He taunted, goaded and insulted her at every turn, testing her and her honor. But the truth escaped from him little by little as the time goes by.
She stands firm, immovable on her beliefs; at least it seems so at first. The taunts rebuked, or ignored as inconsequential, though more than once he could see the hurt, the wariness. Sometimes he exploited it, reveled on the pain his words (the truth) caused, others (more frequent as time moves) he can’t help but jest in good humor trying to wipe the remnants of pain that don’t suit her face.
(Red does, Lannister red of her blush of embarrassment, of anger, even the red blood that runs from her sword to her hands)
They evolve together, changing each other, becoming clay and fire, water and metal, by turns being creature and creator. He wonders sometimes what he will end as and what she will be. Wonders if the change will ever truly end, if they would become complementary or mirror images in a more twisted way than what had happened with Cersei.