The wind blew through the high windows of Casterly Rock, bringing with it the salty smell of the sea. Jaime sat on the wide wooden bench in the private lounge, his fingers drumming absentmindedly on the rim of his wine glass. He didn't like this place, these rocks that seemed to squeeze the life out of anyone who dared to live there. Casterly Rock was big, imposing, but to him it was just a prison of gold and vanity.

Elinda entered without knocking, as was her custom. She was wearing a simple dress in shades of green, her hair tied up messy, and carrying a book. Jaime looked up and watched her with a raised eyebrow.

"I didn't know the Rock had hired a septon," he said sarcastically as she approached.

"If I'd probably spend more time praying that you'd make a decent husband," she replied without missing a beat, tossing the book onto the table between them.