anastasia [got || on hold]

five

Rhaenyra bites her lip, pulling away from her sister. "They aren't pictures," she states unwaveringly.

"Rhaenyra–"

"No! Answer my questions! Why can you and the others leave, but I cannot? Why do father and mother treat me so different from everyone else?" She pauses and breathes deeply. "Why does Jaime Lannister call me Rhaenys?"

   Nymeria's hand twists in Rhaenyra's hair, yanking it slightly. The girl winces. "Jaime Lannister is a delusional, kingslaying liar. Nothing he says, nothing he does, nothing has any truth to it," she spits sharply. "Stop asking questions, Rhaenyra." With those last words she releases her hair and storms out of the room.

   A slight cry leaves Rhaenyra's lips and she rubs the spot where her sister pulled. Her heart feels hard. It's a feeling she's never felt before and it pushes her to her feet. She slips her shoes off and ties a cloak around her bed clothes, tiptoeing after her sister. She follows her to the courtyard, using the lush bush near the entrance to hide her appearance. Her sister approaches a figure she recognizes as her father, and a shorter, bald, stumpy man who sips from a glass slow and meticulously.

Pushing herself into the bush, she focuses on their voices. "She's asking questions," Nymeria states bluntly. "Questions I can't answer, questions she shouldn't be asking."

Oberyn slams his fist down upon the table, startling Rhaenyra. "It's his fault. That Lannister bastard," he spits bitterly. His thoughts are racing, it's very visible to the girl, mind most likely stuck on the image of his sister's broken body, his niece and nephew crushed before they could blossom. She had heard the stories. She knew her father blamed Jaime and the other Lannisters. "We kill him tomorrow, send his head to his sister-lover, and be done with it."

No. Jaime was all she had, he was the only person giving her answers. They couldn't kill him.

The bald man sets his goblet down, tsking. "That, my friend, would be a terrible decision," he replies, voice soft and simultaneously hard. It's eerily familiar and sends a shiver down Rhaenyra's spine. "You do that and Cersei will surely start a war. I suggest–"

"I don't care what you suggest, Varys, she's been safe for over eighteen years until he arrived," he stands from the table abruptly and Rhaenyra shrinks back to avoid being seen. "He has ruined things, I don't care about what Ellaria says, Rhaenyra has grown suspicious and if we allow him to live she will soon realize what we've hidden all these years." Oberyn clenches his fist tightly. "I want his head, I want it by noon tomorrow."

Nymeria murmurs a 'yes papa' before disappearing towards her quarters. Oberyn follows suit, ignoring the disapproving glances he receives from the Varys man. When her father finally disappears from view, she relaxes slightly, until she realizes what this means. Her heart begins to hammer in her chest violently. No, no. They couldn't do this. Jaime Lannister could not die, he knew so much about everything. Rhaenyra needed the truth, Rhaenyra needed him.

"You can come out now, little dragon." Rhaenyra freezes, eyes wide. Varys sits in his same seat, back facing her hiding spot. He couldn't be speaking to her. "I'm not fond of games, sweetling, come out now or you father may find that you've been listening this whole time."

Reluctantly, Rhaenyra untangles herself from the bush and starts towards the man, pulling her cloak tighter around herself. "Who are you?" Rhaenyra asks, refusing to sit across from him.