A Comment on Age

All characters in this story are 18 years or older, despite their ages in the original fiction.

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An unshakable fury rose inside of Daenerys’ gut. In front of her was a young woman, who was held down on her knees by two guards, but she hadn’t spoken yet, nor had Daenerys spoken to her. The source of her ire was instead the news brought to her by a messenger – the lone survivor of the expedition sent to Yunkai, that had interrupted her in the middle of her court hearing. 

“Yunkai has been taken over. A group of slavers has retaken the cities…” 

The Unsullied reached Yunkai to find its gates barred and walls bristling with archers. The slavers had brought in mercenaries and opened the gates of Yunkai from within. The Unsullied, outnumbered by the slavers that Daenerys had taken pity on when she had conquered Yunkai herself, were forced to retreat. The mercenaries harassed them every step of the way. With casualties mounting and no hope of relief, Red Rat, the commander of the expedition, sent out a runner and ordered a last stand. 

Daenerys was beyond reason, but she didn’t care. This rebellion had to be dealt with right away. “Send out the armies. Send all of them Soon I will follow with my dragons. These slavers have defied me for the last time” She spoke the words with conviction and resolve.

“Your Highness…” It was the Shavepate who spoke up. There were nerves in his voice, as he undoubtedly knew just how serious the Breaker of Chains was. Daenerys snapped her head to face him, unable to wipe her rage off her face. “We can’t leave Meereen unattended. The city needs the Unsullied. If they are sent out to fight a rebellion in Yunkai, we may lose Meereen to the Sons of Harpy.”

It was that mention that had the girl before her look up at Daenerys with smug satisfaction in her eyes. Daenerys looked back at her with a look that could kill. Her fingers twitched as Daenerys was filled with an urge to lunge at her on the spot. Still, she tried her best to ignore it, at least for the moment. She had her advisors to deal with for now.

“I won’t let this slide,” Daenerys told the Shavepate. “We will crush their pitiful rebellion and ,this time, not a single one of them will remain.” 

The Shavepate looked at her with a worried expression, then sucked in a deep breath. Over time, he had come to learn just how hard it was to convince the Mother of Dragons when she was in such a state. Still, he knew that her plans couldn’t be carried through. 

“Look at the girl,” the Shavepate said, changing the subject “Remember her and her group did. The Sons of Harpy are too big of a threat. Your Highness, please do not leave Meereen unguarded. This situation needs to be done with careful planning.” 

The Shavepate threw Hizdahr a look, requesting his assistance. Hizdahr threw him back a nod, before clearing his throat to speak: “He is right, Your Highness. The situation in Yunkai needs time and strategy. We need time to mobilize the men and see to our own defenses. A rash decision will make everything worse.” 

Daenerys wanted to go against them and tell them to do it anyway, but something about the girl’s expression distracted her from it. 

As had been announced before, this girl was Fayha. Once having been introduced to Daenerys as ‘the kind hearted and soft spoken Fayha Azam’, the girl belonged to a group of noble women that had come to her to complain about squatters just a few weeks back. Now she was before her with her hands behind her back, having been caught setting Daenerys’ ships ablaze along with a band of Sons of Harpies. The girl’s accomplice got away, but the girl was caught fleeing the scene, tripping up on her ridiculous tokar. It was evident that the girl, likely proud of what she had done, wouldn’t deny her involvement. Daenerys would punish her, fix the situation in Meereen at once, so that her original plan could carry through.  

“Tell me about your accomplices and I might spare you,” Daenerys told the girl. 

The girl said nothing, the look on her face remaining as arrogant and filled with hatred as it had been before. It was as though she was fearless, like there was nothing Daenerys could do to make her talk. Daenerys’ hands balled into fists, feeling another rash decision nibbling at her mind. Daenerys did know how to break this girl, and she would show her.

“This is your last chance,” Daenerys repeated. “Speak now or meet my wrath.” 

This almost caused an arrogant chuckle to erupt from the girl’s lips. Through her anger, she seemed almost amused by the Queen’s desperation. She shook her head once more, a smug smile dawning on her face. 

“Bring her to my chambers,” she ordered. “Tie her up on my bed and guard the door until my return. Once I’ve fulfilled my duties, I will pay her a visit. By morning we will know who her accomplices are.” 

“Your Highness…” It was the Shavepate who spoke up again, undoubtedly worried about the Queen’s current mindset. He looked at Hizdahr, but he remained as cowardly and quiet as he usually did. The man’s advice was always sound, but when the Queen slipped into a mood like this, he would fall quiet, leaving the job of stopping the Queen of Meereen to the Shavepate. “There is neither time nor need to sully your hand with this… this street rat. Give her to me and I will make her sing within the hour.” 

Daenerys said nothing, simply looking at the girl and maintaining eye contact. She knew it wasn’t possible for either one of her advisors to stop her on this matter, because deep down, Daenerys didn’t care about what information the girl may or may not have in her head. I don’t want your friends… only your screams.

She threw the Shavepate a dark look, but his advice meant nothing to her now. There was no point for Daenerys to wait around for information that she never cared about in the first place. 

“Bring her to my chambers,” she ordered once more, with steel in her voice. “That is my order.” 

***

Daenerys had been thinking about this for a few hours, finishing her duties with an almost painful feeling inside of her stomach. The girl had indeed been brought to her chambers — she had been the very moment Daenerys had ordered for her to be tied to her bed — and Daenerys’ hands had been tingling for her to let out some of that anger in a way that Missandei had not enabled her to do. Now would be different, as the only reason she had held back with Missandei had been the fact that she trusted and loved her handmaiden too much. She had not wanted to hurt her, but now she didn’t care just how much hurt she would cause. This girl, this Fayha, was entirely deserving of Daenerys’ wrath. 

She entered her room quickly, the doors flying open with just one determined push. The girl’s limbs were tied to all four posts of her bed and although she wasn’t struggling anymore now, Daenerys could see clearly that she had been before. There were rope marks in her wrists and ankles, and the sheets upon which she laid were crumpled up beneath her frame. She was dressed in an old tokar. During the girl’s court hearing, Daenerys hadn’t had a lot of time to look at it, but now she could see that the garment had already had its best days. Its colour, which had evidently once been a bright purple, was now faded to an ugly pink. Its embellishments had also seen better days. Most of the silk fringes that once adorned the tokar are gone. Of the ones that remained, most of them dangled pathetically in the air, like thin strands of white hair of an old hag. Few silk strands still had an amethyst attached to it, and even those precious jewels look faded, chipped, and worn. It was nowhere close to the splendid tokar that Daenerys was wearing – a milky white tokar weaved from the silk of Yi-Ti, with 600 pearls of identical size dangling from every one of its silk fringe, one of the finest tokar ever made, and one that Daenerys hates with every fibre of her body. 

The girl’s eyes shot towards her and again Daenerys could see the same anger she had seen during her judgement. It made her blood boil, making her respond to her glare with a sneer of her own. “I hope you did not expect to be left alone,” Daenerys spoke. She wasn’t sure why she said such a thing at all, but she supposed she simply wanted to stir the girl into the right direction. She wanted her anger fueled so that it could all come out in the explosion she had been longing for all along. 

Fayha huffed, then looked away from her altogether. Through half-lidded eyes she looked up at the ceiling, as though she wanted to ignore Daenerys’ presence altogether. The anger overwhelmed Daenerys so much that she could not stop her hands from clenching to fists. She did not like to be ignored, especially by someone as distasteful and wrong as this young woman. 

“You will tell me about all those others involved,” Daenerys said. “I will make sure of it.” 

“Having me tied up here, your highness,” she said in a sarcastic tone, “is not going to change a thing. I will not betray, no matter what torture you have in mind.” 

