I Know That We're Not The Same
Part I
The next thing she knows, she's facedown on the pavement.
What the hell? she wonders idly, watching a pair of Converse dangerously close to her eye.
"Oh my god!" she hears. "Are you okay?"
The Converses move out of her sight right before someone pulls her up by her arm. She really regrets borrowing M's perilous but gorgeous five-inch heels, but the mark liked them, so...
"Hey, are you okay?"
She blinks, turning to face the voice. It's a gray-eyed, black-haired teen that she places at seventeen, so about a year older than she is. "Um, yeah," she says, then remembers what she should be doing. Namely, getting to the getaway car. "Uh, thanks for the help. Gotta go."
"Do you have the papers?" Stark asks, looking up from the table.
She smirks. "Is my name Daenerys Targaryen?" With that, she slides the manila envelope out from her bag and throws it onto the table. Stark's face lights up.
"Good work, Stormborn."
"How did you like my heels?" M asks. M's sixteen, too, but she's always been able to pull off a more mature air than Dany can. She would have been more convincing as twenty, and Stark almost gave her the job, but she and L are working another front on the same company.
"They made me trip."
M throws her head back and laughs, long brown hair swishing prettily. "Of course they did."
She chucks the heels at M's head.
"I've seen you before."
Dany almost spits out her champagne. It's a good thing she doesn't, because this is her favorite dress. "I'm sorry?"
It's Gray Eyes from a few days ago. "I've seen you before," he repeats, quieter this time.
"Yeah. You helped me. Thanks, by the way." She tries to flounce by him, get back to being backup for Stark, but he grabs her wrist. "Before you go- I'm Jon."
She nods stiffly, unsure of what to do with this information, but only then does he let her flounce away as intended.
"Fuck you, Eddard Stark!" M roars, face contorted in utter fury. "You're a fucking hypocrite! You can have a wife but I can't have a girlfriend?"
"This is not the time for such shallow matters, M," Stark says. "We have a job to do."
M's face turns a dangerous shade of red. Dany shrinks into her seat, envying Brienne's sudden talent at blending in with the shadows.
Then M screams: "BUT I LOVE HER!"
Stark stands up so fast his chair topples over and shouts: "SHE'S MY DAUGHTER!"
They stare at each other for a few minutes, both red-faced and panting. "I love her," M protests quietly, but everyone knows that this is a battle she's going to lose.
"I know you do," Stark answers. "But that kind of influence- I don't want Sansa to be like-"
"Like me," M whispers.
She really shouldn't be poking around Stark's possessions, but she's too curious. This Sansa must be something special in order to have captured M like that.
Sliding open a drawer, she finds a picture frame turned over so that the back faces upwards. Which, of course, prompts her to flip it topside.
It's a group picture of eight people looking exactly like the perfect family. There's Stark, of course, with his arm wrapped around an older woman who must be his wife. Two seventeen-year-old boys stand next to them, one with a proud, stiff bearing and the other-
The other, she realizes, is Gray Eyes.
That shouldn't surprise her as much as it does, so she shakes her head and moves on. Next to Gray Eyes is a preteen girl who looks uncomfortable in her dress. She can't be M's Sansa, she thinks. Way too young.
The girl is standing by two younger boys, and they are of about zero consequence to Dany, so she glances at the last person in the photo.
She does a double take.
The girl is fifteen and beautiful, with long red hair, high cheekbones, and big blue eyes.
"Wow," she breathes. "Sansa Stark..."
She knows perfectly well that Stark has hypnotized her. How else could she be able to keep up with the rest of the orchestra, never mind actually play the cello?
She remembers to glance ominously up at the Lannister opera box every once in a while. It's all a part of Stark's plan, and her part is to freak them out as much as possible. Well, to freak Tywin and Cersei out as much as possible.
After the concert, she slips away from the orchestra, making sure to leave her cello leaning against her chair. It'll scare the lions of Lannister more.
Lions of Lannister, she scoffs to herself. Please.
"I didn't know you played the cello."
She jumps about a foot into the air. Jesus Christ, it's Gray Eyes. "You don't know a lot about me," she answers, composing herself as quickly as possible.
"Is that Jon with Stormborn?" Brienne asks, her voice tinny in the ear comm. Tarth, of course, has a head over most people in the crowd, and she's always checking for everyone on the team. This Jon- or Gray Eyes- is a variable among their constants, which means he must be eliminated.
Stark's voice growls, "Stormborn, brush him off. He can't be seen with you."
"I can't talk right now," Dany says to Gray Eyes.
"Are you ever able to?"
"No," she answers. It's blunt and slightly hurtful, but it should work.
"Who are you?" he asks after a moment.
She turns her best 'Stormborn- mother of dragons- last of the Targaryens' glare on him. "No one you should know."
"Do you know him?"
"Who?" she asks, genuinely surprised by Stark's question.
"The boy who approached you. Jon. Do you know him?"
"I've met him before," she admits.
"When and where?"
This would usually be her cue to start asking why he cares about Jon (Gray Eyes, her mind says), but she already knows the answer anyways.
"The first time was after I stole the papers from Lannister, Inc. I tripped outside the building thanks to M's heels, but he helped me up and then I ran off. The second time was at the Baratheon charity ball, where you were implementing stage 2 of your grand plan to take down the Lannisters. The concert last night was the third time."
Stark processes this in silence, frowning. Then: "Stay away from him, Stormborn."
