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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[skjalf]

( 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.