The sun was blistering but under a shaded canopy in the gardens, it felt nice enough to read. From the Red Keep's vast collection of books, she had chosen a detailed recollection of the history of Westeros before the War of Conquest. The title had worn off, some pages were ripped, the ink was fading, and there was no sign of the author's signature anywhere within the text; she treated the book with the utmost reverence recognizing that it was likely the only one in the realm. The Children of the Forest were the original inhabitants of Westeros; they're hard to describe — human-like but not fully human. This was thousands and thousands of years ago. Then came the First Men.
Jaime Lannister had come to a stop in front of Anya. He wore the gilded armor of the Kingsguard, a crisp white cloak dusting along the stone though by the end of the day it would be tainted. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword. The kingslayer watched her as she placed a strip of fabric in the book to mark the page and couldn't help but think of how her actions resembled his brother's. "Ser Jaime," she greeted, clearly annoyed by the disruption his presence had caused.
"Lady Anya, you're beginning to look like a southern lady." No doubt he was looking at the sendal teal-green dress with its heavily embroidered neckline and long flowing sleeves of some diaphanous fabric she could not name. "I've heard you're fond of dogs?" Anya opened her mouth to reply but the kingslayer continued, "May I suggest visiting the kennels? There's a new litter of pups. Or perhaps it's a different kind of dog you're fond of." Anya's brows furrowed, it was taking every ounce of her control not to strike Jaime Lannister for such a remark. She went to speak but he took a step back and bowed contemptuously, "Pardon me, my lady, duty calls." Then he was gone.
Anya hugged the old book to her chest as she left the gardens in a graceful fury. By the gods, I need to punch something. She returned the book to the library and set off to some secluded place to calm her flaring temper. Her distress, however, had not gone unnoticed. Jory Cassel had been conversing with a member of the City Watch when he saw her. He came to her side with concern on his face. "My lady?"
She jumped, alarmed at his sudden manifestation. "Jory!" The panic subsided as did her anger, "Take a walk with me?" It was a question yet he responded as if it had been a command. He offered the Whent girl the crook of his arm and she looped her arm through his. They had passed through the gardens in silence and soon reached a pier that jutted into the Narrow Sea.
"Is something wrong?" Jory asked. He placed his hand over her own, only then did she notice he had removed the leather gloves he was so keen on wearing while on duty. Anya shook her head, "No, I just needed some fresh air is all," of course that had been a lie. There were a hundred things wrong at any given moment in this hellish city, almost all of them could be solved by going north. "I don't like it here." Jory squeezed her hand. I want to go home.
She stole him away from the Red Keep, below its towering red walls to the rocky shoreline that turned into a sandy cove, secluded from the world. Unlike the rest of King's Landing, this sanctuary was unpolluted. Jory scanned the horizon before him was open water. Only a handful of ships could be seen leagues from shore. Anya flopped down onto the sand rather ungracefully, Jory seated himself next to her.
The two stared out at the sea and listened to the gentle breaking of waves against the shore. The sea was the best place. It was what she loved most in this hellish city. It was a feeling of freedom like no other, and yet a feeling of communion with all the other places and creatures the water touched. The simple fact that somewhere as pure as this little cove could exist in the cesspit of King's Landing was astonishing. "How did you find this place?"
Anya pulled her sandals off and burrowed her toes into the sand, "By chance. I like reading here in the early morning," she replied in a hushed tone.
"After you train or before?" She flushed realizing that Jory had watched her train. For some odd reason it felt strange to know he had watched her, even though they had trained together as children. "After" she smiled, standing. Anya pulled the pins from her hair causing honey curls to cascade down her back. Jory looked at her oddly before he realized she was loosening the strings of her bodice.
"What are you doing?" Jory stood, wiping off the sand that stuck to the stitching of his leather doublet and pants. "Lady Anya?" His cheeks had already gone red before the loose gown had fallen from her shoulders, leaving her in small clothes with a thin white chemise.
