LION TRAP, game of thrones

𝐈𝐕. snake

The water gardens were beautiful.

Sansorr was a Northman and so was kind of bound to love the North but damn, architecture that wasn't meant to keep you  warm was breathtaking. Maybe he would have made a good Martell after all. He could imagine making himself at home here.

Despite the nearby desert, the gardens were green thanks to the many water sites that gave the gardens their name. The buildings were made of bright red stone and decorated with magnificent ornaments in countless shades of brown and red. For a moment he forgot why they were here, he was simply happy to see this place. He felt sorry for anyone who had never been here and never would be.

Myrcella couldn't be that bad off here.

"What's the plan when - or rather if - we find the girl?" Bronn took the floor, having pulled the scarf around his head away slightly so that they could understand him better.

"We'll improvise," Jaime replied.

"Oh, sure. You look like you're really good at that," Bronn snorted with a nod to Jaime's golden hand and Sansorr hid his short laugh under a cough.

"Sorry," he said quickly and cleared his throat when Jaime gave him an annoyed look, "Of course that wasn't funny Blondie. You're right."

Jaime continued to walk ahead, Bronn and Sansorr following him. The ground was covered in gravel and only slightly more pleasant than the sand of the Dornish beach. Sansorr wondered if his leg would ever feel normal again. He somehow knew it wouldn't, but still the thought was impossible for him to grasp. In a year, five, fifteen... in twenty years, he would never recover from this. To be honest, he couldn't imagine what his life would be like in that time.

Would he grow old? Gray hair - more than he already had - and aching bones? Did he already have both anyway? Maybe he didn't need to grow old at all. He didn't have anything worthwhile anyway. Not anymore, really.

Sansorr stumbled against Jaime's back, who had stopped abruptly in front of him. "Shit, Blondie!" Sansorr groaned, but Jaime only half-turned to press a hand over his mouth, cutting off his voice.

He bit Jaime's palm, who pulled it away quickly with a soft hiss. Only now did he notice the young couple standing a little further away, close together in the gardens. It didn't take a genius to recognize the young girl as a Lannister. She had long, blonde curls that fell softly over her shoulders. She had inherited Jaime's beauty - not the frightening, intimidating beauty of Cersei. He wondered if Myrcella knew what she was.

Standing with her was the young Dornish prince to whom she was betrothed. His mustard-colored robe matched Myrcella's pale yellow dress.  Dorne was clearly good for her. She didn't seem like a prisoner.

"Myrcella," Jaime stepped out from behind one of the bushes so that he stood exposed in front of the two of them. The Dornish prince raised his head in alarm, but Myrcella gathered her dress and took a few steps towards them, her emerald eyes traveling over Jaime and then to Bronn and Sansorr, who must have looked a little ridiculous in their stolen clothes. At least that's what her gaze said.

"Uncle Jaime," she stopped in front of them, even smiling a little at Jaime. But it was a Lannister smile and so it was hard to understand how that smile was meant.

"Can we talk in private?" Jaime looked to the Dornishman, who now stepped forward, bowing his head in a friendly manner.

"I'm Trystane Martell," the young man introduced himself and Myrcella caught up to him so that the two of them stood shoulder to shoulder. Their young infatuation made Sansorr smile and he let the tension fall away. Myrcella would hardly need rescuing.