales are unlikely to be as enlightening. We would have better luck with the Ironborn about the Deep Ones.

I realize this is one of the cases where the winner didn't really come up, but Flame of Life won. In terms of how that effects Myrcella, her Flame and Void meditation will accelerate her natural healing, to a point where she will be able to make mortal wounds less mortal and will never risk dying in childbirth should she have kids later on.

Also, because my damn IP isn't stable, I'm claiming a tripcode now.
>>6388540
>In the end we must prepared for Bran the Broken's time travel technique, it's quite powerful.
Bran unironically has the most sorcerous potential of anyone in the setting just because of how much shit converges on him due to Brynden's meddling. It's acid trip shit, but he's still ridiculous.

>>6388594
>A fine smallsword. Good castle-forged steel, much like the blade he gifted your brother.
I want this simply so we can spank Joffrey with it when he gets uppity.

>>6388594
>A fine smallsword. Good castle-forged steel, much like the blade he gifted your brother.

>A book on astrology and the magics of the stars, noted to be "historical beliefs" to avoid accusations of heresy.

One of these two so we're actually armed in either magic or swordsmanship. Not sure how skilled the Mc is since it seemed like Jamie was teaching her killing forms and more performative ones.

The magic options are a gamble since it's coming from someone mundane. Purely for aesthetic the Yi Ti silk is tempting. Just to go full cultivator and have Asian style robes.

What would the Flame of love had dome?

Also damn she's just a juggernaut at this point. Self healing on top of super soldier physicality. She's is going to be stupidly hard to kill.

I'm struggling to think of what makes the other options aside from the deep ones equal to sword and magic. They give a charisma buff?

>>6388598
Every time Bran travels back in time (via weirwood consciousness-sending bullshit) to try and get a better ending, the timeline gets progressively more fucked up as more magic seeps in. This is clearly the reason why Myrcella isn't inbred this time around.

>>6388594
>>A fine smallsword. Good castle-forged steel, much like the blade he gifted your brother.

I suppose it makes sense with the physical build

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>>6388600
>I want this simply so we can spank Joffrey with it when he gets uppity.
A smallsword is what D&D would call a rapier. A 24 to 33 inch sword with a triangular cross section that tapers to a sharp point. It's a bit of an anachronism, as smallswords were an evolution of the rapier that did not appear until the 17th Century. However, Arya's Needle is a smallsword based upon its description, and ASOIAF is filled with anachronisms (full plate harness, but no cannon and arquebus???).
>>6388613
>One of these two so we're actually armed in either magic or swordsmanship. Not sure how skilled the Mc is since it seemed like Jamie was teaching her killing forms and more performative ones.
Jaime teaches Myrcella his own style for smallsword and rapier fencing, which blends what he knows of Braavosi Waterdancing with Westerosi Smallsword Fencing. He teaches her killing forms because that's what he knows, but compared to her brother's training it's more of a sport.

Joffrey spends multiple hours in the yard a day, learning the full gamut of Westerosi warfare, she spends about an hour a day learning swordsmanship from Jaime. She is the better technical swordsman than Joffrey, but he's got way more experience actually fighting.
>The magic options are a gamble since it's coming from someone mundane. Purely for aesthetic the Yi Ti silk is tempting. Just to go full cultivator and have Asian style robes.
Note: the dress is Westerosi style, it's just made with Silk from Yi Ti and lace from Myr. Flaunting that Lannister gold, not adopting foreign fashions and/or praxis.
>What would the Flame of love had dome?
Supernatural levels of Empathy, the ability to vibe with others extremely well.
>I'm struggling to think of what makes the other options aside from the deep ones equal to sword and magic. They give a charisma buff?
These are just gifts from her Nuncle. Generally, this is more to judge how cued in he is to what she likes (she likes all of those things). The books will provide lore, the sword is nicer than her current one, the dress will be the prize of her wardrobe for some time, the puzzle box is cool, and the hairbrushes will make Elaina happy because she loves doing Myrcella's hair (and is the only one of Myrcella's handmaidens allowed to touch it).
>>6388620
>Every time Bran travels back in time (via weirwood consciousness-sending bullshit) to try and get a better ending, the timeline gets progressively more fucked up as more magic seeps in. This is clearly the reason why Myrcella isn't inbred this time around.
Closer that you might think, further than you would hope.

Also, (not at all) OFFICIAL MYRCELLA QUEST POWER RANKINGS (Super Serious)

>>6388668
I know what a smallsword is. I also know that Joffrey's a mediocre swordsman even with the best teachers and needs to be checked constantly and thoroughly.
Bobby B's not always gonna be up for it, so on occasion he can learn a little humility from his big sister.

>>6388673
Oh, I must be sleepier than I thought, I thought you meant literally spank him, not put him in his place. Those swords don't have a good flat to swat with.

>>6388674
> I thought you meant literally spank him
If I wanted to do that, I'd vote for Myrcella to take a spade from the nearest stable and get a running start before inventing the game of baseball with Joffrey's ass.

>>6388594
>>A splendid dress of Yi Tish Silk and Myrish lace, with plenty of extra fabric for the tailors to let it out as you continue to grow.

>>6388594
>A fine smallsword. Good castle-forged steel, much like the blade he gifted your brother.

>>6388668
>OFFICIAL MYRCELLA QUEST POWER RANKINGS
lmfao, instantly a 10/10 quest
All we need now is 'EL Hermano de Tyrion' from the other GoT quest

>>6388594
>A splendid dress of Yi Tish Silk and Myrish lace, with plenty of extra fabric for the tailors to let it out as you continue to grow.

>>6388600
you make a fine case

>>6388594
>>A fine smallsword. Good castle-forged steel, much like the blade he gifted your brother.

>>6388690
El Hermano Austismo de Tyrion is the SSS rank ver

>>6388594
>>A set of fine Pentoshi hairbrushes to help maintain your perfect rolling curls.

>>6388668
Lol

>>6388594
>A splendid dress of Yi Tish Silk and Myrish lace, with plenty of extra fabric for the tailors to let it out as you continue to grow.

>>6388690
Even better if his autismo twin shows up.

>>6388594
>A set of fine Pentoshi hairbrushes to help maintain your perfect rolling curls.

>>6388594
>A set of fine Pentoshi hairbrushes to help maintain your perfect rolling curls.

Rolled 79 (1d100)

>>6388690
>>6388763
>>6388867
Going to say no to any direct cameos, as I don't know enough about that character and the implications of his existence to include him. That said, if the QM for that quest has an opinion or any memes they want added to the Power Level Chart, I'll add EL HERMANO.

Anyways, don't worry about this d100, it's nothing important.

>>6388913
Yeah, I only meant the Power Level Chart just for the memes.
I'm sure an actual crossover cameo would be a really complicated headache to map out the changes to the political landscape.

>>6388913
yeah he deserves to go no further than the powerlevel chart. it's thread one for both quests, the other one is set QUITE far in the past compared to this one, and crossovers are for well-established quests with like 10-20 threads or more under the belt.

>>6388594
>A splendid dress of Yi Tish Silk and Myrish lace, with plenty of extra fabric for the tailors to let it out as you continue to grow.

>>6388913
I was mainly joking for the memes.

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"Your Grandfather said I shouldn't indulge your unseemly tomboyish behavior, so naturally I went and did the opposite," Tyrion says, and with a flourish he produces a thin wooden box just over a yard long. It bears the same maker's mark of Joffrey's gift, of the Lionhead Smithy in Lannisport - the finest smith in all the Westerlands. "You've been keeping up with your lessons with your Uncle Jaime, right? It would be a shame to see Master Godfrey's work go to waste..."

"Every morning for an hour, after Elaina and I finish our morning exercise," you say with a smile and a nod. Father tried joining you once, though after losing his breath on the first lap he very quickly decided that running was not for him. "Ten laps about the outer walls, then a hundred pushups, sit ups, and squats."

"Don't forget the rock lifting," Elaina chirps. She looks at Tyrion and says, "I don't join her for the rock lifting."

"Elaina takes a bit longer to finish up her pushups," you explain to a rather confused Uncle Tyrion, for it's no big secret.

