( She had been shielded from much as a child, but she'd still observed plenty: that her mother and stepfather had loathed one-another. That that same sentiment somehow ran much deeper when it came to her Uncle Tyrion. Her stepfather would have rather been anywhere but the Red Keep. And that once she'd left King's Landing, she'd heard markedly little of Joffrey's doings until his death. Prince Doran's doing, no doubt. She feels gratitude now, to him for the ability to be so removed from the horrors committed by her brother.

Myrcella had never understood why her mother and uncle hated one-another so. Both of them had been dear to her, and she can tell that Tyrion had tried his best to keep her safe. In Dorne, she had been, until Oberyn Martell's death. Like Doran, Tyrion had tried his best to shield her from the army brought to the gates of the capital by Stannis. Something her mother had not thought of, and her mother had not written her once she'd left. Whether she'd been angry or the letters had been intercepted—she has no idea.

The gift of the ship had hurt more than delighted. Now, she is much further away than the capital, and she thinks, at last, this man who has never had the opportunity to be a father to his children should have precisely that. It is more than simply an unwillingness to be alone. She remembers well the look in his eyes then, and the answer becomes simple. Brightening, she regards him warmly. )

I'm glad for it. ( There is a subtle shift in her expression, as she inclines her head. ) Thank you.

( Though she has no shortage of faith in him, she is uncertain as to how safe anyone truly ever is. In Dorne, she had thought herself completely safe, that none who wished her family harm could reach her. And instead, it had been the mother of the girls she had grown to think of as friends who had betrayed her. Best not think of that. Forcing herself to abandon that train of thought, Myrcella holds fast to him, uncaring of his missing hand. In this one moment, he has already given her more than Robert Baratheon did in all the years of her life.

For which she is grateful to him, too. She steps back a pace to look up into his eyes, her expression very nearly falling to hear that Trystane isn't here, and that Uncle Tyrion has been and gone. But she goes very still to hear the names Stark, Greyjoy and Targaryen. Her face pales, even as she raises her chin as if to silently show she is undaunted. )

Thank the gods for that accord, then. ( She cannot imagine any Stark would willingly abide a Lannister nor Targaryen alive in this realm without it in place. ) How long has that been in place for?

As to what I know, it is admittedly little. I was sent away to Dorne before Stannis arrived in King's Landing. Thereafter, Prince Doran kept much from me, I assume. I did hear of Joffrey's murder, Tommen's ascension and the death of Prince Oberyn. His lover bore our family ill-will afterward.

But you arrived with Ser Bronn not too long ago after a threat to my life had been made. You were quite the daring rescuer, father. But I am sorry I can't be of more help. You're right. ( She wishes now that she hadn't been so overly protected from the reality of the world. ) Do you have foreknowledge I don't?

I— ( There he goes again, making that promise. Tears sting her eyes, but she does not weep. Smiling instead, she makes it seem as though she is simply overjoyed. ) I would see us both safe. Someone should have a care for you, too.

( Her expression softens, allowing her to maintain her own smile. )

Perhaps, but you never needed anything like that for me to feel safe with you.