Victaria had taken little note of the fair-skinned woman at the high table next to the Lord Manwoody - at first, she'd thought that all Dornish had similar complexions to Trystane, but a few days here had absolved her of her assumptions, and she thought little of the woman. Likely the lord's wife or some such, and she was here for a festival, not to be an emissary. Besides, the Manwoodys had the skull of one of her ancestors somewhere here, so she had little obligation to be more polite than absolutely necessary.

She had been looking away from the High Table when the woman approached her, convinced she'd seen Trystane somewhere in a corner. She turned back to look at her as she arrived, and her eyes immediately went to her dress - she was still not fully accustomed to the dress of Dornish women. No matter how many tourneys she entered, her sensibilities were still fundamentally of the Reach, and her garb reflected that; her green dress was modest, with a high neckline, although perhaps simpler than one would expect from a royal princess.

Frida was not the name she expected from a Dornish woman, though. It wasn't a name she had really ever heard before, but it also lacked the flair of a Dornish name. She was also surprised that the woman could, or at least pretended to, identify her on sight - there were other Gardener princesses, and the bastard was only a few years her elder. Still, she nodded, politely. "It's a pleasure to meet you, too, my lady. I am Victaria Gardener." After a moment, she realized something was missing. "Or Beesbury, if you like." It didn't sound right, to her, but some insisted on it.