"You should see her, brother," Jaime says with a laugh. "She goes about the yard and finds the heaviest thing that she can lift, picks it up and puts right it back down. She's been doing this since she was seven, and all the squires have gotten it into their heads that fair maidens admire men who can lift the heaviest rock the most. Even the King's started doing it, ever since he's joined Joffrey in the yard."

"Blessed are those who carry heavy burdens, for they place in the Seven Heavens is secure," you quote the Seven Pointed Star with a serene smile upon your face. "Lifting heavy objects is good for the soul. Look at Father's joy and vigor since he started."

Father remains large. A few scant weeks of work cannot undo years of unabated excess, yet there's a jovial energy there that hadn't been there before.

"That or His Grace has found being a father suits him," says Uncle Jaime, with a strange look upon his face. A look that makes you wonder if Joff or Tommen came from his dalliances with Mother, rather than Father. Not you, though, you take far too after your father for there to be any doubt. "He certainly works your brother into a fine rage when they spar, and then once they've beaten each other full of bruises they laugh about it."

"It's a shame you didn't get Joffrey a warhammer, Uncle Tyrion." You stop yourself before insulting your brother's mediocre swordsmanship, and instead say, "That and the battleaxe are his best weapons."

"Are they now?" Uncle Tyrion asks, looking not to you, but Jaime. Jaime nods, a flash of disappointment in his eyes as his beloved little brother says, "I would have thought that he took after you in that regard, brother. He is your sister's son, after all, and I do remember those times where the terrible twins traded places."

Jaime chokes on a coughing fit of laughter, "Please don't remind me, Tyrion. I was young and foolish, and Cersei..."

>>6389032
"Yes, yes, Cersei always gets her way," Tyrion dismisses Jaime's complaints with a wave of his. With the innocent smile of a troublemaker, he turns to you and Elaina, and without a hint of shame he tells you, "It's not common knowledge, but to this day your Uncle Jaime remains your mother's superior when it comes to stitching and embroidery. I also have it on very good authority that if you put him in a dress, his beauty rivals the Jewel of the Kingdom..."

Elaina gets one of those strange smiles on her face, the sort she gets when reading through her personal copy of A Caution for Young Girls. "Ser Jaime in a dress..."

A light chop to the head breaks Elaina from her daydreams, and you chastise her suitably, unaffected by her adorable pout. "Bad Elaina."

"Cersei was such a dutiful girl, when her brother subbed in for her lessons," Tyrion continues. Poor Uncle Jaime cannot defend himself, for he's too busy choking and coughing through his laughter. "Meanwhile, I'm told Jaime could be a ferocious little shit, whenever that happened. Sloppy, but aggressive, I believe the words were."

Uncle Jaime finally manages to clear his throat, and says, "Yes, well, Myrcella is anything but sloppy with her forms. I don't know where she gets it from, considering her unruly parents."

"Good," Uncle Tyrion says with a small nod. Gesturing towards the box, he says, "Now then, open it up! If a Princess is going to ride a horse like a Prince and dress herself like a Prince, then she ought to carry a smallsword worthy of a Prince."

You give a look to Elaina before opening the box. "Uncle Tyrion, we just went over this yesterday with Uncle Jaime. These are the traditional riding clothes of a highborn noblewoman of the Dornish Marches - a blouse and divided riding skirts."

Elaina nods, "Nothing boyish about them. It would be a scandal if the Princess was dressing herself like a man."

"Is that right?" Tyrion asks, blinking twice with his mismatched eyes and taking a closer look at your garb. After a moment, he nods and says, "Ah, I see it now, that's my mistake. I mistook your blouse for a tunic, but I can see that the buttons are all wrong for that, they're on the wrong side. And of course those are riding skirts, if they were pants you'd be tucking them into the boots!"

Jaime stumbles at his brother's words and stares for a moment, then shakes his head and laughs.

>>6389033
Inside the box lays a smallsword every bit as magnificent as your brother's new arming sword, built with your reach in mind. Uncle Tyrion has made jests of how Lann the Clever stole all his height while he rested in his mother's womb, and how that old trickster must given it all to you in turn. A maiden barely flowered and already taller than your mother, who is herself quite tall for a woman at five and a half feet when most are barely five. The smallsword is of equally prodigious length, at thirty and seven inches, making it an elegant and courtly blade that could see real use on a battlefield if need be.

The blade is thin and triangular, with only the barest hint of an edge to it. It can cut flesh and fiber, true, but its true purpose is to pierce through the rings of maille, the joints of plate, and the vitals of a naked foe. It shines with a silvery polish that glimmers in the daylight. The fuller is twice engraved, on one side shouting the Lannister words of Here Me Roar! and on the other shouting the Baratheon call of Ours Is The Fury!.

The hilt itself is a work of art. The wires of the basket depict a Lion and a Stag at play, chasing one another around a seven point star. The quillons sweep clockwise in a gentle spiral and flowers engrave the knuckle vines, blending the poppies of the Westerlands with the tulips of the Stormlands. The grip over the tang is far simpler than Joffrey's arming sword, wire bound wood, none too soft and none too stiff.

For the globe of the pommel, a flower bulb. Tulip, if you were to guess from its shape, though horticulture is not your favorite field of study.

"Thank you, Uncle Tyrion," you say, scooping the small man up into a hug. "This is wonderful!"

=================

Uncle Tyrion spends the rest of the trip North flitting between your father's carriage and the line of horsemen leading the Royal Procession where you stick by Uncle Jaime and his men. He watches you practice with your Uncle in the wee hours of the morning, alongside your handmaiden as she finishes her stretches. He and Father pick the prettiest ladies at every inn you come across - a rarity even on the Kingsroad, but a welcome reprieve - whilst Uncle Jaime tries to shield you maidenly eyes. He shares stories of what he's been up to in Lannisport as well.

Grandfather had him working for Great-Uncle Kevan to improve the cistern system of Lannisport, the city that rests in the shade of Casterly Rock. Apparently, he meant it as an insult - for Grandfather dislikes Uncle Tyrion for many reasons - but your Uncle took it as an intellectual challenge. The map he gave Uncle Jaime was his design for a system to not only manage human waste, but rainwater as well.

"And now Lannisport has the most well managed sewage in all the realm," Uncle Tyrion declares. "Not the proudest work I've ever managed, but the smallfolk are pleased with it. Happy smallfolk make for a happy city, so I'll take my pride in that."

>>6389034
"How much would it cost to build that in King's Landing?" you ask.

Elaina nods aggressively. "The one thing I hate about leaving the Red Keep is the smell... it's awful."

Tyrion and Jaime share a look with one another, before Jaime declares that, "You'd have to burn all of Flea Bottom. That's where the worst of it is, and the people there aren't the sort who'd roll back and accept the change, even if it's good for them. There'd be riots the moment you needed to knock down a tenement to bring it up to code."

"More practically..." Tyrion thinks for a moment. "I'd start with the construction of outhouses linked to cistern pits; that at least would get the filth off the streets. You'd need a service of shit shovelers to maintain them, at least until you could build a proper sewer system. That requires good maps of the city and an understand of the loads... we're starting from absolutely nothing, so I'd say ten years and two million dragons to get it done."

"You managed Lannisport in under half that, brother," Jaime points out.

"Lannisport already had a good backbone, I was simply improving on what was already there," Tyrion retorts. "King's Landing is a mess of a city with hardly any infrastructure to work with. In some ways that makes making the best sewer system easier, but you're still starting from scratch here. Not connecting tunnels and optimizing flows. The biggest thing we built was a new flood cistern, not even part of the sewer system but a control mechanism to prevent the shit from washing into the streets when rains come in force."

He makes a gesture with his little arms and says, "You'd need five of those for a city of King's Landing's size, not to mention the network of drains for water management. Oh, and let us not forget the actual sewer, Jaime, that would be the bulk of the-"

"Sister!" An annoying person interrupts the rather interesting explanation of water management.

He clops up to you on a white horse with an undeserved swagger. It's far too princely a beast he rides, for a young man so fascinated with the innards of kittens and sparrows. A far too princely sword on his hip as well, though it seems to have curried your Uncle some favor with him. The cruel japes about Uncle Tyrion's height are not on Joffrey's lips, but instead the question, "What's this I'm hearing about cistern's and shit?"

