The Sapphire Necklace
Daenerys listened quietly from her place on the teal couch, noticing each soft step that moved up the stairs. Yet, she kept her gaze cast across the city, watching the movement of her people, small as ants, far below. She had been considering what Tyrion had said for some time, and had finally sent for her personal advisor when she became frustrated with her own musings. She needed someone to talk this over with, she knew. And there was none better than the beautiful Missandei of Naath.
“You asked for me, Your Grace?”
The queen turned her head to look at the soft-spoken advisor that stood before her. Unlike Tyrion, she did not appear tired from climbing the many fleets of stairs, and held herself as poised and delicate as ever. Her hands were clasped neatly at her front, resting against the smooth fabric of her plain, yet regal, silk gown, the color of succulents or muted wildfire. On one wrist hung a thin golden bangle, with a dragon-etched ring upon her right hand. At her neck rested a piece of jewelry that she did not recognize – a silver-chained sapphire that gleamed in the light. Offering a warm smile, Daenerys patted the space on the couch beside her, “Come. Sit.”
Missandei moved quietly, closing the distance between them within a few long strides. She sat down where her queen had indicated, and ran her hand along her dress, smoothing it down gracefully as she returned the smile, “How can I be of assistance, Your Grace?”
Daenerys’s eyes still admired the sapphire necklace, and she reached over to touch it. She stopped before her hand made contact with the glimmering gem, looking to her advisor for approval, “May I?”
“Of course.” Missandei’s voice held a slight air of pride, but she looked away sheepishly as the queen touched the stone and ran her hand over it.
“Did Grey Worm get it for you?” Dany asked, a gentle intrigue tinging at her lips.
“I got it for myself, Your Grace.” Missandei could not hide the happiness from her voice. Once a slave, she was not one to usually indulge in extravagance and unnecessary beauties. Even so, the queen had been encouraging her to enjoy herself – to spend the sum she earned on things that brought her joy. And, that day as she walked through stall after stall, the sapphire necklace had brought her joy. It had been a struggle to convince herself to buy it, despite its expense. She found herself happy that it had been noticed, but a certain anxiety panged her, and she quickly felt the need to downplay the jewel, “The market along the portside walls have even greater fineries among them.”
“I doubt it,” Daenerys replied without hesitation, carefully pulling her fingers away from the necklace, “It looks exquisite, Missandei.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.” A blush flowered on her cheeks as Missandei turned her attention back to the queen, appreciation clear on her face.
Daenerys turned in her seat, tucking one leg beneath herself as she turned to face her advisor, and her friend, more fully. The small of her back pressed against one of the golden accent pillows as she leaned back, getting comfortable in her seat. While Dany found herself surrounded by a slew of advisors, all skilled in their own right, it was with Missandei that she felt most at ease. The only one, in truth, that she trusted absolutely, including with her personal matters. She felt relaxed as she spoke, “I met with Tyrion earlier today. He was… concerned.”
“What was it that concerned him?” Missandei adapted to Daenerys’s actions, and had swiftly shifted her own body to face inward, toward her queen, in turn. She folded both legs in front of herself, and placed her hands neatly in her lap.
“He was concerned that I met privately with Lady Greyjoy.”
A look of puzzlement played across Missandei’s face as she considered what had been said, and why such an issue may exist. While her advisor contemplated, Daenerys pulled the pillow from behind her and placed it in her lap, running her fingers absently through the yellow tassels. For a moment, the two women appeared less like queen and advisor, and more like two old friends exchanging the happenings of the day.
“That’s…” The advisor trailed off, searching for the right word in the Common Tongue. Daenerys could not fault her for it – even she had to pause similarly at times, and she only knew three languages. She could not imagine what it was like to speak in nineteen different tongues. After just a short beat of silence, Missandei seemed to find the term she was looking for, “That’s odd, Your Grace. Did he say why this concerned him?”
“Only that he did not trust her, but he could provide me no reason for this lack of trust.” Daenerys sighed, her mind drifting to the task that she had given him. Would he actually go to see Asha? Of course he will, she thought, knowing his loyalty was greater than any doubts he may have about the Ironborn leader. She tapped her fingers absently against the pillow in her lap, “I encouraged him to speak with Lady Greyjoy on his own, regarding some separate concerns. That got him to drop the topic, for the most part.”
“When did you meet with Lady Greyjoy?” Missandei’s voice gave her away – she was becoming invested. Dany loved when she got like this. The gears in her mind would start working, and she treated problem-solving like some would treat a puzzle or game. When that happened, she would speak a bit faster, sometimes forget her manners if she got carried away. A small smile quirked at the edge of the queen’s lips.
“Yesterday,” She replied, watching Missandei’s dark eyes swim as she considered the different possibilities. “She came to my chambers to continue a conversation from a few days ago.”
“The conversation from a few days ago,” the Naathi woman pressed, “Was it also in your chambers?”
“No, just in the halls. I couldn’t sleep so —”
“Did Tyrion know about it?”
“No, Tyrion didn’t know about it.”
Missandei nodded at this, seemingly unaware that she had interrupted the queen. Daenerys, of course, did not seem bothered by the lack of courtesy. Instead, a curious intrigue played in her eyes as she watched her advisor, wondering what it was that she might be thinking. She smoothed her palm across the velvety fabric before her, “What is it, Missandei?”
“There are some… rumors about Lady Greyjoy, Your Grace,” The advisor suggested, turning her sight to meet the monarch’s inquisitive gaze.
