The Unsullied were notoriously stoic, even in the face of great adversity. You’d never seen one cry out in pain, even with blades piercing their flesh, in the heat of battle, they remained composed.
So, as Grey Worm entered your chambers early this morning, you were surprised to seem him bruised and battered, like he’d been in a fist fight only moments ago. “You look like you’ve been through hell.” You remarked, dampening a rag and beginning to clean his face. “Did you at least win the fight?”
“I did.” He replied, his eyes on you, admiring the precise way you tended to his wounds.
“I hope it was worth the bruises.” You teased, with a tiny grin, gently prodding his busted lip.
“It was.” Even in the aftermath, fighting that Dothraki man for disrespecting you would always be the right decision, even if you’d never know it.
@andtheytoldustotellyouhello requested: “Tyrell!reader who marries oberyn cause him and willas are totally planning on Dany being queen?“
[Thanks for the request! Warning of suggestive teasing, but no actual smut.]
He found himself watching her again. The small lady from the Reach, too wrapped up in her flowers to notice the carnal way he eyed her. His bride to be. His quill had stalled on the page, frozen mid-letter. His gaze narrowed, eyeing the way her hips swayed as she walked. Maybe she did know that he was watching.
andtheytoldustotellyouhello 