( closed )

[imaginate]

Characters: Kyle & various.
Date: Nowish.
Location: Earth, Metal, and Wood Sector.
Situation: Various.
Warnings/Rating: Mind control related trauma, discussion of mass murder.

Comments

EA-2C; closed to daenerys targaryen (dated to after her arrival)

[imaginate]

[He'd been asked, not summoned. That alone is enough to give him pause. It tells him something important about her; despite 'rightful Queen' being very clear in mind. He's no stranger to words that heralded war.

He doesn't dress in his uniform; he chose the cleanest and most well pressed formal clothes he had, while making sure they were comfortable in case he was attacked by anything or anyone along the way. He brushes his hair (actually brushed his hair, Ma would be proud) and keeps the maps of the city that he'd made, marking out restaurants and clothing boutiques on these copies instead of the anonymous console cafes. Somehow, he has a feeling she will have no use for information like that.

And so it was that he found himself walking towards her suite, which wasn't far from HQ. Upon arriving, he knocks. Politely, he announces himself:] Khaleesi.

[iwillnotlookback]

[ She's become accustomed to having her handmaids around her, Dany reflects as she goes to the door. Normally they would see her guests in and announce their presence while Dany sat in appropriate state to receive her visitor.

Here, she must do these things herself. ]

Welcome, Kyle.

[imaginate]

[Unlike before, he does not maintain a neutral politeness, but a genuine smile (not particularly wide, but still a smile) as he steps in.] Would you prefer that I stand, or sit?

[iwillnotlookback]

I prefer that you are comfortable, and make yourself at home.

[ She closes the door behind him and leads the way into the apartments. There's something honest about the rooms, something comfortable and inviting. Not over-large and modestly furnished, Dany finds that she likes them despite herself. ]

I've set tea to brew, but I fear I can offer little more than that. My ability to prepare meals extends only to charring meat.

[imaginate]

I would like to sit down. [More points in Dany's favour, as far as Kyle's concerned. Royalty had a tendency to condescend, and he's glad he doesn't have to face or fight it so far from her. It's why he's feeling more comfortable being polite in return, and meaning it, rather than the empty platitudes he has to offer when heads of state see him.

It's relieving, not having any expectations of him either.] Well, there are good places to eat nearby. I can provide you with a list of restaurant names. Or, you can hire a local cook, but times are becoming quite harsh.

[iwillnotlookback]

Cooks and eating-houses would be a frivolous waste of money. [ She waves her hand in dismissal of the idea. ] Your thoughtfulness is appreciated, but I'm quite capable of keeping myself fed.

[imaginate]

[That, he can get behind. He nods, waiting for her to tell him when and where he can sit.]

[iwillnotlookback]

[ She raises an eyebrow at him, and lifts one dainty hand to gesture at the cushion across from the one she seats herself on. ]

I am pleased you've come to pay me visit. Will you tell me more of your life, Kyle? Tell me of your land and your masters, and of your great deeds.

[imaginate]

[He obliges, sitting straight up, still out of respect (but comfortably enough).

He doesn't quite know how to explain 'aliens' to her, or space travel. What had Temeraire called it? Travelling amongst the stars? Even that, he wasn't sure he could sustain.

So? Easier option.] There are many stories; only one is true.

[That was, the ability to overcome great fear.]

[iwillnotlookback]

A fine beginning

[ She sits with one leg curled beneath her, the other's knee propped up so she can rest her elbow upon it. Coiled almost lazily, like a dragon. ]

Go on.

[imaginate]

[His voice takes a new tone - neither his usual dorkiness nor his more serious, commanding voice. It has the cadence of a practiced storyteller, except this is not a story. It is a battle hymn:]

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

[iwillnotlookback]

[ She listens in silence, hands folded in her lap. The words reach a place deep inside Dany, stirring it to emotion. She thinks of watching impassively her brother was crowned and died, of pressing that silk pillow over her lord husband's face and suffocating the life from him. Of the funeral pyre after, through which she'd walked unscathed.

When he finishes, her silence remains, an object of her stillness. Finally she stirs, and lifts her chin ever so slightly in salute. ]

Fine words. A song of your people?

[imaginate]

The best one, khaleesi.

[He bows his head slightly; he can see that the words have reached her.]

[iwillnotlookback]

And what story does it tell?

[imaginate]

The only story worth telling: the truth about those who serve beside me.