This ain't for the best,
My reputation's never been worse so,
you must like me for me.
We can't make any promises
now can we babe?
But you can make me a drink
-Taylor Swift, "Delicate"
When Dany was younger, she planned her future wedding with as much fever and gusto as a young princess with every resource at her disposal could. It would take place in the Great Sept of Baelor, obviously, as that was where all royal weddings took place. She would marry a wealthy foreign diplomat, or even better, a foreign prince. The guest list would be a mile long, with even more people attending the reception afterward. Above all else, she remembered wanting one of those ridiculous many-tiered cakes and a hideous confection of tulle and lace for a dress.
Of course, as Dany got older, the wedding daydreams were replaced with visions of a career and increasingly less domesticity. If nuptials ever presented themselves, she would go the quick and easy route of elopement. Anything else was a frilly fantasy.
Except now, those things were tangible and real. And the only thing that survived of her childhood wedding plans was the foreign prince, the only thing she didn't have a say in.
The Queen commandeered an old study near Dany's guest room to be their official wedding planning headquarters. The whole space transformed and lost in the madness of planning two royal weddings in the span of a month.
In order for all the kinks to be worked out on the paperwork and numbers part of the treaty, Dany and Jon needed to be married as soon as possible. On top of that, both families were convinced they could sell the out-of-the-blue engagement as a whirlwind, love at first sight romance. Which meant they were stuck with a very limited window to get everything planned to the high expectations of the most important wedding of the decade. Maybe even the century.
Catelyn sat opposite of her with Elia and the Palace Event Planner, their electronic forms attentive on the screens. The Royal Event Planner from the Stark side was going over more options for color schemes.
They'd ruled out Targaryen red and black unanimously and Dany shot down both the mauve and dusty pink options. She'd had enough of those colors in her youth. Varys always insisted she wear pink to everything important, as all unmarried Targaryen ladies did for centuries. The last thing Dany wanted was to deal with it on an already stressful, terrifying day.
The planner pressed a button on her little remote and another color palette appeared.
"This one consists of laurel green, timberwolf, and a neutral grey," she reported before continuing on about the reasoning behind the colors.
"Too much green," Dany said with only slight disinterest, reaching for a ring of fabric swatches near her.
"The ceremony is taking place in Godswood, the last thing we need is more green." Catelyn agreed.
As Dany ran her hands over the pieces of cloth, she noticed a familiar color.
"What about this one?"
She held the burgundy swatch up so everyone in the meeting room could see, including the two virtual guests. Deeper than Targaryen red and verging on purple, it was the same color as the heart-shaped leaves of the Weirwood tree.
"Oh, that's lovely," Catelyn cooed.
Elia voiced her approval at the same time.
"Could you create a palette around this and bring it tomorrow?"
"I can have it to you tonight, Your Highness." She collected the sample and made a note.
"Thank you. And there's no rush," Dany smiled.
Once the meetings were over she hoped to avoid anything marriage-related. She looked at the long list they still needed to cover. At least we're getting somewhere.
"Next item of business is wedding party assignments," the planner continued.
"Since this marriage involves someone who is first in line for the throne, candidates for bridesmaids and page boys are selected by proximity to the royal family as well as status within the court. Here is a list of possible candidates."
A list of potential bridal attendants landed in front of her. Rhaenys and Aegon were at the top of their respective categories along with Sansa, Arya, and Bran but the rest of the list was names she was unfamiliar with.
"Lyanna Mormont would be a good choice. The Mormont's have always been strong supporters of House Stark and her grandfather, Jeor Mormont, is currently Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. Choosing her would be a statement about your commitment to the Night's Watch, who defend our Northern Borders." Catelyn suggested.
Dany made a star by the name and surveyed the rest; Karstark, Maderley, Tallheart. She wanted Missandei as her maid of honor but knew better than to suggest it. It wasn't her wedding. Technically, it was a transaction between the heir and the useful spare. Everything had to follow tradition.
She expected there to be limits on what liberties could be taken. Rhaegar and Elia's wedding was much the same way, everything decided for them and all they had to do was show up and say the words. It all looked sparkling and magical to fourteen-year-old Dany as she watched from the audience with the other bridesmaids.
Another list was set in front of her but this time she knew the names. They were the great houses of Baratheon, Tyrell, Arryn, and Tully. There would be at least one bridal attendant from each region and with the wedding between Cersei Lannister and Robert Baratheon, there was a spot open. Dany marked another star by Myrcella's name and continued to survey them.
"We don't have to have them all decided today, but within the next few days is preferable. We still have to send out the invitations and notify the choices for bridal attendants," the planner reminded the room as Dany placed the selective list into the binder holding all of the wedding plans.
