VIDEO ( UNSEELIE LOCKED );

[conqueress]

[ 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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[conqueress]

[ Dany's seen mummer's shows before, and with his lively manner, she thinks he would be welcomed in many troupes. For a moment, she looks faintly amused. ]

I see. So you would name all liars, and trust only that the price of remaining idle is death. [ What a miserable tapestry to gaze upon, taking so little for a certainty. It's a tiresome philosophy, even if he speaks her true. ]

But these cannot be the final beliefs of a man who has won favor, I think. [ Her tone is sweet, but her eyes are shrewd. She has recently learned that those who don't fight may be slain for their shards, and she can well believe it. This is no kindly court, and this man is no novice. ] Do you thrive under such uncertainties, my lord?

[ The title is a safe assumption, she thinks; his manner of speech is educated, though some turns of phrase are unlike any she's heard. ]

[selfimage]

[ ah—"my lord." it has a ring to it. ]

I'd say that I'd believe what everyone else believes they've seen, and less the thing itself, if you get my drift. Perceptions are perceptions, and there are plenty to have those to be had around here.

It's sort of my thing. Trickery is what I do—well, one of the things I do, the one that I'm most famous for, anyway.

[ the other one was a little less pleasant. princes of lies, was it? dirty low-down no-good trickster, serpent with two tongues, the god of chaos and lies and fire, depending on who was asked. it was a byproduct of a face that always looked like he was scheming. ]

I'm also very good at spotting it.

[conqueress]

[ Every word smacks of coy wit, but he's answered her still. ]

And how many men may boast of fame, skill in trickery, and residing in worlds that are not his own? [ It's teasing flattery, but a goading one. He may tell her who he is, she suspects, with or without the smile she gives him. ] There must be some, surely, but none I have met.

[ She's been called Slayer of Lies by those who have conquered death, but are there lies (or liars) to slay here? ] You are no ordinary man, I think. Tell me your name.

[selfimage]

Ah, not many. But then so many often lie to themselves of it, perhaps it's refreshing to hear a trickster speak honestly.

[ Loki looks a tad amused at that. he had settled with what he is, and had made well by it. there was a fine line between using his brand of trickery to save or to destroy. both are necessary at times, but he's signed his resignation to no longer hurt anyone anymore. ]

One of a kind really!

Silly me, getting so distracted and forgetting all about introductions. [ he straightens his voice with a little ehrm, as if he's clearing his throat. then he offers a dark nailed wave. ] Hello there, I'm Loki of Asgard. There's other stuff that goes with that, but we'll keep it simple for now.

All well-intended pleasantries extended. All the "good to meet you"s and so on and so forth.

[conqueress]

They are bold pleasantries. [ She teases. ] Perhaps I am ill-tempered and ungentle, and it is cruel fate that you meet me, nothing more.

[ The name "Loki" isn't known to her, nor is Asgard. ] I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Queen of the Andals and the Ghiscari and the First Men, Bride of Fire and the Blood of Old Tyrosh. [ Her face is sweet, girlish, almost innocent--but only to fools. ] But which is the lie?

[ For someone who can't spot trickery, each title might sound as likely as the next. She'll be secretly delighted if he guesses correctly; for all that her advisors would have vehemently counseled her against accepting this Loki, Dany has cautiously enjoyed their exchange. ]

[selfimage]

Then it's lucky for both of us that I'm not really the type to succumb to fate.

[ he listens politely through her titles, his chin on his palm, dark nailed fingers occasionally drumming against his cheek. for the moment he's diadem-less and dressed casually. the sleeves of his olive shirt rolled up to his mid-forearm. he'd been working on something before this, and sometimes he touches something off screen like he's playing with it thoughtfully.

he mimics her innocence, but it's immensely unconvincing. he always looks like he's scheming. it's just the way his face is. ]

Is that a challenge?

[ he purses his lips to the side. ]

If I were to fathom a guess, I'd say that ending such a display of poetry on Tyrosh falls a little ... hm, well ... flat?

What are you Queen of really?

[conqueress]

Flat, indeed. [ And she laughs. It's a brief laugh, but genuine; a mirth that few but her dragons can provoke. When the peal fades, her posture is regal still, but not half so stiff. ]

I have lived in Tyrosh, true, but I am the blood of old Valyria ... and it is the Rhoynar I would claim for my people, not the Ghiscari. [ In fact, if the nobles could be believed, Old Ghis and Old Valyria were ancient enemies. ] I am blood of the dragon and mother to three fierce children of my own, and trueborn heir to the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros.

[ She says none of it boastfully; her belief in her identity is an unwavering, almost noble pride. There's no innocence feigned in her face now, only the keen gaze of an interested queen. ] But these names are all the same to you?

[selfimage]

[ Loki lifts a dark nailed hand with a slight shrug. ]

Two falsehoods—impressive. Who knows? maybe you'll out-trick me yet, Daenerys Stormborn. [ there's a lightheartedness to his words that's hard to miss. Loki, are you flirting a little bit? (bad, bad Loki.)

so, titles were a thing. and a thing because most Asgardians wore them some way or another; some as armor, others as a scar. he could name his own, and he was certain there were those out there that he was yet unaware of, but they ranged between action and belonging. they told a story. a story he may not like sometimes, but a story nonetheless. ]

Well, I certainly picked dragon out of that. Seven Kingdoms, blood, mother—little telling things here and there. Even Stormborn has a ring to it.

[conqueress]

[ Out-trick a trickster? She's done far more impossible things, she thinks--but if he speaks her true, he has power that even the Undying Ones did not.

Despite this, her eyes warm to the flirtation; he is hardly uncomely. ] And if I manage this, will you tell me riddles still, or only sour falsehoods? [ she teases. ] I have never met a man, mage or warlock, who could abide the taste of defeat.

[ Magical though he is--and wary though she must be--she thinks him too clever not to keep in her favor. Most would hear "dragon," but not many would pay mind to "blood" or "Stormborn," important words that speak to her nature and her destiny. Most wouldn't care, and Dany feels she knows why he does. ]

You have a dragon's ear, it seems. [ And an eye for those who can make common cause with him. Does he think he, too, think her "needed" so sorely? She settles back against her chair as though relaxing, but it's anything but; he's caught her interest. ] Come to me with your honest counsel and your trickster's wisdom, and you shall meet with mine.

[ It's an invitation, and a promise, of sorts. ]

[selfimage]

Oh—I'm wounded. [ and also a very sore loser when he does lose. got it in one. ] But I have no proper defense, so we'll leave it to the whims of the future.

However, if you're so bold as to ask for the counsel of a no-good rotten trickster, how could I deny you? [ most wouldn't take it. in fact, most would warn against it. his mother had dismissed him (though he never claimed at that time to advise the throne) in favor of what they had called a "better future." well, for everyone but him. in a former life, he had danced Asgard to ruin, but he had done so deliberately. that was another life, another time. it didn't make him any less dangerous, but here he couldn't afford to lose. all he could do was try to be better. ]

That means challenge accepted. No need to make a date of it, I'll find you.