As Roman landed, everyone except Myrcella fell into panic.
These people had only heard battlefield stories about how terrifying Roman was. They had never seen him in person and had assumed the soldiers were exaggerating. Now that the humanoid dragon stood before them, they finally understood why men turned pale at the mere mention of his name.
Myrcella's companion stood frozen beside the princess, face deathly white. The attendants gripping their weapons could not stop their hands from trembling.
"Everyone, there is no need to be nervous," Roman said calmly, spreading his arms with a gentle smile. "I came only to see Princess Myrcella. I carry no weapons, and no army follows me. You may rest assured of your safety."
The attendants did not believe a word of it. You are a weapon, they thought. One capable of wiping out hundreds of knights alone. What difference do ordinary arms make?
Myrcella, however, thought nothing of the sort. She excitedly pushed through the crowd and threw herself straight into Roman's arms.
"Ser Roman! Long time no see!"
"Your Highness."
Because she had not yet fully grown, Myrcella was still quite short compared to Roman. He had to half-kneel to embrace her properly.
"Ser Roman, did you come because you heard I was here?"
"No," he replied honestly. "I heard the Queen Regent intends to marry you to Robin Arryn of the Eyrie. That is why I came to see you."
At the name, Myrcella's small body trembled slightly, but she recovered quickly.
"Since you're already here, why not share a meal with us? It's almost lunchtime!"
Roman accepted with pleasure. Myrcella immediately ordered her attendants to set up the picnic.
Under Roman's calm gaze—and remembering the fire and lightning he could summon—the group dared not make any suspicious moves. They obediently followed the princess's instructions.
It had been nearly a year since Myrcella had last seen Roman. In that time she had endured the endless intrigue of the Red Keep. Aside from Tyrion and the occasional kindness from Cersei, only her attendants truly looked out for her.
Some time ago, to keep her safe from Stannis, she had been sent to Rosby.
For Myrcella, only Roman and her father Robert had ever truly understood her heart. It was largely thanks to Roman's influence that Robert had begun paying real attention to her. She had many things she wanted to tell him.
Sitting beside the simple table, Myrcella spoke freely—about the peaceful days in Rosby, the wonderful new daily goods produced in Harrenhal, and the dire situation inside King's Landing.
"Ser Roman, why do House Whent and House Lannister keep fighting even though I am betrothed to you?"
Myrcella was intelligent, but she was still a child. She could not fully grasp the complex web of human nature and conflicting interests.
Roman gently combed his fingers through her beautiful golden hair and answered slowly.
"Your Highness, some matters are not decided by just the two of us. Countless people stand behind both House Lannister and House Whent. They pull us together, and they push us apart."
The princess's emerald eyes looked up at him with helplessness and sorrow.
"So many people have lost their homes because of this war. When will it end? Ser Roman… will you one day see me as an enemy too?"
"How could I?" Roman pulled her close, pressing her small face gently against his chest. "Throughout the Seven Kingdoms, it is said that Your Highness possesses every fine quality—completely unlike the Queen Regent. Why would I ever make an enemy of such a good child?"
Myrcella's face lit up with joy that she, a Lannister, was not disliked by Roman. Then she felt a tiny spark of annoyance at being called a child.
"Ser Roman, as a princess I have already studied etiquette and learning for many years. Others may see me that way, but you must not treat me like a little girl!"
Roman chuckled. "Very well, my Princess. Would you like to become the heroine of a story, ride upon a dragon's back, and soar into the sky?"
He whispered the words right beside her ear. The attendants only saw the princess's face brighten with sudden excitement, but they had no idea what he had said.
Myrcella gazed up at the sky, filled with anticipation, but then asked timidly, "Ser Roman… you don't mean to simply take me back to Harrenhal right now, do you?"
Looking at the sharp-witted eight-year-old, Roman could only sigh inwardly. She truly was too clever for her age.
He shook his head. "What would I do if I took you to Harrenhal? The Seven would never approve. Even if you were to come to Harrenhal, it would have to be with the agreement of both sides. Are you willing to come with me now?"
A flash of longing crossed Myrcella's eyes. She glanced toward distant King's Landing, then shook her head firmly.
