A young woman kissed by the sea finds herself stranded when her ship sinks. Luckily, she has quite a reputation, and luckily, there's another female pirate willing to give her a chance.
{Yara Greyjoy x OC}
I don't own the characters or the plot, t...
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☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - I'd suffer hell if you told me to
Inside the halls, it wasn't very warm. Deema wondered how the guards could be showing so much skin without shivering. There were guards around each corner, but not much more movement seemed to be happening. Deema could imagine it being intimidating. The lurking darkness that seemed to seep from the walls, the guards who looked like they didn't belong in a place like this, and especially the silence.
But she had a purpose, a goal. It was more than a goal, she knew. It was something she had to do, something she would do, or die trying. She wasn't afraid as they reached big doors, didn't feel a thing besides determination as she looked up to see a woman with white hair sitting higher up on a throne, flanked by more guards.
Her escorts and Theon left her and Bella to walk forwards alone. There was no hesitation as she moved forwards. The women stopped before the steps, Deema's eyes glued to the woman's face. Daenerys raised her eyebrows in slight amusement as they stood still.
Deema realized she should bow. But why bow for a queen with no land, a queen of nothing? Blood didn't give her the right to anything. "You're supposed to bow before a queen," she looked away from the woman, finding a small man standing beside her, hands wrapped together in front of him.
"As far as I know, you're the queen of not much," Deema said, speaking to Daenerys. She heard Bella suck in a breath, but she stayed unmoving as well.
"I am queen of the ground you're standing on, to begin with," her voice was surprisingly gentle, though not kind. She demanded respect. "I'm the last of the Targaryen bloodline, so much more is supposed to be mine."
Deema couldn't help but raise her eyebrows, more on instinct than on thought-through reaction. "My apologies," she said, bowing anyway. She was here for Yara, not for Daenerys, not to prove her own visions of the world. "I didn't mean to be rude."
The queen looked at her for a long moment. "What brings you here?"
Straightening her back a bit more, she began speaking. "Yara Greyjoy," she said firmly. "She was taken, her brother said there might be word of where she is in Kings landing. I want to follow your fleet, help free her."
"There has been... word about Euron Greyjoy having proposed to Cercei Lannister, not of approval," the small man said, eyeing her carefully. "What do you have to offer?"
"Not much," she said honestly. They couldn't expect her to pay for following a damn ship? "I have a ship and a crew, we have gold, if that's what you want."
"We could use the extra support," he said to the queen, though her eyes stayed on the women before her.
"Who are you?" The queen asked, shifting her position on the throne. It had been expected, but didn't make her any more excited about telling. If not her, someone in the room would have heard about her. The Iron Islanders would hear she was joining them.
