[ She raises an eyebrow at that, more amused at his boasting than suspicious now. Surely, no malevolent sorcerer would be professing his culinary skills to a woman he sought to harm; no, this silly braggart standing before her cannot bear her ill will. She smiles softly, crossing her arms as if she doubts him. ]

How am I to believe you with no proof? [ There's a humorous lilt to her voice, even as she regards him dryly. ] I think I shall have to taste the truth for myself, great chef of Fearun.

[ As he gave her his name, she now owes him her own; she has no culinary titles to boast herself, but she finds she easily makes up for it in royal titles. Were she to give him her full title, he would no doubt stare blankly in response, so instead she simplifies it into, ] I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady Regnant of the Seven Kingdoms. I fear I am no chef.