𝙸𝙽𝙰𝙼𝙾𝚁𝙰𝚃𝙰 ° myrcella baratheon

THIRTY FIVE

She stood, her arms folded across her royal blue gown, watching through her open window as the people scurried around the Red Keep. She enjoyed watching the people scurrying around, hard at work; it kept her mind off of things.

A soft knock startled her out of her thoughts. She composed herself and glanced over before looking back outside. "Enter." Her angelic like voice filled the quiet room.

The door, a moment later, creaked open and soft footsteps were heard before the door was shut again. Glancing over, she saw a young boy, maybe twelve or so, covered head to toe in soot. He carried a small pail with him and stood sheepishly by the door.

"Sorry to bother you, my lady." He said, his voice laced with a thick Flea Bottom accent as he kept his head down. "I just came to check the chamber pot."

Myrcella nodded as she watched the boy move curiously towards the pot in the center of the room. He, one by one, started filling it with coals. The boy seemed on edge and the blonde girl offered him a small smile when he caught her eye.

"What is your name?" The girl asked as she moved towards her desk, her dark dress falling in a curtain around her frail body.

"Tom, my lady." He said, looking up from the pot at the girl who moved gracefully across the room. He took notice of the smallest things; the slight bags under her pink eyes, the light steps she took, the dark fabrics she wore. "Forgive me for intruding, my lady, but..." The blonde girl looked up and saw his eyes cast down before they lifted and met hers. "Are you...are you in mourning?"

She felt her heart clench at his words. She couldn't help it. The thought alone of him being gone hurt more than anything she had felt; even the death of her father. "Swear not to tell?"

"Of course, my lady." The boy said with a small smile. She saw that he had finished filling the pot and, after taking a quick glance at the door, pulled a folded piece of parchment from his pocket. He took unsure steps towards Myrcella, extending his arm with the paper. "I was told to give this to you, my lady."

"Who from?" She asked curiously, but took the parchment anyways.

"A Ser Alton, my lady." Tom replied, taking a couple steps back.

Her brows furrowed at the boy's words. "Ser Alton? The messenger?" She had heard of his arrival from her handmaidens. He was supposedly here to deliver demands from the self-proclaimed King in the North. When the boy nodded, she spoke again. "And whom did he receive it from?"

"He did not say, my lady." He told her, shaking his head softly as he looked at her. "Just that he was to get it to you any way he could."

She nodded slowly, her eyes drifting to the paper she held. "Thank you, Tom." The girl said before turning on her chair, facing the desk now. She heard the door open and close behind her, but her eyes didn't leave the paper she held.

Taking a deep breath, she turned it over, seeing the stamped seal on the other side. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw the symbol on the other side; the Stark direwolf. Without hesitation, she broke the seal and unfolded the note, being met immediately with, surprisingly, neat calligraphy.

My dearest Myrcella,

I miss you dearly, and not a day has passed where I do not think of you. I hope this letter finds you well. I do not know what to say, yet there is so much that I wish to. I just hope you have not forgotten about me, my princess. I will be waiting for you.

Forever yours,
Lachlan

Her eyes scanned the name over and over again. She didn't realize the tears that rolled down her cheeks until one hit the parchment, leaving a small dot of the page. She hastily wiped her tears away and allowed a smile to creep onto her lips.

Lachlan was alive.

And he hadn't forgotten about her.