And if given such an answer (not that she would ask) Daenerys would understand. That did seem to be the way of things here, everyone so eager to make connections and triumph and top each other. She wouldn't necessarily believe that (she'd been on the receiving end of such attention before, and it was rarely like this) but she'd understand.

"Once you are wed, yes, of course," she echoed, going distant for a moment. Even before properly speaking to Margaery, she'd known better than to wish Joffrey on her. She wouldn't wish Joffrey on anyone, not after the contempt she'd seen him have for many of his subjects, the outright cruelty he inflicted on Sansa, the subtler and sneakier ways he'd found to deal with her during her time in the city (especially after Lord Eddard's execution). Now? She almost shuddered to think of such a marriage.

There were no good ways to say any of that, though, so instead she mused, "There is rather a difference between empty compliments and genuine ones." Margaery's to her, she expected, were the latter, but she couldn't yet be quite sure.

The look on her face hinted at that, though, and Daenerys -- not, by nature, a gleeful sort -- was caught off-guard a moment before she thought to give a low laugh and murmur, "There may well be prying eyes anywhere." Her own paranoia more than anything.