quiet on set
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“I assume you have a plan.”
Rhaenyra’s gaze darts to her, then back to the road ahead. “I have… outlines of a plan.”
Oh, good. “And this plan involves courting me.”
It’s not a question, but Rhaenyra nods. “If I, you know” —a pause, and Mysaria doesn’t need night vision to know that Rhaenyra’s blushing to the roots of her hair— “claim you, then, well... Aegon can’t.” The poor woman sounds like she’s on the verge of imploding.
Mysaria elects to be merciful. “We’ll have to be thorough,” she muses, ignoring the sharp intake of breath she hears from Rhaenyra—as though she doesn’t dare believe what Mysaria is saying. “My network is vast, but your family’s is a close second.”
“Does that mean—?”
“Yes, Rhaenyra Targaryen. You may court me.”
Or: Sometimes, you have to convince an entire city you're already swapping spit with one Targaryen just to avoid being wed to another. Mysaria is no stranger to playing the part, but this time around, her co-star appears particularly keen. How odd...
Series
- Part 1 of quiet on set
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“The flowers are lovely, Rhaenyra. More importantly, they send the right message." It’s a reminder—to Rhaenyra, to herself—that the gesture wasn’t for her, not truly.
“But you are not fond of them.”
Gods above. “No, I am not,” Mysaria admits.
Silence on the other end. She can almost see the other woman’s pout.
With an eye roll, Mysaria caves. “I’m fond of tea. And wine, but nothing expensive, please.”
Rhaenyra hums, clearly pleased with herself. “The films did not prepare me for a woman like you, Mysaria Saho.”
Or: Courting is hard. Fake courting is also hard. Fortunately, Rhaenyra's not in this fight alone.
Series
- Part 2 of quiet on set