I wish I knew you when I was young,
we could've got so high.
Now we're here it's been so long,
two strangers in the bright lights
-The Revivalists, "Wish I Knew You"
The revelry of the races last night helped bring Jon a sense of normalcy. As though they'd never traveled south and all of the revelations and situations were just fever dreams. However, they shouldn't have stayed out as late as they did. When he awoke at his habitual time, the world felt heavier. He still pulled himself away from his bed so he could finally go on his run without the threat of anyone intruding.
He stuck to his usual route, a few laps around the exterior castle walls so he could keep in sight of the stationed guards atop. It was easier than being trailed through the Wolfswood. Running alone allowed him to hold off the bigger issues plaguing his life and focus on the small details; the way his feet fell on the frost-covered grass, the rhythm of his breathing, the way the chilly morning air bit at his face.
Wanting to steer clear of the Great Keep as much as possible, he entered through the Hunter's Gate on the west side of the castle when he finished. What awaited him was person number two on the long list of people he was trying to avoid. His father was number one at the moment.
The Princess Daenerys was seated at the little wooden table where kitchen staff took their breaks, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug. She looked up when he entered.
"Good morning," she said, her voice even.
It made Jon pause. He was expecting a little more resentment and coldness.
"I didn't take you for an early riser,"
"I'm not usually," she admitted, "But I try to make it a habit."
She tucked her hair behind her ear before carefully sipping from her mug. She pulled her knees up to her chest and Jon saw the fuzzy socks patterned like tabby cat paws on her feet. Matched with her red and black flannel pajama bottoms and green Braavos Titans sweatshirt, she looked more like an absent-minded eccentric than a polished princess. She looked more approachable and human.
"Nice socks," he nodded and leaned against the counter.
"Oh." The princess glanced down as though she'd forgotten what pair she had on.
"Uh, thanks. Did you have a nice run?"
He furrowed his brows at her.
"You came in here sweaty and breathing hard, so I assumed that's where you'd been," she stated, motioning to the obvious sweat mark on the front of his shirt.
"Yeah, it was … a good run."
A few members of the kitchen staff filed in to prepare breakfast for the rest of the court, who were starting their days too.
Jon knew it was best to get out of their way. While he ranked higher than them, they weren't afraid to get nasty if he stood between them and their tasks. He sat in the other chair, watching as the workers busied themselves and tried not to stare too long at the foreign visitor and prince conversing.
"Why are you really up this early?"
"I can't enjoy my coffee in the solitude of an empty kitchen at the ass crack of dawn?" she rolled her eyes at the absurdity of her statement, a light smile peeking over the edge of her mug.
Jon's face betrayed him with the grin it displayed at her sarcastic comment.
"Actually, I'm trying to enjoy some peace and quiet before Sansa gets ahold of me. I think she's got every minute until we leave booked."
At that moment, a very distinct head of copper hair entered the kitchen, gazing over the tops of the workers' heads almost frantically.
"Speak of the stranger," she muttered, sliding her mug out of the way.
Sansa was by her side immediately, already talking about all that she had planned.
They were on the move before he knew it, on their way to the foothills of the Northern Mountains for the Midsummer celebrations. The huge festival was attended by lords and common folk alike. It had what all the Northerners loved, tradition. Traditional music, food, clothing, and even traditional dancers. Although they were professionals hired by the festival planners, that never stopped a few drunken lords from joining in.
After her bonding experience with the Starks last night, Daenerys was fitting right in. Jon hadn't seen the Princess Daenerys since their run in that morning but her and Sansa's laughter could be heard throughout the castle. The reason for their jovialness was evident when they'd gathered to leave. Sansa had turned the woman into her own fashion doll.
The festival and its focus on tradition meant that Sansa got to break out the traditional dress. The woolen skirt she wore was starched white with lines of grey and pale green crisscrossing over it, the colors of House Stark. A sash of the same fabric crossing over her blouse and secured at her waist with a brooch the shape of the Stark direwolf.
She'd given their guest nearly the same treatment. She'd dug a similar length wool skirt out of somewhere, but the one Daenerys wore was a deep blue and devoid of any lines of other colors. A safe bet, since it wouldn't be confused with any other House's pattern. Her white hair was braided in its usual way but they were woven into a different pattern, forming a shape akin to a heart. If it weren't for her light hair and odd-colored eyes, she would look every bit a true Northerner.
Jon was assigned the task of escorting their guest around the festival and ensuring all introductions went smoothly. He asked Sansa to stick close by just in case, she was a natural at turning an awkward situation out. But they found that her services were needed. Only kind pleasantries were exchanged so far and Daenerys appeared to be charming everyone she met with ease.
As they were leaving yet another Lord and Lady behind, Daenerys took note of a young girl passing around wreaths made of flowers. When the young girl stopped in front of them, the Princess immediately bent down to meet her at eye level.
"Hello," Daenerys greeted.
The young girl curtseyed and wordlessly held one of her creations out to the woman in front of her. A wreath of small blue flowers interspersed with white and green, shiny blue ribbons binding the whole thing together.
They weren't too far from the dancers, Jon noticed. The sounds of pipes and fiddles drifting toward them.
"For me?"
The young girl nodded again, holding the flowers out further. Daenerys took it from the girl with delicate hands and examined it.
"Did you make this?"
Nod.
"It's very beautiful but I'm afraid I don't know how to wear it," Daenerys frowned.
Jon feared for a second that she was going to return the wreath to the little girl. But she surprised him yet again.
"I would be honored if you put it on for me," she smiled and gracefully bowed her head.
The little girl placed the ring of flowers atop Daenerys' braids, her round face growing red.
"Thank you very much."
