"Uncle, I am grateful to Father and Mother for bringing me into this wonderful world, and I thank you for your years of doting and care... but when it comes to where I want to go and how I want to live, I have my own ideas."
She straightened her slender waist and raised her round, delicate chin, suddenly changing from a soft and adorable girl into someone with sharp edges.
"If I go with you, there are only a few paths. Either I return to Casterly Rock to reunite with Mother, or I stay by your side and live with you, or I find a well-off middle-class family and marry as a bastard daughter, living the rest of my life anonymously."
Myrcella's unusual tone and expression drew the attention of the two men in the room, one big and one small. Neither interrupted her, but both shifted their gaze toward her and listened quietly.
"The first two options may be called 'choices,' but in reality they are completely unrealistic. A blonde girl of exactly the right age suddenly returning to Casterly Rock or appearing by your side, Lord Lannister, even if everyone who recognizes me loves me and would not gossip... among those who do not know me or care for me, as long as they have eyes, how many would not guess what is going on?"
"In the Westerlands, on Lannister territory, perhaps no one would dare bully or disrespect me, but for reasons you understand, Uncle, I do not want to stay with Mother. And living with you... I know Uncle would take care of me and protect me, but how would the gazes and whispers of those around us, and Daenerys once she learns the news, look at you and me? Who can explain it clearly, and who could bear it? I cannot accept becoming Uncle's weakness, a threat to the family!"
She sniffed, afraid of being interrupted, and her speech quickened without her noticing.
"As for the last option, if I were willing to accept it, then why would I have begged Lord Aegor three months ago to take me away from the North, instead of staying there to be 'Lady Maeve Hornwood'? At least the 'fiancé' Lawrence that Lady Catelyn arranged for me, I had some idea of his appearance and character, so it was not completely unacceptable."
Without pausing to wait for Tyrion to speak and persuade her, Myrcella immediately turned toward Aegor.
"My lord, you said this should not be my fate."
She choked up, and suddenly tears welled uncontrollably in the corners of her eyes. Her words were almost too difficult to continue, as if she had to struggle with all her strength just to speak on.
"I thank you for... thinking of me, but the truth is, what difference is there between saying that and saying nothing at all?"
The door holding back her emotions slowly opened, and countless grievances surged out.
"My fate should not be like this, but has it not already become like this? You drove me away on the grounds that my fate should not be like this. Did you not realize that you were once again, in a way you thought was good and kind, controlling my fate? If you and Uncle truly cared about my feelings, then even the matter of whether I go or stay should have been discussed with me and decided by me! Not like today, with no warning at all, suddenly appearing and planning to hand me over once again!"
---
Myrcella knew very well why Aegor had not discussed it with her, and she knew that her accusations were not only unreasonable, but also very direct and excessive, but she had to do this.
As a girl, she truly did not have much with which to fight against fate in this cold and cruel patriarchal world.
Lord Aegor and Uncle Tyrion, one was the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch and Hand of Daenerys, the other was the lord of the city of Casterly Rock and Master of Coin. Considering that Daenerys's army commander and the commander of the City Watch, Grey Worm, was an Unsullied and not physically whole, these two men standing before her were the most powerful and second most powerful men in the Seven Kingdoms at this moment.
Both held positions and status that allowed them to ignore her thoughts and wishes without a second thought, and both possessed the power and means to arbitrarily manipulate her fate based only on their own preferences and narrow views.
The only thing worth being thankful for was probably that one of these two men was a blood relative she deeply loved after long separation, and the other was an acquaintance and former superior she had served, who thought well of her. Neither of them was a stubborn, rigid traditionalist.
If, faced with such a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, she still could not bravely stand up and reveal her true feelings, fighting with all her strength for the life she wanted, then her fate truly would...
Be nothing more than this!
---
Having never seen Myrcella so aggressive and demanding, Tyrion raised an eyebrow, realizing that the trauma and impact of the past few years on this child were probably greater than expected.
"So, child... you mean that you plan to choose a fourth path, to stay here instead of going with me?"
He was not pretending to be foolish, but was genuinely confused.
