Chapter Text
Yara didn’t expect to lose her fortunes to her uncle, she didn’t expect to have to live in the bottom basement of a leaky apartment complex. And she didn’t expect to have to brush her hair with a broken comb and comfort her baby brother from his night terrors every evening.
It was not the life she fought for.
The only thing left for Yara was to scheme, make maps and bullet points, and deliver enough burgers to feed the city twice over.
She put on her delivery outfit for the night and frowned at herself in the mirror. A red shirt with a small stain in the corner, a visor with a tail that supposed to be a buffalo, bags under her eyes to rival the Mariana trench. She sighs.
“I’m going out little brother,” she calls.
“...How long?” He calls back from his perch on the couch looking at his hands.
“Most of the night.” She holds up her car keys, "The job.” He nods without looking up and she heads to the door, ducking under a dripping pipe to make it out to the street.
She doesn’t make eye contact with the men on the stoop when she makes it outside, they know who she is and how she was wearing a stained delivery outfit to a minimum wage night job after everything.
She hops into her beat up Subaru and starts the engine. It is silent as the grave.
She groans into the open air, “not now, not now you stupid piece of shit, I will drive us both into the river if you fuck off at me now.” The engine didn’t even purr in the drizzle of the New York skyline.
She she got and banged on the hood before she glanced at her watch. A young boy smoking outside raises his eyebrows at her and she flips him off.
“Fuck,” she kicks the tire. “Fuck.” She repeats again, this time softly and with an impassioned rage boiling in her gut.
She goes to the bike rack and takes out her 4-speed. She grumbles to herself as she pedals hard into the light rainfall and tries to make it to her job on time. She hadn’t been late yet, and she wasn’t going to start now.
The wirr of the bike tires fills her ears and she pumps her legs until they burn and makes it to her ‘Buffalo Burgers Delivery’ job two minutes into her shift.
She pants and runs into the kitchen, daring anyone to challenge her on being late. The cook just glances at her and shrugs.
“Thank God.” Someone mumbles, the manager, “I thought no shit for brains was going to show up today.” She glances at her manager, “Larry didn’t even call in.” He huffs and Yara’s shoulders slump. These people didn’t expect anything of her.
“We’ve got a high end delivery,” the cook proclaims, her hands on a spatula.
“High end?” Yara looks up, a pointed glance.
“Hoity toity,” she repeats, “upper east side, that tip is going to be better than two days in a cat house.” She whistles and Yara eyes the delivery before any of the others in line.
She picks it up, she had heard rumors, this was her chance. “Where is it?” They give her the address and leaves with the package bundled in her sweater to keep it warm.
The drive would have to been a pain on it’s own, now it was a downright marathon. She tries not think about too hard. She just pedaled and ignored the light drizzle making her hair cling to her face.
She makes it to a building scraping the sky like it wanted to rake open the clouds themselves and stab the moon. Yara’s mouth makes a hard line, it was familiar but more grand than even she had touched, even before she lost everything.
“Delivery,” she announces to the doorman, presenting the fast food delivery, “top floor.” She grunts. The doorman nods at her after inspecting it and she makes her way to an elevator with marble floors.
She watches the little lights blinked one by one as the elevator rose to that top floor. It took longer than she would have guessed and she presses the package to her body to warm it.
The bell dings and she steps out to the only room on that floor. It has a dragon insignia on the door and Yara held her breath.
She had heard rumors, that a Targaryen ordered burgers from across town at weird hours. Yara takes a deep breath and knocks, this was her chance.
She gets no answer, she knocks again. “Hello.” She calls, “delivery.”
“Oh, it’s open,” comes a light voice like a weary light in the dark, Yara opens the door and strides in.
She looks around, art, leather couches, a fridge that would cost a year in her rent and then some.
Yara’s eyes rake over the place and she makes herself a promise. Get this.
“Oh! You are so quick.” Yara turns around quickly and her eyes go wide.
A pale women with skin like milk stood in just towel and hair wrap, the heiress to the Targaryen Corporation was half dressed and smelled like a light soap, something floral and burned a little in her nostrils.
“It should still be hot.” She announces, holding up the bag dumbly, the women smiles gently at her.
“Thank you. I was just in the shower, sorry I didn’t get the door earlier.”
Yara shakes her head, “no problem.”
“Let me go find some money to pay you.” She announces as she looks around, “you can sit down if you want. I might be a moment while I put something back on.”
Yara nods numbly. This bright, pale creature was asking a damp delivery girl to take a seat. She scowls at her, she’s not sure she likes it.
Yara taps her fingers on the marble counter as she waits, the place is pristine and colored in whites and gold, the dragon lady herself.
“Here,” Yara jumps when she returns. “I hope this is enough.” She hands her a 50 and Yara wants to scream. Rich people.
She sighs, she was honest if nothing else, “it was only 8 dollars, uh, Ms. Targaryen.”
“Dani,” she announces serenely. “Have I met you somewhere before?”
Yara shakes her head quickly, “No.” She replies forcefully.
“Well alright.” She forces the fifty into her waiting hands, “well, could you keep this a secret then….?”
Yara looks around, “ah, Yara.”
“Yes, Yara. I might be seeing you again.” She reaches for the little wrapped bag, “this is my favorite restaurant. Which might not go over well with some.”
Yara chuckles briefly and Dani smiles again, Yara hesitantly pockets the money anyway and nods at her.
“Thank you miss.” She tries to think of something friendly, clever. But she just wants to push her up against the wall and show her what a pair a bruised lips could really do to whatever fairy this woman was.
“Dani.” She repeats, “and come again.”
Yara takes that as her signal to leave, she waves off Daenerys Targaryen in the middle of the nights and wonders if she would actually see her again.
Sh pedals back to her shift and delivering fast food to greasy men and frazzled single moms. Yara can't stop seeing the figure of a very wealthy women in her mind, the dragon lady.