The dragons bastard

Chapter 48: the sisters and the Kraken

Myrcella was with Lady Jayne Arryn in her chambers learning the courtly ways of the vale and the responsibilities of political leadership when it comes to the 7 kingdoms, minus Dorne who defiantly remain independent from the grip of the iron throne as the illegitimate daughter of Rhaenyra and Sir Criston Cole Lady Jane has kept a promise to Keep her safe from any danger and the truth of her Real father due keeping the name Targaryen to legitimise her royal status and of course to keep her Mother Rhaenyra out of court scandal incase it effected her chance to the iron throne.

The tall windows of the Eyrie let in a pale wash of mountain light, soft and cool against the stone. It caught in Myrcella's pale hair as she sat poised at the carved table, her posture nearly perfect-nearly.

Lady Jayne Arryn did not miss the slight tension in her shoulders.

"You are holding yourself like a guest," Jayne said calmly, circling her with slow, measured steps. "Not like someone who expects to be obeyed."

Myrcella exhaled quietly, adjusting her spine straighter still. "I thought it better than appearing arrogant."

"There is a difference," Jayne replied, stopping just behind her chair. "Arrogance demands. Authority does not need to."

She moved to stand before Myrcella now, resting her hands lightly on the table. "Tell me-if two bannermen bring you a dispute over land, and both claim ancient right, what do you do?"

Myrcella hesitated only a moment. "I would hear both claims in full... review any records... and-" she faltered slightly, "-seek a compromise that avoids unrest."

Jayne's expression did not change, though there was a faint narrowing of her eyes. "A careful answer. A safe one."

"Is it wrong?" Myrcella asked, her voice quieter now.

"Not wrong," Jayne said, "but incomplete."

She stepped closer, her tone lowering-not unkind, but firm. "A ruler is not simply a listener, nor a mediator of comforts. Sometimes there is no compromise that satisfies both sides. Sometimes one must lose."

Myrcella's fingers curled slightly atop the table. "Then I would choose the side that is just."

"And how will you know which that is?" Jayne pressed. "Men will lie. Records will be forged. Even truth can be twisted if it serves ambition."

Silence lingered between them, broken only by the distant cry of wind against the mountain.

"My mother always said the realm must come first," Myrcella said at last. "That the people matter more than pride."

Jayne studied her for a long moment-really studied her. There was something softer beneath the steel then, something almost protective.

"And she is right," Jayne said quietly. "But the realm is not some distant, invisible thing. It is made of people who will test you. Push you. Try to see how far they can bend you before you break-or before you bend them."

She reached out, adjusting Myrcella's hand where it rested too tensely. "You must learn when to yield... and when to be unmovable."

Myrcella looked up at her, searching. "And how did you learn that?"

A faint smile touched Jayne's lips, though it did not quite reach her eyes. "By making mistakes that others paid for."

That seemed to settle heavily in the space between them.

Jayne straightened, her composure returning fully. "Now-another lesson. You will receive a lord tomorrow. He believes himself clever, and he will attempt to flatter you before pressing for influence."