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“All of them?” Daenerys found herself asking, the words the Greyjoys captured or dead echoing in her head.
“Which?” she asked carefully when Varys gave her a small now.
“Theon went overboard, presumed dead. Yara was taken from her own ship, as I've come to understand.”
That wasn't really a comfort, she was glad it wasn't Yara who was dead, but she has grown fond of Theon, taking the time where she could to bust through that skittish shell to the boy below.
She was also sure Yara was better dead than in the hands of the enemy.
“The Lannisters?”
“No,” Varys shook his head, hands tucked into the opposite sleeve. “Euron Greyjoy”
“Their uncle,” Daenerys hummed, turning away from Varys for a few paces before turning back to him. “We will set sail for the Iron Isle, not Dragonstone.”
“Your grace, if we attack they will become aware of your arrival.” Tyrion interjected.
“Three dragons aren't exactly inconspicuous, everyone would know within the week.” Daenerys pointed out. “How long before we plan to set sail?”
“Weeks end, your grace.”
“Tomorrow night,” Daenerys corrected, not missing the tired look shared between Varys and Tyrion; not one of two men fed up with the demands of a young woman, she thought at first it was. But it was just two men tired of being not listened to or being forced to go against their better judgement.
Daenerys looked at Grey worm, who stood a little straighter. “Ensure your men are ready and at the dock by sunset tomorrow.”
“Yes, your grace.” He nodded once.
The end of the meeting left Daenerys and Tyrion sitting side by side, sipping wine.
“If you are going to insist on doing this, we must take the fight to the Iron Isles.” Tyrion said. “If we do this on the water we lose. We have the advantage of ignorance, they would not expect us to land in Pyke.”
“We will make it to land before they can unravel their sails.”
Tyrion nodded, draining his large glass of wine. “Why are you really doing this?”
“We need their fleet.”
“No,” he said it in a way that always rubbed Daenerys the wrong way, like he knew exactly why and just wanted her to say it.
“The Greyjoys swore allegiance to me, how would it look if I did not respond in kind.”
“Sure,” he hummed as he filled his goblet, and topped up Daenerys’. “It has nothing to do with Theon?”
“Theon?”
“You have grown fond of him, no?” he asked in a tone that told Daenerys he knew the answer.
Daenerys gave him a look that would scare most others, but Tyrion grew up with Cersi, few things scared him now.
“Not in the way you appear to be suggesting.” Daenerys bit back. “You said he went overboard, he wouldn't be in Pyke.”
“Yara, then.” he said, waving a hand. “No judgement, I understand the appeal.”
“It is not Yara, either.” Daenerys hissed. “I must show my allies that their loyalty will not go unrewarded.”
He hummed, unbelieving, but didn't say anything more.
–
As luck would have it, Euron had set sail for Blackwater bay not a week prior to their arrival, which had reduced the forces at the isles significantly, leaving the men out numbered 4:1, and that was just the Unsullied.
They plowed their way through the castle, Daenerys drawing the dagger Tyrion had given her; a beautiful silver blade, bent and jagged in a way that reminded Daenerys of the jaw of her dragons. The dragon bust on the pommel was encrusted into the eyes, making them look like they were glowing a brilliant red in certain lights.
She turned a corner, seeing a flash of moment and reacted on instinct, dagger lifted, the tip almost grazing the neck of the person in front of her.
It took her a second - because Yara had always been so put together in her roguish way- to realise that the dishevelled, bloodsoaked woman in front of her was Yara, Theon to her left, all but holding her upright, watching with worried eyes.
“I have had dreams that start this way,” Yara joked, her voice rougher than Daenerys remembered, and even in her dishevelled state, her skin more crusted blood and wounds than untouched skin, Yara still managed to pull that cheeky little smirk on her lips.
It eased something in Daenerys that she hadn't even realised was there.
Daenerys couldn't hide the barely there little smile on her lips as she dropped the knife, sheathing it at her thigh. She didn't miss the way Yara's eyes followed the movement.
“I thought you were taking Dragonstone?”
“We got word of your capture.” Daenerys said nonchalantly, watching the smirk pull on Yara's lips.
“So, you came to save me?” Yara managed to tilt her chin up, but the rest of her body was a crumpled, broken mess of twisted, limp limbs.
“Looks like there was no need,” Daenerys said, casting a small smile to Theon, who blinked at first, before he realised Daenerys was talking about him, making him preen. “Your uncle is on his way to King's Landing, now would be the perfect time to take your home back.”
