[ Tyrion and Varys had done well to council her – she thinks. Even if there are things she grows tired of, the secrecy and the whispers, but that was far more their games than hers. If she grew tired of it, they would know. Her time in Dragonstone was to be the lead they needed to plan their next moves, far away from Red Priestesses who would spread the tale of Daenerys Stormborn. Greeted upon empty, dead halls... it was as if nothing had transpired. The war table was vast, like Westeros itself, but she felt nothing walking through its halls. Not sure of who last claimed Dragonstone itself – Stannis, Renly, or Robert. Fueding men was hardly her interest. ]
I see. And your Lord whispered his name to you? [ She tenses up, almost as if her words had judgment behind them. It was a biting response, but there was hardly any time for that. The question wasn't who whispered what, it was about the way everything aligned. Her lips visibly twitch at the passage of time, of thinking that she was somehow... offering a glimpse of the woman's future. Of what her Lord had planned. The color in her face draws away, and she looks down, tongue to her cheek. ] He still squabbles for the throne, then?
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I see. And your Lord whispered his name to you? [ She tenses up, almost as if her words had judgment behind them. It was a biting response, but there was hardly any time for that. The question wasn't who whispered what, it was about the way everything aligned. Her lips visibly twitch at the passage of time, of thinking that she was somehow... offering a glimpse of the woman's future. Of what her Lord had planned. The color in her face draws away, and she looks down, tongue to her cheek. ] He still squabbles for the throne, then?