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first bull ( video )

[When first brought here, she would swear it all a dream. All that they said and all that they have her on the feast could only be a parting gift from the gods, Bacchus' treats, Ceres' grief of losing a daughter, Diana's farewell for losing a maiden soon enough. But she wakes in her bed, rises and dresses. There is no man that lies with her, there is no parting.

So here she stays alone, save for those she's had the good fortune of meeting. One certain knight she least hopes to see again, though the dream has broken and with it holds the reality, her reality.]

It seems we are in no dream, for I have pinched myself enough to believe it real. I am Lucrezia Borgia of Rome, a place I have found little have heard of. Nor even of my name who I once held with Pope Alexander VI before he was called to be the Shepherd of all men's souls. [She still cannot call herself Sforza. That taste is too bitter in her mouth.]

I address this-- locket [Yes, it is even strange to her, and she must back up a little to see better now.] as a means of addressing this war. I know little on the matter of strategy and battle. My brothers have been taught the skill of the sword, and yet here I am in their place.

A friend-- [For she would consider all those kind to her the night of the feast a friend.] --relayed the thought that perhaps those like I are here for morale, but truly this many ladies?

I shan't sit around. [Lucrezia may not be the Harold of charities she will become, but idleness here does her little.] I wish to make myself of use, though for what I am unsure.

I do truly hope to meet you all, and already call myself fortunate in those I have met. Good day.

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Queen Margaery. I ought to be calling her Queen Margaery.

[ she makes the correction partly because lucrezia has handled her so deftly -- giving her space, speaking to her gently. ]

I had not known you were friends with a queen. [She is both impressed and shocked, wrinkling her nose a bit as she looks back to the dark haired girl.]

You are much a mystery, Alayne, and I would be pleased to befriend any friend of yours.

I am no mystery -- [ she says, perhaps a little too quickly. but to temper her protest, she gently taps her new friend on the wrist and assures her: ] Perhaps you are simply too imaginative.

[That only makes her laugh lightly, thinking of her brother's words.] You sound much like my brother Cesare. He has said so a time or two.

Or perhaps I am on to you. [She turns to give her a look, to take her in and judge her so, but it is all a joke before she smiles again. Though in truth Gendry had mentioned a forlorn girl with dark hair, and Alayne is the only one Lucrezia could think of, though she internally questions why the ruse? Clearly it is not done maliciously, and Lucrezia thinks her to timid and too kind for Alayne to be tricking her. But then for what gain if it is true? She must speak to Gendry again.]

...On to me?

[ she tries to laugh it off; partake in the joke alongside lucrezia. but a panic shows in her eyes. perhaps it does not matter much -- she has renly to look after her. but it troubles her that her initial lie might be so easily dispelled. ]

My lady, I am as guileless as you. Of that I am certain.

[Her nose crinkles.] We all lie, dear Alayne. I would not say I am guileless. [In the matter of her wedding she is not.]

But I can promise on our budding friendship that I shall never lie to you maliciously.

Never? [ her brows raise; she seems surprised and startled and charmed all in one expression. ] Are you certain that's a thing you can promise?

What friend would I be if I could not? [She raises a brow with a knowing smile.]

I mean to call you friend, dear Alayne, in a place where I know none. What good would betraying you do? You have no querrel with me or mine, our worlds vastly different.

[ and yet -- she thinks -- there are camps and factions into which another person might find themselves. friendship, especially fledgling, meant so little in the face of allegiance. but lucrezia seems so earnest!

sansa covers her hand with one of her own and smiles. ] You're right. I apologize. It was unkind of me to doubt you.

No. It was cautious and wise. [She does not want Alayne to feel bad on her part, and Lucrezia is only just learning how naive she truly is.]

Perhaps I should learn from you, though my words still remain just as genuine.

[ learn? from her? sansa seems stunned by the suggestion. she offers a little shake of her head. ] I'm only just learning how to be cautious myself, Lady Lucrezia. And I'm far from wise.

You should not put yourself down so, Alayne. It is not unwise to be cautious here, with so many you do not know. I admire that about you, and I can already hear my brother telling me to heed your words. [But Cesare was older and already entwined in their father's machinations where Lucrezia is just learning just what one must do for the family.]

...You have a brother?

[ she asks with a wan smile, biting back on grief and envy. ] You must tell me about him. Is he gallant? Daring? What is his name?

