GROWING STRONG ... j.lannister

chapter one; white lily

WHITE LILY – VIRGINITY & PURITY

A FLOWER is crushed beneath the heel of a glinting boot. Caecilia Tyrell glances up from the open pages of the heavy book sitting in her lap. The sun shimmers on the surface of the fountain water, which lazily flows from the spout hidden in the leaves of marble azaleas behind Caecilia. She watches as his golden hair catches the light when he steps out from under the shade of a tree and pretends she never noticed him in the first place, dropping her eyes back to the history book in front of her.

Jaime Lannister sits beside her on the edge of the fountain, stretching his long legs out in front of him. Caecilia does not look up from her book. His fingers – long and slim like a gifted swordsman's should be – wrap around the edge of the marble and, unconsciously, her eyes flicker towards the movement. She finds herself staring at his hands far more often than she should. The soft veins running along the back, pale blue beneath his warm skin the colour of the freesias planted by the entrance of the spiralling gardens. The tendons clinging to his fingers like puppet strings being controlled by an overbearing master. She wants to tear her gaze away. She cannot. If his hands are this beautiful, does she really stand a chance against the rest of him?

Jaime edges closer. Even if she is staring, very pointedly, at the words on the yellowing pages, she can still make out the warmth of his body leaning closer. He is trying to see what she is reading. If she were to look at him – properly, without getting embarrassed about being caught – she would note the confusion knitting together his eyebrows as he tries, and fails, to string together the fading ink written so long by Maester Gyldayn. His shoulder presses against hers and she wishes, more than anything, that she could sink against him like water against a rock and be carted away into this fairytale land he has so clearly crafted that they live in. If they were to be caught out here, they'd be in big trouble.

"Jaime." His name sits on her tongue like belladonna. It isn't possible, but she is sure his shoulder presses even closer. How can she be so close and so far away at once? Dandelion fluff on the wind, let him catch it between his fingers and blow it away with his mouth. "Jaime, you shouldn't be out here with me."

His hand dances in the space between them. She lets her own fall away from the book until it drops onto the warm marble. The sun has been shining for days, the summer long and sweltering, every layer too heavy in the heat that beats around them. His smallest finger creeps closer to hers until they are pressed together. Deadly nightshade is pushed down her throat and she struggles to swallow it all. His pinkie creeps over hers until they are just barely intertwined. The toxic plant twines around her heart and squeezes. Nettles sting at her stomach. She wants him to hold her fingers between his as he takes her away from this place and to somewhere where they can be together – just them. No family. No older brothers. Or twin sisters. Or mothers watching with narrowed eyes.