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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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[ There is kindness in this girl's words, Dany thinks. She is comforting, reasoned. For a moment, she wants to tell her all. My father is slain, she thinks. My brother, fallen. I am all that is left. I am the last, the last. In the end, what holds her back from confessing her loneliness is the memory of her bear knight, her banished betrayer, walking as though defeated out of her audience chamber.

Once for blood and once for gold and once for love. Is this girl another betrayer? Perhaps Dany is absolved of such prophecies while she is here, but the past is too raw, too fresh. ]

I have three. [ Betrayer though she may be, perhaps she could also be a friend. Suddenly, Dany wants to weep. ] I had a son within me, once, but my dragons and my freedmen are my children now. I have been strong for my dragons as a mother must be, fed them at my breast and toasted their meat on a brazier, yet they grow bigger and bolder.

[ The blood of the dragon does not weep. So she does not. ]

A dragon is no sweet babe, you see. [ She smiles, sadly. ] They are all that remains, and when men do not seek to steal them, they speak of having them killed. [ Perhaps she'll always feel a chill at the notion. ] Yet they are mine, all. Mine to grow and mine to ride, and one day, I shall take them across the Narrow Sea, and reunite my royal father's kingdom--but not as yet. I have found there are cruelties I must punish, justice I must mete out, before that day comes.

[ She wants to believe this girl has suffered betrayal, too. She wants to believe it badly, though not because she wishes her ill. ] Your words are kind-- [ She pauses, unused to giving someone else the same title as her own. ] --Your Grace. I have heard no counsel half so comforting in this place.

[ She wants to repay the favor, when she is able. ] I would know your name.

( Betrayal is something she has experienced at many turns in her life. Never, ever would she dream of doing so to another. Her family lies in ashes; her father succumbed to a fever, the boys each murdered and hidden abroad respectively. Her birthright, her name and standing in life have all been stripped from her. As well as perhaps any good reputation she'd had. In the end, she would be forced to marry the greatest betrayer she personally knew were she to return home. No. never would she seek out to ruin and harm another life in such a fashion.

The empathy in her gaze remains, because it is only intensifying with each moment that passes by. She keeps her features gentle, knowing that while this girl wears a mask which appears hard and honed like steel, she is probably just as frightened as she is, herself. )

Oh, my lady. ( The sorrow which mixes with the gentleness in her is genuine. If this woman is within the walls of Caer Scima, she wishes to embrace her. ) My deepest condolences for your loss. I have no doubt that you are a wonderful mother to them. I am glad for it.

( As Daenerys continues to speak of dragons, Elizabeth's eyes nearly well with tears. ) I know, sadly. There was one here, more than a year past. Just a child. Bred to spread rot throughout the land. She was killed. ( Closing her eyes, she releases a shaking breath. ) Keep yours safe, however you must. Their lives are precious.

( Elizabeth blinks at the use of the title, not having heard it from anyone who was not from England and passing familiar with her history before. ) As yours are, Your Grace. We have much in common. Should I return home, I shall either have to take my father's vacant throne for myself or marry my brothers' murderer. I must believe that time does not pass there for my own sanity's sake. It does my sisters no good if I go mad here. And like with you and your children.

( Finally, she finds her smile returning. ) Elizabeth. Elizabeth Plantagenet. At home, I am a princess of England. And what might yours be?

[ Bred to spread rot. She flinches visibly at the news of this dragon's death. Strange though it may seem, Dany can all too easily imagine this dragon she didn't know, who was allegedly some harbinger of death, as her own. If Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion were here with her, would they, too, be seen as such? The thought chills her.

The smile and the query return her--somewhat--to the present. The horror she feels turns to sympathy for a girl who must be no older than herself, faced with the choice of wedding the traitor who killed her brothers. If timing had been different, and she'd been forced to marry the Usurper, perhaps her dragon would have never awoken. Perhaps she'd have been afraid for always, at the mercy of a man who would kill her, too. ]

My lady is brave, to be so strong for them. [ She's known Elizabeth for minutes only, but already she would touch her shoulder in comfort. ] And wise, to know what awaits. [ Her eyes are sad. She can well imagine why Elizabeth's sisters are left living. ] I would wish you peace and prosperity in this place, however blackened the foundations. Do women truly have so little power in this England?

[ Her fingers glide along the silk of the pillow she holds, but it's Drogo's hrakkar she wishes for: her white lion pelt, which smells of him still and gives her comfort. ] By that naming, I am Daenerys Targaryen, Queen of Meereen and the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. But my name does not matter here, it would seem; only my rank. [ Dany has always been observant. She's noticed how her quarters make a relatively lavish prison, how these imps have deferred to her since her arrival. ]

( Elizabeth never once blamed the creature for what she'd done. She had not asked to be born thus, or indeed, at all. The monarchs are responsible for it, which is something she pointedly does not address over the network. Already, her new friend (she would like to think of them as such, at least) is taking the news just as poorly as she had when she'd borne witness to it, and thereafter.

Her expression eases and becomes calm and gentle, because she knows how upsetting an experience it is when one has initially arrived here. Blessedly, she has been removed from that awful situation. This world or any other is preferable to her own. Her only wish would be that her mother and siblings could know a like form of freedom. )

A rose of York may do naught else. ( A smile crosses her face, as she clarifies: ) The emblem of my House is a white rose. Sometime upon the background of a sun in splendour. I will hope to see my family again elsewhere, and not in England, unless I could take the throne for myself.

Your Grace is most kind. I wish you much the same; and whilst the foundations may be as blackened is the roof above our heads, there is light and goodness to be found within the people here. Good and honest, and I had never thought to meet anyone who was either of those things. Ah. ( She pauses, and nods grimly. ) Yes.