Yara eyed her carefully, probably trying to sense what Daenerys’ game was, but, for the first time since Daenerys was first sold to the Dothraki, she wasn't playing any games.
These siblings had been through enough, they deserved their home back.
“I'm in no state to fight, I can't claim to be queen if I didn't partake in the battle to win that right.”
“Your uncle will no doubt get words of this attack in the coming days, take the time to rest and heal.”
“And when he does?” Yara questioned.
“We show him how unwise it is to fuck with two queens.” Daenerys’ eyes hardened, her eyebrow arching, and for a long while Yara just stared at her.
“You're sticking around?”
Daenerys gave a nod.
“I can't say there are many places on this rock fit for a queen like you, but anywhere that would come close would be here in the castle.” Yara said. “It can't hold all those shields you have but there are many empty shacks.”
“That is very kind,”
“Missandei can stay, Grey worm and Varys too.” Yara smirked mischievously. “Tyrion can sleep out back with the dogs.”
Daenerys raised a threatening eyebrow at Yara.
“I'm kidding, we would never force a dog to sleep outside.” Yara grinned. “The Lannister, however-”
“Okay,” it came out more of a laugh than Daenerys had expected, moving her eyes to Theon. “Take her to her room and clean her up, I will go speak with my people.”
“Yes, your grace.” he nodded quickly, both broken siblings hobbling away.
“Theon,” he froze up at first, before relaxing and turning to look at her questioningly.
Daenerys wasn't sure how to tell him he had done a good job without sounding condescending, so she gave him a small smile and a nod instead, hoping he would understand.
The small smile on his lips told her he did, giving her a final nod before ushering Yara away.
Daenerys watched them go, two people she was sure she would find dead here, had expected to see them strung up on the front of a ship or hanging from the castle.
With a sigh, Daenerys went to call off the army, ordering them to take shelter either on the boats or in unoccupied shacks.
She then told her immediate council to find themselves a room, only after Daenerys had laid claim to the room across the hall from Yara's, getting changed after one of the unsullied brought her trunk from the ship.
She lit some candles and settled on top of the sheets, listening for any kind of movement across the hall but there wasn't any, so after a while Daenerys figured they were sleeping it off.
She took a bath, talking through the events of the day with Missandei as she washed off the soot and grime.
“Oh, and Missandei?” Daenerys said when the woman was leaving. “Can you ensure the Greyjoys have something to eat, please?”
Missandei nodded, kind smile on her lips as she slipped out of the room.
Daenerys had stayed by the ocean on multiple occasions, so she knew the sound of the water, but it was different here, she realised as she settled down in bed.
It was a lot harsher, the waved not lapping at the sand like she was accustomed, here it was more of a roaring, her low grumble only interrupted by the harsh pounding of waves on rocks.
It was comforting in a way, the white noise lolling Daenerys to sleep.
—
The Dragons had taken to sleeping down on the beach, much to the marvel of the residents of Pyke, who very must gawped at the large reptile asleep on their beach.
Daenerys went down early the next morning, the small fishing port quiet, staying down with them for the majority of the morning.
Yara found her not long before lunch.
“Lunch will be ready soon, your grace.”
Daenerys glanced back over her shoulder, eyebrow arching. “Should I also be calling you your grace?”
“You can call me whatever you want, I'm not really particular about formalities.” Yara shrugged easily, eyeing the dragon Daenerys was currently stroking. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Many things,” Yara hummed. Ever one for being bold, Yara slowly moved to stand beside Daenerys, still staring at the dragon, not a shred of fear in her eyes. “Coming here to help, how you have treated my brother.”
“You swore allegiance to me. I, of course, would return the favour.” that was mostly the truth, Daenerys had come to realise, the reality was she had become fond of the ruffen siblings. “As for your brother; I am aware of his crimes in Winterfell, and I am unsure what he has been through since, but I can see whatever that was broke him; no one is deserving of that. “
“Do you know Ramsay Bolton?” Yara asked tightly.
Daenerys thought on the name as she turned to lean against Drogon, Yara finally pulling her grey eyes to her. “I can't say the name is familiar.”
“The Boltons?” Yara asked, Daenerys giving her a shake of her head. “They are a northern house; were, I suppose. They took Winterfell from Theon. Their house banner is a fillet man on a cross, that should really tell you everything you need to know. But it was mental, too; I didn't even recognise him when we got him back.”
Daenerys’ jaw tensed, a grumble coming from Drogon's throat.
