In the realm of Game of Thrones, I only have eyes for Daenerys. When the Great Khal died, I was truly heartbroken. Then, there was Daario Naharis. (I have a thing for older guys that are uncharacteristically handsome and completely bad for you, if you haven't noticed.) I had this idea for quite some time and only just got around to writing it after finally getting Daario added as a character on FF.
To be clear, this is based on the Khaleesi's first encounter with the original Daario Naharis, played brilliantly by Ed Skrein, not the ridiculously attractive Daario from season 4 who I do not care for.
The first section of this story is dubbed from season 3, episode 8 as a refresher, the rest is all fresh from yours truly with enough explicit material to keep things interesting.
This is something different for me and a little out of my comfort zone. Please let me know what you think!
"No screaming or she dies." The voice was deep, muffled. Daenerys jumped up from her bath, startled, and turned slightly to face the attacker. She was still submerged in the water.
There, in her chambers, was an iron clad soldier, hidden behind the mask on his helmet. He held a knife to the throat of Missandei, threatening the translator's life as she trembled in his grasp. Slowly, the assailant lowered the blade, still clutching the dark girl to his chest. Then, he removed his helmet to reveal himself to the queen. Daario Naharis.
Daenerys finally found her voice. "What do you want?"
The blade returned, poised against the girl's jugular. "You." He said simply.
"Let her go." The queen bargained. She wasn't willing to let an innocent girl die for her, not again.
"Don't scream lovely girl." Daario breathed the words against Missandei's neck before letting her go. She wasted no time, running behind the tub her queen was still bathing in.
"You were sent here to kill me. So, why haven't you?" The Khaleesi asked.
"I don't want to."
"And what do your captains have to say about that?"
"Why don't you ask them?" He countered, coolly. He lifted his pack from his shoulder and dumped the contents on her rug at his feet. The heads of his comrades rolled to a bloody stop.
"Why?" Daenerys asked, stunned.
"We had philosophical differences." He replied with a glint of humor.
"Over what?"
"Your beauty." He replied. "It meant more to me than it did to them."
"You're a strange man." She chuckled.
"I'm the simplest man you'll ever meet. I only do what I want to do."
"What? And this is supposed to impress me?" The queen scoffed.
"Yes."
"Why would I trust a man who murders his comrades?"
"They ordered me to murder you. I told them I preferred not to. They told me I had no choice. I told them I am Daario Naharis. I always have a choice. They drew their swords and I drew mine."
Daenerys had grown a great deal since becoming the Dothraki matriarch. Losing everything could do that to a person. In the precipice of her own personal hell, she found herself, realized her own destiny. She was no longer the meek little creature Viserys had sold, someone he could abuse for his own power. No, she was something much different now. She was the Mother of Dragons.
Daenerys took a deep breath and stood from her bath, ever so slowly. She wanted to appear unashamedly naked. She wasn't a shy creature. She had to be naked in front of her servants for them to dress her every morning. She stood naked in front of her brother, the Khal's advisors for their appraisal before their wedding.
She had shared herself with Drogo naked on the cliff side, allowed him to take her in the surf, night after night in their bed, but nothing like this. She had only shared herself with one man, but standing there in front of Daario Naharis, she felt like he could see straight through her.
It was eerily sensual the way his eyes groped her body. She and Drogo barely spoke the same language. What they had was primal and animalistic. Their union was necessary. They grew to love each other in time. This, this was nothing like that. Despite his reputation, Daenerys found herself indisputably attracted to this man.
She released a breath she never knew she was holding in as Missandei brought her her dressing robe. She held her arms back, welcoming the covering.
"Will you fight for me?" She asked as she tied off the robe.
The soldier nodded soundly, without hesitation.
"Swear to me."
The captain knelt on one knee, unsheathing his sword and rested it parallel on his knee. "The Second Sons are yours and so is Daario Naharis. My sword is yours, my life is yours, my heart is yours."
"Truly?" Daenerys asked, her eyes wide, searching his face as he knelt at her feet.
"Always, my Queen."
She regarded him, his position beneath her. He would lay his life down for her. Another servant to the great cause of winning back the iron throne. "Very well then. Rise."
"With all due respect my Queen, I rather like the view from down here. There's a great deal of good I can do from down here, your highness." He smirked, cheekily, glaring up at the queen as he sheathed his blade and began pushing himself to his feet.
