There were two babes in the Tower of Joy.
Two babes tied so closely to their parents, Ned had to make the decision.
One with hair like raven feathers, eyes as grey as steel, and a face of a true Stark. The other, with hair like moonlight, eyes lik...
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Rhaenar thought it best if she was to meet with Tyrion Lannister under better circumstances, the tension of the fighting pits perhaps having gotten to her head a little bit, and especially after seeing Ser Jorah. Emotion still seemed to swirl in her, never ending as she rested her hand around a goblet of wine, taking a deep sip. The taste was bitter to her tongue, but at least her companion wasn't. "So, have you made your choice yet on if you deem me worthy?" She'd asked it to Oberyn before, and Rhaenar only hoped she would get a similar answer.
"Have you decided yet whether you're going to have me killed?" Tyrion retaliated, smiling over his own cup.
She thought for a moment. "I'm not a butcher, Tyrion, I don't wish to kill those around me unless they give me good reason to do so; despite it possibly being the better option." They had set themselves just shy of the larger balcony, the dying rays of the day filtering across the table.
"I can see why you would think so." Her brows quirked up quickly before resting back where they were. "It's what your father would have done." Her father, the Mad King; that left a bitter taste in her mouth.
"Everyone always insists on bringing that up." Rhaenar mused, Tyrion watching her with a particular glint in his eye. Before him wasn't the same Queen as yesterday, gone was the fire of irritation and instead replaced by a glance of melancholy. The face reminded him of the boy in the North, the same way their eyes shifted glancing away in irritation.
"I'll give you a piece of advice, - as you asked me to advise you;" He didn't dare call her a bastard, he was already skating on thin ice. "Never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armour... and it can never be used to hurt you." It took her a moment to take it in, her face recoiling as the words fully hit her.
Her indigo eyes shifted, shooting him a look. "And is that in reference to being a bastard, or for being the Mad King's Daughter?" He smirked at her, the green glinting. "I suppose it doesn't really matter, they are one and the same. Where do you even come up with this horseshit?"
That got her a chuckle. "Do you know, I said that once to the Bastard of Winterfell, he too was rather offended at it." Bastard of Winterfell? Must have been notorious to be a bastard of a place; she was only ever the Mad King's bastard.
