Missandei carefully pushed open the heavy oak door following her mistress' bark of acknowledgement. The Queen was in a very bad mood this evening.

"Excuse the interruption my lady but you have a message from Yara Greyjoy of the Iron Isles," Missandei half whispered to the stewing Targaryen. Dany cracked open one eye, peering at her handmaiden from the hot bath she was lounging in. She sighed, sat up, and wiped her hands on a nearby cloth.

"Thank you Missandei," Daenerys smiled to the quiet woman. She took the sealed parchment from the former slave and gave her a reassuring grin. Missandei appeared pointedly less stressed about the state of her mistress and inquired, "Will that be all my Lady?"

"Yes thank you my dear. Please close the door on your way out." Missandei bowed slightly and brushed through the hanging tapestries of silk that separated the tub from the majority of the Queen's room. A warm wind swept through the open balcony door on the other end of the room, billowing the curtains and gave the Queen a look of effortless serenity, sitting upright in her bath. Missandei, content with the changed state of the Targaryen, quietly slipped out of the chambers padding quietly on the cold stone floors and sealing the heavy door behind her.

Daenerys brushed the pad of her thumb against the red wax seal on the collection of parchment. The pressed sigil of House Greyjoy, was skewed slightly to the left of the wax blob, misshaping the angry kraken. The Targaryen smiled as she imagined Yara pressing her ring harshly and efficiently into the hot wax. She was never one to put any unnecessary artistry into anything but war. The Queen slipped her thumb underneath the pages, breaking the seal and unfolding the secrets of the letter.

I humbly request a private audience this evening with the Queen of Meereen, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady Regnant of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains, and the Mother of Dragons. Please send correspondence to that effect as soon as possible.

Yours,

Yara Greyjoy

Khaleesi smiled, the Greyjoy loved to tease her with overly formal correspondence knowing full well she desired a less than formal relationship with Yara. She set the letter down and climbed out of the cooling bathwater, slipping into a thin robe and tying the waist. She rang a bell to signal to Missandei that she needed something and moved towards the writing desk opposite the balcony. Dipping a quill in a pot of ink, Daenerys began her reply to Yara, utilizing a much more neat example of calligraphy than the Greyjoy woman's rough scrawl.

Your request for an audience has been approved, although the customary setting for formal meetings is currently being utilized by the Hand of the Queen. Regrettably, the meeting between House Targaryen and House Greyjoy must be put off until morning unless the latter House does not take any offense in being invited to personal chambers to discuss such formal matters. No need to send any reply, I will await the arrival of a representative of the Iron Isles both this evening and tomorrow morning whichever comes to fruition first.

Daenerys Stormborn

Queen of Meereen, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady Regnant of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains, Mother of Dragons

Dany grinned, flapped her correspondence in the air to dry the freshly laid ink and promptly folded the paper into thirds. If Yara wanted to engage her in the game of proper, chaste communication Daenerys would win. She poured hot wax on the center of the letter and pressed the Targaryen crest into it with an even border of unmarked red around all sides of the twisting dragon.

Missandei pushed open the door, poking her head in, "You rang my Lady?"

"Yes, I'm sorry Missandei, but would you please bring this to Lady Greyjoy as soon as possible."

"Right away your highness." Missandei took the parchment from the Queen's hand, bowed slightly and rotated quickly on her heels. Her mistress thought herself so coy, flirting so privately with the gruff woman from the Iron Isles. Although the connection between the two ladies went unnoticed amongst the men in the Queen's court, Missandei found it glaringly obvious. Though the demeanor and manners of Yara Greyjoy were not to Missandei's liking, she recognized the positive effects the war worn Queen had on her mistress.

The Ironborn's chamber was on a lower level of the pyramid, placing a few flights of stairs between the Dragon Queen's location and her. Missandei made her way quickly through the confusing and identical hallways of the pyramid and promptly delivered the letter to the seasoned commander. Yara smiled upon receipt of the letter and thanked the handmaiden. Their interactions weren't as warm as the ones between herself and the Queen but Missandei still appreciated the Greyjoy's effort to be cordial and polite.

It was well past midnight when Yara rapped lightly on Dany's door and pushed it open without waiting for a reply. The room appeared empty and quiet aside from the gentle whispers of wind that flowed from the open balcony doors. The Greyjoy moved inside the Queen's chambers and made her way to twin doors on situated between the master bed and bath area. Daenerys stood against the thick stone railing of the balcony with her eyes closed, feeling the soft Meereen air caress her skin. She felt a pair of arms snake around her waist and familiar face press itself into her hair.

"Good evening my Lady," Yara's muffled greeting came from the back of Dany's neck.

"I thought I was rather clear Iron Born, it was yesterday evening in my chambers or this morning in the throne room. It is past midnight you know."

"I do apologize my Queen. I couldn't quite make up my mind about which time would be more convenient for you." Yara's thumbs began pressing soft, wispy circles into the Targaryen's hips as the Queen settled back into her front. "How was your day?" the Greyjoy asked after a long, comfortable silence.

"Trying." Daenerys replied, "I don't feel like intimacy tonight my love. I hope that's alright. But I would be quite pleased if you'd lay with me." Yara smiled at Dany's formal language, a result of her attempts to be simultaneously authoritative and to enjoy Yara beyond her role in the Targaryen's army. "What ever my Lady commands," the Iron Born grinned as Dany looked at her helplessly.

"It wasn't a command, Yara. It truly is up to you. You're not a whore that I keep around for my pleasure." Dany's eyes peered back at the woman over her shoulder with the concern, worried about the miscommunication of her intentions. Yara smiled and moved her hand to the base of the Queen's jaw kissing her softly several times before pressing a final kiss to her forehead. Turning back to the bedroom, she grabbed Daenerys's hand to lead her inside. The Greyjoy removed the cloak, leather jerkin, belt and scabbard, and boots that served as her everyday uniform and hung them on the decorated coat hanger by the chamber's door. The cherry wood was carved to appear like three dragons twisted up from the floor, tangling together through the shaft, only to separate at the top to serve as the coat hanger's hooks. Yara lightly brushed the careful details of the animals, admiring the attention to detail and immense craftsmanship.

"Shall I leave you two alone?" Dany called teasingly from the other side of the bed. Yara turned and smiled, "No, not this evening. I have a very beautiful woman who I promised to hold tonight."

"Oh, is that so? She must be very lovely to deserve all that attention."

"She is," Yara assured her padding slowly over to the Targaryen's side of the bed where Dany was standing, "She is kind and just and terrifyingly beautiful and immensely powerful and playful and clever and" Dany cut the woman off with a kiss.

"Come to bed, Queen of the Iron Isles," Dany whispered into Yara's mouth. Yara allowed her body to go limp, crashing into the bed, and pulling the Dragon Queen down with her. The two tousled briefly, stealing kisses, laughing, and tangling themselves in the luxurious sheets of Dany's bed, eventually settling into a comfortable position with Daenerys' face buried in Yara's neck. Their legs intertwined as Yara rubbed soft patterns into Dany's back. First tracing her own sigil, then the House Targaryen sigil, then the one of House Stark, the Lanister's, and so on until she noticed the Targaryen Queen's breath even out. The silver haired woman looked so peaceful in her arms, it pained Yara to remember that the worn, tired woman she looked at during the day didn't appear this at ease all the time. But the Iron Born pushed her concern to the side, closed her eyes, and let Dany's soft exhales coax her to sleep.