“Most aren't kind to him, I've given many'a man a broken nose for saying shit to him.” Yara grinned, Daenerys chuckling fondly at the strange sense of pride coming from Yara. “But you have been, your people have been.”
“I'm glad,” Daenerys smiled, eyeing Yara's gash littered face. “How are you, Yara?”
Yara was a little surprised, both at the softness of the question and the use of her name.
“Sore, tired. But I will be ready when my uncle arrives.”
“I don't care about the battle, if you're unfit we can handle it.” Daenerys assured, her vibrant eyes boring into Yara's. “How are you?”
Yara sighed, and with it some of that bravado seemed to slip off her shoulders.
“I'm not sure.” it was the truth, Yara wasn't sure she had even processed what had happened. She was finding it difficult to unravel all the different emotions twisting up her stomach.
Daenerys nodded understandingly, Yara was thankful there was no sign of pity in her features.
Yara jumped when Drogon's snout pressed against her hip, her eyes jumping between him and Daenerys, who watched the scene curiously.
“Does he want to eat me?” Yara asked, side eyeing an amused Daenerys
“I don't think so,”
“You don't think-” Yara cut off when Drogon moved his head directly in front of her, staring at her with large eyes, his dagger sized teeth peeking out of his mouth.
Yara stared at him for a while, waiting for him to move, but when he waited patiently Yara slowly lifted her hand, ensuring she wasn't over stepping before rubbing her maw.
He let out a little huff through his nose and closed his eyes.
Daenerys watched curiously, very few people had won Drogon's affection, and never this quickly.
“You're just a big seal pup, ain't ya?” Yara said fondly, having gained enough confidence to bring her other hand up, giving the dragon the attention he had been begging for.
“He is loving this,” Daenerys said with a fond smile, petting the side of his head, gaining an approving grumble.
“A scary dragon who is soft with the people they trust?” Yara hummed in faux thoughtfulness. “Doesn't that sound familiar?”
“I would watch your tongue, Squid.” there was no bite to her words, her lips upturned as she raised an eyebrow at Yara.
Yara grinned at the playful term, turning her attention back to the dragon. “I think I'm more of a Kraken, your grace.”
Daenerys rolled her eyes at that. “Daenerys when we are alone.”
“You plan on being alone with me often, Daenerys?”
The way Yara twisted her name around her tongue, coupled with the mirth look on her face, had a spark of something shooting up Daenerys’ spine.
“If you play your cards right, Salt Queen.” Daenerys shot back, letting herself partake in the playful banter Yara seemed to naturally speak in.
“I happened to be exceptionally good at cards, Khaleesi.” The accent was absolutely butchered tumbling from Yara's mouth, which Daenerys found endlessly endearing.
“Do you know much Dothraki?”
“None at all,” Yara admitted, grinning at Daenerys. “Maybe you could teach me?”
“Yer tikh tikh jin mel student,” Daenerys grinned up at her, taking a few steps toward Yara, leaning against the side of Drogon's head.
Yara narrowed her eyes at Daenerys. “I'm going to decide to be insulted by whatever you just said.”
Daenerys snorted, soft smile on her lips as she turned and began walking away from the dragon.
“You're a good boy,” She heard Yara whisper to Drogon before she turned to follow, fondness blooming in Daenerys’ chest.
That feeling; the warm fuzzy feeling she had been getting around Yara only seemed to intensify in the passing weeks.
Yara had shown her various places on the island, telling Daenerys all about the history of the Iron Isles, and of Pyke specifically, and Daenerys listened attentively every time, even if she had heard the story from Yara before.
They spent a lot of nights together; usually with the dragons but occasionally on the dock, or the rocks.
Theon had also managed to strike a strange friendship with multiple unsullied members, Grey Worm included, which seemed to be bringing the boy out of his shell more.
But they were on a borrowed time, Daenerys knew that it was only a matter of time before Euron's forces stormed the island in force to reclaim the castle.
They had gone over plans, Drogon would fly out and incinerat what ships he could, Yara and Theon would stay on shore and fight what men made it there.
It was the fifteenth day, in the early hours of the morning, that Euron appeared on their horizon.
Daenerys was on Drogon before most of the men had made it out of the castle, flying toward the wall of ships.
She managed to decimate half the fleet before they made land, so she hopped off the back of Drogon, sending him off to do his own thing before drawing her dagger.
She wasn't nearly as good as Yara or Theon, but neither were these sailors, so Daenerys was getting lucky.
Until she came face to face with one of the larger men, who towered over her with a disgusting smile.
