at magicdraft; post may contain spoilers for ASoIaF

[kindlymeant]

It is not that I am ungrateful for your attention, my lady, though I cannot share in your renewed enthusiasm. I would have you remember, please, that even away from my lord father - especially then, perhaps - I must be careful to conduct myself as is befitting. I will not give him reason for disappointment, least not when I walk alongside such noble names.

As for - circumstances as they are, it is far better this way. That door may be closed now, as it should be, and so it shall remain.

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[longshanks]

Here I realise my mistake. Offering my sword for the amusement of a lady sharper even than the reforged blade of kings, Andúril indeed looks pitifully dull set next to your wit.

[ A hand touches his chest briefly, a nod given. ]

I am humbled.

[kindlymeant]

Now you tease me, my lord. [From anyone else, she'd likely think they were making mock - and the suspicion is there, certainly, but he does not seem the type. Another thing to chide herself for, that she should let such judgements cloud her.

(She should trust her instincts better, but she feels such matters of the heart have only betrayed her before.)]

It is I that is humbled. I shall endeavour not to cut you, my lord, for it would be illdone to spill such noble blood.

[longshanks]

And I shall curb my curiosity, though it may roam free and require a lady's gentle touch to swat it back into its place.

[ He could give her a pseudonym, but since the Argonath ... ]

I am Aragorn son of Arathorn and am called Elessar, the Elfstone, Chieftain of the Dúnedain, the heir of Isildur Elendil's son of Gondor. [ A bow. ] Well met, little lady.

[kindlymeant]

[She knows nothing of Gondor, of Dúnedain. She knows of no Isildur, and all the words are strange to her ears. But she knows a royal title well enough, and though he does not dress as a king does, she finds herself somehow unsurprised. With widened eyes drops to one knee, head bowed. A lady, baseborn or not, always remembers her courtesies.]

Forgive me, I did not - [She sucks in a breath, and looks up at him, but does not yet rise.]

As it please your Grace, I am Alayne Stone, daughter to Lord Petyr Baelish, Protector of the Vale and Lord Paramount of the Riverlands. [Sansa Stark is restless within her, but it is not Alayne Stone's place to speak of wolves.]

[longshanks]

No, do not kneel to me. Come ...

[ Uncomfortable even now when people bow their heads, as convicted as he is to avenging Boromir and assuming his rightful place on the throne, he's still very much Strider.

A hand lightly touches her arm. ]

I bid you rise and show me no special deference. I only wished to be honest with you, Lady Alayne.

[kindlymeant]

[Her surprise is evident then, when she looks up at him directly. He is kingly, indeed, but not like Joffrey, nor like Stannis - not even like Lord Renly, or her brother.

Appearances are deceiving, in their way. She cannot picture this man - in travel-stained clothes and with his scruffy hair - wearing a crown, or sitting a throne, and yet she cannot find his claim refutable.]

You are... a strange sort of king then, your Grace. [She says, sure and tremulous in her speaking all at once.