( Confusion is a blessed relief from the path her thoughts had threatened to drift down just now. He has not forgotten and she has not dreamed him up. It had been somewhat difficult to tell whether or not she'd imagined all of this until those words of reassurance were spoken, hanging comfortably in the silence between them. Here there are no dark eyes, alight with false sincerity.
Only the familiar, earnest countenance of a father who has no idea how to approach that role whatsoever. Myrcella finds further comfort in that, too, endeared by his honesty. Exhaling softly, she steps forward and squeezes his hand with hers. )
I've said this once, but I'll say it again: I'm glad of it. And I'd like to know you better, if you aren't unopposed to it.
( Carefully, she presents that choice; she is nearly grown, old enough for a surety to be married. In her heart, she thinks she knows the answer already. The hope she'd seen in his eyes just before the end has stayed with her. As much as has Tristayne's kindness. It is a truth that nearly everyone at least suspects back in the capital, if they do not know outright already.
But if this be the only time she is allowed to call him father in this strange country, she is glad to have had the opportunity to savour it. )
Gods be good, it has been much longer than that. I had wondered, and I do not claim to understand how this is possible. ( Unless the Red Woman said to travel with Stannis has wrought some manner of magic, or something equally beyond her ken at the moment. Her brows furrow together as she tries to piece it together in any case. ) I'd been in Dorne for some years. Uncle Tyrion brokered an alliance, and I was to wed Prince Tristayne. Is he here, among those you speak of?
( She inclines her head, smile dimming a little. ) I shall not forget.
( She has not seen her mother in years. Though she'd been vexed by her seemingly baseless paranoia when her father had arrived in Dorne, it had quickly proven to be correct. And she worries, about how her lady mother is doing. Is she well? Surely not. Is she safe—who knows?
Her death has taught her a little of the world her mother had fought so hard to shelter her from. They have enemies everywhere. Does that include here, as well? Gripping his hand more tightly, she nods, a little of her earlier fire there in her eyes now. )
Of course, father. To all others, you are my uncle. I would help you keep us safe.
( No one will threaten them nor tear them apart. Not again. Impulsively, she releases his hand and closes the remaining distance between them to embrace him properly. His heart beats strongly, reminding her that so too does her own. )
no subject
Only the familiar, earnest countenance of a father who has no idea how to approach that role whatsoever. Myrcella finds further comfort in that, too, endeared by his honesty. Exhaling softly, she steps forward and squeezes his hand with hers. )
I've said this once, but I'll say it again: I'm glad of it. And I'd like to know you better, if you aren't unopposed to it.
( Carefully, she presents that choice; she is nearly grown, old enough for a surety to be married. In her heart, she thinks she knows the answer already. The hope she'd seen in his eyes just before the end has stayed with her. As much as has Tristayne's kindness. It is a truth that nearly everyone at least suspects back in the capital, if they do not know outright already.
But if this be the only time she is allowed to call him father in this strange country, she is glad to have had the opportunity to savour it. )
Gods be good, it has been much longer than that. I had wondered, and I do not claim to understand how this is possible. ( Unless the Red Woman said to travel with Stannis has wrought some manner of magic, or something equally beyond her ken at the moment. Her brows furrow together as she tries to piece it together in any case. ) I'd been in Dorne for some years. Uncle Tyrion brokered an alliance, and I was to wed Prince Tristayne. Is he here, among those you speak of?
( She inclines her head, smile dimming a little. ) I shall not forget.
( She has not seen her mother in years. Though she'd been vexed by her seemingly baseless paranoia when her father had arrived in Dorne, it had quickly proven to be correct. And she worries, about how her lady mother is doing. Is she well? Surely not. Is she safe—who knows?
Her death has taught her a little of the world her mother had fought so hard to shelter her from. They have enemies everywhere. Does that include here, as well? Gripping his hand more tightly, she nods, a little of her earlier fire there in her eyes now. )
Of course, father. To all others, you are my uncle. I would help you keep us safe.
( No one will threaten them nor tear them apart. Not again. Impulsively, she releases his hand and closes the remaining distance between them to embrace him properly. His heart beats strongly, reminding her that so too does her own. )