She fought, and she fought well, but ended up on her back in the dirt, staring up at the Sword wielding man.
He grinned as he advanced on her, his grip tightening on her sword.
Daenerys looked around for something to protect herself with as the man above raised his sword, but just before the blade reached her she was being covered, the loud clunk of a sword sliding off a shield echoing in her ear.
She realised it was Yara - her own body covering Daenerys’ shield protecting her– just as the women pounced, cutting through the men surrounding them with surprising ease, before turning her attention to Daenerys.
“I guess we're even,” Yara held a hand out of her, grin on her lips.
“Do you have eyes on him?”
“Not yet, but I'm taking his head when I find him.” Yara said as Drogon landed alongside them, dipping his head for Daenerys.
“Not if I turn him to ash first,” Daenerys grinned at her, challenging her, stepping up onto Drogon.
Yara squared her shoulders, her grin only growing. “You're on.”
Daenerys did end up finding Euron, but she didn't kill him, instead had some unsullied guard him, while a few more went in search of Yara.
Yara stopped at the door at the sight of her uncle, tied up with multiple spears probably slightly pricing his skin.
“Ah, my lovely niece.” his smiled widened, and Yara really couldn't help herself, advancing on Euron and punching him square on the cheek bone.
Her was still grinning when he looked at her, spitting the blood from his mouth.
“Half of your men deserted you,” Yara scoffed. “What kind of pathetic King isn't respected enough that his subjects don't abandon him.”
“Most were afraid of the dragons,” he pointed out. “How is your cowardly brother?”
That was it for Yara, who launched herself at Euron, hand around his throat as she pinned him to the pole he was tied to.
“I planned on torturing you like you did me, but the actual torture isn't even the bad part, it's the living with it after.” Yara snarled in his face.” I just want you gone.”
Euron smirked, but it was quickly wiped off his face when Yara drove a dagger under his ribs to his heart.
And Yara watched as the blood leaked from his mouth, twisting the dagger to see the life completely drain from the man.
She let his body fall limp, dagger still embedded in his chest.
“Burn him,” She said to one of her soliders. “Don't give him a proper funeral.”
“Of course, your grace.” the man nodded, moving to grab the body.
Yara stood with her back to Daenerys, her body tense. “Thank you, for letting me kill him.”
“Of course,” Daenerys nodded. “I did get to him first, though.”
Daenerys wasn't sure it was the right moment to joke, but the gruff laugh Yara let out told her it was exactly the right thing to say.
“I'm going to tell my men to stand down then go bathe.” Yara peered over her shoulder at her. “Maybe I will see you later, your grace.”
“Maybe,” Daenerys hummed.
The words played on Daenerys’ mind well into the wee hours of the morning ‘It's the living with it after'.
All things considered Yara seemed fine, but she was also brave, and strong, one who didn't show weakness.
Daenerys understood that on a deep level.
It was late but something told her Yara would be awake, so she headed across the hall and lightly knocked on the door.
Yara answered after a few seconds, grinning when she realised it was Daenerys, crossing her arms and leaning against the door frame.
She looked tired, and entirely too pretty in the unflattering lantern light.
“I've also had dreams that start this way.” Yara was definitely leering at her, but Daenerys found she didn't mind. “Why would a queen be coming to my door so late at night?”
“I seem to be restless,”
“Can't turn your brain off?” Daenerys nodded and Yara hummed. “Yeah, I get that.”
“Something you said to him, I can't seem to forget about it.”
Yara seemed to tense up then, a little frown appearing on her brow.
“You said it wasn't the torture, it was living with it.” Daenerys said, watching Yara carefully for any kind of reaction.
But Yara was as hard as the rock this castle was built upon, her face stoic and unreadable.
“I understand not wanting to appear weak, or broken.” Daenerys spoke carefully, watching Yara the entire time. “But just know if you need to speak with someone about it I will be right across the hall.”
Yara regarded her for a long time, searching and searching for anything to tell her to turn Daenerys away. Telling her she was being untruthful, or fishing for information.
“Do you want to come in?” Yara said. “I think most people consider it sad to drink whiskey alone.”
Daenerys smiled as she slipped past her, sitting herself on the sofa by the window, turning to peer outside.
Yara silently sat alongside her, pouring them both a drink and turning to join Daenerys in staring at the calm waters.
“He sailed the world, Uncle Euron.” Yara muttered, her eyes not leaving the water, but Daenerys’ did, her eyes rolling over Yara's face. “Picked up a lot of very exotic torture techniques on his travels.”
