Chapter one
The dead coldness of the iron swords. She was shivering. Of course she was, for not only it was freezing to the bones in the Throne Room, she would also be one head shorter if anyone found out she, a bastard daughter of the king and brought to this world by a baker's wife, was sitting on the cold iron of the Iron Throne.
IF she was a boy and IF bastards were allowed to inherit positions, she would be sitting here legitimately. But she wasn't, and so she had had to sneak in and risk her life just to sit on this chair for once. She thought it would have felt great, if she weren't risking her life.
'Why did they make this freaking throne so bloody uncomfortable?' She couldn't imagine how one's butt hurt after a whole day of sitting on swords forged into a huge chair. But she had to admit that she was really amazed and impressed by the looks of it.
Even though she was frightened by the risk, she felt powerful and somehow superior on it. She felt her blood connecting with the throne, the royal part of her blood, but then somehow reckoned it was only imagination and not true, as she was not the true heir. She was only a baker's daughter.
She found out about her royal blood some days ago, it was a coincidence and she wasn't supposed to hear it. When she saw a knight of the king's guard talking to her mother, she knew she should turn around and go help her father bake bread or something, but she just couldn't help it.
She stayed there, peeping through the small hole in the wall of her room she had made some years ago, to hear and see what was going on outside without being seen herself. She could still remember each word of the conversation between her mum and the knight.
- What if I told you, I don't want your money? I can raise my daughter without the help of his grace. My husband owns a well-going bakery, and I can raise my children without your money, so get the hell out!
- Well, his grace wants you to take the money. And if you don't take it, I'll have to shove it down your throat.
- What am I gonna do with it? I can't just go to my husband and tell him: 'Hey, look, I got money from the king, because he found out I had a kid with him, and he now wants to take care of it. Oh, and by the way, Aryana isn't your daughter; she's the king's bastard.
- I don't bloody care what you do with the freaking money, just take it, so I can go home and at least try to get a good night of sleep.
Her mother then took the money and turned around, whispered something she couldn't understand through the walls, and then entered the house. She was shocked at first. And till now no one knew. No one but the king, herself, her mum, this knight, and Rodrick.
Rodrick was her best friend. He had always been. She couldn't even remember how she met him, they had just always known each other. They had sticked through a lot together. He solaced her when she had blisters on her hands from her work at the bakery. He cried with her when her puppy died. He shared every apple he stole during the hunger crisis with her. He was like a big brother to her. He also was a prick!
When she told him, that she was the daughter of king Joffrey, he dared her to enter Red Keep and the throne room and sit on the Iron Throne. He knew she'd do it and risk her life doing it. She was stubborn and she hated people telling here she was a chicken. 'Cause she wasn't! Aryana was brave, at least as brave as guys her age, and ten times as skilled.
She and Rodrick had always climbed. Tried to sneak in the castle's kitchen and steal some apple pie, tried to watch the highborn lords and princes practicing their swordskills in the yard. At first they got caught a lot, but especially Aryana, who was slimmer and more agile, learned really fast to move almost soundless and escape quickly if she were to be caught anyways.
Now, by the age of sixteen, her chest started to get in her way. She had been really flat-chested when she had started training for their break-ins, so when she grew there, she wasn't used to the new addition to her body. But still, she got in the Red Keep and the throne room without going noticed. She was really excited, 'cause she reached the ultimate goal.
But better don't test your luck.
It came to her, that every second she was there was a huge risk, so she hopped off the throne quickly. She made almost no sound when she came on to the ground. A few steps were enough to get to the door. She reached for the handle and pressed it down softly, cautious not to make a sound. She startled when the door squeaked when she opened it, but she had learned to calm down quickly when something unexpected happened. She rushed out the room and looked around to find the way she came in. It didn't take long to find the small window about one bodylength above her head, and to climb up and crawl through.
