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[exiling]

[ The backdrop is only the wall of her room in House Hel and in place of a missing crown her hair is braided back from her face. ]

I am Daenerys Stormborn, of House Targaryen. I traveled with many of you to the front at Alfheim, though this world remembers my face from a time now lost to me. If we once had dealings in the past I would speak with you of them.

[ Better than bumping into each and every person one at a time, as she's been doing for over a week now. A beat, and she continues. ]

Among you are men and women that claim the Seven Kingdoms their home, to whom my family name and titles are more familiar. Whether you hail from Westeros or the Free Cities and beyond - I make only two simple requests. [ Many of them have already come forward, but there is at least one false name that doesn't match up and one Kingslayer that hasn't shown his face. ] To friends, I ask that you tell me of your time in Asgard. [ Her back and shoulders remain straight, her gaze hardening just a fraction. ] To all others, [ oathbreakers and pretenders alike ] convince me that our cause in this world is truly a common one.

[ And that no blood needs to be spilled on these foreign streets. Their feuds can resume back home where they can be settled and not forgotten.

Or just stay out of her way. Khaleesi out. ]

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[exiling]

[ My lady. Her face is a neutral mask.

She dislikes the audio function for this. ]

That you do not bend knee to the Usurper's son, to start. [ And for it to be true. Enemy of my enemy, even that's not enough to trust. Winter is upon them and the dogs are tearing each other apart for the meat in Westeros. ] Across the narrow sea the news has spread that it was Eddard Stark poisoned the false king. [ Or his wife, or skewered by a great beast of a boar, but that's not the reaction she needs to see. ]

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[needsnoheadsman]

[And he switches to video as well. If they're to speak, they might as well do it seeing each other's faces. His face is grim, carefully calm and neutral, but there's a tension there as well.]

I would never bend my knee to my father's killers, you can be assured of that. [Never is almost a snarl. Bending his knee to Joffrey, of all people? He'd rather die again.] And that my father wouldn't poison King Robert, either. They were friends, great ones, and he would never do such a thing to his king, to his friend. As far as I know, King Robert Baratheon died while hunting, killed by a boar.

[exiling]

[ Her mouth twists at friends - but the boar claim matches what Ser Barristan Selmy had seen, and though her old knight often has too much pity for the Eddard Stark's fate, it is likely the closest tale to the truth. ]

What do you mean to do with one of your father's killers, as you name this boy? Leave him be? Seek your vengeance? [ Do you have that much restraint, Robb Stark? He makes sweet promises, but beyond that and his bad blood there is still not enough that she knows about him. ]

[needsnoheadsman]

If it were up to me alone, I'd have him face justice for what he did. [He'd seek his vengeance, basically.] But a friend of mine wants to--teach him somehow, to stay his hand and hold his tongue.

[A resigned, slightly frustrated breath. Arthur makes the worst decisions sometimes, seriously.]

So long as Joffrey learns to do so and doesn't lay a hand on anyone here, I may as well stay my hand. [As long as he plays nice, anyway. But the unspoken words are clear enough: if he doesn't, then I won't.] I'll not drag my wars here, when one is already raging around us. [Not when he's lost it already.]

[exiling]

[ Is he friends with Baelor the Blessed or something?

Her expression remains impassive. It is as much as she just told the Kingslayer (even if she questions the wisdom of that conversation, now that it is all said and done). Their positions are not so different as she might like to think. It may be enough to begin building on. ]

Then let us hope Gladsheim spits out no more like him. You are right, too much is at stake. [ Woops But this is her saying she accepts his answers, for now. ]

[needsnoheadsman]

[No, but King Arthur's incredibly close sometimes. For a prat.]

Let us hope. [He echoes her words, but sounds and looks less hopeful and a little more bleak, giving a humorless, slightly bitter half-smile. Gladsheim spits out all sorts of people, after all, the dead and the living, kings and queens and rebels and exiles. Who's to say that someday someone worse than Joffrey or the Kingslayer might come to Asgard? Who's to say Tywin Lannister won't come, or the Mad King?

He doesn't dare think about what might happen if his own lord father or lady mother comes to Asgard, but for very different reasons.]

What have you learned of this world? I might be able to tell more. [Might. No promises here.]

[exiling]

[ Nothing about his reaction escapes her, and it doesn't instill much faith. There's a slight pause at his question and finally her face shifts - to a frown. ]

I have learned that I have no love for giants. That time moves strangely between worlds and death is not so permanent as it once was. [ Her mouth tightens. ] That this sickness was much worse, before the arrival of Travelers. [ Lending some credence to the gods' claims. So what is she missing? ]