"It's not like I'm trying to throw myself at him!" she snaps. "I don't know how or why he keeps finding me. And anyways, he's your son. If you don't want him to keep talking to me, just keep him away from my job sites!"
"How do you know he's my son?" Stark shoots back.
"Well, thanks for confirming it!"
"HOW DO YOU KNOW HE'S MY SON?"
She tries not to hide under the table like her instincts dictate (and she blames those instincts on Viserys). Instead, her hand clenches into a fist convulsively and she can feel her eyes open wide. "I-" she takes in a breath. "I found a picture."
"Found a picture?"
"I... mayhavewentthroughyourthings," she answers, voice trailing off at the end.
"You did what?"
She finds herself shrinking into her seat again.
"Stormborn, do you have any idea about privacy?"
"Privacy didn't seem to be a concern of yours when you asked me to steal papers from the Lannisters!"
"That's different!"
"How so?"
"Because I'm doing this for the greater good!"
"No, you're not!" Dany leaps out of her seat. "You're not even doing it for your dead sister, or your dead best friend, or everyone you've ever lost to the Lannisters! You're not doing it for the greater good, or else you would have started this operation earlier! You are doing this for yourself, to pretend that the Lannisters' downfall can even slightly compensate for everyone you've ever lost!"
Silence. Complete and utter silence. She can't even hear M's hair swishing.
She has gone way too far.
"Leave, Stormborn," Stark orders, face turning hard and grim. "Leave, and never come back. I don't need you."
She infiltrates the Lannister, Inc. building again and steals more papers that she knows Stark needs for his operation to succeed.
The knowledge that she has leverage on him now doesn't exactly fill the hole in her chest.
She misses M, and L, and Brienne, and everybody else. Even Jaime and Tyrion, and they were new to Stark's operation.
Damn it, she kind of misses Stark too. He was a fatherly presence. More of a father than Viserys ever was.
Now that she's on her own, she reverts to her previous habits. Stealing from banks, hot-wiring getaway cars, loneliness everywhere.
"One caramel latte, tall," she says to the barista.
"Your name, ma'am?"
"Kat."
The barista nods; she hands over the money and turns to wait.
"Is Kat really your name?"
She whips around. Gray Eyes. Of course. "Yes."
He gestures at her with his coffee cup. "That's a lie."
She glares. "No, it's not."
"One tall caramel latte for Kat," a voice calls out. She grabs her drink from the counter and heads for the door, but Gray Eyes follows her outside. "Why are you always running?"
His question stops her short. Why are you always running?
When she was on Stark's team, she didn't run. She stayed and had friends and a home and lived and loved.
Why are you always running?
"Kat?" Gray Eyes takes her elbow gently.
In that moment, she makes a decision. "Hey, do you want to go on a date?"
"No, dude, what-"
"I swear to God!" Jon says, laughing. His ice cream cone tips perilously to one side.
Dany can't stop giggling. "So he sets up- he sets up the board, and then what? What- what does Gilly do?"
He almost drops his cone. "She- oh, God- she gives him this look, like 'what the fuck', and Sam's just sitting there trying to explain the rules of Dungeons and Dragons!"
They dissolve into laughter. Eventually, she stands up straight again, still chuckling. "I can't believe this."
"Well, you'd better," he says, and kisses her.
It's chaste, compared to some makeout sessions they've had over the past year, and only highlights how far she's come. Yeah, she stole herself a car, a name, and a house, but otherwise she's normal. Got a boyfriend, going to college, all that. And for the whole year she's heard nothing from Stark. Which is good, she supposes.
She pulls away first. "I'm not making out with you until I finish my ice cream."
"I wouldn't expect any less," he laughs.
Ding-dong. She rushes out into the hallway, hurriedly adjusting her tank top, and curses whoever the fuck bothered showing up at 4 a.m. on a Sunday.
She slams open the door. "What the actual-" she stops mid-sentence. "M! Holy shit!"
M's bleeding. From a stab wound.
"Come on, move her inside!" Stark orders. Jaime and Brienne hoist M up by the armpits and help her inside; Dany closes the door behind everybody.
"Seriously, Stark? This is my house," she hisses.
"Which you stole," Tyrion adds as he waddles past.
"Just because I stole it doesn't mean it's not mine! And anyways-"
"Rhaena, babe?"
Oh gods no. Jon stumbles blearily out of the bedroom, swiping at his eyes until they focus on M and the blood. "What the hell? Rhaenys!"
"I didn't stab her!" she exclaims. It's the first thing that comes to mind.
"You definitely didn't," Jaime says snarkily.
"Pressure on the wound," Brienne reminds him, moving his hands to cover M's side.
"Rhaenys?" Stark asks, eyes narrowing.
"Yeah. Rhaenys," Dany confirms. Everything's on the verge of falling apart.
"Dad? Jaime Lannister? Tyrion Lannister? Wait a second, that girl who's bleeding, isn't that Sansa's girlfriend Margaery?"
There's a moment where nobody wants to answer him.
"Hi, I'm Loras Tyrell, and I don't think you've seen Brienne Tarth quite yet."
"L!" she hisses.
"Rhaenys, I didn't know you knew these people!"
There's only one thing she can say to that. "You don't know a lot about me." It's the concert all over again.
Jon fixes her with a horrified stare. "Rhaenys-"
"Daenerys," she corrects, staring down at her feet. "Daenerys."
Please R&R. ~jedikhaleesi