The mockup of the new couple's cypher was tucked inside the cover, an intertwined D and J with a crown over it. It was strange to see her initials with someone else's.
According to Catelyn, a traditional Northern royal wedding ceremony included a processional, presentation of a sword, exchanging of vows and rings, changing of the bride's cloak, and recessional.
"I'm sure we have a maiden's cloak somewhere in this palace. They were in fashion once," Elia stated, "I'll have someone start looking as soon possible. Unless Dany wants to commission a new one but that would tie up the seamstresses."
"I was actually thinking we could exclude the changing of the cloak," Dany spoke up.
The look she gained from the room wasn't what she would describe as pleased.
"It's been performed at weddings for centuries," Catelyn argued.
"Well, then, what if we altered it. A veil, cloak, and dress are a lot of layers but if we substituted something else. Like…"
To be honest, Dany hadn't thought her suggestion through and as she frantically racked her brain for an example, she remembered Sansa's festival outfit and the particular piece of sparkle that caught her eye.
"A brooch."
"A brooch, Your Highness?" the planner questioned.
"Yes."
"I think it's a lovely idea. There are certainly more dragon pins in our collection than cloaks," Elia offered, being the only obvious supporter of Dany in the room at the moment.
"We would need to discuss it further," Catleyn sighed, writing something down.
It was the first time one of Dany's suggestions garnered such a reaction from Catelyn and she was especially grateful she hadn't suggested Missandei be in the wedding party.
"Now, there is one more tradition that we would like to keep. The first dance is always performed as a choreographed reel."
"Choreography?" Dany bleated.
"Dany, you've taken dance lessons," Elia tried to reassure her.
"When I was twelve. And something tells me this is a completely different wheelhouse than ballet and ballroom."
Catelyn spoke up, "Not entirely but it does require a few sessions to get everything smooth. Unless you want to do away with that too."
The way the Queen's eyes settled on her was a warning and a challenge. As if speaking against her would bring the whole wrath of the North upon Dany.
She straightened and tilted her chin a fraction, "I haven't made my mind up yet."
The wedding planner cleared her throat. Dany took that as her sign to let the moment pass and return to the task at hand.
"We usually broadcast the ceremony but given the circumstances, we've decided against it," the planner informed, "but there will be a photographer there to capture everything."
At least she wouldn't have to deal with bloggers analyzing every angle and glance.
Her phone buzzed next to her and she turned it over out of curiosity. The notification expanded even though Dany didn't want it to, revealing the news headline about her engagement. Her throat tightened and she squeezed her eyes shut as she took a deep breath. For most of the morning, she'd been able to sit through the planning session with a detached sense of reality, like she was watching someone else flip through books of swatches and check items off lists.
"Your Highness, are you alright?"
"Could you all excuse me for a moment?"
Dany stood and walked from the room with as much control as she could. As soon as the door closed her pace quickened. She wasn't sure where she was headed but the more distance she put between herself and the wedding business the better she would feel. It took a flight of stairs and several turns before she was satisfied, only to realize she was absolutely lost.
With only one tour of a place as massive as Winterfell, there was no way Dany wasn't going to get turned around. The sounds of a conversation came from a room down the hall. As she approached the details of the exchange became clear.
"I mean, this woman hasn't had a single long term relationship in her life and suddenly she's up and engaged to a man with a much higher rank after a week."
She knew at once what they were talking about and rolled her eyes. Jon wasn't that much higher ranked.
The door was open when she reached the room, so she leaned against the frame. It was a smoking lounge and the conversation was coming from an old radio. Jon sat in one of the leather chairs, engaging in the act that the room was meant for.
"I'll tell you what it is, it's southern imperialism."
The second person laughed.
"You shouldn't listen to this shit," she warned, a hint of teasing in her voice, "It'll rot your brain."
When Jon looked up, she stepped into the room, crossing to sit next to the radio as well. The room had a masculine energy about it that Dany was smitten with. Dark wood and leather, the stone around the fireplace and the sleek bear pelt on the shining wood floor, just one of the many hunting trophies on display with old weapons.
"A King should always listen to what his people have to say," he remarked.
"To genuine criticism, but this is just conspiracy and gross speculation."
The radio personality continued, "We're allowing this foreign woman access to the ear of the most important person in our country. Now, what do you think she's gonna do with that kind of power?"
"Push her own agenda."
"Exactly, her southern agenda. She may have had people fooled at the Midsummer festival with that traditional dress stunt, but I was not impressed."
She scoffed. The outfit wasn't meant to be a PR stunt. Sansa suggested it and Dany agreed but they failed to consider that Dany was actually a nice person who wasn't putting on a front.
And as for pushing her southern agenda, Dany wished they knew how much she loathed her brother and refused to impart his plans on anyone. Especially after the text message she'd received from him the other night, demanding her to hurry up and seal the deal. It was then she figured out how to work the whole ugly mess to her advantage.
