Defyra
Her shoes echoed in the corridor as she made her way to the gardens, where ladies of the court tended to congregate and gossip. Laughter sounded through the archway that led to the gardens. Defyra stepped through and was greeted by the sight of two young ladies seated at a table under a canopy.
"Oh, hello, Lady Defyra!" said Lady Grace, the young brunette girl she had met in the gallery.
"Hello! I'm Lady Bethany." said the platinum blonde girl across from her.
"It's a pleasure to meet you. What are we talking about?"
"Pull up a chair and join us watching the little princes practicing archery."
Joffrey and Tommen were out on the lawn practicing in front of a large target. Their guards stood nearby looking bored out of their minds. Defyra watched a tall armored man talking to Joffrey, only for the boy to snap angrily at him. The man rolled his eyes and cut his gaze at the ladies, averting his gaze again after noticing his audience. As he turned his head, she noticed that the right side looked as if it had the texture of a melted candle.
"That poor man getting yelled at," mumbled Defyra.
"That's Sandor Clegane, or The Hound. He's sworn sword to the Royal family. Pretty gruff fellow, but nothing like his brother the Mountain. That man is monstrous." said Lady Bethany.
Attention was on Joffrey as he aimed, shot his arrow, and missed. He lobbed his quiver in the direction of the Hound, but it landed with feet to spare from reaching the man. The Hound looked largely unbothered. Defyra held back a laugh.
"I've heard plenty of tales about the Mountain. His Keep is not too far from my late uncle's land in Silverhill and they say some nights you can hear screams echoing in the hills coming from the Keep. " said Defyra, absent-mindedly watching the Hound coach Tommen on how to properly hold his crossbow.
Lady Bethany nodded. "I've heard tales as well. He's the one that killed Elia Martell and her children. Her husband was the king who knighted him. Not to mention, they say he regularly kills servants in cold blood. Terrible."
"Mmm," agreed Lady Grace. "He's the one that gave the Hound that big nasty burn. Or so they say."
Defyra nodded thoughtfully at Lady Grace's statements. She found her gaze stuck on the brooding Hound instead of the spectacle of the young princes' target practice.
"To think of the type of trauma that man must have gone through, having a brother like that," she mused.
"He's always been quick to protect our Royal family over the years as their guard," said Lady Grace. "He's been here ever since the death of his father."
"By the Seven, no wonder he looks so gloomy. My ladies, while we are on the subject of men, may I inquire who is the most eligible?" Asked Defyra, smirking.
A good hour was spent discussing the men of King's Landing.
--
A few evenings later, a maid had come to fetch her, telling her that her presence was requested at the Queen's chambers.
Upon approaching the door, she overheard strains of conversation.
"...and you will not suggest any more outlandish men as matches. Am I clear?"
"You must relax, sister. I admit Ser Loras is a bit out there, but the others I believe would be good given the chance."
Cersei made a huffing noise which quickly turned to a smile as the maid opened the door for Defyra.
"Please come in, dear. Tyrion was just leaving."
"Am I not allowed to stay?" Tyrion mock-pouted.
"No. Lady Defyra would surely not want you privy to her private affairs."
"Unless…?" Tyrion turned to Defyra, raising a suggestive brow.
Defyra had been silently watching the sibling banter, trying not to smirk. Now, she let a smirk loose.
"Pardon me, my Lord, but I agree with Her Grace that she and I should speak alone."
"Very well. Your Grace. My Lady. I bid you both goodnight."
Once the door closed behind Tyrion, Cersei sat and gestured for her to do the same.
"Have you been finding your stay pleasant?"
"Yes, Your Grace, I have made a couple of acquaintances."
"Any potential matches?" Prodded Cersei.
"At the moment, no. None of the men that have spoken to me so far have made a big impression."
"If you're picking your own man, you'll have quite a bit of talking to do."
"I believe you, Your Grace. I feel like I have been carrying most conversations."
Cersei turned to her maid. "Fetch us more wine. A jug of sweet red."
"Actually, Your Grace, would you terribly mind if I stepped out to fetch it? It is about time for it to be inventoried and I like to be hands on."
"Alright. Please take your time, dove." Defyra curtsied.
Sandor
"Pardon me."
The Hound's large frame was currently blocking most of the doorframe to the wine cellar as he exited with a wine jug and goblet in hand to take to his chambers. He turned and laid eyes upon the fiery-locked Redwyne girl, but still didn't move.
"My Lady. What are you doing around here this late in the evening?" He asked gruffly. He did not like the thought of her coming across the events happening in the cellar at that very moment.