Your Uncle Jaime looks like he sucked a lemon as Uncle Tyrion answers for you, "I was simply regaling my favorite niece and her friend about my five year quest given unto me by your Grandfather. I'm pleased to report that the great brown snake slithering beneath the streets of Lannisport has been slain by the legion under my command. At my direction, they picked apart its nesting grounds and sent it fleeing from the city!"

>>6389036
"Ha ha ha!" Coming from anyone else, the laughter would be charming. Joffrey has that charisma about him, a cloak to hide his cruelty. "Splendid, Uncle Tyrion, splendid! That's a tale for the songs I'd say... but sister! Don't think I haven't noticed you play-fighting with Uncle Jaime all this time. What do you say to going for a round or two in the proper yard, tomorrow morning before we head out...?"

"Joff..." Jaime takes a fatherly tone to Joffrey, placing his hand upon his shoulder. "I'm teaching your sister to defend her honor, when you and I and Tommen aren't able to. And it's important for a man to show restraint when..."

"So she needs someone who will push her!" Joff's eyes brighten, and... he's not wrong. Jaime does take it easier on you than he should. "As her older brother, it'd be my duty to make sure she's ready for men who aren't as chivalrous as you, Uncle. Ours is the fury, after all, so won't it be a great learning experience for her?"

You know why he wants to do this.

Uncle Jaime knows why he wants to do this.

Uncle Tyrion knows why he wants to do this.

Elaina knows why he wants to do this. It's because he's the exact sort of villain in those wretched books she loves to read, a wolf of a man who will devour any meat in front of him with violent aplomb. There's nothing prurient in his desire to fight you - thank the Seven - and you don't even think he's trying to prove anything. You talked about this with Lady Goldenleaf as you brushed her hair, and you think she has the right of it.

He's a twisted and broken child who only knows how to display his affection for others by inflicting pain upon them, who never grew past the phase where the boy pulls on the braids of the girl he likes. He cherishes every cry from the women he whips and torments because to him, that is the purest expression of love. As his sister, you need to find him a woman who can delight in how he expresses love, while still having enough backbone to establish boundaries and tell him no if he goes too far... something the women Lord Baelish brings him cannot do.

He wants to show you his brotherly affection by beating the crap out of you and making you whimper in pain, because that's what his heart knows.

Apparently, Lady Goldenleaf's son was just like him. Unfortunately, she never found him the right woman to be his wife, and the end result was rather messy.

>>6389038

How do you play this?
>Avoid it. You would rather not indulge your brother's sadistic streak. He'll be sad, because he thinks that means you hate him, but it's the least troublesome route.
>Give him a victory. He'll lord it over you for ages and will likely never understand that you threw the bouts, but it will preserve your relationship with him, such as it is.
>Enjoy yourself. Lady Goldenleaf believes that violence is his love language, so answer him in kind and show him that you do, in fact, care for him in a way he can understand. Sparring should be fun.
>Push him. He's probably the better overall fighter, but make him realize that he won't beat you with a practice sword. If he picks up a sparring axe or hammer, you'll probably lose, but it's a loss you can endure.
>Humiliate him. Feed your emotions to the Third Flame and enter the Void, something you have not even used against Uncle Jaime. In the void, Joffrey will not be able to touch you... and you suspect you could push Uncle Jaime. But this will get attention, and will either awe your brother or infuriate him.
>Write In.

>>6389039
>Enjoy yourself. Lady Goldenleaf believes that violence is his love language, so answer him in kind and show him that you do, in fact, care for him in a way he can understand. Sparring should be fun.

>>6389039
>>Enjoy yourself. Lady Goldenleaf believes that violence is his love language, so answer him in kind and show him that you do, in fact, care for him in a way he can understand. Sparring should be fun.

I can't wait for the reveal that we know literally every last piece of dirty laundry in the Red Keep.

>>6389039
>>Push him. He's probably the better overall fighter, but make him realize that he won't beat you with a practice sword. If he picks up a sparring axe or hammer, you'll probably lose, but it's a loss you can endure.
I'm game so long as we're not using live weapons. This should be good for the both of us no matter who wins and who loses.
Sidenote, has Jaime taught Myrcella anything about off-hand implements? A buckler or a parrying dagger might help even the odds is all.

>>6389062
Who needs an off-hand when you have THIS HAND! (and have three inches on your opponent)

Seriously, a free hand for a grapple can be VERY useful. Or just to slip in with a punch to the gut.

>>6389063
>Or just to slip in with a punch to the gut.
Or you could bust his nose with a cheeky jab or elbow, mess with his breathing and get him crying too much to see properly.
Not that we'd do such a thing in a friendly sparring match mind you, assuming it stays friendly...

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>>6389045
Myrcella keeps Observation Diaries (encoded, of course) for the following people: Elaina, Tommen, Joffrey, Mother, Father, Uncle Jaime, Uncle Tyrion, Uncle Stannis, Uncle Renly, Grand Maester Pycelle, Lord Baelish, Ser Barristan, and Lord Varys. She also has more general ones for her Mother's Cronies (read: her Handmaids who aren't Elaina), the Castle Staff, the Goldcloaks, the Redcloaks, the Kingsguard, the Highborn, and the Smallfolk. She keeps them encoded in a blended shift/substitution cipher where she shifts the alphabet right based on the month, then left based on the day, and then overlays her name like so:

M Y R C E L L A B A R A T H E O N M Y R C E L L A B
A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

ATTACKATONCE = MRRMRRMREHRE

Not a perfect cipher, but enough to give Varys a headache. He knows about her escapades, but not their entire extent.
>>6389062
No live weapons. Joffrey doesn't have a blossoming inferiority complex towards Myrcella as he may yet come to have for Robb and Jon, she's his sister. If he wins, well, that's to be expected, he's her older brother. If she wins, well of course his sister taught by his uncle would beat him in a sword match, he has no patience for that weapon and she clearly enjoys it. Now let's show her how good he is with a practice axe, father's been praising his efforts in the yard, and she'll praise him when he beats her up too, right?!

At the moment, Sword Joffrey < Myrcella < Axe or Hammer Joffrey << Flame and Void Myrcella.

Despite being Jaime's son, Joffrey has no talent for the sword, he fights best like his fake dad.

Despite not being Jaime's son, Myrcella has a talent for fencing that she's nurtured, and would never fight like her father.

Lann the Clever in the afterlife, cackling madly after swapping their talents.

As for off hands, no. Jaime prefers to use a bastard sword with gauntlets, and that habit carries over to his smallsword fencing. Myrcella's sword practice is for self defense carry on ordinary days, so it's unlikely she'll have gauntlets for most use cases, though her full kit would probably include a set.
>>6389063
That is how Uncle Jaime has been teaching her!

Also, official tier list updated. Found a Tommen art piece that I didn't hate with him and Ser Pounce, added Flame and Void Myrcella, Arthur Dayne THE SWORD OF THE MORNING, Gerold Dayne and his OC Do Not Steal/Edgesona, the missing Stark kids, and Robert Arryn.

>>6389039
>Push him. He's probably the better overall fighter, but make him realize that he won't beat you with a practice sword. If he picks up a sparring axe or hammer, you'll probably lose, but it's a loss you can endure.

Invite Robert as well! To start with, he can watch. Then after a few rounds, the children can fight him 2 on 1. It'll be a great bonding moment with their father.

>>6389097
lmao, the tier list grows once again!
I can't wait for us to eventually see Tyrion (grande) or Dullaheaddard Stark

>>6389039
>>Enjoy yourself. Lady Goldenleaf believes that violence is his love language, so answer him in kind and show him that you do, in fact, care for him in a way he can understand. Sparring should be fun.

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A moment from the future, Brought to you by Bran's Acid Trip

Sansa watched the procession with baited breath, her pale blue eyes searching for signs of the royal family. She had always dreamed of falling in love with a Prince and becoming his Queen and of course taking care of his household. She was still learning about that last part, but it was really the falling in love with a Prince that made her heart leap with joy. The arrival of King Robert could be her chance to turn that dream into a reality.

"Look, Arya," she said, when she finally saw someone dressed in finery rather than armor. "Behind Ser Jaime Lannister, that must be Prince Joffrey!"

"Is it?" her horrid tomboy of a sister asked, squinting at the procession. "He looks like a girl."

"Shush, that's terribly rude," Sansa hushed her sister.