The little girl curtseyed again and ran off to find her mother. Jon was floored by this woman, who at one moment was as poisonous as a snake and yet as gentle as a cloud the next.
Similar interactions followed wherever they went. While Jon held onto his belief that she was playing a part that she'd rehearsed so well it was believable, he found his stubborn grasp slipping with each person they encountered.
Jon heard the music change and watched as Sansa grabbed Daenerys' hand.
"Come on," Sansa said excitedly, "I want to dance."
As she was dragged away, Daenerys looked back over her shoulder, a nervous smile on her face. At least there wouldn't be any introductions for a while.
It was later when he found himself talking with the patriarch of Clan Norrey, a tankard of summer ale in his hand. The old reels of the North filled his ears thanks to their proximity to the band. He chanced a glance at the dancers. The professionals were on break, so it was just common folk and lords swinging each other around with the sun burning behind them.
During one of the passes, a flash of white hair caught his eye. He watched as Daenerys was spun by Sansa before switching directions and ending up in the arms of a large man. Jon recognized him as Lord Umber. Who was oddly graceful despite his size, age, and drunkenness. There were words exchanged between them and whatever the Princess said had the GreatJon roaring in laughter before she was spun off.
The music ended with a flourish and the dancers all bowed to each other, applause and cheers rising into the air.
"She sure is something, that Southern girl." Old Norrey commented.
"You have no idea," Jon replied.
"What would a city girl like her want to come up here for?"
"I'm still trying to figure that out myself," he lied.
"I hate to say it but I hope she sticks around."
Another song started up, the laughter of the festival-goers rising above the music as they started dancing again.
"What are you doing standing here talking to me for? You should be out there dancing-"
"I'm not a dancer,"
"-and wooing the next Queen of the North."
Jon wondered how Old Norrey would react if he told him the future queen was already spinning herself dizzy with the other ladies. And that she was the southern girl he was so impressed with. The old man would probably have a heart attack. Daenerys visiting the North was one thing, but marrying it was a whole other beast.
Jon was about to make another remark about their guest, when she bounded up to him, breathless from the dancing.
"I need to talk to you," she announced, gravity in her breathless tone.
"Okay…"
She looked at Norrey and back to Jon, "Alone, preferably."
Jon nodded despite his confusion and led her away from the crowded space, towards the edges of the festival. With fewer people and less activity, it was more quiet and calm. As they walked, Jon noted the sturdy boots she wore.
They walked in silence for a while, Daenerys' gaze fixed straight ahead. She'd taken the ring of flowers from her head, holding it in her hands. He could tell she was trying not to fidget with it. Finally, she took a deep breath.
"I believe I owe you an apology," she started.
Jon was taken aback, "For?"
"To quote you, being a raging bitch."
He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and found she was doing the same.
"I was really overwhelmed with everything and I took it out on the wrong person. You didn't deserve that. And I'd like to apologize for being so stubborn."
"Really?"
They paused their stroll by one of the several bonfires burning across the stretch of land. The flickering orange light washed over Daenerys' features, the blank canvas of her hair taking on the lively color.
"Well, there's a little more to it than that," she looked at him for a moment.
Sensing her hesitation, Jon said, "Go on."
"I know I've only been here a few days and there's so much more to see of the North but it's beautiful here. I've spent the last few years running around the world, trying to get away from the Southern Court, when this was right next door the whole time."
She looked around the landscape before she started walking again.
"Everyone keeps asking me if I'm actually going to marry you," she commented.
"Everyone?"
"Well, the Queen, Arya, Theon, Talisa. And my answer was always, I don't know. This whole treaty ordeal is tricky and my brother will make it happen one way or another, but I thought I could figure a way out. But sometime last night, I started thinking, what would happen if I just bit the bullet? What would happen if I dropped my weapons and stopped fighting?"
"What are you saying?"
"The North is the only place I've felt like no one's watching my every move. No one cares if I swear or talk too loud or slide down the hallways in my socks!"
"Wait, you weren't allowed to do that?"
"Technically yes. My handlers didn't want me to feel like I had too many rules to follow so everything was just highly discouraged," she informed in a stuffy accent Jon imagined belonged to one of her 'handlers'.
"Got it. So you never did it?"
"Oh, I did it once. Then I got lectured and was too scared to do it again."
Too scared? Daenerys didn't seem like someone who was scared of anything.
"I'm sorry, what were we talking about?"
"You were talking about the alliance," Jon reminded her.
"Right. I wanted to tell you that I'm saying yes." she took a deep breath. "I'm agreeing to the engagement."
"You are?"
"Yes."
"I don't know what to say,"
"You don't have to say anything. I'll tell your father and my brother tomorrow morning. "
Her voice lowered as a group of girls about Sansa's age passed them by. They whispered excitedly once they thought they were out of earshot.
"The common folk love you," he commented.
"For now. Tomorrow, when the alcohol has worn off and the news is released they'll turn on me. And your court already hates me. No matter how nice their words, I can see their true intentions in their eyes. They dislike me for the same reasons I am loved. Beauty, kindness, and the splendor of a foreign land."
"But you're not doing it for the people of the court,"
"Correct. I'm doing it for your people, who have charmed me beyond imagination."
It wasn't how Jon imagined a proposal might go. There was no romance to it, though the ambiance was certainly there. No ring, no 'will you marry me'. He wished he could breathe easier but the previous weight on his chest had only been replaced with another. He'd done what he needed to do and was headed into unknown territory.
"Are you absolutely sure about this?" he asked.
"Of course I am. I want to do what's right, even if it means being married to you for the rest of my life."
She nudged him with her shoulder, grinning at her own joke.
"Thank you for that," he said, returning her attitude.
"Oh lighten up!"
"Daenerys-"
"And please, call me Dany, all my friends do."
