Naveena LANNISTER :||: Queen Series #2

Prologue

Naveena
Clang. Clang. Slice.

Clang. Clang. Slice.

Metal striking upon metal, blades crossing flesh. Blood splattered all over the walls, the floor, the chairs, the tables. I remember the front of my dress was covered in it, my hands stained with the memory of our baby. Our baby.

A tightness throbbed in my chest, my heart rate starting to rise as the memories came flooding back in. Hot tears blessed my cheeks, but my eyes wouldn't open, I couldn't stop reliving my nightmare of nightmares. Why had this happened? How had this happened? I physically felt my soul tearing in two while I knelt over the dead body of my husband.

Sunlight blinded me as my eyelids fluttered open, making me flinch. Blinking rapidly to readjust my eyesight, a green canopy of leaves rustled in the wind above, the smell of smoke registering in my mind along with the crackle of a fire. Trying to sit up, I hissed as pain seared across my abdomen.

"No, no, no, no, miss." A face appeared suddenly in my line of vision, my hands instinctively going for their throat, but their large ones easily caught my own. "Now now, m'lady, please be still."

Getting a good look at my captor, I recognised the shaggy golden hair of a Lannister, but instead of green, handsome brown eyes were looking down at me with concern. The lad couldn't be much older than I was. "It's Your Grace," I snapped. My tone came out colder than even I intended, more distant, removed from myself like my voice was a separate thing from my body I used to wield against the world. "I'm alive, making me queen, unless someone else has claimed my throne?"

His grip tightened around my wrists when I tried wriggling my legs free, but he had one knee firmly holding them down and I knew I was far too weak with injury to fight back. "Sorry, your majesty." His tone turned mocking with a hint of annoyance. "I wouldn't rip your stitches out, if I were you, you've lost quite a lot of blood. I'll help you sit up, if you like?" I looked at him strangely and he laughed. "I have orders from Lord Tywin Lannister to deliver you safely to King's Landing alive... but without Stark's heir, that's why you weren't killed at the wedding."

A jolt racked my body at the mention of that night. "You sowed me up? A wound like that should have killed me." That jolt had left an empty abyss of lack of emotion behind.

He shrugged modestly. "Orders are orders." Raising an eyebrow signalled I wanted more information. "I had one of the most talented maesters in Westeros tutor me, I wanted to follow in their noble footsteps, but unfortunately, here I am."

"Unfortunately?"

"Well," He smirked, finally that arrogant Lannister attitude coming out in him. "I do get to see the prettiest face in the kingdom."

Trying not to roll my eyes, I gripped his arm as he helped me sit up and took the cup of stew he passed to me. "You really don't know how to play the kidnapper, do you?"

This time he laughed. "I'm not really into that, more the charmer."

"Mmm," I hummed into my cup. "Like most of you Lannisters. So, how long was I out?"

"About a week."

I almost choked on the hot meal. "A week?!"

He nodded and gestured to my midriff. "A wound like that needs time to heal. It's going to leave a nasty scar."

"All the more to show it off." I forced a grin, knowing it was not warm or teasing, but cruel and wicked. "Tell me how it happened?"

He paused, thinking it over carefully before clearing his throat. "Tywin offered Frey and Bolton more than you, I suppose. Everything occurred on his orders. Lord Waldar Frey is now Lord of the Crossing, Riverrun and Lord Paramount of the Trident."