Her Prince - that was to say, Prince Joffrey - was more beautiful than Sansa could have possibly imagined. He wore a doublet in his father's colors, golden clouds on a black sky, with a brooch in the shape of a staghead upon his breast. A fine smallsword hung from his belt, the refined weapon of a court rather than some brutish weapon of war. He kept his golden hair long, falling in waves of perfect golden curls that framed a face so beautiful she could see why Arya mistook him for a girl.

He was perfect. Two years her senior, the perfect age gap for Sansa's preference and taller than Robb, and even the bastard Snow! Tall enough to sweep her off her feet. She could imagine for a moment, the charming Prince Joffrey cutting down wildlings with his elegant and courtly blade, reaching out to her fallen form with a gentle, uncalloused hand.

"Are you unharmed, my lady?" he would ask, and then he would kiss the back of her hand and... and...

"Sansa!" Arya broke her from her daydreams and snapped her back to reality.

Sansa saw another blonde boy with the King. That must be Prince Joffrey's younger brother Tommen, she remembered hearing of him. It's a shame Princess Myrcella must have gone back to the city with her mother, with the baby being on the way. Sansa had looked forward to learning how ladies attended themselves in southron court from her.

"You got fat." Her father was rather rude to his King... though he was rather portly.

"I'll have you know I'm trimmer than I've been in Year, Ned," the King seemed grumpy for a moment, before bursting out in laughter. Honestly, Sansa wasn't really paying too much attention to him, she was busy getting lost in her Prince's perfect blue eyes...

"Come now, you two, don't stand on ceremony," King Robert addressed his sons. "Introduce yourselves!"

Something stops in Sansa's mind when the boy she mistook for Tommen introduces himself as "Joffrey, of House Baratheon."

Then her worldview cracks entirely when her perfect Prince performs a textbook curtsey with her flowing white pants and introduces herself with a horrifically sweet voice as, "Myrcella, of House Baratheon."

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>>6389112
Bran, such secrets are not meant for the eyes of men!!!

>>6389039
>>Enjoy yourself. Lady Goldenleaf believes that violence is his love language, so answer him in kind and show him that you do, in fact, care for him in a way he can understand. Sparring should be fun.

Perhaps he can be saved

>>6389039
>>Push him. He's probably the better overall fighter, but make him realize that he won't beat you with a practice sword. If he picks up a sparring axe or hammer, you'll probably lose, but it's a loss you can endure.

>Enjoy yourself. Lady Goldenleaf believes that violence is his love language, so answer him in kind and show him that you do, in fact, care for him in a way he can understand. Sparring should be fun.

I am interested in this.

>>6389112
Poor Sansa
Now I'm just imagining Myrcella introducing herself, but with the mewing/looksmaxxing face

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>>6389107
Tyrion Grande, you say...?

Also appear to have received the blessing from Lannister QM, so EL HERMANO joins the fray!

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>>6389396
Kek good addition with Tyrion. Now we only need Clegane and Sir Bearington. All above Daenerys, the agenda must continue.....

>>6386307
>Your father snorted like a boar.
HE WAS HERE FROM THE START ?!?

>>6389396
KINO

>>6389112
LMAO.

Was the vote to wear a divided skirt also a vote to inflict Sansa with a bi crisis, or was she always going to get that but just not realize immediately and go "waow. she's pretty." if we wore a dress?

>>6389112
>>6389477
LOL even worse than that actually she discovered she is bi for tomboys. Like an older version of her sister Arya or her deceased aunt. Dornish women are gonna be devastating to her now.

>>6389039
>Push him. He's probably the better overall fighter, but make him realize that he won't beat you with a practice sword. If he picks up a sparring axe or hammer, you'll probably lose, but it's a loss you can endure.
>Humiliate him. Feed your emotions to the Third Flame and enter the Void, something you have not even used against Uncle Jaime. In the void, Joffrey will not be able to touch you... and you suspect you could push Uncle Jaime. But this will get attention, and will either awe your brother or infuriate him.

One of thse, if he's gonna heed advice he needs to be spanked. Plus it's good practice. But Joffery not being a coward in this, I'm surprised!

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"Your brother sounds much like my little Maegor," Lady Goldenleaf says with a wistful sigh. You came down again to brush her hair, and in return she's begun to teach you old things that the Maesters chose to never write down, for each was a foundation stone to a castle they truly feared. She also likes to learn of the current day, and tell you of her life before she got all tangled in her tree. "He was a troublesome child. It wasn't cats with him, it was dogs... puppies, really, he truly loved them like nothing else, and that's exactly why he tormented them so much."

"He tormented puppies?" you ask, more to show you were listening as you brushed her silver hair than in need of the answer. "I wouldn't be surprised if Joffrey did that too, he's mean enough to his Hound."

"Well that's because he loved them," Lady Goldenheart says. You don't really get it - why would someone torment something if they loved it? If they loved a person? Of course, the old sorceress is happy to explain that, "It was how he showed affection. A punch to his brother's shoulder, a tug on his Aunt's braid, and - yes - a kick to his favorite pup, Maegor cherished every reaction because to him, that was 'love'. The Fourteen Flames know how thin he spread my patience thin, getting him to realize that not everyone appreciated how he showed them that he cared."

"And you think Joffrey's like that?" you ask her with a frown. It's a mystery, whatever goes through his head when he pushes your far more precious and adorable little brother into the ground, why he would even think to do that. If he thought he was showing brotherly affection by bullying him... "No, that's absurd. Joffrey's the worst. He whips his lovers until they bleed, and Lord Baelish comes to collect them with his nurse. He bullies Tommen relentlessly. He's cruel to Uncle Tyrion and most everyone in his power. There's not a shred of love in his cruel heart, of that I'm positively certain."

"And that is something I lay at the feet of your parents," Lady Goldenleaf... well, she makes a fair point. Mother never tells him no, and Father's only recently been around for his children. "Not that it's their fault, just that they should have seen how he's different. No one's ever ready to wrangle a child like Maegor or Joffrey, and that sort of child needs a firm hand to guide him."

"Father's hand was plenty firm when he showed off the guts of that poor cat," you grumble like a petulant child, which... face it, you are. Flowered you may be, but a woman you are not, not for a few more years just yet.

"Hmm..." Lady Goldenleaf makes a noncommittal sound for a moment, before asking you a question. "He thought it was beautiful, right?"

"He did," you tell her, your voice thin as ice.

"Just like Maegor..." she says, her voice again far too wistful for the discussion of a violent sadist. "It's your choice, Myrcella, if you want to step up where your parents failed your brother. But... you write about him, don't you? In those observation diaries that you keep? That's how you display your affection for your friends and family, isn't it... and if you're still watching and recording what he does, I think you'll regret not stepping up."

You snort like a boar, an unladylike noise that's just like your father. "And where would I even begin?"

"Well..." Lady Goldenleaf's word hangs in the cave for a moment, the only sound being the brush sliding through her bone-white hair. The moment passes, and she says, "When I was trying to get through to Maegor, I found that the best way to communicate with him was to answer his affection in kind. Don't change your own displays, but... Maegor just wanted to know that his mother cared, so I answered ever pull on my braids with a flick to his forehead."

"So, what, I start speaking his language and then all of the sudden his fixed, no more sadistic monster of a brother who torments little Tommen and murders cats?" you ask. Wow, your voice is more scathing than you meant for it to be, and a small and hateful part of you thinks: why should you even bother?

"Seven Heavens, no!" Lady Goldenheart gives a mirthful laugh, her violet eyes glimmering in the golden light of her tree. "No, if it were that easy, my son would not have been known as the Cruel. But, when I started speaking his language, he realized that I did - in fact - care for him as any mother should. Not just as a thought, but as a feeling, and when a good feeling like that is engraved into your heart by someone, you will listen to them more..."

===

You still have your doubts. Maegor the Cruel was a Targaryen, and the Targaryens were strange creatures born of incest who rode dragons and loved their siblings in ways they ought not have. Your brother is decidedly not a Targaryen, though given mother's dalliances and the green of his eyes, he might well be a strange creature spawned of incest. At least he hasn't showed the same affections towards you that your Mother shows your Uncle, as that would make you decidedly uncomfortable.

If Tommen said he wanted to marry you, you'd kiss his forehead and send him off to play with his Court of Pages until he forgot the matter.

