I won't deny
I've got in my mind
all the things I would do.
So I'll try to talk refined
for fear that you find out
how I'm imagining you
-Hozier, "Talk"
There wasn't a formal dinner before the gala started. Baelish claimed that there were too many people to host in the grand dining room, which Jon doubted was true. Baelish also told them they were welcome to dine with the Royal Family but the Starks opted to be served in the little dining room in their guest apartments.
The whole process was unbearable. Sansa tried to get the conversation flowing but despite her natural talents no one wanted to talk about the events of the day, Jon least of all.
Their dinner was another show of wealth and pride. As the server put it, "Leg of lamb sauced with mint, honey, and cloves. Mashed yellow turnips in butter, greens dressed with apples and pine nuts, and honeyed wine with cinnamon and nutmeg on the side for choice seasoning."
He stared at his portion of the lamb, Sansa's voice a mere hum in the background. He had no appetite but he needed to eat. He planned on having a drink in his hand for most of the night and even nursing on an empty stomach was pushing it.
Too soon, their private dinner was carried away and they were swept to an enormous hall done up in gold and warm light meant to resemble thousands of candles. There were already hundreds of people and Jon doubted there was a limit to how many people they would pack in there.
It was uncomfortably warm, the summer heat and humidity mixing with the mass of bodies. They preferred old fashioned feasts in the North, held in the ancient great hall with low lighting. On those occasions, hundreds of people were welcome because they helped keep the hall warm. Now the same number of bodies was making him claustrophobic.
Jon and Robb stayed close to their father, observing the party from afar. Sansa, however, threw herself into the action. And the people loved her.
"Why can't you two be that sociable?" Ned pestered.
"We're not here to make friends," Robb bristled.
Jon stayed silent and sipped his drink. He was ordered to stay away from alcohol for the night. It was a shame but for the best. Robb on the other hand was playing it fast and loose with the champagne.
A loud sound brought their attention to the other end of the hall where a large staircase loomed over them all. Sansa returned to her father's side in anticipation.
"Their Majesties, King Rhaegar I of House Targaryen and Queen Elia of House Martell of the United Kingdoms of Westeros, Prince and Princess of Dorne, Duke and Duchess of the Crownlands and Lord and Lady of King's Landing and the Watergardens."
Jon held in his scoff at their excessive titles. It seemed like another subtle way of establishing their power and influence over the people in their midst. The King and Queen entered the room, descending the stairs and basking in the applause of their guests.
"Her Royal Highness, Daenerys Stormborn I of House Targaryen, Princess Royal of the United Kingdoms of Westeros and Lady of Dragonstone."
Like a vision, she appeared at the top of the stairs. There was no applause for her, only whispers.
The other guests were dressed in muted colors and tasteful cuts, keeping the possibility for scandal to a minimum. Daenerys on the other hand, seemed to like ruffling feathers. Her bold gown bared her shoulders and much of her chest, it clung to her curves and highlighted every move she made. He always thought red was a warm color but on her it was utterly cold, enhanced by the silvery jewels adorning her body.
Her eyes raked over the crowd before settling on the corner where the Starks were.
Her descent took a lifetime and no one looked away. Never once did she look down or second guess a step. She was calm and graceful. Even when she stepped onto the floor of the hall and was swallowed by courtiers, he could feel her presence.
Robb nudged Jon's shoulder, shaking him from his reverie.
"She's going to eat you alive," Robb jested.
"Oh ye of so little faith."
"Don't kid yourself,"
It was true, Jon had no luck with women. Talking to them seemed so easy, until it was time to open his mouth. Then there was the fact that most women he found himself with weren't what the crown would consider 'proper'. Jon's responsibility to keep his, and by default, the crown's reputation clean won out over his inherently male nature. Ned's insistence on legitimization meant Jon had much higher expectations to meet. So it was easier to avoid conversation with women whenever possible.
Sansa elbowed him in the ribs, "Now's your chance."
The courtiers were done with her and she was surveying the table with photos of that year's charity with a girl in a yellow dress. As he approached the pair, Daenerys looked up and briskly walked away. He meant to follow her but the girl in the yellow dress stepped in his way.
"Your Highness, it's such an honor to meet you," she greeted.
Jon looked over her shoulder and watched the silver hair disappear into another crowd.
"It's an honor to meet you too …"
He had never seen this girl in his life but it appeared she had a connection with the princess.
"Missandei. I'm Princess Daenerys' best friend." She stuck her hand out for him to shake.
There it was.
Jon shook it and chuckled, "I see."
It was refreshing to just shake someone's hand instead of the usual bowing and scraping.
"Is this your first time in the south?"
"It is."
"Do you like it?"
Her question felt like a trap. She may not have been educated in the ways of the court but she had to know about Daenerys' engagement. They were best friends.
"I haven't seen much of it but it's different from the North that's for sure."