“What rumors?” Dany asked, her eyes flashing with curiosity. Missandei felt herself grow uneasy, and looked away hastily. This only seemed to draw the queen’s attention, her white-gold hair falling across one shoulder as she leaned in closer. A small smile broke across her advisor’s lips at the motion, her mind returning to her childhood, when she had sat much the same with a friend as they discussed the kitchen talk.
“Rumors regarding her being…” Missandei could not find the word. Well, she could in some tongues, but not in the Common Tongue. It only made it harder that, oftentimes, such preferences were spoken of in figures of speech rather than direct terms or notions. Even “rumor” wasn’t the right term here, she knew. Rather, it seemed like a reality that no one bothered to hide, though few spoke about openly. She finally settled on a different way to describe what she meant, “Rumors regarding her taste, My Queen.”
“Her taste?” Daenerys asked, trying to figure out what it was that her advisor meant. She leaned a bit closer, letting her elbows dig into to the padding of the pillow, “Her taste for what, Missandei?”
“Her taste for…” The dark-haired women mulled over what to say next, not wanting her words to come off as presumptuous or rude. But without remembering the exact word in the Common Tongue, the only way she could think to speak on the topic seemed a bit too forward. She prided herself in being polite and prudent in how she spoke, though she now found herself unable to locate anything suitable for what she wanted to convey.
“Say what it is you mean,” Dany said, lightly touching the other woman’s leg to offer reassurance, “I’m sure I’ll understand.”
“The rumors have to do with her taste in the bedroom, Your Grace.” Missandei said the words hesitantly, not sure if the way she had spoken would be acceptable. Daenerys’s eyebrows raised, and the advisor knew she understood what she meant. She continued, “Or, rather, the company that she enjoys there.”
“And what company is it that she enjoys, according to these rumors?” Daenerys had already assumed the answer, but wanted it to be stated plainly. She had not heard of these rumors before – the reality of being the queen, of course. Lips sealed instantly when she walked by or entered a room, so hearing such talk was often difficult. True or not, she found that she was not surprised that the rumor existed.
“The company of women, it is said.”
Daenerys leaned back now, letting herself melt into the comfort of the couch as she studied Missandei with a wondering gaze. Was it these rumors that had made her Hand so uneasy? The thought that such a thing may have rattled him so made amusement rise in her throat, and it hung heavy in her tone when she spoke, “Do you think that is what has Tyrion so worried?”
“Potentially, Your Grace,” She smiled as well, feeding off of the laughter in the violet gaze that watched her. “Lady Greyjoy was said – is said – to be a bit… promiscuous, especially when entering a new port.”
“Promiscuous?” Daenerys couldn’t take the topic seriously anymore, and laughed openly as she spoke. “More so than himself?”
“I doubt that, Your Grace.” Missandei was smiling broadly now, laughing into a cupped hand as they spoke.
“I believe you have found the root of it, Missandei,” Daenerys shook her head, finding the notion more than amusing. A sea-laden, leather-clad lesbian, come to our shores, she thought, is this what frightens you, Tyrion? It was such a nonsensical fear that the queen found herself interested. Why might he care so much? She brushed off the last of her laughter, “Why do you think that might worry him? Even if I were to bed her, what concern is that of his?”
“I doubt he is concerned about you bedding her, Your Grace,” The phrase felt taboo in Missandei’s throat, and she spoke it with some unease. Still, she continued, “He might be worried that you may end up feeling something for her.”
“That I’d fall in love with her, is that what you mean?” Daenerys asked, cocking an eyebrow at the idea. While she had enjoyed speaking with Asha over the last few days, she did not know her well enough to even consider her a friend as of yet, let alone more. “That’s nonsense. I barely know her.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” Missandei replied, “Though Lord Tyrion may be hoping to avoid you getting to know her. It would place his concerns at rest.”
As odd as it all was, it made sense. Yet, despite her earlier laughter, the idea did make Daenerys apprehensive. She did not like the idea that her Hand was analyzing her personal affairs so deeply, or monitoring each person that she spoke with. It’s his job, as my Hand, she reminded herself. It made sense that he would pay attention to what she did and who she met with. Still, to try and regulate so tightly who she could see alone, and even who she could bed or love – she did not like that. The look that crossed her face made these thoughts apparent.
“Tell me, Missandei,” Daenerys looked up, meeting her friend’s golden gaze, “do you think it is appropriate for my Hand to handle such things?”
“Your Grace…” The Naathi advisor trailed off, wanting to offer the best insight that she could. While she believed that Lord Tyrion meant well – and she truly believed that he did – she could not help but feel he was in the wrong. She continued, “I believe that Lord Tyrion is trying to do what he believes is right. He is trying to serve you as wholly as he can. Though, if I may…” The queen nodded, and Missandei continued, “I do believe that Lord Tyrion oversteps. He should share his concerns, but leave the decisions to you.”
“Thank you,” Daenerys replied, “I appreciate your insight.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” Missandei stood from her place on the couch, the seafoam-colored dress unfolding and falling neatly across her frame. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“Has he seen it yet?” The queen’s eyes were on the sapphire yet again. It caught the light just right and reflected the rays across the balcony, soft streams of blue light illuminating the railings and the sofas.
“No, he has not.” Missandei reached up instinctively to touch the jewel as she felt warmth radiate over her cheeks. She looked toward the ground, the heat spreading down to her neck. While she had not said anything to anyone about her relationship with the commander of the Unsullied, it had become quite evident to those closest to her that a romance had blossomed there. A part of her disliked that, but another part of her reveled in it – and the queen’s approval made her chest fill with pride despite herself. She could not hide the small smile that peaked on her reddening face.
“Then I will not keep you any longer,” Daenerys took her friends hand, forcing Missandei to meet her gaze, "Go show him.”