"The Queen has requested a jug of sweet red and I've come to collect it for her." Her voice was light and pleasant as she spoke.
"Has her maid broken her leg?" His gaze swept over her form, noting the wine jug she held in her hands. She looked up at him, puzzled.
"No...I offered to fetch it so that I could take inventory of how many barrels are in stock to make sure they made the journey and that we're not lacking. If it's been plundered then we'll need to send for more." Defyra made to step past him, but he side-stepped in front of her. Her green eyes met his dark ones as she stopped short. To her credit, she didn't look outwardly scared of him, instead started to look annoyed.
"You may not want to go down there, My Lady," he insisted.
"Why not?" She lifted her chin defiantly, staring up at him. He faintly admired her resolve.
"Some cunts are down there drinking and carrying on with pleasant company. Not a scene for a lady such as yourself," said the Hound.
"W-what?" Defyra exclaimed, baffled. "In the cellar?!"
"Get one of the kitchen lads to do that shit for you. Don't go down there." He took a small step forward, and she in turn took a step back, yet she still pressed.
"I'm very concerned for the integrity of the wine." He would have laughed if he could. He expected her to get upset at his language, but instead she was worried about her wine!
"Your own integrity is what you should worry about. Boy!" He called to a passing squire. He looked startled to be addressed by the Hound and cautiously approached, looking curiously between them. "Lady Redwyne needs a jug of sweet red to be delivered to the Queen's quarters and a count of how many barrels are left. Make it quick."
"Right away, Clegane. I can't have my sweet sister going down there with the drunks. I appreciate you considering her safety," said the squire. Sandor blinked in surprise. The man turned to his sister. "Give that here, Def, I'll be back in a bit." He took her jug and carefully skirted around the Hound's large frame before going down the cellar stairs.
"That's your brother," said Sandor. He vaguely remembered the redhead squire following Ser Barristan.
"Yes." She was still looking up at him, amusement glittering in her eyes. She seemed much too naive to be in a place like this.
"Best have him do that stuff while you're here. You should stay in the main corridors. There's no place for you in the dark." He stepped past her into the corridor.
"I--thank you, Ser Clegane," she said, calling from behind him. He paused and looked back at her, feeling his brow furrow with concern.
"Don't call me Ser. I'm no knight. Just watch yourself around King's Landing." He caught a glimpse of her green eyes alight with interest before he turned and walked off.
Defyra
Denys returned a short while later with a full jug. "I'll carry this for you. Let's talk on the way. So...do you think the Hound will be your first suitor?"
"I doubt that. He was just being decent," she said, remembering the concern in his eyes.
To her surprise, her brother laughed.
"Decent? Dear sister, the Hound isn't decent. I've heard the man curse Ser Meryn up one side of a wall and down another. Might even have maimed him had Ser Barristan not interfered."
"He does seem to like vulgar words," she giggled.
"Of course you'd find that funny."
"Both you and I have grown up around the sailors of the fleet. His mouth is just as colorful as theirs," she said, shrugging with a smile.
"Do me a favor and please do not become the lady at court with the dirty mouth," said Denys.
"I make no promises."
-
Defyra returned to the Queen's chambers with the full jug and handed it off to the maid.
"I trust you found everything well?"
"Yes, Your Grace. I will send a raven in the morning and have them ready the next shipment for next week." She accepted a glass of wine from the maid.
"Excellent. I admire your business prowess. That is something a man may never take from you."
"Thank the Seven. Some men like to overextend their reach." Cersei smiled in amusement at that.
"I am reassured that your time here will be spent well. I was worried, I'll admit, with how you would be received here."
"I've found my time pleasant so far. The other ladies have been welcoming. The men are cordial, but not very talkative."
"Some are intimidated by a woman that uses her mind."
"What can you tell me about Sandor Clegane, Your Grace?"
Cersei swallowed her sip of wine rather loudly.
"He's been our family's sworn shield for years...although he does not hold any land of his own. All of it belongs to his brother Ser Gregor."
"I see. He seems like an interesting man."
Cersei was silent for a moment, sipping her wine.
"It's best to hang up your interest in him now before you are disappointed," she said quietly. "He will never be able to give you what you need. That is the unfortunate truth."
"It is unfortunate," said Defyra, taking a long drink. Cersei fixed her with a sympathetic expression.
"Marry a respected Lord with a good amount of land. Have a couple of children and watch them grow. Give them your red hair and your brilliant mind. That's all you need to do."
Defyra nodded, yet got lost in thought as the rest of the time Cersei spent naming various Lannisters with sons.