Daenerys did not retort. Instead, she looked around the room for her weapon. She had planned to use a whip, as if to treat her like a slave who had misbehaved, but she had changed her mind. She wanted the girl to feel her fire, which she had only one way of delivering at this moment. 

She stepped towards the fireplace, taking out the fire poker that had been left there. She held it in the fire for a moment, waiting until the iron grew red hot. Fayha eyed the poker for a short moment, but only showed the faintest glimmer of fear in her eyes. “You think this is going to break me?” she sneered. “The great Mother of Dragons, too scared to be in the same room with a little girl unless she’s tied up. You think I’m scared of you? You think anyone would be scared of you?” 

Daenerys could feel her hand starting to tremble with fury. She was being taunted and she knew that, but that didn’t mean it was easy to ignore the girl’s smug look. “You should be,” responded Daenerys, “when I took the city, I gave you a choice – to live in my new world, or to burn in your own old one. You and your friends have made your choice.”

She didn’t give the girl a chance to respond, pressing the fire poker against her bare thigh. A gasp left the girl’s lips, after which she tried her very best to move herself away from the pain. Daenerys could see that she wanted to scream out with it, but instead her teeth dug into her bottom lip, preventing the worst of her exclamations of pain from escaping her mouth. Daenerys only pressed the poker deeper into her skin, watching the skin sizzle and smoke. She could not stand the noble’s defiance and resilience, and is determined to break through it. 

“Do you want more, or are you going to tell me now?” Daenerys wished she could ignore the girl’s pain, but she couldn’t. Not because she felt bad for her in any way, but because she despised the lack of any apparent sign of it. “Who worked with you? Or do you want another one of those marks? I have all night.” 

Daenerys made her way back to the fireplace, put the poker back in to heat it back up. Not that she thought that the girl was going to give her what she was asking, but that didn’t matter. She didn’t need her words — only her screams — to move on from the dull and numbing state of almost-anger she felt herself to be stuck in at that moment. 

“You hide behind your army and your dragons. Whatever you have, you don’t deserve, and we all know it. And soon we will show the whole world that you are nothing behind that facade. Nothing.” 

Daenerys’ fist clamped around the fire poker’s handle, utterly enraged. At the same time, through that overwhelming anger, she felt a strange sense of relief settling within the pit of her stomach. The taunt was what she wanted, because now she had an excuse. It was an excuse she had needed all along. Awakening the dragon required a reason, she had become all too aware of that during her ‘fight’ with Missandei. This girl was that reason. 

She moved the fire poker to the girl’s leg, almost making it seem like she was going to give her another burn mark. She watched the girl wince prematurely — although the girl tried her best to pretend she couldn’t be hurt, there was no denying that she would be — but then let the fire poker change course. She slashed the ropes around her ankles instead, quickly rendering her bottom half free before moving onto the girl’s wrists. 

“How easy you are!” The girl scoffed, after which she got up from the bed. She barely needed time to recover from the burn, and instantly flung herself in the direction of Daenerys, starting her fight with the Queen of Meereen without an ounce of shame. “And how easy it’s going to be to kill you.” 

Taken surprised by the girl’s fury, Daenerys fell backwards, her tailbone hitting the floor. The girl’s hands were on her shoulders, causing a violent collision with the floor and Daenerys’ shoulder blades. Daenerys winced at first, finding herself slightly stunned, until she recomposed herself and let loose her fury. 

While the girl was on top of her, Daenerys reached out to grab a hold of her throat. She violently squeezed her windpipes shut, while looking at the girl’s expression. Although she was gasping for air, she didn’t seem the least bit afraid. It made Daenerys even more furious. Did this girl genuinely not know? Did she have to prove herself? She would happily do so. 

She was focused on her own pale hands around the girl’s dark-skinned throat. She saw it expanding as she tried to swallow and gasp. When no air could make it in, Daenerys squeezed harder, feeling a sense of power wash her over. She could do this. She could kill this slaver without mercy. 

A fist hit the side of her head. Daenerys didn’t yet let go, but then a second fist knocked into her skull from the other side. Her vision spun for a moment, and with a yank from the girl, the throat slipped between her fingers. Luckily, this didn’t mean that the girl had found all of her strength back yet. As she gasped for air, Daenerys pushed herself up from the ground and grabbed a fistful of the girl’s dark hair. She then flipped them over, getting on top and taking this new liberty to smack her fist straight into the girl’s chest. They were soft against her touch, but the harder she punched, the closer she felt she was getting to the bitch’s ribs. It caused her to sputter, until a violent fury took over once more. 

Fayha reached out towards the top of Daenerys’ tokar. She yanked at it, though nowhere near as hard as she could’ve done. Even in her rage, she seemed more preoccupied with the state of those precious tokars. Still, she wanted Daenerys to get out of them. With skills and determination, the girl started unravelling Daenerys’ dress. Daenerys did the same to the girl’s pink tokar, though Daenerys was nowhere near as careful as Fayha was. She tore at it instead, trying to get the split the garment in half.

“Stop!” The girl complained. Her hands shot to Daenerys’ hands as if to make her stop what she was doing. “Do you have any idea how much they cost!” The girl squirmed violently, trying her best to to make her way out of her tokar to avoid it from suffering any more damage. At the same time, she let go of Daenerys’ hand and yanked at the tokar Daenerys was wearing, trying her best to get it off Daenerys at the same time. 

However, Daenerys couldn’t care less about the dress. She continued to yank, aggressively getting the bitch’s tits free, and opening a small tear in the girl’s tokar in the process. The girl yelped as if Daenerys had torn out a piece of her flesh. A fire flashed in the girl’s eyes, she threw herself at Daenerys. The two tumbled over the ground and got themselves unwrapped, their tits completely exposed.

Daenerys was the one to land on top. She balled her hands into fists and looked down at the girl’s dark tits. She dug her fists into the dark nipples,  It seemed to work, as Fayha gasped for breath. Her initial success gave her motivation to go further. Without needing to think about her moves, she moved both fists to the side of the girl’s tits and used all her might to punch them together, squishing them so hard that Daenerys could practically see her nipples pulsating upon the impact. 

“Am I hiding?” Daenerys asked. “Tell me again that I’m hiding, bitch!” 

The pain in Fayha’s eyes turned to anger. She said nothing, instead using all her energy to strike a punch between Daenerys’ legs. The hit resonated through her pubic bone, momentarily making it impossible for the fire in her eyes to remain. Fayha, realising very well that her moves were causing pain, grabbed a hold of both of Daenerys’ labia and held it in a tight pinch. The pain was sharp, the friction pulling at her pubic hair. It made her tremble slightly, and only a moment later she felt herself clattering to the floor before she was able to comprehend what was happening. 

Fayha’s knee was between Daenerys’ legs, kicking straight into her pubic bone once more. As she did this, she grabbed one of Daenerys’ tits between her palms, beginning to squeeze it roughly. Dany felt blood rushing up towards her nipple, and the grip was tight enough to colour her pale skin bright red. She threw her head back to deal with the pain, but wasn’t about to give up. She just needed a short moment to catch up with her thoughts, and then the girl would be done for. 

Through her pain, however, there was a strange sense of relief that consumed her body. She felt satisfied with her rapidly beating heart. Despite the pain, Daenerys knew that this was what she had needed. She would end this girl, knowing that it was a righteous decision to take a life so worthless. Once she had composed herself, which — despite the pain — she knew she would, she would rid the world of a fraction of evil. The girl’s life was barely a sacrifice. 

