Winter Rose.

lxviii.

"I'm surprised he didn't hit you for it." She mused.

Tyrion's head tilted to the side for a moment before straightening back up. "Believe me, Jon Snow came close to it."

Rhaenar laughed, but her indigo eyes grew serious once more. "What would your father have done? If he was presented a gift."

"My father, who publicly sentenced me to death?" The trial to find King Joffrey's killer. "I'd say his thoughts on having me killed were abundantly clear." If that had been the Targaryens, would Aerys have ever sentenced his children to die? Rhaella and Aerys had tried so many times to produce a female heir, surely they couldn't have done that to their own. How any person could raise a hand to their child was beyond her.

"Is that why you tried to kill him? Because he sentenced you to die?" The look that crossed his face told her enough, the rage that simmered in the darkest shades of green as he glanced back to his cup.

He drunk deeply. "Someday if you decide not to execute me, I'll tell you all about why I tried to kill my father. And on that day, should it ever come, we'll need more wine than this."

Perhaps they weren't so different, a shared experience with the wrong sort of people that held influence over their lives. "I know what my father was, and who he was. I know how he got his name, and what he did to deserve it. I may be young, but I am not oblivious, I understand the implications that will be made against me when I cross the Narrow Sea." How many families would be angry at Rhaenar? Raise arms against her purely because of her name. They fought hard to end the Targaryens, to stop any chance of their power, but here she sat, against all odds.

And there Tyrion sat, the odds just as stacked. "So, here we sit. Two terrible children of two terrible fathers." He reached forward, clasping the jug of wine once more before topping up their goblets.

She clasped hers once more. "You think me terrible?" Rhaenar questioned, unsure and surprised at the use of the word.

"I've heard stories." Stories, like the ones from Astapor where she had made the mistake of torching the Masters, and the lies that came from men who wanted to see her reign over. She wasn't oblivious, no ruler was free from slander.

"If you've heard these stories, why would you travel halfway around the world to meet the one they are about?" Rhae tested.

Tyrion just smiled, shaking his head slightly, the honey curls bouncing around the tip of his brows. "To see if you were the right kind of terrible."

"And what kind of terrible would you deem to be the right kind?" Surely there was no such thing as a good terrible.