GROWING STRONG ... j.lannister

chapter two; love lies bleeding

Here, what else is there to do but stare longingly out of the window for a brave knight to save you?

"You do enjoy that window, don't you?" Trevyr leans against the wall beside her, letting his eyes rest on the view. There are acres of hilly land stretching far in front of them. Some towns are dotted here and there in between, but mostly there are green hills and staggering forestry.

Where are all the pretty flowers?

"I like the breeze."

Caecilia is a bad liar.

"Yes, that I can understand. It's just gentle enough, isn't it?"

Trevyr is as unobservant as one can get.

Three months she has been here. Three months of endless conversations that do not go further than, oh yes I enjoy the view. Oh yes, I enjoy the food. Oh yes, I enjoy, I enjoy, I enjoy. Three months of laying in bed as he ruts into her, absolutely spoiled for any other man since the loss of her maidenhood by a lion with swordsman's hands, staring at the ceiling as he spills his seed inside, hoping that it will stick. Three months of staring out of this window. Of writing letters to her mother begging to be saved. Of aching for one last glance at golden hair in the distance.

Trevyr smiles as he sits on the windowsill by her feet. His hair is tousled from the hunt and when he shoots her a kind grin, it is a rather beautiful sight. He would be the perfect husband for some women. But not her. Not when she has known the sun.

His fingers graze over her bare ankle, slipped past the long skirts she hikes up around her knees when she is alone. His touch is cold after being out all morning, and she jolts at first at the sudden touch. Trevyr only wants her at night.

That is their duty.

"Do you miss home?"

She nods. His eyes are a soft brown, tinged with little hints of green and amber. She barely looks at him enough to notice. He nods too and leans his head against the cool stone, letting his fingers continue tracing patterns into the skin of her ankle. It is oddly soothing. Nobody has ever been this soft with her before.

"There is nowhere like Highgarden. Nowhere as beautiful, as warm. Everyone is your friend, your family. The flowers grow like there is nothing that can mow them down and the sun shines even when the rain clouds gather." She lets out a long sigh as she tears her gaze away from Trevyr and back to the craggy hills making up her view. It is so dull. "Here, I'm rather bored."

"I thought that would be the case."

His fingers graze softly off of her skin as he stands. She barely glances at him as he rounds the room, picking up their discarded nightwear. Caecilia has been here since breakfast and she has refused to let any of the handmaidens come to clean. She will do it herself when she can muster up the energy.

"I have a gift for you."

Her head snaps towards him. He has only ever gifted her with something on the night of their wedding, just before he lay her down on the bed. He clasped a pretty gold necklace with emeralds hanging from it around her neck and she has yet to replace it with another, rather fond of the delicate floral detailing carved into the gold. Her fingers dance over the oval emeralds.

Trevyr swings open the door and in steps a familiar Highgarden handmaiden. Her deep brown skin faintly glows in the soft sun shining through the window, still carrying the Highgarden shine that had died in Caecilia not even a week after arriving at her new home. Her tight black curls are half pulled up in a bun on the back of her head and the rest fall around her neck and to her shoulders, bouncing along with every delicate step she takes. She wears a dress the colour of calla lilies, twisted around her neck and falling lightly around her feet so that it flows like a petal along the surface of water.