ੈ✩‧₊˚ In which Lyanna Stark and Robert Baratheon did have a daughter; Nadia Baratheon. But bastards don't hold a claim to the throne. Especially when they're born a woman.
And now that her father is gone and the problematic family that is the L...
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𓆩∘ ₊˚ˑ𐂂༄ؘ꙳𓆪 Chapter 3: The price of freedom ────────────────
NADIA BARATHEON
━━━"HAVE you gone mad?!" Unmistakable anger surges through me like fire dances on lumber. "I'm genuinely curious at the fact." I say with the hint of sarcasm.
"I don't need a lecture from you." Tyrion's back slumps deeper and deeper into the edge of his cell. A downcast look on his usually confident face. "Not here and now."
"I have the guards outside imploring me not to walk in here in case you try to hurt me." I point a finger at the closed wooden door. His turmoil had such an impact that everyone now feared what he was capable of.
"Yes, because I would do such a thing to my niece."
"After the speech you just gave? Threatening the people—the whole court? You have given them no other alternative of what to believe of you!"
"Oh please, they have always believed me to be the same thing!" He shouts back at me with poison at the tip of his tongue. "Don't deny the fact that I'm more dwarf, more demon than man to any of them."
"So you respond with violence and threats?" I cross my hands across my chest as disappoint-ment clouds my mind. "I thought you to be wiser than that."
His curls shift as his head falls. A look of pain reaching across him. "What would you have had me do? Let them send me to The Wall for a crime I did not commit?"
"As opposed to a trial by combat? Yes!" I say exasperated. "You'd live!"
"It is done!" He shouted his. Rough hands massaging his thick brows in order to rid of a headache, I assume. A headache I've possibly been the cause of. "There's nothing you can do now to change it. Just— allow me to get some sleep we'll speak more tomorrow."
"I won't be here by the end of tomorrow."
His head lifts faster than the wind itself. Before he can form a question with a confused complexion I speak again. "I'm Walder Frey's betrothed. I'm to leave for The North tomorrow at first light." My head stays low and my eyes face anything but his own.
The whole ordeal was embarrassing. Me, a princess, being sent over as a prize for an old man with a wicked heart. No detest or contradiction expected from my part at the end of the matter. "No, i-it's far too early for that business. I'm yet to speak with Father—" He says.
