 “You in here, handsome?” Thyri thought as she sat daintily on the edge of the cushioned stool in front of her looking glass. She didn't look up at the unfamiliar face reflected back at her; instead she focused on the two rings in the palm of her hand. Behind her, tucked up amongst the furs was her own unconscious body, her hands resting one on top of the other and a tranquil expression on her face. The rich red of her hair contrasted sharply with the almost-black of her coverings which rose and fell with each steady breath. “Don’t be shy, Darling,” Thyri thought again as he pushed one of the rings onto the third finger of Mallos’ left hand. It was the largest she owned, and was much too large for her own slender fingers; Gar had once worn it himself. It was engraved with his wolf, with its shackles and chains and she thought that the rose gold looked strange against the olive tone of the Spaniard’s skin. No matter; it wasn’t there to look beautiful.
Thyri pushed back the stool, crossed the room, and crouched down beside the bed. She placed the second ring on her own chest, and was surprised when she didn’t feel the chill of it against her skin. She had threaded a rolled up sheet of parchment through it, and scrawled on it in an inexpert hand, a few crude runes. They were not beautiful either, but they would get the job done. He would still worry of course, but he was less likely to tear anything apart in search of her. Perching on the edge of her bed, she smiled a little to herself before she abandoned thought and opted to speak out loud instead. “You can be stubborn if you want,” she pressed idly, “trust me, I know stubborn well enough, but the way I see it, you and I are stuck with one another for the time being. We might as well get to know each other.”
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Teleportation came to her easily enough. Rhaegar had explained to her the theory behind it, and she had travelled with him so many times that she had recognised the feeling when it had jerked her suddenly into the dark space between the Pantheon and the Castle. She had never explored further than the end of the long driveway that led to the outer wall, and thus it was there that she reappeared.
“Right,” she began, glancing up at the tower that loomed over her in the near-distance before taking a couple of steps to the side of the road. Thyri sat Mallos down on the grass, her legs stretched out before her, bent a little at the knee. She pointed her toes daintily as she leaned back against the grass. “According to the Little Man, we’re supposed to go on this big soul-search and discover that we’ve both been in error our entire lives. I’m supposed to ‘teach’ you that how we look isn’t as important as we think it is.” Thyri paused, her eyes following the path of a bee as it ducked in and out of a nearby hedge laden with purple flowers. “I’m not going to do that,” she resumed at last, “because he’s full of shit.” Smiling, she pressed on, “You can’t tell me that someone as old as him looks the way he looks because appearances don’t matter. I saw his grand entrance, the hypocritical bastard.”
Turning her head again, Thyri looked through the trees back towards the castle, “anyone who knows me knows I’m not one to refuse to play the game...but we’re going to do it my way. “I’ve never had a family,” she explained to her host, “and from what I hear you’ve got a pretty interesting one, so I’m going to have a look. I’m going to go and see what you have that looks didn’t buy for you. I’ve never had anything like that.” With another smile Thyri ran her fingers through Mallos’ thick black hair, “I don’t reckon anyone could teach you anything you didn’t want to learn, anyway, and honestly Honey, I have neither the will nor the inclination to try.”
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