My mother thought merely to advise my father, and she was accused of witchcraft. Any queen whom has taken some measure of autonomy for herself is called either a she-wolf or the Bad Queen. I was raised to become someone's wife. And the mother of his children. Is it different whence you hail from, my lady?

( The introduction makes her smile broaden, her eyes lighting with warmth. ) It is a beautiful name. I am honoured to meet you. We cannot and should never forget whom we are in our homeland. Yet, we can make it so that our names mean something to the people we meet.

A rose. [ Despite the sickness she feels in her belly still, Dany manages a smile. A flower would suit this Elizabeth well, she thinks. ] Mine is a red dragon with three heads upon a black field. It is for the first Targaryen king, Aegon the Conqueror, and his sister-wives Rhaenys and Visenya. They rode dragons into battle until their deaths, all three. When my Drogon is grown, I will do the same. [ The admission surprises her when she speaks it, but of course it is Drogon. It must be Drogon, the largest and fiercest and wildest of her three. But who could ever be worthy of Rhaegal or Viserion?

For men who would revile a queen because they fear her power, Dany has only disdain. Disdain, and poisoned smiles. ] I have been called woman in insult, and promised a life in bedslavery if my army lost. [ She chuckles. ] It is strange, truly, how noblemen are no longer so noble when they are threatened by a young girl. My army won, but I did not always have such power. My lord husband made a queen of me, but his riders--they would have slain me, if he was not so feared. [ And then there's Ser Barristan, Grey Worm, Daario Naharis, and Jorah. Jorah, her greatest friend. Jorah, her betrayer. ] Now I am a she-dragon with ten thousand soldiers, and a company of sellswords. If any of them wish me dead, they have not tried to slay me yet. [ She gentles. ] I am sorry your royal mother was treated so ill. Your royal father's advisors are frightened fools who cannot abide a woman's good counsel if it is better than their own, no more. Tell me she did not meet with punishment beyond words?

[ Dany finds herself wishing to take this princess under her protection, to keep her from those who would do her harm, for this place is surely just as treacherous as it seems. She's never had a girl her age to call friend before, and she still isn't certain that Elizabeth is a friend--but perhaps this is only because the betrayal is so raw. She became fond of Missandei just as quickly as she wishes to befriend Elizabeth now. I will make my name known. I must. And yet--she must always hold herself apart, surely? All queens do. She hesitates. ]

And I, you. Indeed, would that all my men were as gentle and gracious as you. [ She teases, but she means it. ] I have been too long among sellswords and slavers, it seems. Do you ride, Elizabeth? [ She must. Their worlds seem similar, in many ways. ] I have much to learn of this place, and I would better see the lands from atop a horse. [ Before she was a queen, she was a khaleesi. ]

( Rumour has it that the standard of Henry Tudor is also that of a dragon. But nothing so splendid as what Daenerys has just described. She could more easily believe her to be descended from the fabled King Arthur than that murdering swine. She takes in the familiar and the strange in what she is told; the strange, naturally, being that a brother and sister would wed and have children together. Though she has nearly done that herself, has she not? By thinking herself in love with the brother of her father not terribly long ago.

She tilts her head, and smiles quietly instead at what she finds comforting and familiar, rather than what brings painful memories, shame and confusion to the fore. ) England also had a king nicknamed the Conqueror: my ancestor, William of Normandy.

There is a rather romanticized tale of how he stole his noble bride from beneath the nose of her father. ( She has done a good job of keeping any hint of unease from her face. And yet. The wonder and amazement is plain as daylight. ) Please, one day, I would very much like to hear about your dragons. They exist only in legend, where I am from. And then, to be slain. After.. ( After already seeing one die, she almost says, but bites the inside of her cheek and tries again: ) well. I would much rather listen to a tale of one who is living.

Such does not surprise me, infuriating and abhorrent as it has become in my eyes. It is good that your army won its victories, so that those men whose only noble quality is the size of their coinpurse might realize their place. My father did much the same, as his cousin never approved of his choice of bride. He forgave him more than once, and Warwick merely rose against him again, and again. The last time, it was alongside my uncle George, brother to my father. The uncle who accused my mother of witchcraft. Ah, nay—she met no punishment. George, however, was declared a traitor and drowned in a barrel of wine.

( Her smile, while grim, holds a hint of satisfaction. ) My mother went on to counsel him until the end of his days. You have charisma as he did, as I do. My brothers and sisters. Your people will follow you, and they will love you. Even if earning that sentiment in the beginning may be difficult. My father made a progress each year, travelling with us about the country to be seen and meet with the people. He came to know them, their needs and desires, and how best to fulfil them while also managing to fill the coffers of his treasury. It will be different in your land than in England, to be sure, but I do not doubt at all that a woman could easily do as well as he or better.

( Elizabeth does not truly befriend others easily—oh, she has many, many acquaintances, and flirts with nearly everyone at least once. But very seldom is it that she lowers her guard to let anyone in. The urge she finds to do this so quickly with Daenerys frightens her, and she watches her quietly, her smile fading to a more neutral, but still pleasant expression. )

Your words are too kind! Indeed, you might find yourself terribly indisposed by men of such gentle demeanour. ( Her laugh now is basically a giggle in disguise, a soft, trilling sound as her smile returns, and she easily reflects the teasing thrown her way. ) Perhaps you have, as have I been among courtiers who never say what they mean. It is a great boon to be able to speak so frankly; and if I may, I do not think you at all lacking in compassion nor gentleness.

( Oh, riding! She nods, enthused. ) Yes! I would be honoured to accompany you. Though if you are willing to share a steed, mine is in possession of wings. If not, I am happy to travel on land.

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