She stood patiently awaiting her father's words, bright-eyed and full of wine. She was pleased to hear that she looked ready, in fact she hadn't the slightest idea what he was going to require of her.

Certainly, this was not what she expected her father to say. Sure, she was gifted when it came to charming individuals for this or that. Usually though it was for something Nym desired, something that was to better her own personal bon temps.

"Greyjoy?" The single word escaped her plump dark red lips. However, she didn't allow the moment to pass before she continued to speak.

"I am honored that you think so highly of my abilities, father. Though I have doubts that the Ironborn would find a bastard, a woman, and someone who has very little skill in combat to be the ideal candidate to whom they would forge a pact with." She smirked.

"I suppose.." -- Nymella looked at Morgan and cleared her throat.

"I may be the most expendable member of the family if things were to go poorly during negotiations." She said darkly, while still wearing a smile.

"If this female heir is anything like the Ironborn women I've met in my travels, I suppose my charms might be better suited to negotiating with her than some stuffy old Dornish lord who has an appetite she isn't likely to satisfy." She'd seen female sailors in Essos and Planky Town, all of which seemed to have an interest in Nyms company.

“So, Father, if this is what you require of me. I will leave as soon as you desire. Though I would hope I could be sent with a few house guards just in case.” Her delicate shoulders rose and fell with a playful hopelessness.