The fire in Daenerys’ veins ran ice cold at those words, her eyes returning to the water so as not to make Yara uncomfortable.
Yara told her everything, talking in this vacant way that made Daenerys’ heart both ache, and burn with rage.
She told her about the torture, both mental and physical. About the nightmares and flashbacks she has been having since, the feeling of constantly being on edge still hadn't left her.
“Sometimes I almost wish to go back, never leave, never stop being hurt because this is so much worse.”
Daenerys' heart broke, her hand falling onto Yara's, taking her by surprise.
“I am glad you're here, with us.”
“With us?” Yara turned to Daenerys, who was relieved to find a smirk on her lips; mischievous and playful smile on her lips. “Or with you?”
Daenerys watched her carefully, eyes narrowed slightly. “With me.”
That appeared to be the right answer, because Yara's grin widened, and she leaned forward.
Daenerys let it happen at first, wanted it to happen, but her senses kicked in just before their lips touched, the hand she placed against Yara's sternum stopping her immediately.
“I can't,” it came out as a whisper, regretful, and she knew Yara knew that.
“Why?” Yara's voice was just as quiet, her hand coming up to tuck Daenerys' hair away. “I'm not asking you to be my wife, I know we can't.”
That little spark of defiance ignited in Daenerys’ eye, pulling a smirk from Yara. “And why can't we?”
“I think you know why,”
“We are both queens, we can do as we please.” Daenerys scowled. “Who is going to stop me?”
Yara, who had been watching Daenerys with soft eyes and an amused smile. “Certainly not me.”
She ran her fingers through Daenerys' hair and bridged the gap then, which Daenerys readily accepted.
Everything Daenerys had come to know about Yara had shown her that every aspect of her life was ragged and hard; from her homeland to her personality.
So, Daenerys was surprised by the tenderness of the kiss; the way Yara's hand cradled the back of Daenerys’ head as she kissed her so softly, something barely there that had Daenerys immediately a little breathless.
Her other hand moved to Daenerys’ thigh, and Daenerys allowed herself to be pulled almost on top of Yara before she was lowered onto the sofa, Yara positioned between her legs.
Yara kissed her way from Daenerys mouth to her jaw, then back up to her ear.
“You have been driving me crazy since that day in the throne room in Meereen.” Yara breathed against her ear, a warm feeling rolling through Daenerys that had her arching up slightly, pressing roughly on Yara's mid back.
Yara's groan of pain was enough to pull Daenerys out of it, pulling back enough to look at Yara. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,”
“You're hurt, we should stop.”
“And miss my chance again?” Yara scoffed. “No way.”
“There will be other chances,” Daenerys protested, the little giggles coming from her as Yara kissed down her neck and collarbone making Yara a little giddy.
“When? You have a world to conquer, My silver queen.” Yara grinned up at her, kissing her way down Daenerys’ clothes sternum. “Just let me eat you out, your grace.”
Daenerys had grown used to the crass dialect of the folk on the Iron Isles, but this still made her blush.
Yara's grin was wicked, irresistible, as she bunched up Daenerys’ night dress. “It might take the pain away.”
Daenerys rolled her eyes, her chest rising and falling at a faster pace. “Or harm you more.”
“Worth it, I would say.” Yara watched Daenerys as she tickled her fingertips up her thigh, testing the water, waiting for Daenerys to stop her.
Daenerys wasn't sure she was capable of stopping Yara in that moment, her body filled with so much desire that rational thought was nonexistent.
Yara knew she had her then, beginning to toy with Daenerys, her fingertips travelling particularly high, pulling a little gasp from Daenerys.
“Apologies, your grace, it would be improper to act without direct orders.”
Daenerys almost groaned, because of course Yara wanted to play games with her in this moment, toy with her.
Daenerys narrowed her eyes at Yara, who was comfortably situated between Daenerys’ legs, her cheek against her thigh, her hands disappearing somewhere up Daenerys nightdress.
“Now is not the time to play games,”
“No games here,” Yara almost looked innocent, but there was a wickedness in her eyes when her knuckle accidentally brushed against Daenerys bare pussy, pulling a gasp from Daenerys. Yara let her forehead fall against Daenerys thigh, softly murmured, “Fuck,”
Daenerys watched her collect herself, her hands staying still for a few seconds before she finally looked back at Daenerys.
“I wouldn't want to go against a queen's orders.”
“No, you wouldn't.” Daenerys agreed, a sudden burst of confidence bursting through her because this was going to happen, even with the games Yara was playing.
