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[Sigrid is looking fairly haggard and pale. Behind her is the rugged green wilderness surrounding the Station, though the Station itself is not in sight.]

I'm in the middle of nowhere at all and I've got a bad leg. I couldn't find my locket and I had to ask a thrush to find it for me. A thrush. I'm talking to thrushes and they answer me. Anyway I need help. The thrush said he'd go and find someone, but I don't know who he meant. Does anyone know if thrushes are wise birds or silly birds? If he brings back a bear or something, I've got to hide now.

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[ she nearly never wants the talking to end. she sits back and listens as sigrid speaks a lot. and it's a little like sitting back and listening to the leaves rustle or the babbling brooks. it's comforting, because sigrid doesn't demand anything from her that she doesn't willingly give: attentiveness and respect are easy when they're honest. and when they're not sourced in fear. although she cannot help but compare the description with what she's seen of thranduil and...

and although her opinion might not match sigrid's stories, she loves them all the same. after all, she herself might speak without straight answers. maybe she was used to it long before she met her first elf. ]

Please, go into your own little world as often as you like. You speak like singers sing: with pictures and prettiness. Tell me more about the two who saved your family.

[A smile touches her lips and a blush comes to her cheeks. Many hours were spent hearing such words from her grandmother as they worked together, and it's an honor to be able to convey such things as she always could.]

I didn't catch a good glimpse of one, but he was golden-haired. The other was--well, I suppose she's a soldier and not a lady, if you ever heard of such a thing. Her hair was red like yours and almost to her knees, and her eyes were colored like ale or honey. She stayed and healed someone who was sick and staying in my house. And she could fight, Sansa. She was like a squall to see, quick and deadly. She's here in the Drabwurld, too, and I wasn't imagining how lovely she is. The more of a look you get, the fairer they are, though none so fair as the Lady of the Golden Wood.

[ it unnerves her, still, to hear about fighting women. warrior women. not because she believes it a feat impossible: westerosi history had its fair share of fearsome queens. and lord tyrion had such a ragtag band of hill tribes with him in king's landing -- some of which were women. and it had been those who'd guarded her doors for some time.

no. it unnerved her because it somehow reinforced her own vulnerability. no longer could she claim i am only a stupid girl as a defence for not defending herself. others had; her sister keeps a sword; lady meera sounds so capable. but what is sansa? what can sansa do?

sansa can swing and sew and smile on cue. she can repeat their words back to them and she can try to make people love her, but it never quite works the way she wants it to. but it's working with sigrid! sigrid likes her enough to tell her stories -- so sansa encourages it: ] Then I take it there are a great many elves now here. I have spoken with four of them: the Elvenking, his son, some subject of theirs. And one who would not let me call her Queen.

Probably Lady Galadriel. She isn't a queen and she is, somehow.

It makes no sense. That someone could be a queen and not be a queen in the same breath.

She could be a queen, if she wanted. I think she'd only need say the word and they'd give her a crown, but she doesn't. They never call her the Queen of Lothlorien because she's not, but some have called her the Golden Queen. One's a title and the other's a sort of byname, I suppose, but it gets the point across. She's not a queen, but she ought to be treated as one, or she'll be as dangerous as one.

Oh. [ sigrid's explanation makes perfect sense. ] I know a woman named the Queen of Thorns, but she isn't really a queen. I suppose it must be a similar thing.

Edited 2014-07-11 17:03 (UTC)

Yes, just like that, but who is this Queen of Thorns? It sounds like a title that begs a story.

[ schemer! kingslayer! crown traitor! sansa knows the make and measure of the old woman; she knows that the tyrell lady would do anything to protect her family -- even pluck a pretty jewel off a hairnet and spin a kindgom into its second chaotic succession in as many years. but the secret has to stay locked up in her throat, or else she risks confessing to her part in the crime. ]

Olenna Redwyne. But she married into the Tyrells. And their house sigil is a beautiful rose! So yes, she is their staunch matriarch. Their Queen of Thorns. [ ... ] But she also has a sharp tongue and an edged wit, so perhaps there's more than one meaning behind the title.

I have met her, Sigrid. And she is a formidable soul. [ sansa wonders if bravery comes to women with age. ]

Oh I should love to speak with her. It's hardly any women who'll speak daring enough to earn such a reputation, let alone a title.

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