A Letter upon the Western Wind
Fourth Day of the Ninth Month 292 AC
"I doubt it has escaped your attention that some of the more valued service to my cause is done by mages." Your hand twitches towards the place where Vee had been before willing herself back to the Deep. "Should you feel your have the inclination and desire to take up those arts, it would be much appreciated and a great boon to your house in the days to come, for the blood of Valyria runs true in the veins of your kin..."
Valaena's eyes shine with excitement, but also hesitation. "Would I gain powers as you did or your sister...?" she asks slowly, uncertain.
"More like me than Daenerys," you reply, expecting to see some disappointment at being denied something as useful as healing not to mention the sheer breadth of her skills, but not trepidation.
"Will I... that is..." She struggles for words.
After a moment you realize what she must be trying to get at. There are all manner of rumors about your draconic nature about, some of them more lurid then others, as is only to be expected. "Your body will not change unless you work specific spells of transformation," you explain, adding that it is unlikely her own path of development will be fully parallel your own.
The girl lets out a long breath and smooths out non-existent caresses in her dress. "I've made a mess of this, haven't I?" For once she sounds oddly candid, bereft of the formality that so plagues her in your presence.
"You have dealt with unusual circumstances, my lady," you remind her gently. "One could hardly expect perfect alacrity."
"You are rather
unusual yourself, your grace," she says, a bit of humor slipping into her voice.
"I shall be sure to take that as a compliment," you laugh.
Soon after Valaena takes her leave, seemingly heartened by your brief talk of magic and happy to have some greater goal before her than continuing the education due her rank past the time when she should have been betrothed or even wed.
***
Fifth Day of the Ninth Month 292 AC
You had barely begun your day's work when a metallic scratching at your window calls your attention of the winged servitor trying to get in. In its beak you see a simple silver talisman for warding the mind such as Lya said she would make for you, while a scroll-tube is attached to its leg. Odd that any of your friends would use that seeing as the "birds" themselves can speak. "What news?" you ask cautiously.
"West-man message... storm man," it screeches.
The Usurper... You had not expected an answer given what you know of the man's character. It would seem rather a waste of parchment to send a letter only to curse you.
The seal is not, however, what you expected. It bears the seal of the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands and not the King on the Iron Throne. Renly Baratheon, whom you had heard was lost, writes that he is willing to pay his elder brother's ransom from his own coffers. Does he even have the authority to do so, you wonder? He is of an age with you, perhaps a year younger.
The message proposes exchanging lord Stannis for the twelve thousand golden dragons you asked for in the Deep a few weeks hence, though to your further surprise the young lord of Storm's End expresses his interest in meeting you if you should wish to deliver his brother in person, going so far as to guarantee your safety for the duration of any meeting.
How do you answer Renly Baratheon's letter?
[] Write in
OOC: Hopefully a bit of a curve-ball.