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[The orb comes up, and Sif is surrounded by a small but dedicated throng of villagers. All of whom are waving pieces of paper about. Her hair is disheveled, and as she brings a hand up to tug on her necklace there is a very audible crack as her elbow connects with the nose of a young maiden. It is accidental, but satisfying.]

What in all the worlds has gotten into the townspeople, this day? My autograph has been requested more times this morning than in the past month.

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Something ill might. But I leave it at your discretion, Lady.

Somewhere private would be welcome.

If something ill does, then the shall be dealt with. But it wouldn't be right to punish them when they've done nothing wrong.

Have you eaten yet? I can order lunch and have it set to the gardens. [ There is a small corner of them she knows is empty this time of day, reserved for high ladies who choose not to frequent it. ]

In Asgard, trying to deceive one's lady is wrong.

[She says, having bowed before the King and lied.]

Lunch in your company would be welcome.

In the Kingdoms, it is the same. But it is also the unchangeable nature of the world.

[ She says, having learned that survival lies in willful deception. ]

I will see you soon, then.

[Sif arrives soon enough. Less hungry, and more curious.]

My Lady?

[ Lunch has already arrived when Sif does. Sansa gestures to the other chair opposite her little table. ]

Please, join me.

[She expected little different. Sansa's matters, no matter the circumstances, are as well honed as Sif's own blade.]

I am glad to.

[She takes a seat, and looks around for outside eyes before she speaks.]

Is aught amiss?

There is something... But I do not know where to begin.

I am often told that the beginning is an ideal place to start, my friend.

[ "My friend." And there, that flutter in her heart again.

But where to start - if a story has no end, does it have a beginning either? Once she would have thought otherwise, but she knows differently now. But she must start somewhere. ]

Before my birth, all houses great and small of the Seven Kingdoms fought a war, the purpose of which was to determine who would sit the Iron Throne. Four of the great Houses united to overthrow the one which had ruled all the lands for three hundred years, which retained the support of the other three.

[This is truly interesting. There are stories of war in Asgard, certainly. But the throne belongs to Odin. As it belong to his father, as it will belong to his first born son.

The only war for succession Sif has ever known was short indeed. And she shares a bed with the one who started it.]

You belong to one of these houses, do you not?

Yes. [ It comes out nearly a whisper. She does not say it aloud, though she wants to: I am Sansa of House Stark, daughter of Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn. My brother Robb was King in the North for a time; my father was Hand of the King. Each day she smiles and pretends she is Alayne Stone, she feels Sansa Stark slipping a little further away.

But it is a dangerous thing to say aloud. Sif heard her true name once; Sif will know. Though Sansa took precautions, walls have ears, and somewhere on the other side of Sansa's is the daughter of a mad king. Better to stick to vague, innocuous facts and provide no details. ]

On one side fought the Targaryen king, supported by the Martells of Dorne, the Tyrells of the Reach, and the Lannisters of the Westerlands; arrayed against them were the Arryns of the Vale, the Tullys of the Riverlands, and the Starks of the North, with the Baratheon high lord at their head. And when their game of thrones ended, the king and prince were dead, the prince's wife and babes too. The queen died birthing a daughter; she and her brother, the last children of a dynasty, fled across the sea.

Edited 2012-09-21 03:10 (UTC)

[Sif understands, to some extent. She has never had to hide her name. But her character, her heart, her mind. She could not maintain it for long, and she has no idea how Sansa manages every day.]

I see. And how do these events, which occurred long before your own birth, bring us to break bread together this day?

There is a lady just arrived. [ Sansa cuts into her honeyed ham, takes a delicate bite and swallows before continuing. ] Pale of hair and violet of eye. She calls herself Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen.

I spoke with her. She has a regal bearing, but carries her inexperience too openly. Like a banner.

[Sif takes a drink of iced, honeyed milk. So the girl's forefathers were enemies. Sansa does not seem the type to hold any interest in a blood feud. Daenerys, on the other hand--]

She called herself an avenging dragon.

Their words are Fire and Blood.

[ Her hands might tremor then, if Sansa were the type to give such tells. She sets knife and fork down anyway. ]

She must not know.

Edited 2012-09-21 13:38 (UTC)

Then she will not know.

[Said firmly. Sif is the only one besides Sansa with any idea of the girl's origins. She is a poor liar where Loki or Thor are concerned, but the Targaryen girl could never know Sif like they do. This will be a far easier secret to keep.]

In the event that things change, come to me. A dragon is nothing to a god.

Please don't hurt her. [ The words burst from Sansa, adamant. Daenerys frightens her, but Daenerys also seems kind. That could be a lie - Cersei had been kind to Sansa at first, and Margaery too - but she hopes not.

All Sansa wants is an assurance of safety, and she trusts Sif enough to ask for it. ]

I just don't want her to know.

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