driftfleet | every flight begins with a fall

Who: Daenerys Targaryen & Open
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Yes, on the Marsiva. ~~Because I know ship names.~~
When: Right after her arrival.

[The salt of the sea no longer fills her nostrils; she cannot hear the waves and she senses that she is not amongst her fellows or onboard a ship any longer. Panic would be an acceptable first emotion and with how the young Queen jerks up from her bed, she clearly considers it.

But a Dragon does not show her weakness. Rubbing absently at her neck, clad in black, Daenerys familiarizes herself with her surroundings and, eventually, her communication's device.

Well.

After watching others making use of it, she learns quickly, violet eyes sharp and intent on the task. What magic is this?]

I commend you for your audacity. If you think I am weaker cut off from my allies and my children, you are sadly mistaken.

[Now onto negotiations. She settles herself, expression calm, adapting to her new, strange circumstances.]

What do you want? Gold? Power? Ships? [She is not parting from either option, of course, but any hint about her captor(s) is useful.

Later, she can be found scouring out the Marsiva, posture perfect and unyielding.]

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[A moment while he glances down, thoughtful—a moment more while he looks back up, his smile as white and far as the edge of a moon.]

Do you fear instead for your gold? Your ships?

Why are you so curious? [He is difficult to read and she is watching him, measuring his reactions.] Are you one of the Atroma?

I'm not. I came here like you did, and I was even more curious then. [Whatever she's trying to measure here won't be easy, either; again like the moon, his surface is bright, but lonely and suited for the quiet of the night, too. And so calm, a ruler of tides in a steady orbit.

His head tilts a few degrees, and his eyes settle off to the side. If there's anything identifiable here, it might be... something like indulgence... whether to her or to himself goes unsaid. What he does say is,] I like learning. So shouldn't I ask questions?

[She comes from a world where information can be deadly in the wrong hands. Her enemies have tried to assassinate her and she accepts she can expect more of that when she lands on the shore of Westeros. However he is new to her; foreign. Daenerys holds herself stiffly, but her expression is cool, calm and mostly unreadable except for her curious violet eyes.]

My gold and ships are likely of no use to the Atroma, so there is no need to fear for them.

Perhaps there is nothing they can hold against me that would sway me.

[He takes a breath, intending to ask, Do you fear for your power? The breath is a very deliberate thing; he breathes like it's natural, because it's a pleasurable thing to do, but the effect breathing has on his body is largely psychosomatic, and there are times when he does just for goodness.

But he exhales without letting that question follow.]

I can't decide whether that's glad or sad.

[Anyway, he'll speak now with a little more camaraderie.] You are far away from home. That could be glad or sad, too. But there are many ways to spend your time here, even if you're childless and penniless. You'll learn things, which is good no matter what.

Humans like connections; even if they become weaknesses. [Khal Drogo would have been a weakness. Rhaego too. But they are far beyond her reach and she cannot protect them no matter the circumstances.]

I sought to reclaim my home; now I am the furthest I have ever been from it. I am beginning to think this is a lesson in patience.

[Yet he isn't wrong and she can see the wisdom behind his words.]

What have you learned?

[By all appearances, he's a young man, a boy in his teens; take him as you see him. And yet, right now, he has all the hallmarks of a mother's cliche: every gentle curve in his face, and every great measure of strength behind them. The red of his eyes is quiet and quite warm.

He grins at her, that much livelier.]

I've learned that patience pays off.

Does it? [She does not sound convinced, but for all her grace and royal demeanor, Daenerys is young - not much older than her teens. Outwardly, she looks certain; she is approaching this situation like she would any other. Inwardly, she is lost and confused.]

When will I reap the rewards? What rewards are there to reap?

It does. I can't tell you when. It could be a short time, but it could be a very, very long time. A long time will seem even longer if you're struggling. Only the promise you make between yourself and hope will give every next dawn the light of anticipation.

[He says this with an awful lot of confidence—whatever doctrine he goes by is one in which he believes wholeheartedly. His patience is zealous.

His chin settles into one of his hands; out of view, his elbow must be propped upon a table.]

You'll reap relief. Some day. At last. Whatever else comes depends on what your heart considers to be rewarding.

My heart is in Westeros; with my people. They need me and the longer I spend away from the Iron Throne, the longer they suffer. This isn't about me. [Not wholly, at least. She knows, as a Queen, she serves the people of the Seven Kingdoms; they do not serve her.]

I am a conqueror like my ancestor. I am not prepared to sit still.

If I were you, I would be preparing. [Calm as ever, wholly mild, but there's something wry at his mouth, too. He hasn't stopped smiling, though.] Those I knew to be closest to conquerors sat still for a long time. I've known spears to be less victorious than years of guarding one's heart.

[A little puff of air. It's almost a laugh, but more of a concession.]

Some people leave quickly. I don't know what fate has in store for you. I don't know how long your lesson in patience is meant to last.

I have spent my whole life preparing. [On the run; in whatever safe house Viserys and their allies could find in the East.] What am I guarding my heart from? I know love and I know loss. Everything else lies between those extremities.

[His shoulders rise. It's a shrug that stops before falling back down.]

The heart is a thing to guard, that's all. Even from what you already know very well.

I'll say I'm not much for conquering, myself. You and I have waited for different things, I think. But patience is patience.

[She is silent, letting the words sink in, mulling them over, gaze distant. Then she lets out a small breath, shifts her weight and arches a brow:]

What should I call you? If we are to reside on this fleet together, we could aid one another.

every flight begins with a fall

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