Having regained some of her strength, and found a surge of power in her motivation, Daenerys’ hands sought out to Fayha’s tits as well. She used all her strength on the girl’s left tit alone. Rather than squishing the brown skin between her palms, however, she wrapped both hands fully around it, and tug the girl towards her by her left tit. Once Daenerys had the girl down a little, the grip around Daenerys’ tit faltered a little. Daenerys took the opportunity to push as hard as she could, hands punching straight into her ribs as the fat of her tit did nothing to protect her. It had the girl shooting backwards with pain, but Daenerys pulled her back in again until she heard the girl gasping right next to her ear. This prompted Daenerys to let go of the tit altogether and grab for her hair instead. In a firm grip, she made sure that the girl’s face was resting on her shoulder for just a short moment. No matter how vile, Daenerys didn’t even care that their tits were touching now.  

“Stupid little girl,” Daenerys taunted, “trying to wake a dragon.” 

Daenerys had expected a mocking retort, even through the girl’s pain, but instead Daenerys didn’t give her the chance. With her hand in the girl’s hair, she had the upper hand, giving her the opportunity to flip the both of them around so that she was the one on top again. Daenerys got up, dragged her towards the bed she had previously laidupon, slammed her head straight into the bedpost. It was only then that Daenerys allowed her grip to falter, causing another collision between the girl’s head and the floor. 

Blood dripped down the side of her head, pounding aggressively. She wailed and groaned, her vision blurring for a slight second, until she knew she needed to get up and recover. There was no time to get lost in the pain, because although Daenerys had expected the girl to be stunned as well — which she clearly was for a second — but she tried to get up a whole lot sooner than Daenerys had expected. She supposed the girl had her rage to thank for that, as a grunt left her lips a moment later and she tried her best to push back against the loose grip Daenerys still had on her hair. Daenerys spurred back into action, pulling her upwards with one abrupt yank. The girl didn’t struggle against it, and instead simply allowed herself to be pulled up. It surprised Daenerys but she soon realised the girl was not as incapacitated as she had thought. 

The girl turned around, facing Daenerys. A quick glance at her eyes told Daenerys that she was slightly dizzy, but that didn’t stop her from countering Daenerys’ attack. She grabbed for Daenerys’ throat again, and  began to violently push her into the wall. She tried to keep her there for a while, pressing her against it with as much strength as she could muster. It didn’t take long for Daenerys to start gasping, her airways being blocked. Her throat felt like it was catching fire, her heart and head pounding with the lack of oxygen. She felt stunned, and as she grabbed for the girl’s hands around her throat, she felt overwhelmed with a glimpse of fear. 

“I didn’t wake a dragon,” the girl panted. Her speech was slurred, but Daenerys was not sure whether she was imagining that, or whether her head injuries had caused that. “I am putting one to sleep. A good, long sleep.” 

The grip around her throat grew stronger and firmer. Daenerys continued to claw at it, trying her very best to get away. However, less and less oxygen was making its way into her lungs. She could almost feel her lungs shrinking within her, begging to expand. Her body grew hotter at the same time, as though a fire inside of herself was burning hotter and hotter. This girl would be crazy to think that the dragon wasn’t waking, a thought flashed through Daenerys’ mind, which was quickly shut up when the girl grabbed a glass from a nearby table and smashed it against the side of Daenerys’ head. She gasped at the pain, feeling glass shards digging into her skin and blood dripping down her face, while the chokehold didn’t even allow her any air to scream. Time seemed to slow down as her body screamed for oxygen. Frantically, she looked for a way out. Blindly, her hands reached out to the heavy candle holder on top of the fireplace and smashed its heavy base against the girl’s temple. 

One hit was not enough to make her let go. She was determined, filled with fury, which was why it took Daenerys at least five hard hits for the girl to finally let go. Once she did, though, she was hit so badly that she sank through her knees right away. 

Daenerys looked down at her, her vision blurring with dizziness. The girl moved just as sluggishly, swaying from left to right as she tried her best to comprehend what was happening. Daenerys could see her handiwork, blood dripping down the side, back and front of her head. Daenerys had evidently inflicted enough hurt enough to momentarily stun her. Not that Daenerys was any better. Although the girl had endured more beating, and seemed to be in more of a haze, the glass had cut Danny’s face raw and she was losing way more blood than the girl was. That made Daenerys just as dizzy, though she tried her best to remain standing as she recovered and gasped for the breath that had been squeezed out of her not so long ago. 

She felt nauseous and her head was hurting, as though the lack of oxygen had caused an implosion. She buckled forward, grunting loudly, as the girl tried to comprehend her bruised and beaten face.

The girl grabbed for the side of her head, trying to lessen the pain, and closed her eyes. Daenerys watched her shaking a little. Through her anger, she was able to take pleasure in the suffering. However, it was not enough. She wanted her to suffer more. Much, much more. The girl was not deserving of a swift, quick end. She had to feel Daenerys’ wrath until the bitter end first. 

Perhaps that was why she crawled to the side, grabbing the whip she had put in the corner of the room. She had ordered for it to be brought there, having expected she would whip the girl until her skin broke like one of a slave she — or at least someone like her — might have tortured. Daenerys had wanted her to feel that similar pain, just so she would know her proper place. She may have been a good match to a chained slave, but she would never be a match for Daenerys. She was about to make that very clear. 

Sluggishly, she moved back with the whip. She cracked it across the girl’s bare back. While she buckled forward, both hands on the floor to keep herself slightly more grounded, her brown skin grew darker. Daenerys simply did it again, not limiting herself to the girl’s back, but aiming for the back of her neck instead. Perhaps if she kept going like that, she would break the skin on top of an artery. The girl grunted with pain. Daenerys watched her tremble upon her hands, gasping violently as she tried to regain her strength. Daenerys didn’t waste any time taunting her, as any moment wasting a breath was a moment Fayha could spur back into action. She continued cracking her whip without wasting a single breath, without any intention to stop until she had worn herself out. 

She watched the girl’s brown skin turn darker with torturous marks and bruises, until it broke open altogether. She saw her fingers trembling at the same time while the pained grunting, groaning and screaming persisted. There was no crying though likely not for a lack of effort on Daenerys’ part. Fayha’s pride wouldn’t allow it. If she would spill tears now, she would show Daenerys her weakness. It was very clear that she did not want to be defeated, and that she wanted to leave this fight as a dragon slayer. Too bad, Daenerys thought, that she never would. 

However, the longer Daenerys went on, the more erratic she began to feel. The girl hadn’t moved to counter Daenerys’ attacks, making it almost feel as though she had already won. It made her take more time between her slashes, building up more strength just to be able to make her next hit harder than the one had come before. As it turned out, though, those short breaks only gave Fayha the time to reach out to a weapon of her own. 

From the fireplace, which was only a few inches away from her, she grabbed the burning hot poker by its handle. While Daenerys had the whip above her head, ready to slash down again, the girl scraped herself over the floor to create some distance and slammed the poker straight into Daenerys’ hip. Daenerys could feel the slight sting of the burn, but it did not have the effect that the girl might have desired. She could feel the presence of it, but the sting never came, and her skin did not respond in the same way the girls’ had earlier. It did not leave a mark, barely sizzled through, but it did make Daenerys stop her whipping. She looked at the girl with a grin instead. 

“I am the Mother of Dragons,” Daenerys said. She seemed to have the girl right where she wanted her. “Are you stupid enough to think that fire can hurt me at all?” 

Fayha looked at the poker in her hand, and at the skin of Daenerys’ hip. She increased the pressure, almost as though she was trying to force the skin to give in to the heat. When that didn’t happen, she gathered all the strength she had to get up to her feet. Daenerys stood before her, making clear she had taken in every part of her immunity, with the whip still in her hand. She expected the girl to do the same thing again somewhere else, just to test the extent of this immunity, but this had been stupidity on her part. Fayha began using her weapon in a far more suited way. 

