The Great Khalessi (GoT Fanfic)

24 - Undercover

(an: I just need to get this out of my system before I completely focused on my review. Procrastination is my curse.)

Oberyn Martell watched as Rhaenys laughed with the Dothraki handmaidens in the garden, her dark hair catching the warm glow of the sun. She was the embodiment of Dornish spirit and strength, and to him, Rhaenys had always been like one of his own daughters. He had celebrated her achievements, taught her to wield a weapon, and watched her learn the ways of their family—both the pleasures and the pains. Though he might joke, tease, and entertain, Oberyn's watchful eye never wavered from her.

He knew Rhaenys was special; anyone could see that. Her grace and intelligence were matched only by her fire, and it wasn't lost on him that powerful men like Khal Drogo could be drawn to that strength—men eager to possess her, seeing her as an adornment to bolster their own power.

At first, Oberyn wasn't concerned. Rhaenys was a grown woman, and he had helped raise her to be strong and cunning, fully capable of handling herself around any man. But now, things are different. She was falling for the great Khal of the Dothraki. Although Oberyn was happy that his niece might find happiness, he also knew that love made people reckless.

And while Drogo had shown honor and earnest intentions, Oberyn felt a duty to make his own intentions clear.

The night before the khal's departure, Oberyn found him alone in one of Illyrio's grand halls, adjusting his arakh and preparing to leave. Drogo nodded to him, acknowledging the prince with wary respect.

"Good evening, Khal Drogo," Oberyn greeted, his voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge.

"Prince Oberyn," Drogo replied, bowing his head in recognition.

Drogo was well aware of the Red Viper's reputation. Stories of Oberyn Martell's combat prowess and lethal resolve had spread across both Essos and Westeros. Though the prince's manner was often flirtatious and carefree, Drogo knew better than to be fooled. He'd learned from experience that the least threatening people often concealed the greatest danger.

"I'm pleased to see you're courting my niece with sincerity," Oberyn began, his tone as smooth as silk, though his words sharpened as he continued. "But I wanted to make something clear before you and she proceed any further." Oberyn's eyes narrowed, his voice dropping just above a whisper. "Rhaenys may be exiled, but she is still a princess of House Martell. And we Martells always protect our own. If you break her heart," he leaned in, his gaze cold as steel, "...I will pull yours from your chest and crush it with my own hands."

Drogo's expression did not falter, though he gave a curt nod in understanding.

The following morning, a gift arrived at Illyrio's manse: another offering from the khal. A beast from the desert lands, freshly hunted and dressed, was brought into the hall with the utmost ceremony.

Rhaenys groaned as she eyed the carcass. "I thought I told him we didn't need any more animals brought to the house. We already have enough food to feed an army!"

"That one's for me," Oberyn interjected, appearing behind her with a smirk.

"For you?"

"Yes," he replied, feigning innocence. "Can't I receive gifts from handsome men as well?"

Rhaenys laughed, rolling her eyes. "Not when that handsome man is supposed to be courting me, not you."

Oberyn chuckled, adjusting his hair with exaggerated flair. "Well, it seems you're not the only pretty one in this house, my dear."

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Rhaenys had always been competitive, always pushing herself to match or surpass those around her. So when Drogo brought a few Dothraki who could help her learn their language, she took it as a challenge. Drogo had learned the Common Tongue in a month; Rhaenys decided she would learn Dothraki in three weeks.