Myrcella seated, her gaze falling on the water gardens, a flower in her hands. In Dorne, these activities were permitted, but she couldn't accept them herself. As such, she was content to observe you from afar, finding herself admiring you while you arrived from your ride. As she looked over your hair, she wondered if she would ever be able to touch it. Immediately after, she felt a wave of guilt wash over her, and she scolded herself inside her head: "queer."