( Better, worse, or just the high octane Tarantino sequel to Mean Girls that if pushed, they would probably both disclaim 'just an observation' as opposed to having any particular dislike of the man who is conveniently for the purposes of a segue Not Viserys Targaryen?
Gwen laughs. )
Sort of. He talked to me when I was, um, handling myself and my entrance into this world with all the grace and decorum it merited.
[ Dany has honestly very little against the man either. She circled him on the network, once, particularly after witnessing Jorah take the time to anonymously sass him, so really she isn't the most immature one wrt Theon Greyjoy in her cast.
Just the one that's been drinking, currently, and she suppresses a sillier grin in echo of Gwen's, just. ]
He... [ She thinks, then, to what she knows of him in her world, which is a slight dash of cooler water on her mirth. A broken man, then. Less so, now. ] Well, I don't envy him. Most of what I know of him concerns the histories of others, but it's fair to say he is no friend of the Starks any longer, but was raised by them as a child as a hostage of war. His House is no friend to the Mormonts, either.
Theon was taken from an earlier time, and so doesn't know me, but I know him, a little. He and his sister struck an allegiance with me -- ships, for independence. He was different, then, than he is here.
( Lazily, like a cat batting something with her paw; ) Less of a little tit?
( --which is more or less what she is, not any more malicious than that. Not particularly nice, either, but she's never pretended to be a nice girl. Or at least not with any real conviction. Plus, it made Daenerys laugh. She'll always circle a winning play a few times, though she catches the softening. )
It's all so ... it's very archaic, to me. From where I sit. But it's not even, in my world, so far -
( She thinks about Keir. She hasn't thought about Keir and his stupid castle and his stupid books and his huge fucking guns in a while, but she thinks of him. The floodlights. The security measures. The last. Elsewhere, Koschei who is not Koschei, and his sharp, terrible sorrows.
[ There's a-- no, 'tolerant' isn't the right word for the smile she gives Gwen, because it isn't like just anyone implying that her world is quaint, but certainly a knowing smile, small and hidden, partially, in her next sip of wine. ]
I've been here long enough to sense how different it is, to speak of these things. Not simply the clash between cultures, the perception of time, but-- well, to speak of one hundred ships to carry my armies across an ocean is a different concern than learning how to drive a hovercar. It isn't the subject for casual conversation.
I'm sure all of us have a bit of that, of course, [ she adds. ] But it is nice to be able to speak of it all, now and then.
(Tell her we will come, he'd said. And she'd said, she's not that thing, but there is so much more in the world than Gwen knows and Hasi had - known.
It can't hurt anything, to get the hang of some of this. Not quaint, no - fucking weird, for sure - and also not as irrelevant to her as the world war Eunike's still fighting and Gwen has only ever watched on the history channel with a hangover. Also, sort of pressingly, she seems to have inadvertently stepped into the middle of it, so the smart play is certainly to take it all very goddamned seriously-- )
Houses and all of that. Not so different. My father sold our ancestral seat, actually. To a cousin. But they kicked up such an ungodly fuss when he first said he was going to do it - I was all of about four years old or something, I don't remember, but my godmother tells the story - anyway they made such a grand thing of you can't possibly, it's the family, blah, blah, blah, and he got so fucked off he dug his heels in and made them buy it from him at market value. Bought himself a castle in Italy and took me off to be a princess.
( She gestures with her mostly empty glass-- )
Not a real one like you were. ( Prior to becoming a real queen. ) But I have a castle and a safe full of tiaras and I did fuck a man who'll be a Duke when his grandfather shuffles free the mortal coil.
[ She listens, chin in hand, elbow on the knee crossed high over the other. She smiles a little at the familiarity -- not just bloodlines and the buying and selling of title and power, but that fundamentally, people will be people. Petty disputes and tenuous friendships in the corners of history like so many cobwebs.
Stronger than that, though. Sometimes pivotal. ]
The castle and the tiaras are half the battle, [ she assures. ] And, frankly, so is--
[ But she stops. Her mouth opens, closes. She reaches over and takes Gwen's hand. She mentally waves away the fog of lazy inebriation she had been happy to relax into, her duty done, but it is not done. ]
Lannister. [ Important name. She's still holding her hand. ] The brother of the woman who married the Usurper, to rule as Queen. Jaime, too, is here.
And then I think that's everyone, for now.
