GOT: My Secret Lover is sansa - Chapter 167 Marcella

Chapter 167: Chapter 167 Marcella

He reached out. Myrcella instinctively squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for a harsh grip. Instead, he just brushed a tangled strand of blonde hair from her face, tucking it gently behind her ear.

Myrcella opened her eyes, blinking in confusion at the soft gesture.

Before she could figure it out, Alaric stepped in, swept an arm behind her knees, and lifted her off the ground.

She let out a startled squeak, grabbing his shoulders to keep her balance. She stared at him, completely bewildered, her face inches from his.

“Want to go for a ride?” he asked.

Myrcella swallowed hard. Her mind was racing too fast to ask where or why, so she just gave a jerky nod.

“Good.” He set her back down. He turned, grabbed a heavy woolen cloak from a chest, and draped it over her, pulling the hood up himself. “Keep this closed. Lannister gold attracts too much attention here, and I don’t want to deal with the whispers right now.”

Myrcella pulled the cloak tight and followed him outside.

The morning air was biting cold. A few yards away, Alaric’s black warhorse was tied to a post. He untied it and swung easily into the saddle, looking down at her.

Myrcella stood frozen in the dirt, looking up at the massive animal. It was built for war and certainly didn’t have a lady’s sidesaddle.

She looked at Alaric, her cheeks flushing slightly. “I… I don’t know how to ride a horse like that,” she admitted quietly. “Not without a proper saddle.”

Alaric shook his head with a faint smile. He reached down, grabbed her by the waist, and effortlessly hauled her up. He settled her sideways in front of him, her shoulder resting against his chest.

He guided the horse forward through the waking camp. The guards stepped aside immediately, keeping their eyes down, completely unaware that the hooded girl in the King’s arms was the enemy princess.

They didn’t head toward the city. Instead, Alaric steered the horse up a quiet dirt path along a high ridge overlooking the river.

They reached the top just as the sun began to rise. Alaric pulled back on the reins, stopping the horse as the first bright rays of light broke over the horizon, painting the sky orange and purple.

As the morning light hit them, Alaric’s unnatural body heat flared up, radiating like a warm hearth.

Myrcella, who had been shivering in the dawn air, let out a soft sigh as the warmth wrapped around her. Without thinking, she leaned back fully against his chest, soaking in the heat. The terror that had paralyzed her in the tent started to fade. Up here, away from the camp, the blood, and the politics, things felt quiet. Simple.

She looked out at the sunrise, a small, genuine smile touching her lips.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

She tilted her head back to look at him, expecting him to be watching the horizon. Instead, he was already looking down at her. In the soft morning light, the harshness of his face was gone. He looked handsome, and the steady, quiet way he was watching her made her breath catch.

He had spared her family. He hadn’t hurt her in the tent. He was keeping her warm. In her exhausted, isolated mind, the harsh bargain they had struck was turning into something entirely different.

Alaric shifted the reins, his arm tightening slightly around her waist. He slowly leaned his head down.

This time, Myrcella didn’t flinch. She didn’t shut her eyes in fear. She let her eyes flutter closed in genuine anticipation, tilting her chin up to meet him halfway.

When their lips met, it was slow and surprisingly gentle. It wasn’t forced, and there was no harsh demand behind it. It was just a quiet surrender in the morning light. Myrcella let out a soft sigh against his mouth, her small hand reaching up to grip his tunic as she gave in completely.

The gentle pressure of the kiss only lasted a moment before Alaric took over.

He tightened his arm around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest. His unnatural heat soaked right through her clothes, keeping the morning chill at bay. He tilted his head, parting her lips, and tasted the faint trace of mint tea from her breakfast.

Myrcella gasped softly. She was completely inexperienced, but a mix of fear, relief, and the overwhelming warmth of his body made her push past her hesitation. Clumsily at first, she kissed him back, trying to match his rhythm. Alaric guided her, slowing down and turning the simple kiss into something much deeper.

The cold wind pulled at her cloak, but Myrcella hardly felt it. She was entirely focused on the heat radiating from him, the steady beat of his heart, and the dizzying realization that this dangerous man was holding her like she actually mattered.

When they finally pulled apart, Myrcella let out a shaky breath. Her eyes were wide and dazed. The terrified prisoner from the tent was gone, replaced by a girl completely swept up in the moment.

Alaric looked down at her flushed face with a satisfied smile. He wiped a stray drop of moisture from the corner of her mouth with his thumb.

Myrcella looked down at the horse’s dark mane, unsure of what to say. Her mind was a mess of lingering fear and a sudden, confusing attraction.

“That was a good kiss,” Alaric said quietly, a teasing edge to his voice. “Especially for your first time.”

Her face instantly burned red. She gripped the heavy wool of the cloak, embarrassed that he had noticed her lack of experience so easily, but unable to stop the rush of pride at the compliment.

“I… I just tried to follow your lead,” she whispered, not daring to look up.

Alaric let out a low hum of amusement. He reached down, hooking a finger under her chin, and gently forced her to look at him.

“You followed my lead,” he repeated, a slow smirk spreading across his face. “But you didn’t answer the question. Did you enjoy your first kiss?”

Myrcella swallowed hard. Trapped under his gaze, she felt entirely exposed. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I… I liked it,” she stammered.

“Good.” He let his thumb brush her lower lip. “Be honest, Myrcella. If your mother had kept the throne, how long would it have been before she sold you off for an alliance? You would have been traded to some old, bitter lord just for a few thousand swords.”

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