ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ ɢɪʀʟ ━ ᴊ. ᴠᴇʟᴀʀʏᴏɴ

FOUR

~ FOUR ~

|| FURY OF FLAME ||

After Anya had sliced Vaemond's head off her powers, she ran out of the throne room and back to her chambers, slamming the door and locking the door handle. She breathed ever so quickly, trying to calm her ever-rapid glowing hands. "Shit. Shit."

"God. God, what did I do?" she thought, trying to rack her brain through all the possibilities. She then looked into the mirror and saw her eyes lighten from their natural grey colour to their siren blue colour.

"Fuck. Shit, no. This cannot be happening, not now!." she ran back over to her nightstand and drank a vial of red liquid, which calmed down the colour of her eyes, disappearing back to its normal grey colour.

She then heard a knock on the door, allowing it to open slowly, revealing to be the Prince of Dragonstone, Jacaerys.

"My Prince." Anya stuttered gingerly. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm worried." said the young Prince, walking into the room and shutting the door behind him, allowing them both privacy. "I saw you run out of the throne room. Are you okay?"

Anya sighed deeply as she looked at the Prince. "I'm fine, Jace. You shouldn't worry about me,"

The Prince chuckled a little as he walked over to her and leaned against the side of the bed, crossing his arms. "Are you sure you're fine? you ran out of there rather quickly," he asked, looking into her grey eyes, noticing a hint of blue still in them.

"And you care, because?" Anya responded as she pushed the Prince away. Her feelings were cold but tender, she was scared of anyone finding the truth about her and her secret. "I'm sorry that was rude. This place, makes me want to hurt people, I hate it here. I just want to go home."

He was taken aback when Anya pushed him away, but he soon composed himself again. "I do care, I care about you a lot," he whispered, looking at her soft face. His expression was soft, as he could tell the weight that the capital was on her. "Do not be sorry, I can't blame you for hating this place. Though I hate it myself, you're not on your own in that. I too want to go home,"

"So you miss Dragonstone?" Anya asked. "But, didn't you grow up here?"

The Prince nodded in response, gently scratching his forehead with his finger. "I did grow up here, most of my life. But I prefer Dragonstone; its vast cliffs, the beautiful sea and its warm weather. Also, it's quiet as well, with fewer people to deal with in the long term." he smiled, still looking into her soft eyes.

"The opposite for me," Anya revealed to the Prince. "Born in King's Landing, on the edge. My father, The Lord Hand, wanted to abandon me here, but my mother, took me up north to Winterfell, and I was raised there for most of my life."

The Prince smirked when she told him that, before looking down at the floor of her room and crossing his arms, thinking of his next words. "Really? So you were raised in the cold north, surrounded by wolves and direwolves,"

The two bastard children talked for a little before Jace interjected their conversation, as he looked at the Stark girl.

The Prince pushed himself from the bed, as he walked slowly over to Anya, standing only a couple inches away from her. He looked into her beautiful grey eyes and then spoke. "Can I ask you a question?" he enquired with a softer tone than before, his hands still crossed.