Her face was pale in the shining light of the stars, and for only a moment she looked... off-balance. Off kilter, like she was torn between tears and where she ended up, her face schooled into the perfect expression. Just careful enough. The politeness, the quiet assent to the man in front of her, to his blood, to his family - she had cultivated it over the year and more she had spent in King's Landing before Petyr brought her to the Eyrie.
"Technically," she said quietly, bowing her own head as she half-curtseyed; half, purely because she was in pants, pants and the hooded shirt and the sneakers that everyone where wore. "Although I have no knowledge if my husband is alive or dead." And Tyrion Lannister was anything but her husband in truth. She had been married to him for 5 months - and in the Eyrie for another year or more, but she knew that he had vanished from King's Landing much as she had. "I suppose that makes you family," she said, and the words sounded hollow to her own ears for of anyone to be standing in front of her, of any family to find her, it was Jaime Lannister. It was not Arya, wherever her sister was, if she was even alive - and it was not Jon Snow. Even if the man was a bastard, he shared her father's blood, and there was no one else.
There had been no one else for longer than she cared to say. "I had known you were here," she said quietly, staring up at him, her tone pitch perfect for propriety. "I met Lwaxana, and she had mentioned you. I am sorry I did not find you sooner."
It was a lie, but one she told with grace and even tone.
no subject
"Technically," she said quietly, bowing her own head as she half-curtseyed; half, purely because she was in pants, pants and the hooded shirt and the sneakers that everyone where wore. "Although I have no knowledge if my husband is alive or dead." And Tyrion Lannister was anything but her husband in truth. She had been married to him for 5 months - and in the Eyrie for another year or more, but she knew that he had vanished from King's Landing much as she had. "I suppose that makes you family," she said, and the words sounded hollow to her own ears for of anyone to be standing in front of her, of any family to find her, it was Jaime Lannister. It was not Arya, wherever her sister was, if she was even alive - and it was not Jon Snow. Even if the man was a bastard, he shared her father's blood, and there was no one else.
There had been no one else for longer than she cared to say. "I had known you were here," she said quietly, staring up at him, her tone pitch perfect for propriety. "I met Lwaxana, and she had mentioned you. I am sorry I did not find you sooner."
It was a lie, but one she told with grace and even tone.