She slashed the poker across Daenerys’ knees, causing a shallow cut. She wobbled upon her knees, but kept standing. She even took a step backwards to get away from it, but Fayha spurred into action to prevent that from happening altogether. While stumbling forward, her footwork sloppy and uncontrolled, she stuck the sharp point of the poker between her two breasts. It pierced her skin without trouble, causing a line of blood to drip down between her tits. Danaerys stepped back only more in response, though avoided ending up against the wall again. Her hand even reached out to grab hold of the poker, but every time she tried, the girl was given a better chance to try and pierce the thing straight through her ribs. Daenerys, although she was at a clear disadvantage, was only tainted by a few more shallow cuts. 

She dodged most of the girl’s attacks. With every dodge, however, the girl was more determined to land a stab. Daenerys felt like she was being chased, as every thing she would now try to do would get her skin only more torn. The poker was touching her abdomen, and it felt as though one angered move would be enough for Daenerys to start bleeding from it.

Perhaps it was that reason that made her change her direction. She already knew that getting stabbed would be unavoidable with the girl in her furious state, and surely the poker did slash another wound into her. The pain enraged her, tired of this game of cat and mouse, she charged at the girl, tackling her past the opened balcony doors until they were out in the open. 

As she leapt forward, grabbing a hold of the girl’s brown hair, she pushed the poker down. As expected, she could not avoid it from piercing her skin, but at least she could mostly stop it from being near any major organs. The poker pierced Daenerys’ skin quite close to her mound instead, but although she was groaning with pain, she already had a means to stop it. 

Daenerys threw herself into the girl’s direction, her hands reaching behind her. Her nails found the slashes she had inflicted. Digging her nails into the open wounds, she began to claw at it as the girl whimpered in her ears. The girl’s hands found the wounds on Daenerys’ body and began dug her nails in. They wailed, more blood dripping from their bodies as they tore at each other with wild abandon. 

Yanking hard at the girl’s hair, Daenerys pushed herself closer to the girl, making it hard for her to use her weapon. Then, she let herself fall backwards, after which she — along with the brown skinned slaver — was submerged in the cooling water of her balcony pool.

Daenerys’ body hurt, blood undoubtedly colouring the pool in the red of her blood. It was too dark to see by, but the mental image in itself was enough to enrage her. She started her struggle, swimming to the bottom of the pool with the girl’s hair still tightly in her trip. Having sucked in some air, Daenerys had the upper hand again. The girl was squirming to get back up to the surface, but Dany knew she would still be able to hold her breath for another minute or two. More importantly, she knew that no matter how much her lungs hurt, the girl’s lungs must be hurting more

The final part of their battle would be a fight against the girl’s primary instinct to survival, the various cuts and bruises on her body pushed to the back of her mind. Even the ache in and between her tits was not enough for her mind to linger on. She barely even felt how the blood had been squished up to her nipples anymore, instead only focusing on the fact that she was about to drown this girl to her death.

When the girl began struggling too violently, Daenerys pushed her down further, wrapped her legs around her neck and used her body weight to keep her where she was. Her arms, now no longer required to hold on togirl’s dark hair, raised upwards. She grabbed a hold of the edge of the pool, pushing herself downwards to prevent the lack of gravity from pushing them back to the surface again. Fayha’s hands shot up to her legs in an attempt to pry her fingers in between, but the fight was already over. There was no way she was going to be able to free herself from Daenerys’ grip.

However, none of the girl’s struggle meant that Daenerys’ lungs weren’t in agony. In fact, it didn’t take long for her vision to start blurring. She knew she would be able to at least raise herself up a little, but at the same time she couldn’t take the risk now. Judging by the way the girl’s struggle was starting to die down a little, it was apparent that Daenerys was in fact coming close to drowning the terrorist. Even through the pain in her own lungs, she could feel a strong sensation rushing through her. This was justice through murder. She had beaten this girl and now she was about to die. It overpowered her, swallowing her up completely while the strength in her arms started to falter a little. If only she held on for a little while longer, she would get there. She would.

Suddenly, she felt something against her cunt. In one last desperate attempt to get Daenerys to back away, the girl caught her labia in a pinch. It wasn’t a hard pinch, but was enough for the grip around the edge of the pool to falter a little. The girl pulled at the hair on Daenerys’ lips, making her wince harder than she would have expected. She gasped out, gurgling on the pool water and wasting the last of her oxygen on the excruciating pain in her body. She let go, reaching the surface until she could feel her lungs filling themselves up with oxygen.

The girl managed to get back up too, and an equally unpleasant gasping sound shot through her ears. Daenerys swam towards her, ready to grab a hold of her head to push her back down, but the girl was faster. Having had the upper hand all this time had made her forget that the girl could still fight back. Daenerys had been so convinced that she had been close to the kill, that being pushed down into the water like she was now had not seemed like a possibility. Daenerys hadn’t  expected to be the one struggling, to have her legs kicking uselessly against the water, or to be on the verge of drowning. That was the girl. She was the one who was meant to die.

Taking a leaf out of the girl’s playbook, Daenerys violently grabbed a hold of the girl’s pubic hair to yank her down. The grip on the top of her head faltered a little, allowing her to push herself up. However, against the struggle, she was only able to reach the surface for a split second before being yanked down again by the girl’s hands. They were pulling at everything they could reach, entangling them in a wrestling match that would only lead both of them to their eventual  death. No one was in control here, as all that was on their minds was each other’s suffering, while bubbles escaped through gritted teeth in the form of muffled grunts and gasps.

Once Daenerys’ lungs started hurting, she knew she had to do something besides simply struggling, tugging and yanking. Her body was rigid with anger, but still she knew she needed to do something to get back in control. She needed to feel victory was in her hands, and that all the pain she was suffering through would be worth it once the girl’s violent squirming would come to a definite end.

Running on pure instinct, grabbing a hold of the girl’s face and aligning it with her own. She leaned forward with urgency, pressing her lips against the girl’s to instill shock and confusion in her body. Then, once the struggling stopped for a split second, she grabbed the girl’s throat in her hands and shoved her tongue deeply in her mouth. This would do it. She knew it would.

She didn’t know how long it went on for, but it didn’t seem to matter. While choking her with her hands, she wrestled the girl’s tongue with all her might, while working her lungs to suck out whatever air she could from the girl’s chest. After Fayha had come to understand what was happening, and that their tongues were now entangled in a fight of their own, her tongue began to move along with Daenerys’. It made it feel sore, as her mouth was now filled with saliva and her tongue was fighting against the girl’s tongue. While all the focus was on their tongues — on their fight within a fight — the fact that they were drowning was almost completely forgotten. Dany hardly felt the pain in her lungs anymore, and somewhere deep down in her mind, she knew that the girl wouldn’t either.

Her mind was starting to wander as her lungs protested. Due to the intensity of this kiss, though, Daenerys hardly noticed how she was losing the grip she had been holding. She could only notice how the girl’s grip was faltering around her skin, which in her mind felt like she was starting to win. Her blackening vision was only a necessary part of the fight; her comfort being a mere sacrifice for her to make. Her tongue swirled around the girl’s, or at least she thought it was, but in the end her tongue had turned into nothing but a thick slab of meat that held the girl’s tongue down. 

As a last resort to regain the upper hand somehow, Daenerys’ hand shot down to the girl’s cunt. As she  felt the same thing happening to her own — the girl’s weak hands suddenly finding strength — Daenerys grabbed a fistful of hair and began yanking at it. Using every last bit of her strength, Daenerys was able to yank out the strands. She heard a yelp — or at least imagined one — that was suppressed by a gurgle, and soon she could feel the last breath that still remained escaping her the same thick air bubbles. Her cunt was being scratched, as though the girl was a cat trying to tear her flesh to shreds in a moment of panic. 