If Joffrey said such words, you would saddle up Leona and flee the city immediately.

Fortunately, he has not. He just wants to spar. No, he wants to hurt you. He wants to hurt you in front of everyone in the caravan, make you cry out in pain as he hits you over and over with his practice sword. If he had his way, no one would step in to stop him from beating on the Princess until the high of whatever sick joy such violence brought him faded. He wants to bloody your nose and make you scream, because he's a sadistic little shit who - quite frankly - should be put down for the good of the realm.

Sure. You wouldn't be able to fill out your Joffrey Observation Diary, that obsessive little project you started in search of some small glimmer of hope that something, anything about your older brother was not putrid and rotten to the core. That he did something worthwhile with himself, something worth expending the effort to continue being his reliable younger sister. It found nothing to that affect, not in the six years you've been keeping it, and it will continue to find nothing until he graceless expires.

Lady Goldenleaf projects her son onto the monster that is your brother, sees similar patterns and declares them the same cloth. A part of you wants that to be true, but the bigger part of you knows it to be false.

Still, that's why you humor him.

The next morning, Elaina helps you into your squire's clothes and the padding that you wear during the days of freely sparring with your uncle. Joffrey emerges from his tent dressed much the same, though he wears far less padding. One of the servants set down a rope in a circle, to make the bounds of where you and your brother shall spar, and a great oak chair has been set on the road for your father.

To his left are your uncles, quite grim faced and not at all amused with what they know Joffrey intends. To his right, Ser Barristan stands like a stone statue, no doubt wondering at all this foolishness. The Master-of-arms, a man whose name you have forgotten - so rarely do you see him in the yard - stands in the same padded armor that you and your brother wear for safety. Once you and Joffrey are in position, the greybeard turns to your father.

"Your Grace," the old master's voice is strong, but nasal. Not powerful like your father's but far from weak. "The Prince and Princess would like to show you the fruits of their training. You have seen Prince Joffrey's fury in the yard, but the Princess Myrcella's practice takes place in the small hours of the morning to make room for her other lessons. Her brother has volunteered as a fencing partner, to allow her to show you her measure-"

"And get her used to sparring someone other than the Kingslayer, yes," your Father cuts the greybeard off with a wave of his hands. His eyes land on fondly, but... are his expectations truly that low? Turning to you brother, he says. "Do go easy on your sister, Joffrey, and both of you keep things below the neck. Your mother loves both your faces far too much, she'll have my head if you break your noses roughhousing with one another."

Joffrey beams and nods at his father's words. "Of course, father!"

You raise your practice sword in a perfect Braavosi salute, and say, "Just do not be surprised if it's Joffrey's perfect face that gets battered, Father. You did tell him to go easy on me, and he may regret that."

Your father snorts in amusement, and then leans back. One of the prettier maids - the one whom you're quite sure is warming his bed while mother is away - pours him a glass of Dornish Red as you and Joffrey face one another. Any thoughts you might have about your father's doubts, any anger you might feel at your brother's desire to make you hurt... you feed them to the Third Flame. Not so much that you enter the Void, as Lady Goldenleaf taught you, but enough to still your heart and remain in perfect calm.

Your stance is perfect and practiced, straight from the Manual of Waterdancing, illuminated by Damien Motapis and written by the previous First Sword of Braavos, Syrio Forel. Your brother's stance is a wild, sloppy thing that makes you embarrassed for all men who practice with the arming sword. When it comes to swords, you suspect your are his superior by far, but only the match will out.

"Begin!" the Master-at-Arms calls.

Your brother rushes at you with the wild abandon of a berserker, charging forward with the reckless disregard of someone who cares nothing for the openings in his guard so long as he strikes the killing blow. A smile cleaves his face in half, but it's strange. With all those thoughts of how wretched he is burnt away in the flame of life, you cannot help but notice: there's not a shred of malice on his face. If anything, the glimmer in his eyes is something that resembles joy.

While he swings for offense, you focus on your defense. His footwork is so easy to read, you check every swing that he makes perfectly, pushing them off and away. Never opposing his force but redirecting it, never allowing him to catch your blade in a clash of brute strength. In both smallsword fencing and waterdancing, motion is life and life is motion, and while you waste none of it you also never stop moving.

Still with every blow you sneak into his guard, he does not care. He rolls past them with that same smile splitting his face from ear to ear, growing wider and brighter with every glancing blow that he deals you in return.

Shouldn't he be angry? Shouldn't he be seething at being shown up? He certainly wants to hurt you, but why isn't there any malice there.

Your father leans in with interest at how you completely control the fight, his cup set aside as he strokes his beard and lets his eyes drink in the clash of his children. Everyone knows that your brother is a mediocre sword at best, but mediocre is not poor. It's all the Prince needs to be, especially when he's found real talent with the hammer and the axe. That you can lead him upon a merry chase regardless, controlling the battle and dragging it out speaks to how far Jaime's training has taken you.

And it is in leading him on that you begin to truly understand your older brother, at least a little more than you had before. There is a joy whenever he manages to land an uncontested hit on you, not competitive or malicious, no - for that same joy is on display when you score a point on him, even if your precise taps are gentler than his wild swings. Lady Goldenleaf's comparison to her son is not right, no, but you're beginning to feel that it is less wrong than you had initially assumed. Their is no malice as his practice sword swings out, but yearning behind every movement.

A yearning for you to answer his brotherly affection, displayed in the only way he knows how.

You suppose you can answer it in kind. If this is his expression of brotherly love, then you shall beat into him the fact that you are his ever-reliable sister. That caring for your brother is a matter of course, even if that brother is the worst sort of sadist. You'll happily thwack him on the chest a hundred thousands times if that's what it takes to remind him that the two of you are family. That he's an idiot for ever doubting that you knew.

And when you're done, and once he knows, you bring your merry chase to an end. Once again, your bladework is textbook, a perfect disarm ripped straight from the illuminations that sends his practice sword skittering to the ground. With a look of satisfaction on your face you bring your own practice sword up to his his neck and say, "Good match, broth-"

You should have seen it coming, to be honest.

Joffrey Baratheon is as mediocre a sword as King Robert was. He hasn't yet the King's prodigious height and bulk, but he doesn't need to in a sparring match against his sister. When every blow he receives is heard by his heart that the person he is fighting cares about him, he doesn't feel pain in the same way that others would. For it's truth - his idol, his father has only recently shown that he cares in earnest, and how has he displayed it? By joining his son for a spar and roughing the boy up for his own good. Your very foolish brother loves pain, for to him it is the purest expression of love.

His sword discarded, a blow that would have killed him with live steel taken with a joyful, playful grin, Joffrey rushes straight through your guard and throws you to the ground. Following you down he quickly manages to get you into a hold despite your height and comparative strength. Grappling is something that's expected of a knight, and it's one of the things that Joffrey excels at. With a grin, he declares that, "It's not over until it's over, sister!"

You suppose it really isn't. Still, even if his grip hurts - a bit rougher than he needed to be for a friendly match - you smile because, honestly? You had fun.

"Easy, Joff, easy...!" Your Uncle Jaime is the first to intervene before the match becomes too much of a brawl, pulling your brother away from you with a much better hold. "That was beneath you, Joffrey. This isn't the squire's melee in the yard, it was a fencing match with your younger sister, and she had you dead to rights."

"Of course she did, Uncle," your brother says, breaking off. Then he does something horrifically uncharacteristic, that makes you feel incredibly uncomfortable - he offers you a hand up, and the smile on his face doesn't feel slimy. You accept it... cautiously. Is he being nice because he won, or was Lady Goldenleaf right on the money, and all you needed to do was answer him in his own tongue? "You're my dear sister's teacher, so her excellence is a given. A sword is wasted in my hands, I need a hammer like my father, or an axe to truly shine."

"And so you turned it into a brawl?" your Uncle Jaime looks unimpressed.

"I showed her what fighting a less chivalrous foe would look like," he says. Less chivalrous? More like suicidal. With live steel your brother would have been dead ten times over without armor, twice over in full plate harness. "Wasn't that half the point...?"

"The fury shouldn't be turned against your family, Joffrey," your father finally speaks, standing up from his chair. He lumbers over to the both of you with powerful, heavy strides. "Least of all your sister. I've been so pleased to see it in you that I haven't taught you to take it's measure, to teach you how to rule it so that it doesn't rule you. We'll be correcting that before we return to King's Landing. All that said..."

