━ in which; Sansa Stark, Queen in the North, receives a raven from across the sea, speaking of how her dear sister had come into contact with another race of people from the mysterious, rumoured magic of the sea on Arya's desire to answer the age o...
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The singular night stay had soon devolved into two, then three, as the precarious peaceful coexistence between nations stood on shaky legs, like a newborn foal in a stable. On the second night, King Aelle had finally invited them to dine with him, having thrown a feast for the travellers. Sansa watched through her lashes, as he apologised for how it may of seemed rude to of not wined and dined his guests. "There were matters to discuss with my council," had been one Arya nodded at, and lightly nudged the back of Sansa's arm at, as if to say it had happened.
Sansa frowned. Had Arya taken another face and snuck about? She had promised to leave it behind, confident in her place and identity as a Stark, as her sister! Sansa let a soft smile coat her face as she dove fully into the performance. She laughed when jokes were spoken, and listened intently when those of rank spoke. She told tidbits of information about her homeland and culture, dressing it up with elaborate lies and focusing solely upon its beauty and strength, before inquiring about the newfound landscapes and wonderment it brought. It in turn inspired a long enough conversation from both the King and the man in the strange robes, who spoke of how 'God carved the lands for those who devoted themselves to him', to which the red haired woman nodded at, as religion was a topic that she had learnt to leave alone, especially with Southerners.
They had soon been introduced to the King's wife, Ealswith, his son, Ecbert, and daughters, Judith and Blaeja. The room seemed to still around them. Sansa nodded her head in acknowledgement, a polite smile focusing innately upon the princesses. Arya offered them her own, a sharp, wolfy grin. The princesses shrunk back slightly, and once more, the queen beckoned them closer.
The silver of her crown reflected the light of the room. Sansa cleared her throat, having spent the past day learning and practicing the language with Arya. She was no where near fluent, but was able to hold her own whilst speaking "Sit, join us, princesses."
Princess Judith offered a meek smile, her eyes darting to the king, as if asking for approval. Why did she need permission to sit with them? The red haired woman tilted her head. Blaeja did the same, though upon the brief wave of the kings hand, sat closest to the Northerners.
"Tell me, your grace," Blaeja started, "why did your husband allow you to travel to our shores?"
