Fai_Ryy
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#extradirty
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@theunburntprincess
"From the Isle of Naath, Your Grace. It is a very small island so this one would not be offended if you do not recognise it’s name," she replied, walking toward the librarian.
"Isle of Naath...That is in Essos, is it not? I must say, you're quite far from home." Daenerys frowned, why did she speak of herself as if she were somebody else?
You would be wise to be quick about it, lest you get caught after curfew.
"Of course, professor. Forgive me, it was to the king."
Daenerys Targaryen | The Children (4x10)
"Let us be off then," she said, starting to walk towards the library desk, books held tightly to her chest.
"May I inquire where you're from?" She questioned, taking in the girl's golden skin.
Are you sure you should be wondering around at a time like this? It’s rather late.
"I had an owl to deliver, professor. I was heading back to my common room."
Sansa stood tall and held her head high. She hoped her expression spoke her thoughts, that she did not fear the girl and would not stand down. “My father is Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell.” She smiled proudly at her father’s name. “I can assure you that he has the power to do so. And you may tell your uncle that all is well. I was not threatening you, but rather warning you to be careful.”
"And who might your uncle be, if he is as powerful as you claim?" Sansa was almost afraid to ask but did not show it. Chances were that she was of low birth and was only making false threats, but equal chances were that she was of a noble and powerful house. Sansa knew how unladylike she must have seemed, but she also knew that she could not allow herself to be spoken to like that.
Lord Eddard...so she was a Stark of Winterfell. Then she must have been Sansa Stark. Daenerys had briefly heard of the girl from her Septas, who had tried to educate her on all of the fine nobles of Westeros. Whispers of the Lady Sansa went that she was a true winter beauty who had been kissed by fire itself. The rumours were not untrue, Daenerys mused. Not of her appearance anyway. Her manners were an altogether different tale. Dany did not cower under the girl's expression. Sansa Stark was not the only one bearing pride.
Standing regal and proud, as a true princess should, Daenerys' voice was deadly calm when she stated, "Albus Targaryen. First of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men. Protector of the Realm. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms." Her voice no longer held malice, rather warning. If others had heard their argument than circumstances would not be in the Stark girl's favour and no matter how rude, Daenerys did not wish to tarnish the girl's reputation on behalf of her pride. It was far too late to tread carefully now.
"We could go ask the librarian and see if she knows."
"That would be wonderful, thank you."
"Oh! Forgive me, your grace." Brienne drops in a small, slightly awkward curtsy. "I simply did not think you were the princess. It’s very good to meet you."
"No need for the sudden formality," she replies, sensing Brienne's discomfort. "Conversing with you is an honour alone. Thank you for your kind words, my lady."
At least she was making sense. Owls would be little more than morsels to a dragon. They might have been smaller and faster, but one burst of flame was enough to cook them. Ygritte had eaten owl once before, one winter when the nights were especially cold, and she did not intend to repeat the experience.
“Isn’t that hard t’ raise one,” she said, rising to her feet. “Only hard when y’ve got t’ eat yours t’ survive.” She gave the princess a wry smile. “Y’ve done nothing t’ offend me, except try t’ put my people under your rule.”
"No, I imagine it wouldn't be very difficult to raise one," she agreed. "Unfortunately, if I ever were to get one, I would fear for its life consistently around my dragons." Eating owls to survive? She had heard that the long and harsh Winters of Westeros had driven all of her people to do things they would not have done under regular circumstances, but she had never heard of this practice? Of course, she would not have known, having no experience with such weather. Winter had yet to come and she had been born during a summer's raging storm.
Choosing to ignore the comment, Daenerys focused on what else the girl was saying. Forcing her people under her rule? Uprisings from minor houses were not uncommon, but this girl was not of noble birth. Dany had been told since childhood that the commonfolk did not care who sat on the Iron Throne as long as they had food to put on their tables. Perhaps her septas had been mistaken, this girl clearly cared. "I apologize on the Crown's behalf if you have ever felt wronged by my family, but surely your people fare better now than they did prior to Aegon's Conquest?"
Her mother would have likely scolded her for her aggressive demeanour, but Sansa could not excuse the girl’s behaviour. She knew her last comment may have been crossing the line, but she was not going to allow slander from a highborn who thought herself above the rest of them.
Her mouth tightened at the mention of the Iron Throne. She wanted to laugh at this simple girl; everyone knew the only family with the power to do such a thing were the Targaryens. Sansa had never met a Targaryen, but had heard plenty of stories. The common folk often described the Princess Daenerys as full of grace and kind of heart. The girl she spoke to now was no such thing.
"And what makes you think you could orchestrate such a trial?" Sansa scoffed at the petty threat. "My father could have your head for threatening me with such words."
"I can assure you that I could orchestrate such a trial and many more of the same nature." The girl was testing her patience again and Dany didn't know how long she could stand there as the girl threatened and insulted her. Perhaps the girl wasn't as highborn as Daenerys had originally imagined?
Her manners, or therefore lack of, spoke volumes about what her septas had thought her. A noble house such as the Starks would have surely instilled more patience and etiquette into one of her own. A Bolton perhaps, but not a Stark. Perhaps Roose Bolton had more than one bastard. Daenerys could understand why he would not wish to speak of such a rude child.
"And just who might your father be to be able to order my head over such a petty argument? My uncle would have your's for daring to speak such words and threatening me in such a manner."
"Brienne of Tarth, if it please you. I wouldn’t be surprised if you told me you were a Targaryen, although I can’t say I know which one you are in particular."
"I suppose my appearance does not leave much room for mystery, does it? Princess Daenerys of House Targaryen. Pleased to make your acquaintance, my lady."
Queen you shall be until there comes another younger and more beautiful to cast you down and take all that you hold dear.
Heat is always more preferable to a dragon, is it not? The Wall, yes. The paintings to not do it justice I think, though I suspect I would freeze very quickly up there.
"That is true, the dragon does prefer fire to ice. I do wonder how the men in the Night's Watch manage to stay alive up there. And those beyond the wall who try to climb it - I wonder how they must fare."
He flipped the book open, his gaze running over the words for a moment before averting it to the girl nearby. He gave a light laugh at her words, the gentle teasing amusing him momentarily. “I’d love to see you in a tourney, if I’m being honest.” he mused quietly, “Snow. Jon Snow.” he introduced himself, closing the book before slipping it back on the shelf. He reached for another, his eyes darting between the shelf and the girl as they washed over her features, ones that he hadn’t seen before but somehow knew. “Who might you be?” he queried.
"Well luckily you've saved me from the trouble and the shame of participating in one. I doubt I would be very good, the only thing I've ever knocked off was a necklace off my vanity." The sound of his laughter was very pleasant. She quite liked it, she decided. "Snow...I was correct then, you are from the North?" Dany had never been to the North, it wasn't possible that she had met him before. She knew no Northerners, let alone their bastards. Yet she swore to herself there was something about this boy that reminded her of her older brother. It was there, she just didn't know what. "Daenerys Targaryen, pleased to make your acquaintance."
"They must have hired new ones. Forgive me for blaming you for the misunderstanding. If you are in need of a horse, that chestnut mare over there is lovely."
"Consider the matter forgotten, my lady, and thank you for your suggestion. I will be sure to give it a ride. Forgive me for my rudeness, I never asked you what your name was."
"Being rude to a professor, or anyone, for having the audacity to look in your general direction is not called for or ladylike. The points lost are deserved."
"Very well then," she sighed, knowing she had been defeated. "I shall be more mindful of how my words come across in the future. May I be excused now, professor?"
