"A diplomatic answer, though I'm left to wonder if you are simply indulging me with the words you believe I wish to hear." No, everything about him cries out in shades of unbearable earnest, right down to the warmth radiating out from those brown eyes. Northerners are honorable and bend to no one, not even Winter.

"You seem to be well-versed in such matters. If the King had such keen mind on his council perhaps the vultures would not descend upon him so readily." Giving into the silence that follows, she drains her cup and sets it aside in favor of circling him. Her gaze is hardly predatory, merely inquisitive, but she is searching for something, maybe it lingers just beneath the surface.

There is no recognition in his eyes when he looks at her, perhaps her name would elicit something more. Anonymity is a fine bedfellow for some but the attention is never what put her in a sour mood. "I am Rhaenyra Targaryen, Princess of Dragonstone, and heir to the Iron Throne."