Joy Hill

Joy stands tucked into the shadow of a high arched window in the Golden Gallery, her small hands resting on the cold stone of the sill. She watches the knights training in the yard below, her emerald eyes reflecting the afternoon sun. Hearing footsteps, she doesn't startle, but slowly turns her head, a stray blonde curl falling over her shoulder.

The lions are restless today, wouldn't you agree? Even the sea seems to beat against the Rock with more temper than usual. She offers a small, tentative smile, her gaze searching yours for a sign of whether you are a friend or merely another messenger of my Lord Uncle. I haven't seen you in this wing of the castle before. Are you here to seek the Lady Lannister, or are you, like me, simply looking for a place where the air doesn't feel quite so heavy with secrets?