"It's my first time in Westeros too. I'm not sure how I feel about it. Like you said, it's very different."
"Where are you from originally?"
"Naath."
"Then how did you meet the Princess?"
"University in Braavos. I think I was the only person who dared to speak to her. Everyone was terrified," Missandei divulged.
"I can see why," he agreed, taking a drink from his glass.
The look he received from the foreign woman was enough to make him wish he was invisible. He cleared his throat, aware of how hot his cheeks were. Missandei only laughed and Jon let out a nervous chuckle.
"It's okay. Everyone thinks that when they first meet her."
She lowered her voice and gave him a serious look, "Just don't get on her bad side, it won't end well for you."
"I couldn't imagine myself wanting to," he answered.
The smirk on Missandei's face worried Jon.
"Did you go to university?"
"No. I entered the military."
"Right. Well, if you did go, what would you have majored in?"
"Something political, I'm sure."
He gave her the answer he thought she wanted. That was how politics worked after all, you told people what they wanted to hear. But Jon wasn't a politician.
"Actually, when I was younger, I wanted to be a veterinarian. My dad had this massive dog and I loved him. My father's lords joked that the dog was more loyal to me than him."
"Then why the military?"
Missandei wasn't an ordinary member of the court, just a visitor. She seemed like a modern woman who was tired of the gossip and passive-aggressiveness.
"The title 'bastard' doesn't go away just because some papers were signed. If I went to university, the Northmen would see me as a waste of their taxpaying dollars. So I went into the military. I spent four years protecting my people so they wouldn't see me as the bastard who got lucky."
She didn't respond. Maybe he'd overstepped and shared too much. He couldn't have these kinds of conversations with people at court. And Missandei was easy to talk to.
"That was probably an overshare," he chuckled, taking a swig of his drink.
"No, it was actually really refreshing. I've been here for less than twenty-four hours and everyone is so formal. Nothing goes deeper than the surface. It was nice to hear someone be real for once."
The smile on her face was genuine, Jon could tell that much. And he felt the corners of his mouth tug up too.
"If you spent four years on active duty, then you've been off for two. Why's that?"
"That's classified,"
It wasn't true, of course, but Jon found that when faced with questions that were far too personal, employing the common saying was easier than getting too personal. There was a reason he was sent home but Jon wasn't fond of talking about it.
Missandei laughed again but her charming smile puttered out when she saw the serious look on Jon's face, "Oh, you were serious?"
He offered her another grin before taking another sip from his near-empty glass.
They talked a little while longer about random subjects. Missandei talked about her home in Naath and Jon about the North.
"I should probably go find where Her Royal Highness has wandered off to."
"I can come with you," Jon offered, wanting to meet the mysterious dragon princess for himself.
"No need. It was a pleasure to meet you though."
And with that, Missandei and her soft yellow gown weaved back into the sweltering crowd. Jon let out a sigh of relief.
He leaned against the wall and studied the bottom of his glass. Maybe it was time for a real drink. Something light that he could nurse for a while and not get into trouble with. Another survey of the crowd revealed Daenerys talking with Missandei near a statue of some political figure.
It didn't take long for Sansa to make her way over and feign interest in the displayed photos.
"Who were you talking to?"
"The Princess's best friend."
"I hope you didn't embarrass yourself."
Jon left his wall to stand beside her and pretend to look at the photos as well.
"I don't think I did. I tried to talk to Daenerys but she ran away when she saw me."
"If I found out I was engaged to someone I'd never met, I'd bolt too."
Jon sighed, "What've you figured out from the floor?"
"Every distinguished lady here thinks she's fast and loose. Burning through heirs and millionaire's sons faster than they can make them. They're surprised she returned home after that picture went around."
"Missandei said that people were terrified of her in university."
"This doesn't look good for us. The Northmen will never accept someone who causes such a scandal. We can't afford to look bad on the world stage especially with our economy failing."
"Not to mention the Boltons," Robb stated as he arrived at Jon's side, "Father says they've been getting testy, more vocal against our policies. I can't wait to see what they have to say about this."
"This is the 21st century, they couldn't stage a coup if they wanted to. There are too many safeguards."
"Nothing is safe from men who crave power."
His father said those words once when Jon was younger. He assumed it was just an off-hand comment but Ned started saying it more often as Jon got older.
"They'd rather have no monarchy than us in power," Sansa remarked.
"Once the great lords see that this was done to protect our people, they won't question it."
"I wouldn't be so sure about that."
"Sansa, don't be such a skeptic. This is how great dynasties survive. They adapt and overcome." Robb threw his arm around her shoulder and gave it a tight squeeze.
Sansa hurriedly shrugged it off as another person approached them.
"You must be Princess Sansa," the gentle, velvety voice greeted.
Draped in fabric the color of a soft sunset and a cluster of suns sitting on her head, the woman stood as tall as Sansa and possessed the same beauty and grace. The Queen smiled as Sansa curtseyed to her.
