Missandei had always respected your quiet strength. You weren’t a fighter by any means, but you stood up for your ideas and opinions, even when more unsavory characters would bully you into silence. The idea of any woman, especially a former slave, voicing her opinion was threatening to them, and though Khaleesi had repeatedly encouraged you to raise your voice, you were often found in the back of the room, listening and speaking only when asked.
It was a habit she was trying to free you of.
“You’re not a slave anymore, Y/N. You can say whatever you want to. You’re intelligent and wise,” she caressed your cheek, nudging you into meeting her eyes. “Speak your mind.”
“I love you.” You responded, heart soaring at a million miles a minute, cheeks flushed with the warmth of young love. “Can I say that?”
Missandei pulled you quickly into a soft and extended kiss, her thumbs tracing circles on your jaw. “Especially that.”
17 with missandri?
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