"I do not quite understand. Is there really a difference?"
Uncle Tyrion was not a stubborn, prejudiced, arrogant grandfather, nor was he a radical and headstrong mother who would walk one road to the bitter end. As long as she could state her reasons clearly, he might be persuaded, but the premise was that those reasons had to be concrete, solid, and irrefutable.
"Thump," "Thump," "Thump"...
She was simultaneously confronting the most powerful and second most powerful men in Westeros!
Myrcella felt her small heart pounding in her chest as if it might leap out, wave after wave of hot blood violently surging to her head, face, and every limb. At this moment, her whole head and body felt as if some hidden mode had been activated, as though another soul deep within her heart had seized control.
She understood that what she was about to say, while extremely convincing, would also be utterly shocking by worldly standards, full of offense and thoughts that would invite speculation, perhaps even suspicion and wariness, tearing open the cloak of innocence and simplicity she used to protect herself and exposing the less-than-spotless truth beneath.
But in order to stop drifting with the current like duckweed, in order to carve out even the slightest deviation toward the direction she wanted in a fate she could not decide for herself, this gamble would be completely worth it!
"A sense of control and security, Uncle."
Myrcella felt her consciousness leave her body and float in midair, looking down at that unfamiliar self as she spoke the truthful words she would never dare to say on an ordinary day.
"After Uncle Jaime and Father dueled and fought their way out of King's Landing, I experienced being confined in Maegor's Holdfast in the Red Keep, and then being moved between carriages, ships, and different places under strict guard, and then my days as a foster child in Winterfell."
"That feeling of being tightly locked inside a room, or inside a carriage compartment, or a ship's cabin... not only rarely seeing daylight, but also knowing absolutely nothing about what was happening outside, not even whether death or survival was waiting for me, truly left me with painful memories that cut to the bone."
"While living in Winterfell, Lady Stark, Arya, Sansa, and the others were all very kind and gentle to me, and I could enter and leave my room freely, look at the sky when I wished, and bask in the sun when I wished, so I cannot go against my conscience and say I never saw the light of day."
"But when it came to the changes happening in the world, and to how much control I had over those changes that might concern me, I was actually still little different from someone who knew nothing at all. Although I seemed free in person, with my residence placed in the heart of the North, surrounded by thousands of miles of foreign wilderness, I was really just imprisoned in a vast natural cage called the Neck, under the direwolf banner, like a pet being kept. I had no control or grasp over my own fate, and could only wag the tail called 'obedient' and 'sensible' as hard as I could, earning convenience and preferential treatment by pleasing everyone in the North, from Catelyn Stark to every guard and servant!"
Not to mention that outsiders would think her heartless upon hearing these words, even she herself could taste a trace of heartlessness in them.
But once the words in her heart were finally spoken aloud, the world suddenly seemed to open before her.
Tears were already sliding uncontrollably from the corners of her eyes and rolling down her cheeks, and her speech came so fast it seemed impossible to stop, but in her mind, she felt as if she had broken through a bottleneck. She was no longer nervous or afraid, and even her stammering and choking had vanished without a trace.
"But over the past two months, all of that has been completely reversed.
By Lord Aegor's side, not only do I no longer have to worry about being looked down on or bullied, but every day I can learn about the important news and events happening in the Seven Kingdoms and even in the whole known world, and I can even take part in the drafting and discussion of the strategies and plans presented to Daenerys!"
"Although I understand that all of this is only borrowed from Lord Aegor's prestige and influence and is not truly my own, this illusion of standing only a stone's throw away from the core of power, of being able to know everything and influence and control everything, has truly given me an immense sense of control and security!"
Strictly speaking, this was not really "grasping her own fate," she knew that in her heart, but anywhere else, she would need to please everyone around her, even the whole world, just to feel safe. Only by Aegor's side, as the "assistant and confidante of the Hand," did she not need to worry about harm from the outside world or from other people, except for working hard to earn his favor and trust, because she knew that as long as she remained beneath this man's wings, his huge and powerful wings would be like iron plates, firmly blocking all the malice and harm outside.
Myrcella wiped away the tears on her cheeks with one swipe, trying to make herself look determined and confident.