"That's enough!" Missandei warned, stepping toward the Queen protectively.
"I'm fine." The Khaleesi said. She turned to her translator. "You may leave us."
"Khaleesi, I -"
"Go!" Daenerys insisted. Her demeanor changed, suddenly more soft and sullen. "I'll be fine."
"Your majesty." Missandei curtseyed, hands clasped, before she walked herself out.
"Nice girl." Daario murmured, watching her leave. "Glad I didn't have to slit her throat."
"Wine?" Daenerys asked, already walking across the carpeted tent to the bed chamber to ignore his comment. She suspected he never meant to hurt her translator and advisor, Missandei. Still, she resented the fact that he had tried.
A glass bottle of Yunkai wine sat on her dressing table. She poured herself a tumbler, a second for Daario, and offered him the glass. She walked calmly to the chaise lounge in the center of the room. "I wish to discuss the Second Sons position in my efforts."
"That's what all this is about? The Queen alone in her chambers, naked beneath her bathing robes, with the notorious Daario Naharis at her feet. And for what? To discuss battle plans and oppositions?"
"You would do best to hold your tongue, sir." The Khaleesi warned.
"Apologies, your highness." He downed his glass of wine, crumpling at her feet on the soft cushions and thick rugs. "It won't happen again."
The queen sipped daintily on her wine, the burgundy liquid staining her lush lips a deep berry color, the taste of the alcohol going straight to her head.
She was thinking of Daario Naharis, the vile man with the horrible reputation. Valiant captain, brilliant soldier, irrefutable whore for cheap women.
Daenerys was not one of those women. She was Khaleesi, mother of dragons, wife to the late Khal Drogo... Her moon and stars.
Experimentally, Daario knelt forward on his knees, placing a surprisingly soft hand on the queen's knee, over her dressing robe. "Let me put your mind at ease. I would never do anything without your permission, highness."
"What makes you think I would ever give you permission?" She mused, taking a final sip of wine before the chalice was empty. She placed the glass on the floor and looked back at the soldier on his knees before her.
"Well, your majesty, for starters... You haven't asked me to move my hand." He smirked, wagging his broad brow her.
He had bested her. She would be lying if she said she wasn't seething with rage. Even more unsettling, she felt herself surging with moisture between her tightly clamped thighs.
She felt him brush his thumb over the soft, slick fabric on her knee, watched him watch her with those pensive, dark eyes. The man, Daario, leaned forward, his other hand reaching for the back of her neck. She thought he would make the motion to kiss her, and she had every intention of stopping him. Instead, she found that he had removed the chopsticks from her wound, white tresses. Loose, stark white curls fell over her shoulders in soft waves. Some were ringlets, still sopped with bath water and hung heavily on her collarbones.
His hand fell from her hair, rough fingers trailed over her cheeks abrasively. It was then that Daario loomed closer, his breath close enough to drift over her slightly damp, parted lips.
"Not there." She whispered when she felt in her loins that he was about to kiss her. Her lips were for her marriage.
"Then where, my queen?" He mused. His deft fingers traced the hem of her robe, pushing it open to reveal her porcelain white legs. His fingers ghosted over her flesh, trailing upwards. When he was mere inches from his goal, he stopped. His ears searched hers, waiting for her to say no. She never so much as let out a breath. His other hand went for the tied belt around her waist. One firm tug and it would fall loose, he could push her robe open and her entire body would be open to his hungry eyes. Daenerys could wait.
Her dainty little hands tugged on the tie and her robe was loose, all Daario would have to do was shrug it away.
"I want to prove my devotion to you, my queen." He rasped. "Let me show you how much I love you, what I'm willing to do in the name of that love."
She nodded, "Very well."
Daario's hands clasped either side of the robe. One deep breath and he had pushed the cumbersome fabric to the wayside. Daenerys' arms were still clothed, but everything else from the neck down was in full view for her captain.
She felt his eyes prowling her body. They dusted over her pale skin, drinking her in. She watched his face, stricken with wonderment and foolish pride as they took in her lush, perky breasts, all milky flesh with rosy little nipples budding from the peaks. Those wondrous blue eyes skimmed over her stomach, dipped into her navel, then finally rested at the thatch of soft, light curls hovering over her womanhood. His eyes widened and his tongue slipped from between his lips, tracing over the entrance to his mouth. Then, his eyes shot up to hers. He was asking permission. All the Khaleesi had to do was nod once.
