[57] Will You Drop By?

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I stood by the window, a cup of warm tea in my hand, watching the pale morning light creep over Winterfell's harsh landscape.

Morning breeze ruffled my hair while the sun barely peeked above the horizon, casting stretched shadows across the snow-covered grounds. It was a sight to behold. The tea helped amplify it.

Behind me, I heard the shuffling and rustling of furs.

"Finally up?" I asked, turning to find Yara stretching, her eyes blinking away sleep as she took in her surroundings with evident confusion.

"Why do you look so puzzled? Don't tell me you've forgotten last night?" I asked, amused by her disorientation.

She scoffed, a low chuckle escaping her lips. "No, I thought I reached heaven last night. So I am surprised to wake up amid black stones." She laughed with a yawn, her breasts heaving up at that.

I matched her laugh, leaning against the windowsill. She's trying to wiggle under my defenses, how sharp. I replied, "True, Winterfell isn't that pleasant to the eyes. Harsh. Full of cold people."

"So why're you helping it?" She fixed me with a direct stare, cutting straight to the point. "I heard you're letting Robb Stark remain King in the North. A separate Kingdom. Why're you being so nice to them?"

"Careful," I took a measured sip of tea, "I enjoyed your embrace last night, doesn't mean you get to try to manipulate me."

She threw her head back with a laugh, making her breasts jiggle. "Hey, worth the try, no? Speaking of, are the Iron Islands going to be independent too? You kept promising me 'Queen' title."

"Nah. You'll be the Queen of Iron Islands, yes, but officially you'll be dressed as a Highlady. Like Olenna Tyrell. The Queen of Thorns unofficially, in people's mouth, but on paper she's a Highlady. So yes, you'll be queen, but at the same time no."

"Clever wordplay," she said, sitting up straighter. "And what of my people's traditions? Our way of life?"

"Your people can raid all they want – in the East. Leave my kingdoms alone, and I'll point you toward richer targets across the Narrow Sea."

Her eyes lit with interest. "The Free Cities?"

"Among others. Plenty of wealth to be had without antagonizing dragons. The world has more continents than Westeros and Essos, anyway.”

"You're more ambitious than I thought. By the way…" she shifted, "where is Theon?” She looked at the open closet where her brother had been tied last night. “And when are we leaving for the Iron Islands?"

"Theon is back in the dungeons. He's untied now, don't worry. He'll get his food on time. As the brother of my Queen, I can't treat him too badly."

"Your queen?" Her eyebrow arched. "You proposing a marriage?"

I broke out laughing, cup still in hand as I approached her and grabbed her chin with my other hand. "I am making you Queen, and I made you feel like one last night. Meaning you already are mine, you pirate whore. Why do I have to marry you?"

She stared up at me, her expression unreadable for a long moment. If she felt offended by my insult, she didn't show it. Then she parted her lips and pushed her face up, meeting mine in a kiss. I stared silently as she closed her eyes, and my lips curved.

At least she knows how to play this game. I thought as I tossed the cup aside without care, hearing it shatter against the ground, and leaning into the kiss.

Her kiss was fierce, a clash of tongues and teeth that spoke of her strength and her defiance, even now. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her against me as we tumbled back onto the bed, a tangle of limbs and desire. My hands roamed over her body, tracing the lines of her muscles, the dips and curves of her form. I cupped her full breasts, my thumb brushing over her nipple, feeling it harden at my touch.

She moaned into my mouth, her back arching, pressing herself more firmly into my hand. My other hand slid down her side, gripping her hip before giving her ass a firm spank. The sound echoed through the room, followed by a sharp intake of breath from Yara.

She chuckled before a wicked grin spread across her face. "I seem to have forgotten how you made me feel like a Queen last night,” she said, voice sultry. “Make me feel that way again… Your Grace?” she begged, her voice a low, husky whisper that sent a jolt of desire straight to my core.

This woman knew what she was doing, and I was all for it.

[Skill: ‘Dragondick - E’ activated!]

