Author's Note
I do not own A Game of Thrones.
Rhaenys sat cross legged behind the makeshift metal bathtub and combed her sister's hair from its tight braids, fanning it out towards the floor.
"You should wear it down sometimes. It suits you."
"It gets in my way is what it does."
Missandei moved around the bathtub, adding another half jug of warm water. Drogar and Starflame were asleep behind them, curled up in a tight bundle of scales.
"But you look so pretty with it down."
"Who would I impress sweet sister; those leering Captains? Besides, it gets in my way when I fight."
Rhaenys sighed. Of course that would be her biggest concern.
"Why not cut it short then?"
Visenya frowned and growled slightly. "I've suffered no defeats."
Starflame lifted her head and snarled, Drogar taking up the cue. Rhaenys half-stood, reaching back to them.
"What is it?"
The curtain to the bathing area swished aside as a tall, slender Unsullied soldier entered. Visenya frowned. They made no request for an Unsullied presence – why would they in their bathing room? – and Aegon would send a messenger, not a soldier.
The helmeted man drew his sword. "No screaming now."
Drogar screeched her fury and Rhaenys snatched up her arakh, positioning herself between this intruder and Visenya in the bathtub. He gestured to her with his own blade. "Don't make me use this."
Rhaenys snarled. The two dragons sprang atop the bathtub, their tails thrashing furiously. The man lifted off his helmet and tossed it aside. It hit the floor with a clang. It was the unflappable Second Sons Captain, Rhaenys noted, Daario Naharis.
"What do you want?" Visenya snapped.
"You," he replied.
The dragons hissed. Rhaenys hissed along with them, shifting her grip on her arakh and springing forwards to sweep it down at him. He parried her blow, momentarily locking the blades, and she threw herself forwards, slamming into his armoured chest. Her teeth sank into his neck. He roared, stumbling backwards, the two of them crashing to the floor. His bag fell aside with a wet sounding thunk. Visenya climbed from the bathtub and snatched up her own sword, rushing forwards as Naharis finally managed to throw Rhaenys off, rolling to his feet.
"I don't want to damage such exquisite beauty."
"And yet you came here to kill us," Visenya snarled. Rhaenys rolled into a crouch, clutching her arakh tight in front of her. He was bleeding from his neck and right arm where Rhaenys had bitten him and managed to land blows.
He gave them a self-smug smile. "I was sent here to kill you."
"So why not use that?" She jerked her chin at his sword.
"I don't want to."
"And what do your captains have to say about that?"
"You should ask them." He reached for his bag and opened it. Two heads fell with resounding thuds to the floor. Even in death they were easy enough to recognise. Rhaenys snarled at the one that had once belonged to the Titan's Bastard.
Visenya didn't blame her.
"Why?" she asked. He offered her a smirk, making no secret of the fact his gaze was admiring her still uncovered body.
"We had philosophical differences."
"Over what?"
His gaze lingered much lower than her eyes. "Your beauty. It meant more to me than it did to them."
Rhaenys bared her teeth. "You're a strange man."
He smiled. "I'm the simplest man you'll ever meet. I only do what I want to do."
Lucky him. No duty, no reasons, no questioning himself constantly.
"What, and this is supposed to impress us?"
"Yes."
"Why would we trust a man who murders his comrades?"
"They ordered me to murder you, along with your brother. 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."
Odd man, Visenya considered as she lowered her sword. Rhaenys had him covered. Missandei shakily brought her her gown. She shrugged it on as Naharis watched with some sort of smug amusement. Perhaps he thought he had a chance, harboured some vain desire to take them from their rightful lawful husband.
"Will you fight for us?"
"I will fight for you."
Rhaenys stood, still holding her arakh defensively.
"Swear it."
He took his sword and knelt. "The Second Sons are yours, and so is Daario Naharis. My sword is yours, my life is yours, my heart is yours."
They took Daario Naharis to Aegon and sent for a Maester to tend his wounds. Neck wounds and anything inflicted by teeth were a severe infection risk.
Wouldn't that be a shame, Visenya considered.
"The Second Sons are ours," she told Aegon.
"Apologies for any mistakes your grace, the Second Sons are yours," Naharis put in. Aegon frowned slightly and then gave the man an inclined nod.
"We thank you for your service."
"I don't like the way he looked at you," Rhaenys said as they lay amongst the Dothraki furs that night. On the other side of the tent, Aegon saw Visenya shrug.
"Having the Second Sons removes one more enemy for the time being, regardless of the reasoning or method."
That was true. They now had two thousand more men fighting for them instead of against them. It was a good thing. Perhaps when the ships returned from Westeros they could send another group of Unsullied over and use the Second Sons to replace their numbers. It was doubtful they would follow them across the sea to battle there, in a land not their own for gold they might never get.
And yet the dragon in him snarled at the thought of this man seeing his sisters – his wives, once and future – in such a vulnerable condition. What right did he have to walk in on them? His sisters belonged to him and him alone, they always had, even when Visenya was married to Drogo for his army – the army that now followed them – even when Viserys lived and they were alone and impoverished on the street.
They were his.
His sisters, his wives, his family, and no one was taking it away again.
He stood and moved to their bed, wordlessly draping his arm over them.
Perhaps once they conquered Yunkai they would have resources enough to take their army to Westeros.
He doubted it though. Their army was so large now that they may yet have to take Meereen (and even if they didnt he suspected rhaenys would insist on it to free the poor innocent slaves) and use all the resources and connections of Slaver's Bay to gather the required ships.
He had considered leaving the Dothraki, time and time again, but they were useful cavalry, which the Unsullied were not.
Pros and cons, every plan he could think of had pros and cons.
And they were running out of time.
When they slept that night Visenya dreamt of a golden lion with one paw caught in a trap frantically trying to fight free.
When they slept that night Aegon dreamt of the young dragon battling to climb a mountain, flapping his frail and bloodied wings desperately.
When they slept that night Rhaenys dreamt of a wolf cub howling as it was dragged away from a fat puppy by an unseen burning hand.