Daario's hands parted her thighs, opened her legs so that his broad shoulders could maneuver between them. He placed his hands on the outside of her hot core and spread her open wide as he lowered his mouth to her center, watching her the entire time.
He licked her, rolled his tongue around her most sensitive parts, slow and torturously. Daenerys had never felt anything like this ecstasy in her life. She found herself not caring about anything but the new sensations Daario was imparting upon her open, welcome form.
His eyes were on hers, always, watching her face flush and contort every moment that her head was not rolled back as her toes curled. She found it hard to control herself in this passion. When their eyes met again, she could tell her was smirking. He pushed her legs apart and slid a thick digit into an impossibly tight, wet heat. In that moment, Daenerys knew exactly why Daario Naharis had such a reputation with the women.
That one finger, that deliciously hooked finger, found places the Great Khal, as big as he was, could never find. Khal had never worshipped her body like this. He wasn't an inattentive lover by any means, he merely never took the time necessary to learn every curve and fold to her body like the man buried between her thighs.
Her whole body contorted, rising up off the silken chaise. Her fingers tangled in Daario's long, brassy locks and she did her best to pull him closer to her, urging him on. Her thighs clenched his cheeks and she cried out, silencing herself too soon by biting the lush flesh of her lower lip.
Surely by now her servants knew what was happening. By now, she would hope that her guards would run in, thinking she was being attacked.
She felt a long forgotten flutter in the pit of her stomach, could feel her tight channel swallowing Daario's wondrous finger. Just when she thought she was at the brink, could no longer hold on to her sanity, Daario surprised her again.
He gave her one final lap with the base of his tongue before pursing his lips and sucking hard on the throbbing bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs that he had been so lovingly attending to. Finally, the queen screamed, coming in waves. This seemed to only spur her lover on. He began flicking his tongue faster, letting her ride out her orgasm, stroking her insides as he lapped up her heavily flowing juices.
The Khaleesi barely had time to catch her breath after the trembling stopped and her muscles relaxed before her captain kissed his way up her stomach, stopping lovingly at each breast only to trail his tongue around her sensitive nipples. She trembled at the soft touch, allowing him to kiss his way back up her throat.
He placed one feather soft kiss to her jaw line, right beside her chin, before he pulled back, smiling devilishly down at her panting form. "Have I pleased your highness?"
"Most miraculously." She beamed, almost instantly regretting her words based on the self-entitled face the soldier now wore.
"You flatter me, my queen." He smirked, clasping her dainty hand in his own. His large paws dwarfed hers in comparison. He was warm, feverishly so.
He inched her knuckles closer to his sly, perfect lips, placing soft kisses on her pale skin, causing Goosebumps to rise on her arms. The action itself was sweet, a tender gesture from a man she had all but just met. The underlying effects, it seemed, struck a nerve with the Dothraki queen.
As if all of sudden she realized what had just transpired between them, Daenerys pulled her hand from his lips, using that hand, joined with her other, to shrug her dressing robe back up her shoulders and clutch the fabric in bunches tightly to her drawn chest. "I think that's enough."
"My queen, I-"
"I think it best if you leave. We have a lot of work that still needs to be done and I grow tired." She said coldly, turning her cheek to the man who had but moments ago been on his knees for her, buried in her hot core, giving her the most pleasure she had felt in years. Now, he was still on his knees, pleading with her not to be turned away.
The soldiers outside the tent must have heard her raise her voice. Two guards slipped in the tent, speaking a foreign tongue she vaguely understood. One asked if they should show Daario out. She didn't have a chance to answer.
The captain stood to his feet, adjusting his armor as he did. "I am Daario Naharis. No one shows me out. I'll show myself out, if that's what my queen asks of me." He gave her a forward look, searching her face.
For an instant, she felt as though this man could see right through her, see the girl she was before she was forced to grow up so suddenly after her fathers murder and her families banishment just after the rebellion and it frightened her. "Go." She said, her voice quiet, but firm. Once again she was regal, untouchable.
Daario Naharis regarded her carefully, a tinge of sadness in those brilliant blue eyes. In the bat of an eyelash, that look was gone, replaced with an all-knowing smirk that shook the queen's core. "As you wish, my queen."