The boat ride home from Dorne was strained, to say in the least.
After he had told his daughter the truth of her parentage, and after she had accepted it with grace; his daughter had dropped. Blood had begun to drip from her nose; from her mouth; down her chin and onto her neck. Her mouth had moved as she struggled to breathe; struggled to speak, and then her white, long legs couldn't support her any longer. Jaime's hand had wrapped around her waist; supporting her as she slipped to the ground. Her hand had moved to touch his cheek; Myrcella choking upon the blood clotting inside of her throat; soon her struggles slowed to a stop. Her cyan optics began to glass over; looking false inside of her head.
For hours, until someone came looking for him, Jaime had simply sat there; his forehead touching his daughters. She had been so beautiful; so young; so innocent. How dare they take her out of this world so soon? How dare they take away her happiness, when that was all she had ever wanted.
Arriving at Kings Landing had been even worse. His twin, as she watched the boat approaching the harbor, had simply known. By the expression on Jaime's face, and the lack of appearance from her daughter, she had known.
But now, Jaime didn't know how he was going to sit through another one of his children's funeral.
He had asked to be left alone with his daughter's body for a little while, before everyone began crowding inside. Whilst she lay, still as the stone she was laid out on, Jaime crouched and then knelt down; pressing his hands down on the stone and then laying his head down on top of them. A few fingers stretched out, touching the golden blonde curls. The stones that were resting upon her eyes were daunting; sending shivers down his spine.
First his mother.
Then Joffery.
Then his father.
Now, Myrcella?
Tommen had seen Jaime carrying Myrcella's body into the castle, and he had broken down. He and Myrcella had been very close; extraordinarily close. Being split apart had bothered both of them; Tommen, for the first few months whilst Myrcella was gone, wandered around the castle like a lost puppy. He would walk into a room, stare at the place where Myrcella usually would go, and immediately stalk out. Joffrey would tease him for it; saying that if he was going to cry over their sister, that he was simply a weakling. Tommen would never respond; glaring at Joffery with resentment.
Crushing the soft curl in between the pads of his fingertips, Jaime felt his hands begin to shake. It was still hard to believe that this girl was dead; his little girl was dead; she had died so quickly, that there hadn't been anything he could have done to help her! Again, he had been rendered useless; simply watching as his second child died.
A surge of anger and grief rose within Jaime; causing his hand to lash out. They knocked the eye-painted stones to the floor; wincing as they clattered. The sound echoed around the room, but did not bring anyone running. When he was finished here, he would put them back on. But, for now—he needed to see her.
So young; so beautiful she had been. So in love, so happy. But she was dead. Her soul was going to join whatever afterlife existed; she would meet her maker and be at peace. Gods ... why did she those women have to kill her? War was impractical; the Lannister's had many, albeit less than they have had before, allies that would flock to their side if they simply asked! The Martell's were going to have to pay for this one death eventually; killing her had been the worst thing they ever could have done to any of them.
A chaste, tender kiss was pressed to Myrcella's cold forehead. She tasted like death; not like a girl who had just been strolling through the Water Gardens not too long ago; making out with her fiancé in said Gardens; wearing beautiful dresses of yellow and pink colors; smelling like flowers. She didn't deserve this.
She didn't deserve to die.