"And this sense of security, Uncle, forgive me for speaking so directly, my birth parents could not give it to me, my once all-powerful and arrogant grandfather could not give it to me, Lady Stark, who cared for me and protected me, could not give it to me... and you, even as the lord of the city of Casterly Rock and Master of Coin, cannot give it to me! Even if this feeling is only an empty illusion, only a dream, I am willing to stay by Lord Aegor's side to pursue it!"
She took a deep breath, then finished with the last sentence.
"If you truly love me, then please consider Myrcella Lannister dead, and from now on, there is only a girl named Maeve Snow in this world, one who deeply pleases you, enough that you are willing to visit the Hand from time to time and see her along the way... This way I am happy, you are not threatened, and it is a choice that is good for everyone, so why not?"
...
His own niece was complaining that his power was not strong enough, saying that she could not gain a sense of security from him, and instead wanted to live beside another man who was not related to her by blood and could never possibly marry her.
That would probably be news enough to deal a severe blow to any man's pride. If he had been some short-tempered, easily enraged, unreasonable brute, he might have exploded in impotent fury, dragged the girl away by force, and sent her back to the family's feudal lands.
Fortunately, Tyrion, as the Little Imp, a born dwarf, did not possess such excessive and uncontrollable self-regard, nor the bad habit of caring too much about saving face.
He looked deeply into Myrcella's eyes for a moment, confirming that this was her true thought and not something forced out of her, then suppressed his unwillingness and sadness. Holding the girl's hand, and under her hopeful and nervous gaze, he turned to his friend with an apologetic expression.
"Aegor, I know this is an excessive and difficult request for you, and if you refuse, I will not blame or resent you at all."
Without even having time to rejoice inwardly, Myrcella turned toward Aegor and stared at him with pleading eyes.
She understood her uncle's temperament, and she was not surprised by Tyrion's indulgent affection. But she had only spent a few dozen days by Aegor's side, and did not dare claim to understand this unpredictable savior who was at once like a knight and like a demon.
Worse still, if her uncle refused her request, then in the years to come she could at least resent him, but if Aegor shook his head, there was nothing she could do to him, except perhaps do something foolish and self-destructive to disgust him.
Being stared at by such an angelic little girl with that kind of gaze would make anyone uncomfortable. Aegor could only shift his eyes away and pretend not to notice.
Would not blame or resent him at all?
Aegor believed Tyrion could do it, but unhappiness and a considerable drop in enthusiasm for work would absolutely be unavoidable.
Things had deviated slightly from his expectations. He had thought Myrcella would pretend to be reluctant but secretly be delighted to escape from him, this frightening murderer, and return to her family. Who could have guessed that this lovable little bird, after a passionate speech, would say that staying by his side made her feel very safe?
Was it that his unconscious manipulation had accidentally pushed Myrcella into Stockholm syndrome and made her dependent on him, or had her spirit truly been so badly traumatized that she had to cling tightly to the intangible thing called "power" in order to gain a twisted sense of peace?
Aegor could not tell for the moment, but he would have time to figure it out later.
And at this moment, what he was certain of was that his intention of making Tyrion owe him a favor had, by sheer chance, still been achieved.
"Since you put it that way, can I really refuse to show some courtesy?"
Aegor shrugged, with a half-serious hint of reluctance.
"Then let her stay by my side a while longer. Whenever she has thought it through and wants to leave, I will give her my blessing and return her to you."
Tyrion opened his mouth, about to thank him politely, but the girl rushed forward first and threw her arms tightly around him. The strength of a little girl was unexpectedly enough to leave him slightly short of breath.
"Thank you, Uncle!"
Myrcella's action was not only from gratitude and excitement, but even more because the words she had just spoken had nearly exhausted all the courage and boldness she had accumulated in the fifteen years since she first began to breathe and her heart first began to beat. Now she felt that although her soul had returned to her body, her body itself seemed emptied out and hollowed through, unable to gather even a shred of strength. She had to cling tightly to her uncle and use his support to steady herself, so that she would not collapse and sink to the ground.
(To be continued.)