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[bethmoras]

[ Judging by the room's feminine decor, Nuada is not in his own suite. Blues and golds and pinks, close to the brilliance of an Irish sunset, line the walls and brighten the area around him. He is settled on the floor, legs stretched out in front, and back pressed against the side of a canopied bed. Pale fingers idly turn a shard over and over, as if the repetitive motion is capable of summoning its bearer back. ]

It is with much regret that I inform those who knew the princess, [ Nuada's voice is quiet, and as bleak as the black outfits he prefers. ] that my sister is no longer ... she is gone. My condolences to any who considered Nuala a friend.

[ He bows his head and switches off the feed. ]

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[steeledskin]

[ she is a young thing. and her math is imperfect. she recites the sums given to her by maesters and tutors and history books. but who knows how long the first men have truly held the land? the only constant is the old weirwoods. and the new kings. but sansa repeats the things she ought to say -- on and on and on. ]

You sister. The Lady Nuala. She may -- [ sansa's voice shakes; she doesn't want to give hope to a stranger, because hope is a thing easily broken. and yet: ] Those who leave do, at times, return. I have seen it with my own eyes.

[ it is her way of thanking him for his gracious words. ]

[bethmoras]

[ It is still an approximation of time, and can be used as a rough judge of change. ]

My sister ... [ For a split second there is so much pain in his gaze that it might as well be an endless chasm of grief, before he blinks and all that remains is the gold of his irises. ] is too tender for the trials of this place. Should she return, though, her presence is always welcome at my side.

[ But better that she stay away and remain unharmed. ]

[steeledskin]

Kin ought to remain together. [ she agrees -- never for a moment thinking that his sister would be anywhere but at his side. she is blessed indeed to have brothers and a sister here. not all of them: little baby rickon is still lost to the strange sorcery of these shards and gems. and their parents... ]

Have you any others from your Eire? Allies? Associates?

[bethmoras]

Yes, they should. Kith and kin are the most important bonds a person can ever have. [ With rare allowances for when those bonds are with people chosen to become family. Shieldbrothers and sisters-in-arms. ]

Eire is the name of a goddess for whom the Men of my world entitled our land. And no. I have -- I am alone here. With only the allies my deeds and words might bring.

[steeledskin]

Make them swiftly, then: your words and your actions. [ sansa is no warrior. she is no magician. she has her politics alone -- bolstered by good contacts made in her early days. she still feels a fraud, at times, in her own city. waiting for someone to question her. ]

Allies will follow. Some say these lands lead us to division. But I have found then uncommonly encouraging of cooperation.

[ where else would names like baratheon and tyrell find themselves in service of a stark? ]

[bethmoras]

It is not always prudent, or advisable, to act without thought. As much as I would like to imitate the fierceness of a lightning storm sometimes.

[ And he often does, if primarily in battle. It is where his skill and talents shine the most. No doubt Sansa is in a similar place, to allow her own abilities the chance to breathe and shine. ]

We shall see, little one. We shall see what allies come forth, what division or cooperation my deeds sow and reap.

[ If only he knew the importance of those names in her world. ]

[steeledskin]

[ little one. it ought to be offensive -- to have someone call the lady keeper of an entire city by such diminutive terms. and yet she swallows the small smudge of pride she's accumulated within the cothromach. nuada already claimed years and years for himself. perhaps respect is due where age commands it. she is not so foolish as to speak out of turn and demand humility from someone who shares years with the most holy trees she knows. ]

Be safe, then. If nothing else. [ she has liked this conversation and would see him do well. ]

[bethmoras]

[ He means no disrespect by it, truly. The term is often one he used for his twin when they were younger. It is, in fact, a sign he does not dislike her, although the potential of that dubious honor is left for Sansa to decide on her own. ]

Likewise, Lady. Look after you and yours.

[ The ghost of a smile, less mockery and more genuine, ghosts across his dark lips. ]

[steeledskin]

I will. [ perhaps something sentimental in this conversation has tripped across her gentler nature. she is candid. ] I swear I will.