I have three. Cesare, Juan, and Geoffre. The latter is younger than I. I speak of Cesare though. [And her first blooms.] He is a godly man, and indulges me sweetly. I have seen him with a sword, and I would fear for any who oppose him. He is sharp, and yet all too kindly to me. I kiss him so.

[ something about one of the names gives her pause -- just a minute flicker of concern -- but she recovers, smiles prettily, and does not let it hurt her. ]

He sounds every inch what a brother ought to be. [ says sansa, though she understands alayne ought not to be do generous with her empathy. ] You must miss him so much.

He would do anything for me. [Said with absolute conviction.]

Do you have any siblings?

[ yes, yes, and yes! many -- once. but still one now, a little sister, and she thinks on her with such a ferocity. but sansa stark is the one with a sister and a brother; not alayne stone. she bites her lip and tries a line she learned from elsewhere. ]

I am a Stone, my lady. I could have a dozen sisters and brothers and I could have none. My father never told me.

[Normally she wouldn't know what that meant. But after talking with Gendry, she gives the girl a squint.]

Are you then a natural daughter of a lord or lady, but not named by them?

Only a king can legitimize a -- as you say, natural daughter. My father loves me very much, you understand. But no matter how much he wants to give me his name? He cannot.

How odd. [She ponders her words thinking again on Gendry.]

I've met a man here, from your lands. He was most kind to me, and thought himself low bred though he be a king's son. Do you know him? Gendry is his name. [She doesn't let her answer, though her mood has risen slightly just on speaking about him.] He did not believe me when I told him that I was born of wedlock for a man of God cannot wed, those who take the vow of chastity. Many have children though. My mother was my father's mistress, though he loved her so, knowing she was faithful only to him. He named each of us as his.

Where I am from it is not uncommon for nobility to be born out of wedlock.

[ she gives only a curt nod to suggest that -- yes -- she knows of gendry. knows him; knew his father; knows his uncles. and had the world been a kinder place, he would have been the baratheon son betrothed to the stark daughter. not because she cared for him -- indeed, sansa thought he hardly mattered. but he'd be kinder than joffrey. more honourably, perhaps, than tyrion.

in the end, that's all she wanted. ]

It's not uncommon for Westeros, either, my lady. [ but her voice hesitates on the title. how curious, to meet a claimed natural born daughter. sansa decides to stop playing quite so coy: ] Bastards sit the Iron Throne, even.

[Gendry indulged her every request the night everyone had arrived, and she thought of him kindly since. He was not refined, but many men claimed to be so and were not half as kindly and noble as he was, whatever his social status is. He told her pieces of Westerosi life, enough for her to understand most of how things are run in their lands. So to hear this has her brow raised.]

Indeed? I am sure through guile, lies, and cunning if I am to understand your society. I can say that it is similar in The Italian city-states and the world at large. Though perhaps it is not so uncommon to bear children with other men's women. Men have started wars over such things as well. You may ask Helen of Troy on that. [A knowing smile, wondering if they had such a story where Alayne came from. If not, Lucrezia could probably recite Homer line by line.]

Helen of Troy?

[ ah, yes. it piques her interest. and she is happy enough to leave other topics behind: the possible-liar gendry, the bastardy of the kings, and her own ongoing falsehood. ]

It is a wonderful tale. [Okay, maybe not so, but she is excited to tell it.] This happened many years ago, in a land called Troy. It was said that Helen was the most beautiful woman there ever was, being the god of Zeus who was a great and powerful God of Greece. She was of Sparta, a city in Greece originally. She was the wife of King Meneleus, a brute of a man. Paris, a prince of Troy, looked upon her and stole her to Troy. Of course a man cannot be outdone so, and Meneleus pursued Paris to Troy itself where a great war waged, so big and well known that even the gods took sides. They said of Helen that she was the face that launched a thousand ships.

[ she knows stories like this. she's been raised on one in particular -- and so it cuts close to the bone, but she doesn't dare tell it. instead, she listens with patience and honest interest. and when lucrezia's tale is complete, sansa sighs as if she'd found the whole thing very imaginative and romantic.

but in the quietest part of her heart, she wonders whether her husband would ever pursue her. gods, she hopes not. not even world-famous beauty would be worth having if it meant such a chase. ]

...Whose side did the gods take, then?

first bull ( video )

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