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LYNORA. I am a woman of my word, Lord Larys. I do not make these offers heedlessly. LARYS. I'm sure you will reward me when the time is right.
Gnarled, twisted roots filled the entirety of the Stone Garden. Anything else that dared to grow in the cavern had been choked out long ago, until it was but a memory. Only the roots remained, climbing up the walls and nearly spilling into the corridor.
In the center of the cavern stood a weirwood tree, and within the tangle of roots sat a girl.
She nestled herself against the white bark of the weirwood, her fingers skimming over the face carved into its side. One finger touched the red sap that fell from its eyes, and she smiled.
"You know I hate it here."
Lynora Lannister only grinned and straightened up. "When your father is lord paramount of the Westerlands, you can choose where we meet."
The boy that stood in the entryway to the cavern was a Bracken, and therefore a Riverman. Still, she liked to bother him. He was well-read and courteous, and not a terrible companion to have. But he had little love for swords and steel, which only invited further teasing from the other lordlings that trained at Casterly Rock.
"Tell me, Aeron," she said, "why did your uncle send you here if you were never going to pick up a sword?"
The boy flushed. "I just came from the training yard, my lady."