It was then that the energy left her body, and her lungs no longer seemed to try to suck in the air. As though her determined mind was okay with suffering through the suffocation, just as long as she would reach the surface later. 

From an outsider’s perspective, the sight looked a whole lot less like a victory for either party involved. In fact, it didn’t look like Daenerys was successfully killing her opponent. Instead, judging by the splashing of the water around them, and the way the water — even in the dark — showed a slight, red discoloration, it was clear that neither one of them had the upper hand, and that not one of them, but both, were slowly drowning. 

Missandei had sensed something like this might happen when she learnt what Daenerys had commanded, sending her rushing through her mistress’ chambers despite the clear instruction not to disturb her. It was something about the unorthodox method Daenerys had chosen to resolve the problem that had her change her mind. Especially considering what she had been through with her Mistress not too long ago, and the duration of her absence. It had her heart beating uncomfortably in her chest, prompting her to come take a look. Even if only for a very brief moment. 

She had not seen anything in her chambers, but noises indicated that something went on. The room bore evidence of a fight — the sheets of Daenerys’ bed being spread everywhere, while some of her mistress’ items had fallen off their shelves and scattered over the floor — and so she rushed out, witnessing the very last moments of what she could only assume to be a brutal, dangerous fight. She was there for what seemed to be the last struggle, after which the splashing died down and both bodies seemed to go limp inside of the water. 

She rushed towards the edge, grabbing a hold of Daenerys’ pale arm to yank her back up towards the surface. Her lungs sucked in the air as Daenerys’ face surfaced. She sputtered and gasped, kicking her limbs violently, unable to contain the sensations of her near death experience. Soon after, her opponent, still entangled with Daenerys in a confusing mess of limbs and hair, reached the surface, and the sputtering and splashing inside of the pool redoubled. Instead of one, now two bodies were trying to recover from something neither one of them should have gone through. Missandei felt mortified als she watched the both of them gasping for their lives, assessing the damage that had been done to both their bodies. The unknown girl had wet blood dripping from the side of her face and her back was covered in whip lashes that looked like they had been scratched into. Daenerys’ pale skin was bruised, red hand marks having been left on her skin that were already starting to colour purple around the edges. There were handprints around her throat, indicating that she had been strangled. Missandei felt mortified, convinced that she had come here at exactly the right time. A few seconds later and… What would have happened then?! Missandei could barely think about it. 

“Your Highness…” Missandei fell to her knees beside Daenerys and left the other girl to sputter it out all by herself. “What… What’s going on? What— Are you alright?” Because what else could be said to someone she had just saved from her death? 

Kneeling down, she allowed her mistress’  head to rest on her thighs. She hooked her finger underneath Daenerys’ jaw, feeling her rapidly beating pulse. However, the more strength she regained, the tighter her hands clenched to fists. After having mostly recovered, it hardly took her another moment to push herself up from Missandei’s lap. On her hands and knees, still catching her breath as her bruised and slightly swelling tits moved along with her inhales and exhales and blood still dribbled down from her side, she tilted her head upwards and looked Missandei straight in the eye. “What…” she breathed. “Did I…” Missandei had no idea where this could be going, but Daenerys’ eyes turned dark. “Command… you?” 

Missandei felt taken aback, and shook her head to indicate that she hadn’t understood. Her hands were still outstretched, ready to catch her mistress if she would fall. Missandei was shocked to see the state she was in, the hurt that had been inflicted upon her; what she had inflicted back upon her enemy. She couldn’t understand it. 

“I ordered you not to interrupt me.” She looked nothing like the woman Missandei knew her as. 

“I knew you were in danger,” she sputtered, but her words would not be taken in. Daenerys looked like a dragon with burning eyes. One that had just been wronged by someone lesser, a nuisance. Perhaps for the first time, Missandei was scared of her queen. 

“Leave,” she growled, spitting the word. Despite being naked, wounded, and on all fours, Daenerys did not look vulnerable. She looked about ready to fling herself towards Missandei, to do what she could not do when they had had their fight but instead Missandei didn’t give her the chance. She got up on her feet and scurried back and out of reach. She felt an ache in her chest that she could not soothe, but she knew better than to try and make this better. Missandei could see it clearly: she couldn’t. 

Without tearing her eyes away, as though she was afraid to miss a single one of Daenerys’ movements, she stepped back towards the balcony doors with shock in her eyes. Clearly, Missandei’s discomfort mattered little to her. To Daenerys, Missandei had ruined everything, not realising that Missandei had saved her from her death. 

Missandei stood still in her mistress’ chambers once she knew for a fact she was out of sight, breathing heavily as she clutched her aching chest. She heard an angry grunt escaping Daenerys, followed by a tortured yelp from the girl she had fought. The next noises that came from the scene seemed to be muffled, either by Daenerys’ hands or any other part of her body. 

“Missandei,” Daenerys snapped. The glare was audible in her voice. The anger covered Missandei’s body with chills. “I know you’re still there.” 

Missandei took a few steps further into the room, towards the door, but was then interrupted by an angry grunt. 

“Missandei!” Daenerys said again. “Before you go…” 

As though she had been ordered, Missandei took a few steps towards the balcony doors instead. She saw Daenerys sitting there, her pale knee on top of the throat of the dark-skinned girl. However, Missandei could see that, for some reason, her mistress wasn’t putting as much pressure on it as she could have, proving that it was not her intention to kill her, but… 

“…Have her taken down to the dungeons,” Daenerys finished her sentence. She briefly looked around, but Missandei no longer recognised her. 

“And never, never come between the dragon and her prey.”

This was not her mistress. This was the Mother of Dragon. 

***

Her body throbbed painfully along with every one of her heartbeats. She could feel the girl on her when she tried to sleep, gripping her, trying to defeat her, choke her, kill her, end her, but it did not terrify her. Instead, she felt the same frustration she had felt after her ‘fight’ with Missandei. Nothing had happened, leaving her empty handed while the girl breathed down in the dungeons when she could have been dead. Was it not for what Missandei had done to wrong her, she could have been. 

From the moment the girl had been taken, Daenerys had wanted to follow her to rectify the situation. However, she knew she needed rest. If she was going to fight Fayha again, she was going to win, and she would not stop until the girl’s head had been cracked open against the rusty metal bars she knew were there. The thought alone made her restless. It could have been done. It could have already happened, was it not for… 

Out of anger, she had not seen her handmaiden since. Any word from her mouth, cautioning her against carrying out her plan, would be met with a roaring violence Daenerys knew she would later regret. On top of that, this was not going to happen a second time. Missandei was not to know what she would do the following day. 

She went through the days as best as she could. She wore a veil to hide the raw skin on her face. Although this caused some raised eyebrows amidst her advisors, they knew better than to ask about it. Squirming on her throne as the tokar rubbed uncomfortably against the bruises on her skin, Daenerys’ mind raced back and forth between the night before and the night to come. The debates of Hizdahr and the Shavepate – something about her dragons snatching sheeps from shepherds – feels distant and unreal – a faint buzzing compared to the itch on her skin and fire in her gut.

When the sun had set, and all Daenerys’ daily duties, despite her body’s injuries, had been carried out, she ventured down like a dragon on the hunt, to fight for as long as it took to end what was in her way. She would leave no trace of her. She would burn her down to nothing but ashes. 

When she entered the cell, the girl was sitting on the floor in the same worn out tokar she had been in the night before. There were more tears in it, leaving the tokar even in worse shape than it was before. Almost all of the amethysts are gone, and most of the silk fringes were missing as well. The girl did not look happy in it. As worn out as the dress she was wearing, thought Daenerys. Despite it, the girl got up on her feet in an instant, apparently having expected Daenerys to return to her. Why else would she have ordered to leave her otherwise unharmed when she had wanted her dead before? The girl was not stupid, and therefore it took almost no time for her to ready herself to resume the fight. 