[ very little of what she does in these lands does not lead directly back to protecting the starks who have gathered under the cothromach's mountain. ] I am told it is what wolves do best: safeguarding their own.

[ he smiles; she sees it. and yet she does not have the boldness to return a smile of her own. ]

[bethmoras]

... Wolves. [ He had thought to let her close the conversation, forgo more of her company, but wolves. They are a potent symbol for his people, though not perhaps the most important. ] Wolves hunt in packs, and mate for life. They also honor the most powerful females of their clan.

Are you such a personage for your city?

[ Oops? ]

[steeledskin]

[ she cannot say she is the most powerful of anything in any clan. she falls upon her title by accident and by circumstance -- or so she continues to tell herself. a father left and a brother wasn't blooded enough. so it fell to her. ]

Direwolves. I am Sansa -- [ she finally names herself ] -- of House Stark. And my family's sigil has always been that of a direwolf.

[ sansa would never call herself a she-wolf. and yet day by day the title grows more...desirable. she wants the strength and means to defend her family: from morla; from the unseelie; from the lannisters; from anything that might threaten them. ]

[bethmoras]

[ Large wolves, he thinks. Dire and deadly predators. He likes them, but, then again, he's also something of an oddity among his own kind. So take that regard for what it's worth. ]

Sansa Stark, Lady of House Stark. Keeper of the Cothromach. [ He says it slowly, almost like a litany - high in importance. And, as she names herself, so will he. One good turn deserves another. ]

Nuada mac Balor, called Silverlance, Ruling Chief of Clan Bethmoora. Our symbol is -- and always will be -- the world tree.

Well met, Lady Keeper Sansa.

[steeledskin]

[ -- what he shares is so rich in meaning. at first, her mouth seems to echo (wordlessly) one simple name: balor, which she figures within her mind as baelor. baelor the blessed; baelor breakspear; the sept of baelor, where her beloved lord father was beheaded. but then her gritty surprise is reset again by other words. other revelations.

in the old faith, they made their obeisances at trees. old trees with bone-white bark and blood-red leaves. trees with faces carved into their bark. sansa has an inchoate grove of such things here within her city -- grown and sustained by some magic she dares not think on too deeply before she invites a headache.

and last of all she learns she speaks with a leader. a ruler. her breath catches and her voice is a little smaller when she answers: ] Well met, indeed. Chief Nuada.

[ she prays she can call him chief. perhaps she should call him lord? her confusion colours the last of her words. ]

[bethmoras]

[ Baelor is not too dissimilar, though Balor is - or has been until recently - the horned king of their people from time before time. Nuada does not know how old his father was, only that he figured in all of their legends, back to the very dawn of the world itself. Age tends to lose all real meaning at that point.

But the tree. Symbol of royalty. Symbol of strength, of shelter, of growth and all good things. Perhaps someday he will learn her people have druidic tendencies - it's one he would approve of. For now, though, he seeks to turn the tone of her voice.

Such a small thing is displeasing, though the sidhe refuses to examine why. ]

Lord Nuada, if you insist on formalities. My father was king, I do not yet claim that title for myself.

What would you have me call you?

[steeledskin]

Lady Sansa will suffice. [ it is always terribly awkward to be asked -- and she always prays she does not answer in the wrong. perhaps true formality would require that she be lady stark or lady keeper stark. but too many others have watered down her name for her. she compromises.

she learns. ]

[bethmoras]

Lady Sansa, then.

[ He watches her through the little view screen, wondering what she is like in person. It is difficult for him to find enough cues to figure her out. These devices, while intriguing, do not lend themselves well to taking the measure of others. ]

Perhaps, one day, you and I shall converse face to face.

[steeledskin]

I would like that. Very much.

[ gentle honesty. on occasion, it serves her well. ]

[bethmoras]

Until then, I will recall your kind words.

[ It's a tricky thing, honesty. Often as beautiful as a rose, but just as likely to draw blood. ]

Good day, my Lady.