#dragonsflesh

      A SOFT CHUCKLE BUBBLED FROM his chest, tugged the corners of his lips upward against his beard, mirth danced in the low hazel of his eyes. this was not the first time she’d shared her dinner table with him and daario suspected it would be far from the last. their conversations ranged wildly from nonsensical topics to the more serious vein of things, no compass could direct to which direction they would go, or when they would double back and change from something serious to light-hearted, to imagined fantasies, to battle strategy. when he swallowed his mouthful of wine he licked the remnants of it from his lips and shook his head.

      “ yes, i imagine there is. running a company of swarthy sell swords is very different from bringing peace and justice to the free cities. i certainly don’t have the patience for it. ” the goblet made the softest of clinks as he set it against the polished wood of her supper table where he could lean more favorably toward her for their conversation. it was hard not to look at her with that fierce admiration behind his gaze, but the nature of daario naharis easily suggested that it could be any number of cheeky things instead. he’d let her muse on that, should she choose to.

      and just as it had so many times before the tone shifted, the comedy in his thoughts lifted and levied into a more significant stroke and when daario’s brows knit they conveyed that expression well-enough. “ but you do it well, your grace. you’re a liberator, fair and tempered. you’ve proven you won’t take threats or meager attempts lightly, have answered them swiftly. and you’re compassionate to your people. meereen, and the cities, are lucky for you. it’s more than i’ve seen in all my years, surely. ”