Your father reaches out to both of you...

...and pats you on the head, mussing your hair and ruining the perfect curls Elaina worked so hard on this morning. You try not to pout as he praised the both of you, "That was a damned fine match. Excellent swordswork, Myrcella - Kingslayer, you've done a good job, teaching my daughter! And I see you've been practicing your Stormholds, Joffrey. Ride with me today, I'll give you a few pointers on them, show you how I pinned Marq Grafton atop the walls of Gulltown!"

Though for breaking the rules of your match, Joffrey will not be escaping punishment. As the aggrieved party, you get to influence his penance.
>The lazy bum shall be waking with you in the morning and joining you, Elaina, and Uncle Jaime on your morning exercise and practice.
>He shall be riding with Father's septon for half the day until Winterfell, to refresh his memory of what the Seven Pointed Star says about the treatment of women.
>He shall be given latrine digging duty until Winterfell, the unpleasant but practical lesson of camp hygiene and why they are dug the way they are dug.
>He is to be run to the point of exhaustion during his daily training every day until you reach Winterfell, so that he doesn't have energy to be a foolish boy.
>He shall join the men in fortifying the camp, a menial but important task, and experience that shall serve him well later in life.
>(Write In)

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>>6389719
>He shall join the men in fortifying the camp, a menial but important task, and experience that shall serve him well later in life.
He's a little shit and brutal sadist, but in this instance, I don't think he did anything warranting humiliation or any more lectures than Jaime and Robert are about to hand him. Some time spent amongst the (relatively) common folk and learning the importance of certain mundane labors should give him something to chew on later in life.
I do wonder if we couldn't also ask Jaime to teach us a little more about grappling in the future, seeing as it IS part and parcel to fighting, honorably or otherwise.

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>>6389262
Yeah, I view Joffrey as largely a victim of his circumstances. He is a broken mirror who reflects his parents back out to the world at strange and distorted angles. That is not to say that he is not culpable and responsible for his actions, but he lacks restraint and guidance that he sorely needed when he was younger. He is not yet beyond saving, as it wasn't him that killed the girls who disappeared by getting too enthusiastic with his sadism, it was Baelish. Those ones knew how to write, so cutting their tongues was pointless.

Robert deciding to finally be a parent because he realized that Jon Arryn basically raised his daughter for him has done wonders for Joffrey's mental health. Father's paying attention to him and better yet praising him. The weeks away from his Mother (who is an actively bad parent), right as his Father starts to step up is also huge. The Anon who suggested dosing Robert and Cersei with TWO FLOWERS not only saved the marriage, but saved the boy.
>>6389316
>>6389477
>>6389482
That scene from Myrcella's perspective will be coming soon enough.

One thing to note is that no, Sansa is pretty much straight as a board. She's just really, really weak to prettyboys like Joffrey (Myrcella), and Loras Tyrell. The initial impression of "Oh my god, he's such a prettyboy, right in my strike zone" shatters her initial view of the real Joffrey because now she can't help but mourn the fact that he prefers his hair short. Which is probably for the best because those two aren't getting betrothed.

The divided Riding Skirt (which I am just going to admit: it really is just flouncy pants) was just a funny tool to enable that, and it wouldn't have happened if you went with the Side Saddle or another option where you could have worn a dress.

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>>6389743
>divided riding skirt
You can't fool me, I know JNCO jeans when I see them!

>>6389719
>(Write in)
He owes us another match!
This time the two of us against Robert. Joffery can even use his axe/hammer instead of being stuck with a sword.


Imo, his underhanded fighting shouldn't be rewarded, but should show that she isn't bitter about it either.
Alternatively, if anons think the punishments will give him some life lessons and do him good, then perhaps Myrcella can participate (to a lesser extent) as well.
Cleaning the latrines might be too far, but helping to fortify the camp is something that could benefit her as well.

>He shall join the men in fortifying the camp, a menial but important task, and experience that shall serve him well later in life.

Not too indulging. Not too humiliating. Lets hope he learns something. As vain as such hope might be.

>>6389743
So Mc is gonna get arranged with a Stark? Robert has his little obsession because of the aunt so I can't see him not trying to get someone married.

>He is to be run to the point of exhaustion during his daily training every day until you reach Winterfell, so that he doesn't have energy to be a foolish boy.

This helps relations by keeping him silent when we get to winterfell.

>He shall be given latrine digging duty until Winterfell, the unpleasant but practical lesson of camp hygiene and why they are dug the way they are dug.

This is think humbles him or makes him worse. Either or is fine for me.

At this point Mryc is going to have an obsession with dosing people with those petals. It also shows how good she is at sneak or how bad security is. Being able to dose the king and queen like that.

On the bright side Bran won't be thrown out a window for witnessing something he wasn't supposed to.

>>6389719
>>He shall join the men in fortifying the camp, a menial but important task, and experience that shall serve him well later in life.

>>6389719
>>He shall join the men in fortifying the camp, a menial but important task, and experience that shall serve him well later in life.

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For the rest of the journey to Winterfell, your brother joins the Redcloaks in setting up the fortified camps when the caravan needs to stop outside a village. Which is less than you could have hoped for, but more than you honestly expected. Without Mother's absurd wheelhouse breaking down every dozen miles or so, the King's Progress North rarely needs stop in an empty field. Villages aplenty line the Kingsroad, and without Mother to chastise him about propriety and station, your Father gladly accepts the hospitality of all who will welcome him, no matter how small.

One night you room with an ombudsman's daughter, and share stitches and stories with her as the rains pour outside. Another you are welcomed by small lordling in a rather lonely tower by the river, whose walls are lined with a collection of books kept tidy by his lanky son. One night you sneak out whilst father discusses the ways of the land with the headman of a Valish shepherd clan, joining his maiden sister in laying amongst the fluffy sheep and admiring the stars.

Of course, the Caravan stays with its share of lords as well.

The lowest of those was also the most memorable, a Stony Dornish knight who had done some favor for the House of Tully that earned him a fief upon the Kingsroad. The man shared your father's tastes, going by the look of his wife and the maid you presume to be his paramour. The girl-child who has his eyes and her mother's hair had to come from somewhere. His other children shared his looks quite strongly, though his skirt-flipping troublemaker of a son shared his mother's smile.

He also shared her... for lack of a better term, aura. Aside from the Third Flame, the teaching Lady Goldenleaf deemed most important you learn before your journey was how to feel out other practitioners of the deeper mysteries, and those who had potential. Unlike the Flame and the Void, it was less a discipline and more a feeling that you had to flow with, and where Lady Goldenlead picked up scents of magic, you saw auras.

Miss Nora glowed softly and gently with talents that she never truly developed. You could see it flow, ever so faintly, into her cooking - the "mother's love" that made food delicious and kept her family healthy. You doubt any major sickness would fall upon their house, for as long as she was there.

The brat who flipped your handmaid's skirt before running to hide behind his mother had an aura of his own, which flowed around him like turbulent waters. You would have liked to observe him more, but he made himself quite scarce after some training in the yard, where Joffrey avenged Elaina's indignity. A poor showing on the boy's part that made his father sigh.

The knight - one Ser Pater Blackwolf - proved far more impressive in the yard. Few of the men-at-arms could scarcely land a blow upon him in their practice, and he pushed your Uncle Jaime and the Hound in his bouts with them. You can count the number of men who could manage that on one hand.

Once you cross the border into the North, things become... strange.

To start, it snows up here! Well, it snows in the South at well, but not during the height of Summer. The last time you saw snow, you were a girl of three years old, making angels in the fresh white powder with an older brother whose sweetness had not yet fermented into bitter cruelty. Perhaps his soul went rotten in the heat of the summer, like an overripe fruit? Maybe the chill of the North will help improve his temper.

"The maesters say that is has something to do with the planet's axial tilt," Uncle Tyrion is more than happy to provide an explanation as you stare at the falling snow in wonder. "A number once calculated by Septon Barth, you know, when he measured the angle of the sun on the Solstice in Winterfell and Sunspear, two years apart. Because of that tilt... the Northern day grows much shorter in the late months of the year."

"And less sunlight means more snow?" Jaime asks.