The spray of breaking waves kissed her cheeks and the surf tickled her toes before she dared to stroll further into the water. Honeyed curls stuck to her damp neck and face as she looked back over her shoulder at Jory. "Swimming. Are you just going to stand there?" Amusement and challenge were laced in her tone.
"We're not children anymore, my lady," childhood had been years ago and was cut short by Robert's Rebellion, even Benjen could not live out his remaining days of youth when Ned went to fight. Anya wanted to feel that freedom and carelessness again, she longed for it. Sansa and Arya would be with Septa Mordane and Ned with the small council, time had not presented a better opportunity. They could truly be young again.
"No one is here to see, Jory." She fell into the water's embrace. It was cool but not cold like the rivers and lakes of the North. Theon had fallen into a river while he was still a child, not even the Drowned God could have swum against the rushing current. Anya had gone after him and the cold cut through her like a thousand knives and it had burned.
The waves were calm, the current steady, and the sun warm. Having almost forgotten Jory on the small beach, his presence next to her was startling. Anya circled around him, treading water as it was over her head. "Do you remember the summer it was abnormally warm and we'd all go the Acorn Water?" He nodded but was still caught off guard when she bounded onto his shoulders to push him below. Jory pulled her under the water by her arm. She broke the surface spluttering and shoved his shoulder, laughing.
For a time they were children again, careless and free. The water had a way of washing away the woes of life. Her toes just touched the sand but Jory held her up and absently she laid her head on his shoulder while the waves pushed and pulled against them.
"Forgive me for what I'm about to do, Jory." His eyes widened right before her lips brushed over his. She only wanted to try it one more time, to see if age had somehow made it feel right. Jory clutched her hips, the sopping material of her shift was balled in his fists. Anya could feel the scar just below his eye beneath her fingertips. Kissing him felt good but not right. Her forehead rested on his as the color of shame overtook her cheeks. "Anya," he breathed.
"Is that what I have to do so you'll say my name?" She laughed despite how her bottom lip trembled.
Jory pushed back the hair that clung to her cheek, running his thumb over her jawline affectionately. "I think we are only meant to be friends," his breathy words still caressed her lips.
Anya put an inch more of distance between them, she glanced at his shoulders where her hands still lay. "I must agree with you," she conceded. Not lovers, only friends.
"If I may be so bold, you've gotten better at kissing," Jory bit down on his lip to stop a large grin from overtaking his features.
"Is that so?" She tried to appear shocked, offended even, but he spoke truly. Their first kiss had been all teeth and tongue and clumsy. The second had been sweeter but no less practiced as Jory bit her lip in their haste. In an instant, any awkwardness was gone and they were each laughing as old friends did. She waded toward the shore with Jory trailing behind her.
Her crème colored shift had gone near transparent but the thin material would be quick to dry in the wind, Jory's woolen smallclothes still dripped water, though. It would be a chore to make herself presentable for being seen in the Keep, even if it was just to walk back to the Hand's Tower. After she had dressed and righted her hair once more she went to Jory and began tying the laces of his leather doublet as he had already donned an undershirt and mail shirt once more.
"Do you remember what my favorite sweet is?" Anya couldn't say why she had suddenly asked him. A piece of her mind said it was because she hadn't seen Sandor in what must have been a fortnight and as absurd as it seemed, she missed their late night tavern visits.
"Honey cakes?" Jory furrowed his brows for a moment, "Or is it apple roses?" He hadn't sounded sure of either response.
Anya felt her heart drop with disenchantment, "Cherry tarts are my favorite." It was wrong of her to compare Jory to him. She knew it was wrong. She had known Jory for nine-and-ten years. They had played, hunted, and trained together yet in all that time he never learned the little things about her as Benjen had. And then along came Sandor Clegane though, with his formidable reputation and baleful look that frightened many, and somehow he already knew her in only a matter of months.
Anya and Ned walked at each other's sides, his presence was required at the small council and she had seen it as an opportunity to leave the watchful eye of Jory Cassel since he had caught her sneaking out of her room to head to the cellars two nights prior.