"Your Majesty, it is an honor to meet you."
"The same to you. You are a breath of fresh air at this court."
"Thank you." Sansa blushed.
"If I could, I would have you moved here immediately."
"Don't tempt me."
"There's always space." she winked before turning. "And you must be Prince Jon."
Between the too friendly Rhaegar and Daenerys' cold shoulder, it was the nicest greeting he'd experienced that day. He nodded and greeted her back.
"If it's alright with you, Jon, I'd like to speak alone."
Sansa didn't need to be told twice. Like the socially adept woman she was, she threaded her arm through Robb's and towed him away. She glanced back over her shoulder in a 'good luck' gesture and Jon prepared himself for his conversation with the queen.
"Have you had the opportunity to talk with my sister?"
"Not yet," he admitted. She keeps avoiding me.
"That's a shame. I'm sure she'll find her way to you eventually. She just returned home and everyone is excited to talk to her about university and her charity work and who knows what else," Elia rambled, slipping her arm through Jon's and leading him away from the display table and the crowds.
When they were away from people the queen lowered her voice, "I'm almost afraid to ask what you've heard."
"About the Princess?"
"Yes."
"It's not all terrible. But the majority of it's been … concerning but I've learned that the whispers of any court can breed lies."
"That's true. Daenerys is too fierce for her own good but Targaryen's are nothing without their fire. How are you handling the announcement?"
It was the first time that night someone asked him how he felt. His family had been up in arms, weighing
"As well as I can at the moment."
"Good. Arranged marriages have fallen out of touch but my marriage was arranged and Rhaegar and I are very much in love." She turned her face to look out over the crowd.
Jon followed her gaze and found it rested on the tall, silver-haired king engaged in conversation with several older gentlemen.
"Daenerys will come around. You know, she doesn't act it, but she's very much a romantic. When she was younger we would have movie nights and she only wanted to watch classic romances."
It was hard to imagine the cold woman gliding across the floor as someone who enjoyed romance movies. There was warmth in them, not in her. He certainly didn't see where the Queen saw the romance in an arranged marriage with the two most uninterested parties.
An assistant approached the queen and whispered something in her ear.
"I'm so sorry but I have to go catch Rhaegar before he gives his speech about this year's charity," she apologized.
"Don't worry about it. Duty calls."
She laughed and gave him a knowing look before following her assistant off.
Rhaegar's speech proved to be unnecessarily long but it gave Jon an opportunity to see Daenerys up close. As the king stood at a podium on a makeshift platform, Elia and Daenerys stood beside him.
She laughed at the jokes and smiled at the right times, her eyes sparkling. Even as the speech drew on she maintained her upright posture and never fidgeted. She'd probably experienced longer speeches and spent hours in tedious lessons with impossible teachers.
Rhaegar finished his speech to a polite round of applause and stood with his wife while the photographer snapped a photo.
That was when Daenerys looked down at Jon. Their eyes met. He expected a nice reaction, maybe a smile of sympathy to show that she understood how complicated their situation was. Instead, she clenched her jaw and hardened her eyes. Elia whispered something in her ear that drew her attention away from Jon.
The party resumed and he found himself clenching his fist with an unconscious intensity. He was wound up and starting to get desperate. The princess still evaded him at every turn and the heat of the room was starting to get to him. He knew there was a garden just outside the doors and no one from the court made an effort to talk to him. His eyes locked on the doors and he didn't break concentration until he stepped through them.
The gallery between the courtyard and the ballroom was dark and quiet but there were people gathered on the various settees that lined the walls. And it was still too many people for Jon. The patio and gardens just beyond were occupied as well.
He continued down the hall, not even looking at the portraits of various Targaryen ancestors or idyllic scenes. He found another door and followed it out.
The fragrant smell of citrus and flowers welcomed him. The air was heavy but still cool. Wherever he was, wasn't outside. He heard trickling water from within and followed the sound.
Trees lined the walls and life-sized statues of naked water bearers and intimate scenes of lovers hid among the plants. And a man sat at the edge of a pool, smoking a cigarette with a bottle of liquor by his side.
A woman floated in the shallow fountain, wearing nothing but a white nightgown. Her silver hair fanned around her, as pale as the moonlight that fell through the glass and onto the rippling water.
Jon didn't know what to do. He knew he should've left, it was a private moment, but then the woman spoke.
"Jorah?"
The man hummed, blowing the smoke from his cigarette into the air.
"Do you think they're missing me right now?"
"I told them you were jetlagged and needed sleep. I don't think they bought it but we'll see."
She sat up, pulling her hair over her shoulder and finally stood. She locked eyes with Jon and gasped. It was then that he noticed the slip was see through from the water. He should've run right there but his feet were heavy as lead.
"Who the hell are you?" she demanded, the edge in her voice cold as ice.
Jon wanted to respond but his mouth was dry. It was her.