****

With another loud session to enjoy the morning, we were pretty late already. I walked through Winterfell's corridors with Yara beside me, noting how the guards' eyes followed our every movement.

The standby guards’ gazes held a mix of fear and judgment – some even outright disgust.

A few whispered behind their hands as we passed, no doubt sharing lurid theories about what had transpired. The cold stone walls had carried sound far last night, and more so this morning. Despite the ropes that now bound Yara's wrists, her willing participation hadn't been obvious to others. The marks on her neck probably didn't help matters either. To others, it probably came off as a rape.

"They think you're a monster," Yara noted with amusement, her voice low enough that only I could hear. Her lips curved into that familiar cynical smile I might grow accustomed to.

I shrugged, walking casually and meeting a passing guard's disapproving stare until he looked away first. "Let them. Fear commands more respect than kindness, and I’d rather be feared than loved."

Those words I'd heard a lot back on earth, but I only understood it here in this world of blood and fire. As the pirate princess of the stubborn Ironborn, she should know a thing or two about it.

"True enough." She rolled her shoulders, the ropes shifting against her leather jerkin. A small grimace crossed her face, though whether from discomfort or anticipation, I couldn't tell. "Where are we going now? When do we leave for the Islands?"

"Now, actually. The sooner we deal with your father, the better." I glanced at her profile, studying the tight set of her jaw and the slight furrow between her brows. "Nervous about facing him?"

"Hardly. Just wondering how he'll react to a dragon at his doorstep. And… well. If he'll be wise to choose life over death.” She sighed softly.

Whatever the case, she was his daughter. So she was naturally worried.

I wanted to comment on that, but our conversation halted when we rounded a corner and came face to face with Sansa Stark. She froze mid-step, her blue eyes widening before darkening with something between hurt and anger. Her gaze flickered between us, lingering on Yara's bonds.

"...Viserys," she managed, her voice carefully controlled. "Lady Greyjoy."

"Lady Sansa," I replied evenly, watching her flinch at the formal address. Her lips quivered, hesitating, before she spoke up.

"Might I... speak with you privately before you depart?" Her eyes held a plea. When I went silent, she added, "Please?"

I hummed. "I was just leaving for the Iron Islands. I was supposed to leave early in the morning, but it's already late. There are matters that need attention-"

"Please," she repeated, more urgently. "Just a moment of your time."

After a pause, I clapped my hands. Two guards appeared promptly, and I gestured for them to escort Yara outside. Yara shot me a look, and then looked at Sansa. As the guards led her away, she tilted her head back deliberately, exposing the marks on her neck. Her smirk was pointed directly at Sansa.

Sansa stared at her walk away, and once we were alone, Sansa turned back to me and her composure cracked. "You... you raped her?"

"What? No. Did she just look like someone who was raped? She made a deal with her body, and I accepted. That is not rape," I replied matter-of-factly, somewhat irritated by the accusation.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, color rising in her pale cheeks. "How... how could you do that with her? Someone like her?"

"I just told you it's not ra-" I paused, my mind lighting up as realization dawned on me. I studied her flushed face and trembling hands. "Ah, I see. You're complaining why I slept with another woman? …Lady Sansa, you and I are not in a relationship. I thought that much was clear. Whatever... expectations you might have had were your own."

She clenched her jaw, her head lowering as words failed her. Her auburn hair fell forward, partially concealing her face. “...Well, since it seems our conversation has ended,” I said after a moment of tense silence, turning to leave, my boots echoing against the stone floor.

"W-wait," she called out, voice catching. I stopped but didn't turn, keeping my shoulders rigid. "Will you drop by after you're done... or just return to King's Landing from the Iron Islands?"

"Probably the latter," I said, and walked away, my footsteps measured and deliberate, leaving her standing alone in the dimly lit corridor.

The sound of my departure seemed to echo off the ancient walls of Winterfell. But I couldn't fly off on Viserion's back just yet, I had to converse with the impromptu Lord before that

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