The two stood opposite one another for a mere few seconds, exchanging their threatening glances, until they both, instantaneously, flung themselves in each other’s direction.

Fayha’s hands the piece of tokar that hung over Daenerys’ shoulder with both hands and started yanking at it in an attempt to get it off as soon as possible. She sank through her knees, letting herself fall to the floor. Daenerys tried to remain standing, not wanting to sink down to the same level, but was pulled down regardless. The pull was too strong, the fabric stinging as it dug into her skin, and Daenerys landed upon her ass, causing a violent pain to shoot straight through her tailbone. 

Her whimper was cut short and instead replaced by a pained grunt. Having experience with tokar’s, the girl knew exactly where to pull to make the garment unravel as carefully as she could manage, and soon Daenerys could feel the cold air of the dungeons against her tits. Then, while Daenerys’ hands moved to the top of the girl’s tokar, wrapping the fabric around the girl’s head to block her vision, she felt the dark hands around one of her tits — the left — and dirty nails dug into her pal flesh. The girl started yanking and squeezing the pale orb until the pain forced tears out from behind her eyes. With the tokar still covering the girl’s head, Daenerys grabbed hold of the girl’s left tit as well. She dug her nails in, twisting painfully and pulling her closer. 

The girl grunted loudly, squirming while her tit was being violated.  With her dress blocking her view, She wasn’t even able to witness the damage that she was doing to Daenerys’ tit. She squirmed, shaking on the floor in the same manner she had done the night before, mortified that the garment took damage that was meant for her. 

“Fucking…” she hissed, but her sentence was left unfinished by the pained groan that followed in the stead of it.  

The girl squirmed only more, unravelling herself until she had gotten herself out of her tattered dress, but she couldn’t save her dress as it was caught between Daenerys’ unrelenting fingers and her own limbs, adding a few more tears to the already tattered pink dress. Once she was finally naked, the look in the girl’s eyes was furious, but Daenerys couldn’t care less.

The girl was naked now, sitting with her cunt upon the cold ground. As she yanked at the girl’s tits, she tried to get her foot in between her legs, pressing down against her cunt to be able to pull harder, squeezing with more strength and force, but instead she could not get the garment around her body to move along with her and give her enough freedom to do as she wanted. Her legs kicked around her with anger, which she then directed at the girl’s vile eyes. “You stupid cunt,” she groaned, twisting the girl’s tit clockwise, then counter clockwise, while her legs felt constricted in a prison of fabric. 

“I see…” the girl groaned, after which she leaned in with all the freedom her naked body gave her and pressed both of her wrists against each side of Daenerys’ tit. She pressed down, squishing the blood up towards her nipple like she had previously done. “A hypocritical cunt in a tokar that she…” with another grunt, the pressure around Daenerys’ tit increased, “…had no right to touch.” 

While Daenerys was constricted, the girl moved over her, her mouth finding Daenerys’ nipple. As she bit down on it, while squishing the blood up to it, Daenerys could feel a searing pain shooting through her body, burning her like no fire could. It was almost becoming too hard to keep pulling and yanking at the girl’s tit now that she was too close, but she did not give up, instead digging her fingers into all the skin she was able to reach, squeezing the tissue hard enough to ensure swelling. The girl grunted around Daenerys’ nipple, but the pain only caused her to clench her teeth more firmly around the sensitive bud of nerves. 

Daenerys’ fingers stiffened, gasps escaping her body as well as loud grunts and groans that indicated her pain even further. “Bitch,” she hissed again, after which it almost felt as though her throat was closing in on itself a little “bitch, bitch, bitch…” She continued to kick her legs, trying her best to free herself or at least give herself some more space, but it was a lost battle. She had no choice but to let go of the tit altogether, and move on to the girl’s hair with one of her arms, while other remained on the swelling breast. 

She began yanking the hair, but the strength she had in just one arm was not enough. Especially now that Fayha was gnawing at her nipple, while still squeezing it so hard Daenerys almost felt like it was going to burst open, it was impossible to find the strength in her fingers to hold on. The hand that was still on the bitch’s tit was losing its grip, leaving her with no choice but to latch her other hand on the girl’s dark frizzly locks. 

With a sudden burst of strength she yanked abruptly — like yanking hot wax off her body. “Let go, you cunt!” Daenerys groaned, after which a sharp cry escaped her lips, indicating the pain was far stronger than she could have ever anticipated. The bitch would not let go. Her teeth had dug into the leathery nub and Daenerys could feel how her nipple was being torn apart a little more with every time she tugged.  

Fire awakened within her again, making Daenerys squirm a bit more. It wasn’t that she managed to get free from the restrictive fabric of her tokar, but that she got so overwhelmed with fury that she moved her legs in spite of it. They followed her original plan, finally, and landed between the girl’s legs. It was then, after kicking her foot repeatedly into the dark-haired cunt, that a gasp finally escaped her mouth. As the bitch screamed, Daenerys’ nipple was finally able to escape from the girl’s filthy mouth. 

When she was free, she did everything in her power to get back up on her feet. She began tugging at the tokar, unwrapping herself until the fine silver silk fell to the floor. She had not expected to be the one to undress herself, but now she was. She had to win her freedom back, and being wrapped in the disgusting symbol of what the tokar represented was not going to help her in this fight.

Standing up, with her tit throbbing, she felt a desire to even the score.  She kicked the dark-skinned bitch between her legs hard enough to stun her.. She flung on top, her naked body straddling the girl’s, and directed her attention to not one, but both of the girl’s tits. She wanted them bruised and beaten, swollen and bleeding, before she would ultimately give her away to an inevitable death. 

“You’ll regret,” Daenerys breathed, “ever — fucking — having put a finger on me.” 

In response, the girl spat up at her, covering Daenerys’ stomach in a spray of her saliva. “Don’t bother me with another speech about being a… dragon whore… bitch,” she growled, and then spat up at her again. “I can spit too.” 

 Unimpressed by the girl’s taunt, Daenerys grabbed a hold of the girl’s right tit with both hands while keeping her own torso as upright and far out of reach as possible. She used her knuckles this time around, punching the girl’s tit between them. She watched the girl howl and squirm as her tit flesh ballooned out between Daenerys’ opposing knuckles.Fuelled by the pain, the girl threw herself upwards and started punching Daenerys wherever she could reach. First her punch hit Daenerys’ throat just to shock her enough for her grip to falter. Then, once her titis were released, Fayha pulled herself up by Daenerys’ hair, landing a punch against Daenerys’ right tit with her free hand. Daenerys gasped, feeling her body grow hotter, and rained down fists from above.

The duel turned into a fist fight as the pair punched, clawed and scratched at each others’ tits. For the next five minutes, the small dungeon cell was filled with the dull thud of fists hitting flesh and the pained groans and moans of the cell’s occupants. Although the girl fought hard, Daenerys, being the one on top, had the upper hand. Cocking her arm as far back as she could, Daenerys punched the girl’s tit hard enough to send it into her ribcage. The girl let out a loud screech, her hands immediately reaching out to grab a hold of them. It would change nothing, because her tit was so crushed that it barely resembled a tit anymore at all. It looked like a sack filled with crushed goods.Meanwhile she could barely feel the pain in her throat anymore. Everything was irrelevant when she knew she was winning it this time around. 