"It's why they get their summer snows," Tyrion replies. "They call it the Dark of Winter Theory in the Citadel, and it's yet to be disproven. Indeed, there's even a proposal to try measuring the amount of light that we receive and compare it between Summer and Winter to see if the true Winter is built upon the same principal. Unfortunately, no one's yet to figure out a way to reliably take such measurements, or else I imagine that experiment would have already begun..."

Snow in summer is one thing, especially when your Uncle has such a rational explanation for it on hand. What invades your dreams is something else entirely.

The all take place in a godswood, before a heart tree that you've never seen, where a stern old face has been carved into the weirwood bark. It looks at you in puzzlement, as if seeing a curiosity in the marketplace that it doesn't quite know what to make of. As it stares at you, a three eyed crow flutters down from its branches with a word of human speech in its beak. "Who? Who? Who you?"

"Myrcella Baratheon," you answer it truthfully, for in your dreams you see no reason to lie. The only enemy Lady Goldengrass warned might invade your dreams is locked safely behind the Wall, and cannot touch your mind until the day that it falls. "Daughter of Robert Baratheon and Cersei Baratheon. Who are you, Mister Crow?"

You've learned to pull out a cracker at this point. Not that you have any crackers here in your dreams, but since it's a dream you can have all the crackers that you want. This one is in the shape of a butterfly, and you present it as an offering to the three-eyed-crow. Most nights it flutters away without an answer, refusing the cracker, but tonight is not most nights and this cracker is not most crackers. The butterfly crackers are especially delicious.

"Your offering is acceptable," it squawks. "Blood ties to blood, and the wolf flies from his rookery, where Eyrie lies arrived from the mouth of a rotten trout. The lions rut on their savannah, but their newest cub is promised antlers. The stallion mounts the sleeping dragon and three shall be the number of their children, one of whom shall cross the sea on a horse of iron and flame. The turtle swims in the wake of the kraken, watching as he braves the smoke and the ash. Do you understand?"

"Not at all," you tell the crow frankly.

"Good," it says, and with a peck it sends you back to the waking word.

Well, that dream was concerning.
>Tell no one.
>Tell everyone.
>Write it down for later.
>Pretend it never happened and continue on with your day.
>Write in

>>6390305
>Write it down for later.

>>6390305
>Tell everyone.
If anyone believes us, this will be good for our family. We can also say "I told you so" many times when everything promised happens.

>>6390305
>Tell everyone.
How often do you get dreams like that after all?

>>6390305
>>Write it down for later.
>"Hey father, I had this REALLY weird dream..." but when he's in private.
Write it down so we don't forget any details.

>>6390305
>Tell everyone.
Oh, why not?

>>6390305
>>6390413
>Write it down anyways, committing it to memory.
Adding this to my initial vote. You wouldn't believe how good actually writing shit down is for locking it in.

>>6390436
>>6390475
+1 to writing it down to no forget, then telling someone

>>6390305
>Write in
-Tyrone

I'm leaning towards only telling Uncle. He's smart enough and trustworthy enough.

>>6390468
A few reasons. The Mc is a child and no one may believe her.

If someone believes her, it outs her as having magic and may reveal secrets we don't want revealed. Like the other two being incest babies.

Third Robb might compare this to the mad king and his visions and that may spoke him.

>>6390305
>Write it down for later.
>Only tell Uncle
Also, this quest makes me wistful and lustful.

Giving everyone notice that it's a coinflip on if I'll be able to update tonight, leaning more towards no than yes.
>>6389747
I have absolutely no idea what you're on about. The clothes depicted in my image are a riding skirt.
>>6389857
>So Mc is gonna get arranged with a Stark? Robert has his little obsession because of the aunt so I can't see him not trying to get someone married.
Depends on how things go. I shouldn't have said no, there, because it's still a possibility, it's just not the number 1 choice. In order, the most likely matches are: Myrcella to Robb, Myrcella to Bran, Joffrey to Sansa, Tommen to Arya.

Arya and Sansa will be coming south no matter what, to find them both a good match or to be with their betrothed. Bran is very likely to get squired to Ser Barristan since he dreams of knighthood, is a good boy, and will not be falling.
>Being able to dose the king and queen like that.
When the dutiful daughter makes tea for her mother and father, no one really questions it, especially since the tea she makes is quite good. The Blood Bloom is easily mistaken for poppy, whose leaves have no medicinal purpose and whose taste in Westeros is mildly sweet (matching Blood Bloom, which is a Valyrian derived relative of it).

>>6390305
>>Write it down for later.
>>Only tell Uncle Tyrion

The thread of fate has been severed

>>6390706
Tomorrow for sure.

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"What a fascinating dream, young Myrcella," your Uncle Tyrion is the first to hear about your dream because you and he are the only ones mad enough to be up before the crack of dawn. Him because he got a bit too fresh with his latest paramour and was kicked out of bed, and you because you need to break your fast before your morning run. "This three-eyed crow has been visiting you every night, you say? And you've written all of this down?"

"In my Dream Observation Diary," you tell him, passing him the secret book. He flips it open and stares at the text, his brow scrunching as he reads through it. "Some times he squawks and tells me to leave, sometimes he stares at me like I'm a goat, and last night he talked about things that shouldn't be talked about out loud."

"Like you're a goat," he says, and then snaps the book shut. "Myrcella, that was gibberish."

"No, I think it's symbolism," you tell him.

"I meant in the book, child, it was-" he starts, but you cut him off.

"A double shifted Lann's Cipher keyed to my name," you tell him. He should have known that from looking at it. He even makes a face like he's disappointed in himself for not realizing that from looking at it. The Lann's Cipher isn't hard to decode, just a moderate headache, though it's far superior to the standard Citadel Shift. "I'm not stupid, Uncle Tyrion. At best a dream takes what you already know and reminds you in metaphor, and at worst it's a prophecy."

Tyrion gives you a wry smile as you pass him a portion of breakfast. Having snuck into the kitchens more than once, you've enough experience to make the both of you a Ser Dunk and Eggwich, the sort of travelers fair that shouldn't be beneath a noble but for some reason is. The great Ser Duncan the Tall and the Good King Aegon the Unlikely feasted on such things upon their travels! Your uncle at least appreciates it, though in between his bites he asks, "So how much does my favorite Princess know, hmm?"

"Well, if it's a prophecy... eerie lies sent to the wolf's rookery means that something spooky got sent to the Starks, but it's not true," you analyze the crow's words.

"And the lion's rutting..." Tyrion thinks aloud for a moment, and you don't correct his grammar. What your mother and your other uncle do in their free time is their business, though from his face it looks like your uncle may have some suspicions. "Well, Jaime has said that your mother has been getting along unusually well with her husband, so the antlered cub must be your sibling on the way."

"Yep! I could hear them from across the keep," you say with a proud nod at your work. Lady Goldenleaf recommended adding two Blood Blossoms to the morning tea you brewed for them when you told her how poorly they were getting on. Something about husband and wife things. Tyrion nearly spits out his breakfast, struggles to keep it down. "And... antlers means I'm going to have another baby brother for sure! Does don't have antlers, you know?"

"I'm sure they don't," your littlest Uncle says, still trying to clear his windpipe. "The stallion and the dragon no doubt refer to the Targaryens, I've heard that the girl married a Dothraki Khal of some renown. Unlike them to attempt to cross the ocean, and what could they even accomplish? Horse archers are a formidable fighting force, but the logistics of an excursion across the sea would be entirely untenable."

"Probably act like the Ironborn - pillage the smallfolk, break against the first armored resistance they meet, and then retreat back to their grasslands," you say. The thoughts of the Ironborn bring you to the crow's last prophecy. Your eyes sparkle when its meaning hits you, "And the smoke and ash... an Estermont and a Greyjoy are going to have an adventure in Valyria!"

Tyrion thinks on that, "Well that's not all that smoke and ash can stand for, but if we're assuming each animal represents a Great House, then it's not completely out there."

"I wonder if they'll find King Tommen's sword..."

Before you head off on your run, your Uncle warns you against talking about your dreams too much. Prophecy or simply processing things that you already know, or want to speculate on, you don't want to get a reputation as a superstitious girl. He probably wants you to avoid mentioning that his siblings are doing husband and wife things behind your father's back, but that's obvious. No one talks about their paramours save the Dornish, that's what makes them a crass people. Had you thought about that line for a moment, you would have omitted it from the discussion...

