anastasia [got || on hold]

three

— three —

WHEN JAIME LANNISTER COMES TO, HE IS IN A DARK ROOM WITH TWO DARK HEADS OF HAIR LOOMING OVER HIM.

   He bolts up from where he lays, eyes frantically searching for the ghost he had seen. It couldn't be true, what he had seen wasn't possible. Maybe it was all a dream.

   It was not possible for him to have seen Elia Martell in the flesh almost twenty years after her murder.

   The stranger in the room with he and Bronn hands Jaime a goblet filled with a sweet smelling wine and Jaime gulps it down carefully, eyes on the man. He is handsome, lean yet muscular with a slightly stubbly face dressed in a loose silk tunic that reveals part of his chest suggestively. He looks at Jaime cautiously, dark eyes narrowed.

   "You gave us quite the fright," his smooth voice says, melodic in tone.

   Bronn knocks him with his boot. "What in Seven Hells happened, Joros," Bronn asks, reminding Jaime where they are and what they're doing.

  "Just fatigue, I presume," Jaime responds. "We've been traveling for some time."

   The songbird perks up at that. "Help yourself, then, probably need a lot more than me to keep yourself in shape," the man says, "you're what? Sellswords?"

   "Sellswords, yes," Bronn drawls. "This is Joros, hails from the Riverlands, and I am Bronn."

The man quirks an eyebrow, eyes traveling up and down Jaime's figure. Is this how all the women felt when men stalked them like predators? "I am Lawrence, Larry the Songbird to the regulars here."

"What about that lady of yours?" Bronn questions, and Jaime rolls his eyes at his antics.

Larry chuckles. "Ah, my sweet dragon, Rhaenyra," he sighs out. "Prince Oberyn's middle child, though some say otherwise."

Rhaenyra Sand. The name rang a bell. Jaime could remember hearing word of the girl and her skills with a spear up in King's Landing. Eyes of violet and hair dark as tar, she was said to be a beauty but a venomous one with the temper of a dragon.

   "What do you mean?" Jaime asks, eye brows furrowed.

   Lawrence looks at as though he can't be serious. "Do rumors not carry to the Riverlands?" He asked incredulously. Jaime says nothing. "I'm sure you," he points to Jaime, "didn't notice, but some say the girl resembles her aunt a little too well. And then there's her eyes and skin, too pale to be Oberyn's or Ellaria's, eyes the color of the finest lavender. A lavender only found in Targaryen bloodlines..."