Feeling victory in her grasp, Daenerys shifted on top of the girl. Her cunt, wet as a result of the intensity of their fight, left a wet trail on the girl’s belly. Looking down at the whimpering girl cradling her crushed tit, Daenerys felt a wave of exhilaration wash over her. Confident in her triumph, she bounced her full body weight on top of the girl’s tits, crushing them beneath her, and then moved herself on top of the girl’s face, aligning her wet cunt with the bitch’s dry mouth.  

“And now take it, slut,” Daenerys grunted in a hitched breath, before moving herself down and smothering her with her own wetness. 

Instantly, she could feel teeth digging into her lips, making her wince enough to pull back again. The anger it caused made her rip herself away, groaning as the teeth clung onto her. 

Again tortured by the girl’s clinging teeth, Daenerys yanked herself away. Some of the hair on her cunt got caught in her grip, making tears spring to her eyes. She could feel the pain in her whole body, but deciding not to give into it at all, she swiftly turned herself around and stuck to her initial plan. Smothered once more by Daenerys’ cunt, the girl would soon know that Daenerys did not give up anymore, no matter how she would use her teeth. 

After all, as she sat on the girl’s face, she was now facing the rest of the girl’s body. She saw the squirming, and heard the vibrations of her choked screams vibrating through her cunt, making her moan. Her legs kicked, pushing herself back against the ground beneath, but it amounted to very little. Despite the pain in her labia, Daenerys felt a rush of fury-induced excitement. Maybe now, if only she persisted, she would achieve what she had wanted to achieve the day before. She would kill her. 

As she dropped her full weight on top of the girl beneath her, listening to the screams only more, Daenerys leaned over her. Her hands spread the girl’s legs forcefully apart and then made a direct claw for her cunt. As the girl started to screech against Daenerys’ cunt, Daenerys moved her tongue between the girl’s labia, licking her clit as her fingernails still clawed at it. 

The girl yelled at first, the pain making her tremble, but then she began following Daenerys’ lead. She moved her hands, which were currently still cupping her right tit, up to the cunt that was smothering her and forced her sharp nail in between. Instead of clawing at it, like Daenerys was doing to her, she used her finger to inflict pleasure, forcing a moan from Daenerys’ mouth that filled her stomach with a wave of unwanted humiliation. 

It was Daenerys who then began following the girl’s lead. Instead of clawing, she used her fingers to keep the girl’s lips spread and began eating away at her clit, sucking around the sensitive skin and drawing moans from her throat. Daenerys could feel her heart starting to beat through her searing tits with pleasure, annoying her so much that she pressed her tongue firmly against the girl’s clit, tasting her wetness around her flesh. She sucked at it then, after which she began licking down to her entrance, pushing it inside to make her feel violated to the core. 

Of course Daenerys was not the only one doing this. The girl was licking away at her, her fingers inserting her and starting to feel around inside of her for her pleasure-spot. The room around them was suddenly filled with noises of unwanted pleasure. 

The aggravating sensation turned overwhelming. Daenerys could feel it tingling through her whole body, arousal swirling around within her stomach. She gasped as she could feel herself coming closer, but she wouldn’t allow herself to slip over the edge without getting the girl there first. Her finger wagged aggressively over her clit, causing the flesh to quiver a little. The girl gasped around her, enhancing the pleasure Daenerys was feeling and, just like that, the pair slipped over the edge with a crazy amount of noise. Neither one of the women was planning to let go after that, their orgasms so aggravating that the fight turned back to what it had been before their sporadic lust for humiliation. 

As the girl began using her nails inside of Daenerys, making her inner walls sting, Daenerys began to use her nails on her clit. She scratched violently at it, repeating the same motion over and over again until she could hear the girl wailing. Daenerys knew it was more painful than what was happening inside of her, because although she was making pained noises of her own, she knew for a fact that she would be able to hold on for much longer than the quivering legs of the girl beneath her indicated. It was then that the girl changed it up, once again using her teeth. 

This time, however, she did not cling onto Daenerys’ outer lips, but the thin skin of her inner ones. Daenerys felt the sting, causing her to momentarily pull back her face to scream out with it. Instinctively. She tried to pull back, but then changed her mind when she realised she had only one goal here. She had to hold out. 

The only way to ensure that was to inflict only more pain. She therefore grabbed the girls clit between the nails of her thumb and index finger and began squeezing it. The girl cried out, sputtering upon the floor, but then began to bite so hard and so sharp that Daenerys could feel her skin was starting to tear. She too cried out with pain because of it, but it only made her squeeze harder. Her other hand moved in at the same time, clawing until she saw blood. 

The two bled, their cunts badly damaged. The girl’s hands forced themselves to claw Daenerys’ cunt from the inside and the outside, ensuring that Daenerys bled in almost the same way. It was just the fact that Fayha had been deprived of oxygen for so long that she could no longer manage. The pain, making her gasp, could not come out in the way it needed to. She was starting to choke on her own breath, gasping at Daenerys’ cunt. Noticing the effect this had, Daenerys merely lowered herself more, sealing the deal and ending the fight with her cunt. 

However, it didn’t seem like the girl had given up altogether. Although she was groaning, and seemingly in more pain than Daenerys was, there was enough fight left in her to dig her teeth, once again, in Daenerys’ cunt. This time, now that Daenerys was already bleeding, the pain was so unbearable that it left her sputtering and shaking, tearing herself away as quickly as she could. The teeth didn’t let go, resulting in another searing wound near her clit. As pain shot through her whole body, she was unable to remain upright and fell to the floor, her hands shooting between her legs as if to sooth the bleeding. 

As she looked up, she could see that the girl was cupping her cunt all the same. She had been clawed open, small cuts bleeding her dry and coaxing her cunt. Gasping, Daenerys was driven to the only thing she could still think of doing to end it. No matter how painful she knew it was going to be. She scooted over the rough brick floor. She was exhausted and in agony, but her heart beat with the same desire to leave the girl broken and humiliated, and so the decision to lock her cunt with the girl’s wasn’t a hard one. She just had to endure. 

“Fuck!” The girl whimpered, tears now streaming down her face. “Bitch, you—” Rather than finishing a coherent sentence, she pushed herself closer towards Daenerys, instigating the grinding contest that Daenerys had no energy to actually start just yet. 

Daenerys gasped. The only lubrication on her cunt was the blood, but it did fairly little to soothe the sensation. Still, although her body throbbed, she knew she would endure. “You’re no…” Daenerys groaned, pain fuelling her to more aggression, “…no match for… me…” 

Fayha roared something incomprehensible under her breath, but the meaning behind those noises became more than clear when she began thrusting herself into Daenerys. Her hand moved between them, spreading Daenerys’ lips apart so that their flesh was roughly pushed together, making sure their grinding hurt as much as it could. 

It did. Each and every thrust felt like a stab to the cunt, adding salty fluid to her open wounds. A loud noise erupted from her throat, the pain giving her the energy to thrust herself as hard into the girl as the girl was thrusting into her. 

It felt raw, opening the wounds further and making more blood seep out. Every inch of her flesh throbbed with pain, and it was only about to get worse from here. Daenerys could already feel how her body was starting to reject the sensation, driving her to look for a different solution. She found one in the girl’s ragged, discarded tokar. It lay on the floor within her reach, and with quivering arms she grabbed a hold of it and untangled it. As quickly as she could, before the girl could even realise it was happening, she began targeting the girl’s already broken tits. 

She wrapped the tokar around each one of her tits, holding the both of them in a tight grip before she started pulling at the ends. The worn beads dug into her skin, causing enough pain for the girl to momentarily stop her grinding. In spite of it, Daenerys grinded back harder, applying more pressure. At the very same time, she used her fury to pull the girl’s tits to two swollen, useless bags of flesh. 

