‍ ‍ ‍ * 𝖗ₑₛₜₗₑₛₛ ‍ ‍-‍ ‍ ‍𝒄ʰⁱˡᵈ .‍

‘ banana pudding! ’ the words slip from her lips the moment cersei finishes speaking. myrcella has no favorite dessert, but she never hesitates—she always knows exactly what she wants. uncertainty is a stranger to her. ‘ please. ’ she adds—

she laughs. she can imagine kids trying to sneak in, and she knows exactly which ones would try. did they really think they could get past her mother? she could sneaky in, if she tried. she wouldn’t, but she could. ‘ i’m surprised they—

she nods, taking a sip of her juice then placing it back on the table. ‘ everyone likes me. ’ pause. ‘ . . . or pretends to. ’ she shrugs, but does not stop smiling.

‘ his name’s trystane. ’ martell. trystane 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭. maybe her mother already knows that. she knows . . . many people. and their families. ‘ he is nice to me. ’ 𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘭, she thinks to—

‘ with the boy who taught me how to play . . . ’ she avoids eye contact. she has no reason to hide this from her mother—trystane is nothing but a friend—but she does not want to worry cersei. the city is dangerous, even more—