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[ The locket reveals the face of a young woman--some would say a girl--peering into it. Her hair gleams silver-gold in the candlelight, her eyes an unusual purple color. In the background, an imp peers over her shoulder, its claws clinging to her bared skin. ]

There is magic in the Free Cities and Qarth alike, yet I have seen nothing half so convincing as Allaidh Darach. It is ... [ She hesitates; what to call the place that's imprisoned you against your will? ] ... intricate work, truly. Were I settled into my kingdom, my children fierce and grown, perhaps I would not mind it so much, calling Caer Scima home.

[ For a fraction of an instant, she looks sad. Did Drogon sense her as she faded into this world? ]

But lush pillows will not shield my freedmen from those who would send them back to the shackles, no more than peach tarts will keep famine away from my gates. [ The imp shakes a foul little fist at the locket in punctuation, as though its fellows didn't help to abduct her only four nights ago. Dany turns and fixes it with a measured look. ]

Leave me now. I want no spies.

[ It hesitates, but something in her voice convinces it. Muttering, it releases her shoulder and shrinks away as though scolded. Dany waits impatiently for two more of the creatures to leave her presence, some private struggle raging beneath. Then, at last, she exhales in a sigh. ]

Yet time is not so easily disrupted, I have learned. Tell me, was I spoken true? [ It's phrased as something of a demand, but there's a very clear plea beneath it. The queen is there, but so, too, is the girl. And the girl is frightened, fearing for her people and her dragons alike. ] Will my people notice I have left them, or will all be as it was? How may I be assured of their safety?

[ Restless fingers pluck at the fringe of the cushion in her lap. ]

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[It's probably also kinder not to immediately shut her down with the whole "I have no idea what a khal or the Great Grass Sea is" bit. Saralegui just smiles, ever polite and composed.]

Ah. I suppose I can't blame you for worrying over them, then. Dragons are endangered where I come from, but I'm fairly sure there are still more than just three left.

[The whole "brought forth from stone in a funeral pyre" thing is also perplexing, but it wouldn't do to barrage the newbies with a million potentially uncomfortable questions when they still have so many questions of their own.]

Then your people were not so unwise as mine. [ Her tone is sad. Dany is the Mother of Dragons, and there's no convincing a mother that her children are half so terrible as they truly are.

Which reminds her: ] Are there dragons here? [ For the first time since her arrival, she feels some measure of hope. As she pledged to Captain Flint, she intends to learn all that she can of her new realm, but first: ] There must be, surely?

Unfortunately, it was my people that hunted them to that point.

[Humans in general, that is. All before his time. But he still sounds almost apologetic to say it, smile shrinking just a little.]

There was one here, as I've heard. But it died almost two years ago, before I arrived.

[ Immediately, Dany's face falls in disappointment. ]

I see. [ She composes her gaze, recovering herself. She cannot afford to be a young girl in this place. Was it some accident? Some sickness, perhaps? No--she must move on; he seems to know very little about it. ]

Then I will speak no more of dragons. There is much else I don't understand. [ Magic. Sorcery. The words are an unknown poison on her tongue. ] How are powers acquired here?

I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news.

[His expression is all apology and sympathy. At the very least, he recognizes the look of someone trying not to be vulnerable.]

As for any special powers, well... I can't say I know much more about that. Those who choose to take such things up either do some research on their own or ask the monarchs for the ability, but I've avoided such things myself. I've lasted this long without magic or anything, so I'd like to think I do just fine without it.

[He is a lying liar who lies. Sorry Dany.]

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