"I'm sorry, Ser Roman. I still have family I must protect. Tommen is too young, Mother is… too sensitive, and Uncle Tyrion has been treated harshly. Please forgive me. I cannot be willful right now."
Roman sighed softly. This was exactly the answer he had expected from her. He traced a finger across her smooth cheek.
"Your Highness has done nothing wrong. This is precisely the decision you would make. Since you must return later, why not enjoy the moment now?"
He extended one dark wing and gently brushed the back of her hand.
Myrcella stroked the delicate wing membrane and strong bones, feeling the warm texture beneath her fingers. Her heart fluttered. She looked around, confirmed the moment felt right, and gave Roman's palm a small, secret squeeze.
Seeing her eager expression, Roman smiled. He half-knelt so she could climb onto his back.
The attendants watched in horror as their princess wrapped her arms around Roman's neck and lay against the dragon.
"Princess Myrcella!!"
Before they could react, Roman had already launched into the air. The powerful shockwave from his blue-black wings knocked over the guards who tried to rush forward.
Even though Myrcella had braced herself, the rushing wind pressed her tightly against Roman's shoulder. By the time she could open her eyes again, they were already among the clouds.
"Wow! Ser Roman, is this the sky? Is this what birds see every day?"
Like Fili before her, Myrcella was enchanted by everything. She asked Roman to fly everywhere—darting through clouds and racing alongside flocks of migratory birds.
Today the princess truly experienced the life of a dragonrider, and she was even more comfortable than the old Targaryen riders had been. Roman took excellent care of her.
Myrcella laughed with pure delight. Her long golden hair streamed behind her as she looked left and right, drinking in the entire Crownlands with Roman at her side.
Eventually it was Roman who decided they had stayed aloft long enough. He brought her gently back to the ground.
"Ser Roman, I don't know when we will meet again. Can't I stay a little longer?"
Hearing the dejection in her voice, Roman advised gently, "Your Highness, even the best things lose their charm if taken to excess. A lady must learn moderation."
Myrcella was momentarily silenced. The childish request she had wanted to make died on her lips.
Roman looked down with his sharp vision and spotted the Lannister banners approaching.
Confirming there were no scorpion bolts or other threats that could endanger Myrcella, he folded his wings and dove smoothly toward the ground.
As he neared the earth he spread his wings again, slowing to a graceful landing right in front of the Lannister party.
Under the terrified stares of the Lannister soldiers, Myrcella slid from Roman's back. She took one last reluctant look at him before turning to leave.
The news spread across Westeros within days: Roman had taken Princess Myrcella into the sky while she was out, then returned her safely to the Lannister forces.
Among both noble and common women, many sighed with envy for Myrcella. Others were left puzzled by Roman's actions—including those inside the Red Keep.
At the small council meeting, Tywin, Kevan, Tyrion, and the other ministers gathered to discuss the incident.
Pycelle: "Why did Ser Roman return the princess? He could have simply taken her."
Varys: "Perhaps the princess reached some agreement with him? That would explain why he let her go."
Kevan: "Not everyone is one of your little birds. Myrcella is only eight years old. What decision could she possibly make?"
Tyrion stared at the report, then drained a large cup of wine and sighed.
Tywin's voice cut through the room. "If you have thoughts, speak them plainly!"
Tyrion glanced around the table. "Roman is demonstrating his power to us. The fact that he reached Myrcella within two hours of her leaving the castle shows he has excellent intelligence and timing. This time he simply played with her. Next time he could use the same method to strike at any of us if we venture out casually."
He stole a quick look at Tywin. Seeing his father's expression soften and a nod of approval, Tyrion's mood instantly brightened.
"As for why he returned Myrcella, it is because he does not care. Even if we arrange a marriage for her, he could still take her whenever he wishes. He does not need the betrothal to succeed. Right now, we are the ones who need something from him. If he had truly kidnapped her, it would only make him look weak—as though he required a hostage to make threats."
Tywin nodded with clear satisfaction. The resentment he had felt toward Tyrion these past weeks finally eased.
"It seems we need to have a proper talk with House Whent. We have already made enough enemies in this war."
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