They looked at each other critically, the man and the girl.
She thought him to be rather large and fat, and in his heavy black clothes he looked a bit like a lump of coal left out in the rain, only partly burned. He towered over her, too, which she didn't like. But Mother had said that it was the curse of little girls, and in time she would be as tall as her. Or maybe even her father. She would like to be as tall as father, Visenya thought.
"You are to teach me the language of your lands." She said, trying to sound like a queen as she spoke. Well, sound like her mother. Visenya wasn't completely on the clear of what the difference was between being queen and being khaleesi, but Mother had said that there was a difference. 'I am khaleesi' mother had said as she laid her cheek to Visenya's, 'and you shall be queen'.
The fat man looked back, clearly unimpressed. He saw a slip of a girl, gangly and gawky, mostly consisting of eyes and elbows. She had blonde curls that seemed to be untameable, a tear in her green dress, and was that dirt on her face? But she had the fine features of the Targaryen's, and if she was anything like her mother she was going to be stunning when she grew up.
"I am Samwell Tarly" he told the little girl who insisted she was to be a queen. She cocked her head to the side, clearly considering the words. He wondered how long she had been made to practice the greeting. It had not sounded like her own words. Her lips formed the words as she repeated them silently, then it was as if she made up her mind.
"I am Visenya Mormont" she told him, and this time it sounded more honest, like the words were hers and not what her mother had told her to say.
"Visenya Mormont, first of my name" he corrected her. She looked confused, clearly not understanding, but after a few moments of consideration she straightened her narrow back, turned her little face up and leveled him with a haughty look that made him think that she might make a half-decent queen one day. Well, it wasn't as if she could be worse than Cersei.
"I am Visenya Mormont, first of my name, queen of West-e-ros."
When he looked at the girl, something started to move deep in his mind and suddenly he recognized the look of determination in her eyes. He had seen it before.
There was no denying that the girl in front of him was related to Jorah Mormont.