No matter where in the world she ran, she still had to answer to her brother and the Crown. And renouncing her titles was a hassle with too many negative repercussions, including Rhaegar's thinly veiled threat of blacklisting her if she did. But in his desperate attempt to settle her down, he was handing her an escape plan on a silver platter.
It wasn't the sort of liberation Dany was looking for but it was the only kind she was going to get. And if it weren't for the hysteria surrounding the weddings, she might have counted down the days as she did before her departure to university, with giddy anticipation.
As she brought her attention back to the radio personalities and their outlandish theories, she let herself sink down into the club chair. It was much more comfortable than the wooden one she sat in all morning and she was past caring if she wrinkled her business casual ensemble.
"While I'm with you on imperialism, I think there is a more obvious reason they're engaged so soon and that is Princess Daenerys' wardrobe. If you didn't know, the Targaryen's hosted their annual charity gala and the dress she wore was … putting a lot on display, to put it delicately."
"I know what you're talking about. Is there not a dress code at that court? Not that it matters, I mean, we all know about her nip slip-"
We're still on that? She supposed the news cycle in the North was slower, allowing people like the two morons on the radio to focus their attention on something the South already considered old news. That would take some getting used to.
"You know, they said that picture was doctored,"
"Yeah right. At least Prince Jon knows what he's getting in bed because there is a popular interview with her ex-lover Khal Drogo, he compared her to-"
"Could you turn it off, please," Dany asked, not wanting to hear what came next.
"Gladly," Jon answered.
She reached for the cigarette case without a second thought and slid one free, Jon lit it for her.
"So, tell me the truth. Are you really a spy for your brother?"
"What?" she choked on her laugh, not expecting that particular statement.
"The seductress of the south sent her to infiltrate the royal family and sell our secrets to foreign enemies," he said with humor in his voice.
"I can assure you I'm not. Whatever nefarious plans my brother has at work, he hasn't included me in them. Not that I'd want to be a part of his scheming."
"How do I know you're not lying?"
"I'm not," Dany laughed.
"Promise?"
"I, Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, first of her name, Princess Royal of the United Kingdoms of Westeros, and Lady of Dragonstone, promise that I am telling the truth. And when I make promises, I don't break them."
She lifted her cigarette back to her lips.
"I thought you were supposed to be in top-secret wedding meetings all day."
"We were in the middle of discussing the ceremonies and I needed to take a breather."
"Let me guess, tradition?"
Dany groaned, "I'm going to be sick of that word by the time this is all over."
"You get used to it."
She wasn't so sure. Her whole life was dictated by that word, and it wasn't going to change anytime soon. But while the Northern traditions were a thorn in her side at the moment,
She considered him for a moment, "You should come to them."
"I don't think I'd be of any help."
"Yes, you would. Right now, it's me against Her Majesty and as much as we both dread it, it's still our wedding."
"What did you do to make Catelyn dislike you?"
"I merely suggested we re-evaluate a certain element of the ceremony and she acted like I insulted her entire life's work."
"As far as she's concerned you did. Besides, if I showed up, there would be two people in the room she hates."
"Exactly! Maybe she won't even come. But it's not her fault. There are so many rules about these weddings and she's just trying to make sure everything goes smoothly. Now that I'm thinking about it, it would be more helpful if you weren't first in line for the throne."
"Not fair. That is all I have going for me," he complained.
"Oh, whatever," exclaimed Dany as she rearranged herself in the chair, folding her legs underneath her so she could lean on the arm and face Jon full on.
"You expect me to believe that you're oblivious to the goo-goo eyes that get thrown at you everywhere you go?"
He threw up his hands in surrender.
"Oh, gods." Dany shook her head.
"Okay, answer me this, if I wasn't heir to a vast country who you happened to be engaged to and you met me at a bar, what would you do?"
Dany looked him up and down, trying to look like she was seriously considering his question. She already knew her answer, she'd admitted it to herself that night in the greenhouse. I wouldn't hesitate to add you to my list. But hookups and marriage were different things with a common denominator and she didn't want her answer misunderstood.
"Well?" he asked.
"Now I don't want to answer it,"
It was his turn to roll his eyes at her.
A voice from the doorway called, "Your Highness".
They both turned their heads. It was Ser Jorah and Dany sighed in relief even though she knew she was being dragged back into the wedding fray.
"Her Majesty wanted me to let you know the florist is here."
Dany nodded and snuffed the butt of her cigarette into the ashtray. When she stood, she saw that her pants and blouse weren't wrinkled and was relieved.
"Have fun," Jon said as she headed for the door.
Despite her best efforts, a chuckle and smile escaped her.
"I'll try."
