Wilting ♞ Sandor Clegane

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Silence fell between them. "I took the job by choice you know," he said it too casually for Anya's liking and with a shrug of his shoulders, "otherwise it would've been Trant and a sword through the heart instead of an arrow to the shoulder." Her shoulders sagged for a moment at the realization.

Their stride had slowed until Anya halted. The sellsword stopped in his tracks a moment later. "I'm not thanking you," she bit back. Bronn smirked, "Wouldn't expect you to," he quipped, walking ahead to catch up with Podrick Payne.

The Dragonpit had changed since Sandor had brought her in the middle of the night. The burnt skulls of the victims from the Spring Fever had been removed, the stone floor repaired to some degree, and the caving doomed roof had been removed completely. Only small dragon skulls remained, and they had been swept to the side. It seemed as if they had gone through great effort to make the decaying pit presentable.

The wight had been enough to prove the truth of the threat. When it raced toward Cersei the fear in her eyes was palpable, and that had been enough to start negotiations on the impending truce. Though when she demanded neutrality from Jon, Anya felt her throat constrict, he had, perhaps foolishly, already proclaimed his allegiance to Daenerys Targaryen.

There was silence once more. Daenerys, Davos, Cersei, Jaime, and everyone else in attendance turned to look at Jon. But the King in the North drew in a heavy breath and looked back toward the gate from which they had entered. "I am true to my word, or I try to be," for a moment Anya had to remind herself that it was not Ned speaking, it was Jon. "That is why I cannot give you what you ask. I cannot serve two queens." He looked between Dany and Cersei, one shocked, the other infuriated. "I have already pledged myself to Queen Daenerys of House Targaryen." Between the fallen expression on the Dragon Queen's face and Cersei's cold indifference, Anya knew that they had now truly failed.

"Then there is nothing left to discuss. The dead will come north first. Enjoy dealing with them. We will deal with whatever is left of you," Cersei stood from her seat and turned in stride back toward the keep. She took a handful of steps in haste but stopped in her tracks, her party stopped as well. When the proclaimed Queen of the Seven Kingdoms turned, she wore a smirk that could only be conjured by someone unequivocally mad. "Oh wait," there was mirth and satisfaction in her words as if she had planned this all along. Jon straightened and Daenerys looked up from her clasped hands, "perhaps there is a way I can ensure your cooperation with the crown."

There was silence within the Dragonpit. Cersei looked over the traitors in her presence, her gaze lingering on one in particular. She had them in the palm of her hand and should she wish it they could all be crushed. Cersei Lannister pointed toward Anya Whent. "She stays."

The words didn't seem real. Sandor stepped up behind her, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "What?" Jon questioned in disbelief. Anya seemed oddly calm at the prospect of becoming a political hostage again. A pawn in the great game of thrones. She knew how to navigate the treachery of King's Landing. "Lady Anya will remain here in King's Landing as assurance that neither of you will try to take the throne until the enemy in the North is dealt with."

"No!" The King in the North exclaimed. He was willing to barter with the Lannisters to come to an agreement, but using his aunt, the woman who had raised a motherless bastard, was not something he could do. Not even if it meant ten thousand more blades to fight the enemy to the north. Anya Whent gripped onto Jon's hand. "If this is what it takes then I will stay," her voice was low, dangerous almost.

He looked at his aunt and up to the Hound, as if asking him to do something. There was a second's glance cast in the Dragon Queen's direction but she sat motionless, the surprise in her lilac eyes thinly veiled. "I'm not leaving you in the lion's den."