Chapter Text
The garden was quiet, the serene harmony of plants and stones enhanced, rather than disturbed, by the white-veiled and gowned girl placidly embroidering in the bower. Her needle flashed in and out of the hoop in a hypnotic pattern, stitching a pattern of red and orange in the silk weave, in - flash - and out - flash - in, and out. Every third or fourth stitch, she would lean the hoop forward to get a better light on some part of her work, her veil shifting and briefly exposing the tips of her strawberry-blonde hair to the warm light which glinted unbearably bright off the needle, then she would shift again and the veil would shift with her, obscuring her tresses once again.
As Bronn tiptoed behind Ser Jaime "Hear me meow" Lannister, he silently cursed the Seven whose fickle nature had placed this girl in the path of what promised to be a truly nasty fight if they were caught, for Lannisters were not welcome in Dorne. Especially not when they were there to abrogate wedding pacts by stealing their nieces (daughter, really, but one war over that was enough, so Ser Jaime's "niece" she was!) back home. Then he cursed them again, this time out loud, as a cat darted out from the bushes where it had apparently been napping, tripping Bronn into Jaime's back and sending the two tumbling to the ground in a muffled clatter of steel.
The girl - young lady, most likely, not some common servant girl - stiffened for a moment, then turned to face them with her mouth in a silent "O" of surprise, and Bronn fair lost his breath. The girl was lovely - not just the fresh-faced prettiness of any girl who'd had a fortunate childhood, but a cock-stirringly, heart-breakingly perfect face, her ocean-blue eyes framed by just a hint of dark kohl to complement their colour perfectly and her deep pink lips inviting a kiss just by existing. Taken all up, she was the picture of innocent beauty - easily as pretty as any of the Lannisters and without their cynicism, and that was saying something! Jaime, no slouch himself in the looks department (which Bronn would never admit, not even under torture), flashed her a charming smile and opened his big fat mouth. Bronn groaned...this was not going to end well.
"Pardon me, m'Lady - it's my partner here, quite the oaf he is. First shift together...and last, if I can just - " He shushed, his prim-and-proper Kingslander accent falling silent, as the girl's laughter rang over the garden, rich and musical. She shook her head, and her voice was flavoured with the foreign Dornish sound which Bronn could (barely) fake, but Jaime could not. "You're not from Dorne, are you?" She chuckled once again, standing and putting her embroidery away. Bronn wasn't sure, but he thought he saw her hands move quickly within the basket - then he abandoned the idea as the twin distractions of getting up and not "getting up" at the same time tossed his suspicious thoughts aside. As he scrambled to his feet along with his idiot traveling companion, she walked close, showing no fear.
"It's all right...Prince Doran has many guests. As his mother before him, he opens the Water Gardens to many in need of a brief rest beneath the shade and in the water, and I was almost done with my embroidery anyway. Would you like a tour before you continue on your way to Sunspear?" She continued to natter on, apparently oblivious to the danger she was in - far more than one silly girl's life was at stake if the guards were for a moment aware of her presence! She held out her basket to Bronn, who made a mock-flourish - eliciting another giggle from her - and took her basket with one arm, looping his other through hers. As she stepped into position on his left, she squeaked as Jaime's hidden dagger made itself felt against her side. "Apologies for the rudeness, Miss, but we've no time for tours. Where's the Princess Myrcella?"
Her face combined both fright and indignation at her situation, but she pulled her chin up. "And why should I tell you, and betray my Prince?" A crooked, Lannister smile was her reward as Jaime muttered to her, "Take our word - we're not here to hurt anyone, only to get my - the Princess back. The Queen is sick with worry, convinced that she's in deadly danger. She'll come home for a quick visit, then return when Cersei's convinced it's safe." The girl's jaw dropped, and she sputtered, for once inelegant. "How dare you imply that the Princess might be in danger here! We do many things in Dorne, but we do not hurt little girls, even when we hate their families! I do not often converse with her - I am bastard-born, and it would not be proper - but I see the Princess walking the gardens more days than not, and always merry of mood. I don't know who you think you are, but - " She shushed as Jaime pressed the dagger lightly against her side, a flash of...something...crossing her eyes, only to vanish again before Bronn could be sure it was there.
"Fine. She's this way." They started walking in the direction she pointed, with her angry glare never leaving Jaime's face. Near the archway to the next part of the Gardens, Bronn started to feel dizzy. For another few steps he was able to conceal it, then he started leaning into the girl, who pushed back at him. "Hey, you two - cool it." After a moment, Jaime elaborated. "Bronn...are you sure you're all right? You're sweating an awful lot, all of a sudden." The sellsword's patented smirk reappeared, "Oh aye, wouldn't you be sweating a lot, with a lovely lass like this so close?" The "lovely lass" turned to face him, her scowl rearranging itself into a smile which set her freckles dancing. "Such a flatterer, here I thought all the Northern lads were rude and crude. Like your friend....but he's right. You don't look well - have you been drinking enough water?" His headshake in response was a bad, bad idea - it set his head to spinning, and buckled his knees, and only her quick catch stopped him measuring his length on the grass. She and Jaime eased him down, letting him gently lie onto the grass rather than falling facefirst.
"Quickly, get some water, unless you want to see your accomplice die before you've finished what you came here to do." Her jaw was set, and after a silent battle of wills, Jaime grabbed Bronn's waterskin, stalking over to the fountain and starting to fill it. She looked down at Bronn, her suddenly dark eyes meeting his with a wicked glint. "Well, as Father always said - never let an opportunity to go to waste." He had to grit the next words out past what suddenly felt like a hundredweight keeping his jaws close. "Who...who was your f-father?" A gentle, sweet pat on his forearm belied the steel in her tone. "Shhh....you'll need all your strength, I'm afraid." The next words were far more belaboured than even heatstroke should account for..."Op-opp....tunity?"
Her hair, so blond and bright in the sunlight, shook at him. Presumably, her head did too, but his eyes didn't want to do as he bid..."Oh no, Lannister hireling. I poisoned you, of course. What else is a poor, innocent girl to do, to revenge herself on her father's murderers? I'm not the spearwoman my eldest sister is, nor half the dagger specialist that Nym. But don't worry, you'll meet them soon enough..."
The last fleeting impression Bronn felt as he spiraled down into darkness was her hair, growing brighter and brighter, til even the sun paled beside it...