There had been much Daenerys had heard since coming to Westeros. So many rumors flying around, it was hard to believe that they didn't bear weight, that they didn't pierce flesh or knock heads as they flew overhead. She'd heard of the rumors of the Lannister twins, not too concerned about such things as her lineage had more than its share of the same; remembering how often Viserys had blamed her for being born too late to be Rhaegar's wife, a fact which might have kept him from stealing the Stark girl and bringing the ire of the Starks and Baratheon's down upon them. She also heard rumors of the death of the majority of the Starks, namely the Hand of the King and his son, the one who'd marched against the usurper in retaliation for their abhorrent actions.
Of course, there were also talks of White Walkers and the dead coming back to life, though Daenerys was more open to these being fact as she was the mother of three creatures thought dead and gone from the world herself.
She stiffened when she felt the presence of someone taking the seat next to her, but she held her tongue. Here, she was no queen, no khaleesi. She could be caught and dragged before the usurper and denounced as the one in the wrong. No, it was best if she brought as little attention to herself as possible. It helped that the man seemed not to be interested in bothering her. There was indeed a wickedly curved and sharp dagger beneath the cloak, but her hand didn't reach for the hilt, instead grabbing for another piece of sour bread to dip in the beer.
She didn't get a chance to force it down, though, a pair of men who'd been arguing the table next to her deciding to stand and throw fists. One of them fell back into her, pushing her into the man beside her and making her drop her bread to the floor where it could stay for all she cared. She turned and tried to keep the scarf over her head as she ducked her eyes down to address the man. "I beg your pardon. The jostling was not by my own actions."
That's more than fine =)
Of course, there were also talks of White Walkers and the dead coming back to life, though Daenerys was more open to these being fact as she was the mother of three creatures thought dead and gone from the world herself.
She stiffened when she felt the presence of someone taking the seat next to her, but she held her tongue. Here, she was no queen, no khaleesi. She could be caught and dragged before the usurper and denounced as the one in the wrong. No, it was best if she brought as little attention to herself as possible. It helped that the man seemed not to be interested in bothering her. There was indeed a wickedly curved and sharp dagger beneath the cloak, but her hand didn't reach for the hilt, instead grabbing for another piece of sour bread to dip in the beer.
She didn't get a chance to force it down, though, a pair of men who'd been arguing the table next to her deciding to stand and throw fists. One of them fell back into her, pushing her into the man beside her and making her drop her bread to the floor where it could stay for all she cared. She turned and tried to keep the scarf over her head as she ducked her eyes down to address the man. "I beg your pardon. The jostling was not by my own actions."