Daenerys, pulling as hard as she could, was entirely focused on the tits. She could feel how the fabric cut into the girl’s skin, causing bruising and chaffing. The blood and lymph inside of it was being pushed up towards the nipple, blowing both her tits up around it. She squeezed harder, like there was some sort of primal instinct inside of her that wanted the girl’s tits to burst open.

Not even the girl’s pained screaming, making Daenerys believe that she was at the end of all the fight within her, proving that she did not have the stamina of a dragon, could provide her with any sort of relief.

The girl moved around her, grabbing hold of the other tokar that lay within reach. Her body trembled, but still she tried her best to grab Daenerys’ tits in the same type of hold. It wasn’t that Daenerys allowed it, but if she wanted to see those tits as broken as they could be in the aftermath of her ultimate loss, then she had to use all her might to keep pulling. It didn’t matter how painful such a grip proved to be around her own tits, which quickly had her screams joining the girl’s. The girl’s eyes were starting to roll back in her sockets from the pain. Feeling that victory was nigh, Daenerys resumed her grinding, once again putting her bloodied cunt against its equally damaged counterpart, and whimpering while pulling as hard as she possibly could.

She tilted her head back, screaming up at the ceiling above her. The tokar felt raw in her hands, and they were wrapped around her palms — to better her grip against the hideous piece of cloth — so tightly that it almost cut off her circulation. Her heart throbbed through her hands, cunt and tits, leaving her weeping with pain. 

The fight within them was equal. Daenerys had already noticed that, but it became even clearer a second later. 

Daenerys’ garment snapped, the pearls and jewels attached shooting through the room. It felt like her skin had been ripped off, and now that the pressure from around them had disappeared, the pain suddenly washed over her all in one go. It had her squeeze the girls’ tokar around the dark-skinned tits in a sudden burst of strength, screaming with pain as, with the very last remnants of her strength, she yanked so hard that the tits opened up altogether. The pressure was too much now, the ballooning tits popping open and squirting out a large amount of blood and lymph from their nipples. Daenerys could feel it squirting straight into her face. It might’ve repulsed her, was it not for her weakening grasp on consciousness as all the energy was left her body. She let go of the tokar and fell backwards, her hands shooting to her searing tits as if it would lessen the pain. 

With the blood, life was seeping out of the girl all the same. Their visions were blurred. They had worn themselves out entirely, no longer having any fight left within them. 

The last thing Daenerys could see was the girl falling backwards. They passed out together, falling into a restless suffering.

***

She woke up with an allconsuming pain in her body. Her tits were burning, her cunt raw and broken and her head was pounding like a bell. She was dehydrated, knowing well that there was no way for her to do anything about that.

It took her only a few seconds to notice the presence around her cunt. Her eyes slipped in and out of focus, though eventually landed on the broken girl opposite her. She wasn’t moving, just like Daenerys, but she whimpered softly, indicating that she had been awake for longer than Daenerys had.

Daenerys gathered the strength to lift herself upright on her elbows. Although she felt sore, she tore her cunt, covered in dried blood, away from the girl’s. She could see her body clearly, her tits circled by a line of cut skin. Looking down at her own skin, she noticed hers didn’t look much better, but it didn’t matter. She knew what the girl’s silence meant. Her stamina had given her the fight. It had destroyed the girl entirely, making her unable to move or do anything else at all.

Daenerys didn’t know what came over her, but she shifted, straddling the limp body and once again taking a seat on her face. The girl made a noise, probably breathless as the pain wouldn’t have allowed her to suck in a proper air of breath. That was only made worse now, with the lips of Daenerys’ cunt pressed to her mouth.

“Eat me, bitch,” Daenerys ordered. Though her voice sounded weak, she recognised her own power in it all the same. “Know you’ve lost, and take it.”

Daenerys expected this to either start another fight or to feel the girl’s tongue poking. To her surprise, nothing much happened. The girl’s mouth opened, but only to let out a tortured gasp that Daenerys could feel tingling through her cunt. She did nothing more, neither obeying nor biting back. Daenerys sneered, lowering herself more, but it changed nothing. There was no more life left in her.

Smothering the girl only a little longer, Daenerys eventually rose herself to her feet again. Although she was more beaten than she had felt ever before, everything inside of her searing, she felt she had finally something here that she could feel some worth in. She felt tired, exhausted even, which she hoped would eventually prolong the satisfaction she had not been able to get out of Missandei.

“You should not have doubted me,” Daenerys said at last, gathering what remained of her tokar before beginning to sloppily cover her body with it. Her voice still felt hoarse, but she meant her words all the same. “A dragon never loses.”

It was then that she left, leaving the girl there to die slowly from the neglect That Daenerys would order.

Epilogue

Sprawling across a hundred isles in a lagoon on the North-Eastern corner of Essos, Braavos yawned as dawn shines upon the misty city. Amidst its harbour, thousands of ships with their sails painted a bright purple rested amidst the gently rocking waves. As the sun rose above the horizon, the Titan of Braavos – a giant stone statue guarding the entry into the city’s port, let out a deafening bellow and extinguished its flaming eyes that acted as lighthouses during the night.

In the northern part of the city, in a great marble house, two men sat across a desk in a well lit solar.

“How was the journey? The seas can be rough at this time of the year.” Said the men behind the desk. He’s a middle-aged man of medium build with unremarkable features. Today, he’s dressed in a sombre black doublet with a top hat that added a full two heads to his height. 

“Thank you for asking, your honour.” responded his companion, a man dressed in a flamboyant red robe inlaid with green silk. “The journey was pleasant, although I hope it was under more pleasant circumstances. That said, shall we dispense with the pleasantries?”

“Very well. Have it your way then.” nodded the man in black. “I’m afraid you have come in vain. Braavos has no quarrel, nor wish to have any quarrel with Daenerys Targaryen. We have no slaves here. Our interest is in trade.”

“Yet we are not talking of Braavos, but of the Iron Bank.”

“The Bank’s interest is the city’s interest.” said the man as he shook his head. “Besides, as a representative of the Bank, I’m afraid we have even less interest in Daenerys Targaryen, unless she wishes to open an account with us.”

“Ah, from what I’ve heard… I’m afraid dragons don’t like to pay loans.” The man in red chuckled, “But tell me, of those who do like to pay loans on time, those honest merchants, ship captains, and bankers, how many of them have been on time with their payment? How many of them are asking for extensions? How many have had their livelihoods ruined because Slavers’ Bay is now “Dragon’s Bay”.”

“We… do not disclose the financial situations of our client…” said the man behind the desk, as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “But you raise a good point. I shall speak with my associates and see what can be done about the health of the eastern trade routes. May I ask if you will be joining us for dinner? Magister Terys is holding a feast in honour of his nineteenth child.”

“It would be my great honour. I shall see you tonight at the feast.” The man in red responded, as he rose and bowed out.

With his companion gone, the other man, sitting at the desk, gazed absentmindedly at the distance while fingering an iron coin with a hooded figure on one side. As the man sat behind his desk, lost in thought, an elderly maid entered the room, carrying with her a jug of water and proceeded to water the plants in the corner. 

“Do you think it’s possible? To slay such a beast?” The man suddenly asked, still studying the patterns of the wallpaper. 

“Valar Morghulis. All things die… when the time and price is right.” responded the maid, as she loosened the soil around the flowers’ root.

“And what price would be right for such creatures?” asked the men absentmindedly.

“High… and low… for now, let us settle for your gratitude.” The maid shrugged, as she finished tending to the plants and packed away her tools.

“A blank cheque then.” the man said, pursing his lips and looking at the maid for the first time since she entered. He did not like looking at her, feeling a strange chill down his spine whenever he’s around her. “Very well, I shall speak to my associates at the Bank.” 

“And I to mine.” And with that, the maid was gone.

The End

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