Daenerys could play games with the best of them.
“I also believe your willpower is nonexistent,“ Daenerys grinned, lifting her nightdress up and over her head, now laying completely bare in front of Yara.
And Yara took full advantage of that, her eyes ranking across Daenerys’ body. “When it comes to beautiful women you might just be right.”
“How about,” Daenerys started, taking Yara's chin between her fingers, forcing her to look her in the eyes. “You ask nicely and I'll let you do whatever you want to me?”
Something in Yara seemed to break for a second, like she was trying to process what was being said, then trying to decide if she was willing to take a hit to her pride and beg.
“I don't beg.” Yara swallowed at the wicked smirk playing on Daenerys lips.
“Is there any way I can change your mind?” Daenerys asked in faux disappointment, little pout on her lips as she guided one of Yara's hands to her tit.
“Fuck me,” Yara breathed, her eyes locked in on the hand currently fondling Daenerys.
“If you ask nicely I could make that happen, as well.”
“Fuck you,” Yara hissed, though there was no real venom behind it.
“Fuck me yourself, Salt Queen.” Daenerys arched an eyebrow at her.
“You are going to be the death of me, Daenerys Stormborne.” Yara groaned as she began kissing her way up Daenerys’ thigh. “What a way to go, though, right?”
“Indeed,” Daenerys agreed, her hand tangling in Yara's hair, holding her back when Yara was about to brush her lips against her pussy.
Yara groaned impatiently, which Daenerys understood, it took every ounce of strength for Daenerys to stop her.
“Please!” the word came bursting out of Yara in pure frustration, but then her eyes met Daenerys’ and she softened. “Please, I have been craving this for a long while.”
Daenerys looked pleased with herself, which only seemed to send another thrill through Yara. “Do as you please.”
Yara's grin was pure predatory, and within seconds her lips were on Daenerys, kissing her lips before sliding her tongue up on over her clit, pulling a surprised moan from Daenerys.
“As much as I want to hear every little sound you make, I don't think tonight is the right time for that.” Yara grinned at the glare Daenerys sent her, the woman tugging her hair and pulling Yara's mouth away.
“I could easily rescind my offer, Squid.”
The way it was said to her, the authoritarian tone, the way she all but spat the word squid, combined with the pain from the grip Daenerys had on her hair made Yara moan slightly, her eyes slipping closed.
“I'm about to give you the best night of your life,” Yara said, her eyes fluttering open. “Do you really want to miss out on that?”
“Do you believe you are the only person I have taken to bed?” Daenerys challenged.
“No,” Yara answered simply, lowering her head when Daenerys’ grip let up. “I will be the best, though.”
It was a lot of talk, a lot of Yara to live up to, but Daenerys could confidently say - as she fell back onto the sheets after her fifth orgasm of the night, having to pull Yara away when she attempted to attach her lips to Daenerys aching clit– that Yara backed it up and more.
Yara settled on her front between Daenerys’ quivering thighs, her head on her stomach as she stared up at the panting girl.
Her perfect platinum hair was unruly, her make up slightly smeared with a pretty pink hue across her freckled cheeks.
Yara was sure she had never seen anything more beautiful.
“So? Best you've ever had, right?”
Daenerys laughed, her arm coming up to cover her eyes as she still tried to get her bearings. “You are really trying for compliments, after that.”
“I am simply ensuring you had a night worthy of a queen, your grace."
“Yes, you were the best. But I'm sure you could tell from how I was reacting.”
“Yeah,” Yara sounded breathless, wistful. “I have sailed to many different lands, see many beautiful things but you,” Yara playfully nibbled on Daenerys’ thigh, pulling a surprised squeal from her. “Are the most beautiful sight I have had the privilege to behold.”
Daenerys felt those words in her chest, reaching down for Yara's face. “Come here,”
Yara obliged, crawling up Daenerys’ body to kiss her, catching Daenerys a little by surprise with how fierce it was, how much feeling Yara was putting behind it.
“I came here because the short time we spent in Meereen left me wanting more.” Daenerys admitted. “I have grown fond of both you and your brother, but you are the one I came here for.”
Yara moved to settle beside Daenerys, her fingertips dancing across Daenerys’ hipbone.
“And if I decide I want to make you my queen,” Daenerys turned to Yara with a smile, leaning forward to plan a kiss on her lips. “Then I will.”
Yara grinned at her, “You'd marry a squid?”
Daenerys grinned right back, her violet eyes bright. “Kraken, I would say.”