===

Another week of travel goes by.

Joffrey is tolerable. Uncle Jaime clearly misses your mother's company, spending all of his free time with you and Uncle Tyrion. Uncle Tyrion shows off the designs of his next great work, now that the sewers of Lannisport are done: an improvement on his saddle, that would keep him steadier on a full grown horse, and even help a man with no use of his legs to ride! Your father grows ever more excited to see his old friend, the single Blood Blossom in the morning tea you share with him doing wonders for his health and mood.

Then, Winterfell rises from the plain. The castle is simply monstrous in size, less a castle and more a town of stark grey stone whose greatest towers must command a view for a hundred unbroken miles. You can see the godswood peeking from its outer walls, a forest the half-again as large as Aegon's High Hill wrapped in a belt of stone. The central keep rises like a hill, and you can see hidden behind the defensive parapets are enough grain silos to keep the town nestled up against its wall fed for a dozen years.

Winter is coming, after all.

The town outside the walls is nearly empty, and from what your Uncle Tyrion says it will remain empty until the Winter. Then, near a hundred thousand Northmen will flock to its hearths and its halls to wait out the snows and work the nearby lands. Even in a Northern Winter, some crops can continue to grow.

You're given to understand that much of the northern diet is turnips during the winter, as one of the most reliable winter crops there is. Turnips and cheese from the Great Northern Aurochs stockpiled over the course of summer. The cheese caves of Winterfell are said to be the largest in the world, and some old missives between the Starks and Manderlys discuss the importance of their Strategic Cheese Reserves.

Gourds also play a part. Winter squash is an important Northern Crop in both summer and winter, near as much as the turnip, but not nearly as famous as the mashed turnips that are the North's signature dish. Nor as mysterious as the cheese caves, whom even the Maesters do not have complete knowledge of.

Seriously. You've read up on it. The missives between Desmond Manderly and Cregan Stark during the Hour of the Wolf - which quipped that their army marched upon hard, dry cheeses - suggests cheese reserves measured in the billions of pounds.

Not millions, which would be absurd enough. Billions spread across the North, with tons upon tons stored at every major keep to be doled out to the populace in Winter.

Those are the thoughts that are drifting through your mind as you ride through the gates, shortly behind your father. Your eyes are somewhat distant, looking off at nothing in particular as you ponder the logistics of making that much cheese. You bet even Lady Goldenleaf would boggle at the thought of 2.4 billion pounds of cheese by the estimates of Cregan Stark's own maester. Your expression careful and blank as you wondered... were you riding over the cheese reserves right now?

"Come now, you two, don't stand on ceremony," your Father's booming voice snaps you from your daydream. You and your brother quickly dismount and are at his side. "Introduce yourselves!"

You quickly take stock of the Stark children as your brother introduces himself.

The eldest son. Taller than your brother, red haired like his mother, though with his father's face and eyes. Relaxed, despite being in the presence of royalty, that immediate spoke either quite well or quite poorly of his character. From the fact that he doesn't slouch, you would say well.

The eldest daughter. Slender as your mother, with no meat on her bones, which surprises you... until a second look tells you that she's more or less her mother in miniature. Clearly quite smitten with you, from the adoration that's plain on her face, which you need to couch your expression against. You have enough clingy handmaidens eager to call you their Prince just because you're tall and your bosom hasn't yet grown in.

Please direct that gaze towards Elaina, you try to psychically send the girl the message, to no avail. Elaina is the sort who gets dreamy expression for both handsome men and beautiful women, so she would actually appreciate the girl's adoration.

The youngest daughter looks like she'll grow up tougher than her sister, which is a good thing in northern lands. Wild hair that's barely tamed, and her father's looks through and through. Much the same can be said about the youngest of the family, though you might just chalk that up to the both of them being at the age of Tommen... and not having the gentle disposition that makes him such a great leader of his Court of Pages.

Neither interest you nor repulse you.

The second son. He is of an age with you or near enough to it, the age where a southern son would be squired. Like his older brother he has his mother's looks and his father's face, and there is a particular seriousness about him that is absent from his elder brother. Yet none of that is why you fail to keep yourself from staring at him. No, the reason you cannot look away from him is because of how he glows, like the hedgeknight's boy but more in every imaginable way. Only Lady Goldenleaf ever shone brighter, and you cannot imagine the boy has had training.

"Joffrey, of House Baratheon," your brother's words - his pride shining through - break the spell and you can finally look away.

You curtsey deeply in introduction, something that gets an eyebrow raised from Lady Catelyn. Has she never seen a Marcher's riding skirt before? Perhaps not, they are not very common outside the Stormlands and some parts of the Westerlands. You put on your sweetest, and most princessly voice as you introduce yourself as, "Myrcella, of House Baratheon."

Now that you are in Winterfell, how do you plan to spend your next block of unbooked time?
>Begin the Bran Observation Diary. Why does he glow so bright?
>Visit the Godswood. Lady Goldenleaf wanted you to pass a message to her student.
>Join Elaina and Sansa for tea and crumpets. Try to deflect Sansa's clear infatuation onto Elaina.
>Rope in Arya to your lessons so you have another lady willing to be your sparring partner! Also get her measure, she may be reliable enough for your little brother.
>There are six exceptionally good creatures that require pets, treats, and affection and you shall befriend each and every one of them.
>(Write in)

>>6392250
>There are six exceptionally good creatures that require pets, treats, and affection and you shall befriend each and every one of them.
I wanted to vote for the Bran Observation Diary, but this option is just way too cute while also being really in-character
Myrcella and everyone else will be in Winterfell for a while, so it's not like Lady Goldenleaf and her request is going anywhere. Plenty of time for that in a day or two.

>>6392250
>There are six exceptionally good creatures that require pets, treats, and affection and you shall befriend each and every one of them.
Clearly the superior choice.

>>6392250
>There are six exceptionally good creatures that require pets, treats, and affection and you shall befriend each and every one of them.
And if Joffrey kills any of them we'll demonstrate exactly what a Baratheon actually looks like when they're fucking pissed.

>>6392250
>>There are six exceptionally good creatures that require pets, treats, and affection and you shall befriend each and every one of them.

>>6386681
>you've heard tell of "Brienne the Beauty" as a maiden knight blessed by the Warrior. You can only pray that one of the Stark girls takes after her, if it turns out that Tommen is like that.
someone fetch a pot before I piss meself laughing

>>6392250
>Visit the Godswood. Lady Goldenleaf wanted you to pass a message to her student.

Od rather handle this first. Not sure how many actions we get in the north. Might as well handle critical things first,

>>6392250
>>Visit the Godswood. Lady Goldenleaf wanted you to pass a message to her student.

>>(Write in)

These cheese reserves do warrant further investigation, we should keep an eye out while we're here.

>>6392377
>>6392452
I say we do this
but perhaps
>There are six exceptionally good creatures that require pets, treats, and affection and you shall befriend each and every one of them.
would provide a perfect excuse to be roaming around?

>>6392250
>>(Write in)
>There are six exceptionally good creatures that require pets, treats, and affection and you shall befriend each and every one of them.
>And naturally, of course, such wonderful creatures are allowed to run free in the godswood... where you can pass on a message.

>>6392471
We can just pray to the godwood, it's not like people dont do it all the time. We need focus to commune with it anyway. So getting an excuse just over complicates things.

>>6392475
Especially when said excuse can't be done at the same time as communion. Like when Bran has his visions in the show.

>>6392584
Didn't we have to talk out loud to Lady Goldenleaf? I imagine that even if we won't have to do so here, that we simply *would* out of habit.

>>6392587
The difference is her body is hanging from the tree. While the three eyed Raven is past the wall and the godtree is basically a phone. If we wish to talk to him, we're gonna have to pull a Bran.

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No time to post tonight. Instead, enjoy the Official Myrcella Quest Conspiracy Iceberg.

>>6392773
This is great
I love this

>>6392250
>Visit the Godswood. Lady Goldenleaf wanted you to pass a message to her student.
Duty first.

>>6392250
>Visit the Godswood. Lady Goldenleaf wanted you to pass a message to her student.
We need to keep our promise before anything else.