"I expect the emperor prefers that I stay here."

"Well, if you ever decide you want to leave anyway, you'd just have to let one of us know."

Would that it were so simple. "I expect I couldn't leave my children."

"Or take them along?"

"I doubt their father would approve." And if they continue this line of discussion she's sure to interfere with their infant diplomatic ties, and that is sure to land her in the sort of trouble that she'd rather not think about. "But I'm sure you must have more important matters to attend to than the logistics of my possible future travels."

"No doubt! But I'd be delighted if you were able to make it to our tent near the temple for some trinkets tomorrow. We trade them for stories, you know, so you could pick out whatever you liked, and you could meet a friend of mine who had a similar dilemma."

"I'll see whether that's possible." It's almost definitely not, but she'd rather be rude than beaten, though she doesn't particularly relish the choice. 

"I'll save something for you!"

"I appreciate it!"

She doesn't want to retire to her room. She really, really doesn't want to. But life is almost synonymous with doing things you don't want to do, now, isn't it. She excuses herself from the party and finds her niece in a different part of the castle.

"You're very popular."

"So it would seem. One of the visitors invited me to visit their temple and pick out an item in exchange for a story. I will of course be tragically unable to leave the castle tomorrow, and most likely all days after tomorrow, at least for the next long while."

"You want me to sneak out of the castle and visit the temple for you?"

"Only if you don't think you can charm the guards."

"I shall carry out my mission to the highest standards of secrecy and competence."

"Do be at least moderately careful. If you get caught you were curious."

"So I don't even hafta lie."

"It's lovely when that happens. Goodnight, Vigdis."

And now she has to return to her room, which predictably has an emperor in it.

"Well. How did it go, were you popular?"

"Quite. They offered to transport me to their world to perform for all of their subjects."

"I had no idea I had such good taste. Perhaps you're useful for more than your cunt after all." He bites his lip with something approaching thoughtfulness. "I was planning to set you aside in another decade or so, but perhaps having a trained songbird around will be worth the cost of feeding it even after it's grown old."

"Birds needn't stop singing after they marry."

"Birds don't marry. We'll see whether you do."

"...they will find out what you are. Not today and not tomorrow, but they will."

"We'll see, my darling. I trust they won't learn through you. It would be a pity to have to find a new songbird, wouldn't it."

"I've no plans to make you find another."

She'll just lie back and think of England now, then, and pray that eleven-year-old girls are better agents than one might naively assume.