Disclaimer: I don't own ASOIAF
To complete this week's double feature, the titular chapter. Enjoy!
019. Toy
I felt like a toy in his presence. He radiated such power, a feeling that created inside me such a fear, and something... Something else. He could stand in the corner of a room and never make a sound, but I'd know he was there. I'd feel his steel gaze keenly in the back of my skull, pinning me in place. I felt like I was being controlled, like a puppet - I was always being pulled and pushed around by the others, but he was more skilled. He would watch me, and with his eyes control me, not with clumsy words or violence. With him, I almost felt willing. I didn't mind being his toy, I think.
He kept me so divided in opinion, I never could really form a true and unclouded judgment on him, not until it was too late. He was so polarising in the way he made me feel... I never quite understood it. It was never love... Not in the way mother had said, but he didn't make me scared either, not after I got to know him. I was in the courtyard, walking with the other ladies - some women from High Garden, I think. We weren't causing any harm, rather we were peacefully walking, not disturbing the birds nor the flowers. He appeared, in one of the corridors and in the darkness if the shade, paused there. I caught a glimpse of him and his eyes, and from then I felt his eyes on the back of my head, like an uncomfortable pin in my hair. I almost tripped into one of the ladies and forgot to pay attention to the other as we walked, and when she came to ask me my opinion on the story, I tried to stutter some stock response back, but I couldn't. I made hasty and transparent excuses, and left, feeling his eyes on me, in my very soul, all the while. The two ladies never sought me out again. Not many from High Garden ever did after that.
But then whenever I was with King Joffrey, as I still had to refer to him, he was almost always there with me, the piercing eyes a sudden comfort. He guided me through the conversations, I felt. He put me under the pressure I needed but never was too harsh then, and I felt like I was performing an intricate dance. It was an intricate dance, and I was merely a puppet. His eyes never made me stumble then - they guided me and made me more attentive than ever. I never minded being his puppet then, and when I'd been released from the stuffy, clammy and everything else awful chamber, he'd usually be following behind me, waiting until we were far enough away to walk beside me, with peaceful silence, or stifling conversation. I felt at a loss without him. I didn't mind being his puppet really - I don't think I did anyway.
As all things go in this gods forsaken world now, after my father was... Betrayed, he was gone. In the midsts of smoke, and green fire, and sweat, and anger, and fear and terror and drink and blood he came to me - to my room to be more precise - and collapsed, covered in sweat and grime and blood and tinged with fire, more than usual. He spoke to me, with a rougher voice than usual, and spoke to me the question ice always debated:
"Come with me."
And I, being a fool and the bird too long caged and afraid of the fresh air answered with a 'no'. A no that I've always regretted. I watched him leave my room with a regretful feeling crawling at the pit of my stomach, and I've lived with it ever since.
Because now, no matter what happens, I'll never have that puppetry behind me. Even if it was sometimes for the worse, I'll never have the guiding eyes to help me through my trouble. I don't have that respect from anyone in King's Landing, and I can't expect it from anywhere else. I miss him, and I miss feeling like his toy.
Like the sour to sweet, this one is kinda depressing. I'm sorry. I just really like writing dark stuff... Please follow for more and review if you've got time. Thanks!