Before she could deliver her brother to the room and take her leave the queen had stepped out from behind a pillar and motioned that Lord Stark's presence was not required for the occasion, "Lady Stark, would you be so kind as to walk with me?" Queen Cersei Lannister wore her hair down in golden curls, those that fell before her fair face were pinned back. Anya lowered her head out of respect, "Of course, your grace." The Whent girl went alongside the queen, the woman she was overly suspicious of and had begun to hate from the events that had taken place on the Kingsroad, yet this was a time to act a lady and so she did as she was trained.
The draping sleeves of the queen's gown dusted the along the floor when her hands were clasped before her, as there were now. Anya was painfully aware of her less than presentable appearance, instead of her usual dresses she wore breeches and a flowing tunic that had been belted at the waist, her hair was a frenzy of curls and knots. Compared to the queen she was laughable. "How is King's Landing treating you?" Cersei had led her to a secluded balcony that overlooked Blackwater Bay. The dark water was uncharacteristically calm, only gentle swells broke against the brick, an ill feeling came over Anya as she felt the queen's gaze on her.
"Very well, admittedly there are many differences from home," she missed Winterfell, but most of all she missed the people within the stone walls. Robb, Rickon, and Bran, her heart still had a certain ache to it when she thought of Bran and the fall that had led to him being crippled, though most of all she missed Jon. The bastard son of Ned whom Catelyn had never accepted, Anya remember nights when the babe would wake, crying, and she would be the one to calm him. She dearly missed the white wolf.
The queen could see the longing in her guest's grey eyes as she looked to the horizon. When Anya looked at the queen the sincerity in her jade eyes was almost believable. "I am glad to hear it," Cersei laid her smooth hands on the stone railing and immediately Anya felt the need to conceal her scarred and hardened hands from sight, "And the tournament, did you enjoy it?"
The little Lady nodded, "I did, your grace," she paused for a moment and thought of the conversations that she and Ned had engaged in before the tournament concerning politics and the state of the realm, "though it was an unnecessary extravagance." She seemed to add the last bit as a second thought. Cersei waved her hand and moments later a young serving boy brought forth two cups of red wine, passing them to the queen and her guest. Anya took a hesitant sip of the wine and winced as the liquid burned at her throat, it was an exceptionally strong vintage.
"If you don't mind answering such a question, I would love to know why you have taken an interest in Joffrey's dog," the queen tilted her head to the side and raised a single bloody perfect brow in a manner that was intended to be condescending, bordering on mocking. The Whent girl shook her head and dared to meet the queen's harsh stare, "I fear you misunderstand the rapport between us."
Cersei Lannister laughed, the sound was shrill and out of place and the expression on her fair face did not change, "Even though my eyes and ears inform me that you drink with him quite often at the taverns? You gave him your favour at the Hand's Tourney, playing coy is not a game I recommend here in King's Landing." A lurking threat was surfacing in the queen's voice and Anya decided that she would play along with what Cersei had planned for the time being.
"He is a man of very few words, I find that desirable in a drinking companion, as for my favour, all the other knights had favours and while I know he is not a knight, it seemed a shame to send him off without one," the memory was fresh in her mind from the tourney, he had not wished to participate but it was not his place to question the wishes of a pompous prince and then she remembered the rose he had thrown to her. More than a month had passed and the rose was wilting in the small vase she had put it in but now she would store it between the pages of a book to serve as a token. "A peculiar woman. You know most cannot even bear to look him in the eye?"
The way the Queen spoke of the Hound was appalling to hear for one, such as Anya, who considered herself to be his friend of sorts. Cersei had mocked him, constantly bringing up the disfigurement of his face and laughed at the times she had seen women and men alike scream because of the scarred man. Anya hadn't remembered the exact wording of the question the queen had asked but her reply slipped from her lips before she thought over the words. "People are more than just their skin, your grace. The most scarred people can have the gentlest souls and kindest hearts and sometimes it is the most beautiful that have the blackest of hearts."
The queen's eyes narrowed and darkened at the provoking words yet all she said was a simple, "Indeed." Anya excused herself and went into the city market, finding comfort in the crowds, away from the suffocating red stone of the Keep and away from Cersei Lannister.