[ But no, she has more to say, and also doesn't yet know about any others that might have crept in when she wasn't looking. She withdraws her hand, then, reaching for her glass, mostly out of desire to have a prop. ]
He was a member of the Kingsguard during my father's reign. When his father's Lannister army broke open the gates to the city, Ser Jaime broke his vows and slew my father. This was before I was born, [ she adds, as if to assure her slight alienation from all this drama ] as my mother had yet to birth me when she was forced to flee into exile.
It isn't the half of it, [ she adds. ] He is a vile man.
Jaime Lannister, ( repeated more dutifully. A traitor and a vile man. Not to be trusted and certainly not to be brought to anything as a plus-one, since Gwen did not fail to notice on which note Daenerys suddenly remembered his name. )
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Gwen laughs. )
Sort of. He talked to me when I was, um, handling myself and my entrance into this world with all the grace and decorum it merited.
( So none. )
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Just the one that's been drinking, currently, and she suppresses a sillier grin in echo of Gwen's, just. ]
He... [ She thinks, then, to what she knows of him in her world, which is a slight dash of cooler water on her mirth. A broken man, then. Less so, now. ] Well, I don't envy him. Most of what I know of him concerns the histories of others, but it's fair to say he is no friend of the Starks any longer, but was raised by them as a child as a hostage of war. His House is no friend to the Mormonts, either.
Theon was taken from an earlier time, and so doesn't know me, but I know him, a little. He and his sister struck an allegiance with me -- ships, for independence. He was different, then, than he is here.
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( --which is more or less what she is, not any more malicious than that. Not particularly nice, either, but she's never pretended to be a nice girl. Or at least not with any real conviction. Plus, it made Daenerys laugh. She'll always circle a winning play a few times, though she catches the softening. )
It's all so ... it's very archaic, to me. From where I sit. But it's not even, in my world, so far -
( She thinks about Keir. She hasn't thought about Keir and his stupid castle and his stupid books and his huge fucking guns in a while, but she thinks of him. The floodlights. The security measures. The last. Elsewhere, Koschei who is not Koschei, and his sharp, terrible sorrows.
Stories for another day. )
I just have to learn to keep up.
( At home, too. )
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I've been here long enough to sense how different it is, to speak of these things. Not simply the clash between cultures, the perception of time, but-- well, to speak of one hundred ships to carry my armies across an ocean is a different concern than learning how to drive a hovercar. It isn't the subject for casual conversation.
I'm sure all of us have a bit of that, of course, [ she adds. ] But it is nice to be able to speak of it all, now and then.
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It can't hurt anything, to get the hang of some of this. Not quaint, no - fucking weird, for sure - and also not as irrelevant to her as the world war Eunike's still fighting and Gwen has only ever watched on the history channel with a hangover. Also, sort of pressingly, she seems to have inadvertently stepped into the middle of it, so the smart play is certainly to take it all very goddamned seriously-- )
Houses and all of that. Not so different. My father sold our ancestral seat, actually. To a cousin. But they kicked up such an ungodly fuss when he first said he was going to do it - I was all of about four years old or something, I don't remember, but my godmother tells the story - anyway they made such a grand thing of you can't possibly, it's the family, blah, blah, blah, and he got so fucked off he dug his heels in and made them buy it from him at market value. Bought himself a castle in Italy and took me off to be a princess.
( She gestures with her mostly empty glass-- )
Not a real one like you were. ( Prior to becoming a real queen. ) But I have a castle and a safe full of tiaras and I did fuck a man who'll be a Duke when his grandfather shuffles free the mortal coil.
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Stronger than that, though. Sometimes pivotal. ]
The castle and the tiaras are half the battle, [ she assures. ] And, frankly, so is--
[ But she stops. Her mouth opens, closes. She reaches over and takes Gwen's hand. She mentally waves away the fog of lazy inebriation she had been happy to relax into, her duty done, but it is not done. ]
Jaime Lannister.
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That was a very sudden stop. And now her hand is being held? And they are also not finished? Gwen stares back at her, trying to mentally catch up-- )
Jaime Who-nister? What?
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And then I think that's everyone, for now.
[ But no, she has more to say, and also doesn't yet know about any others that might have crept in when she wasn't looking. She withdraws her hand, then, reaching for her glass, mostly out of desire to have a prop. ]
He was a member of the Kingsguard during my father's reign. When his father's Lannister army broke open the gates to the city, Ser Jaime broke his vows and slew my father. This was before I was born, [ she adds, as if to assure her slight alienation from all this drama ] as my mother had yet to birth me when she was forced to flee into exile.
It isn't the half of it, [ she adds. ] He is a vile man.
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What's he doing here? Besides being vile.