as the rain hides the stars,
as the autumn mist hides the hills,
as the clouds veil the blue of the sky,
so the dark happenings of my lot,
hide your shining face from me
-traditional Scottish Gaelic prayer
Dany sank down into the fancy chair by the fireplace, a worn book in her hands. A nice non-fiction novel about the ancient art forms of Valyria. After the day she had, it felt nice to be in her comfy clothes. She only hoped her book could take her mind off the events of the next day, which loomed over the horizon like fast approaching dark clouds. She tucked her feet up and opened to the chapter she'd left off on.
The lost art of Valyrian fire dancing, which was previously thought to only serve a purpose in religious ceremonies and festivals, was actually a popular court performance. Dany faced her own popular court performance tomorrow. That stupid dance.
It wasn't anyone's fault but her own that she loathed it. The fact of the matter was that Jon was a really good dancer, even if he didn't want to admit it, and nearly every accident was her fault. If she could just let herself relax into it she might have better luck but her deep-rooted sense of independence and innate stubbornness made it a very hard feat.
A likely subject of secular fire dance was forbidden lovers because of the passionate nature of those relationships. Her eyes fell on the picture by the text, a fragment of pottery showing two dancers embracing.
Dany bit her lip to stop the small, girlish grin threatening to spread across her face as she thought of Jon's hand secured around her waist. No, she shook away the intrusive thought, we're not doing this. If there was ever a worse time to let her immature fantasies of love and romance float to the surface, it was then.
A knock at the door saved Dany from the disastrous derailment of her train of thought. She pressed her cool fingers against her cheeks to dull the inappropriate blush. It was probably the royal party planner with last-minute wedding duties. Maybe, if she sat still enough and didn't open the door, they would go away. The person knocked again, more rushed this time and Dany groaned as she closed her book with more force than necessary.
"I'm coming!" she barked, marching across the floor.
When she opened the door, it was not the wedding planner, but a host of familiar faces smiling at her. Talisa pushed past her and into the room, setting down the stuff they brought and giving her a quick hello. Dany's bristling mood dissolved at once. Gods, I really need to get my mind out of the gutter.
"We know you were hoping for a more extravagant bachelorette party but we're hoping a good old-fashioned movie night will do," Elia smiled as she held up the pizza box she carried.
"Self-care edition!" Missy held up a small basket of the basics.
"And this is the only time Arya will do girly stuff with me," Sansa muttered as she passed by Dany.
"I heard that," the younger Stark called, "Don't let her lie to you, I do girly stuff all the time."
Dany wasn't sure how true that was but she didn't question it as she lowered herself to the floor with them.
"Are you okay? You look a little flushed," Elia questioned, examining her sister-in-law's face.
"I'm fine. Just sat too close to the fire." Dany's cheeks grew hotter with her lie.
"I know what you mean. I can never get warm enough here. But that's just my Dornish blood."
After a short debate, they decided on one of the less cheesy films available on Dany's laptop. It just so happened to be the palace movie night staple of the disguised Rhoynish prince in the Meereneese fighting pits, with enough action and romance to satisfy everyone present. Even Dany didn't want to watch something too mushy.
They got to the scene where the Slaver's daughter figured out the identity of the prince when Dany started in on her usual rant about the inaccuracies of the tokar worn by the noblewoman. She'd seen the historical garments up close and while it was very common to wear a two-piece variation in modern times, no Ghiscari woman would've worn one in the time when the movie took place.
Elia groaned, "Dany, you're ruining the magic."
"No, I'm not. Historical and cultural authenticity is very important."
"The actress playing the slaver's daughter is also very Westeros-centric for a woman from Slaver's Bay," Missandei joined in, snickering at Elia's annoyed expression.
"You two are no fun."
Dany was about to offer her rebuttal about the significance of representation on screen when a commotion in the hall drew her attention. The shouting and rapid footsteps were growing closer.
"Is that what I think it is?" Dany asked, looking at Arya and Sansa.
They nodded in response. She got up and went to retrieve her coat and gloves from wherever she left them after the trip to the Wall. Jon was right about the dip in temperature. When she stole a glance outside, there was already a light flurry starting up. The door flung open as Dany was pulling on her boots.
Framed in the doorway was the valiant Prince of the North with Robb and Theon. An unladylike snort escaped her when she spied the foam swords and plastic shields, accompanied by a sincere smile when she made eye contact with Jon. He and his men swept into the room, swiping at her companions.
After getting jabbed in the chest, Sansa dramatically gripped her imaginary wound and sunk to the floor. Talisa met her ill fate at the hands of Robb, the two of them giggling the whole time. Elia and Missy effectively yielded but Arya put up a good fight until all weapons were on her, resulting in her theatrical passing. And finally, it was Jon and Dany face to face. Her heart was pounding even though she'd hardly moved.
"You're not going to fight me?"
There was humor in his voice but it was a genuine question. He offered his unoccupied hand, playfulness in his stormy eyes.
"Not this time," she answered, accepting his gesture.
With a chorus of whooping from Robb and Theon, Jon towed her out of the room. She managed to grab Sansa's discarded prop before they were sprinting down the hall. Before they could descend a flight of stairs, Jon put his arm out to stop her.
The hall was silent, save for their breathing.
"What's wrong?" Dany questioned, whispering even though it was all a game.
"We haven't run into your brother yet."
"Rheagar's here?"
"Arrived at least two hours ago."
Dany hummed in acceptance of the fact. He could've at least come and said hello.
They started down the carpeted steps, watching for Rhaegar the whole way down. The small foyer at the bottom was dark but the partially lit courtyard was visible through the doorway.
"I'll be needing my sister back now," Rhaegar's voice came from the dark.
Even though it was meant to be a dramatic joke, the statement was eerily threatening. He stepped out from around a corner, prop weapons raised.
"That's too bad," Dany responded, "Because I'm going. Whether you want me to or not."
He raised his sword to strike and Dany swiped hers at his legs. It didn't actually hit him, she was too far away, but he dropped to his knees and keeled over nonetheless. More shouting was heard above them. Dany and Jon dropped their playthings and ran outside.
Waiting in the courtyard were two gorgeous horses, dark coats glimmering in the artificial outdoor lights.
"Can you ride?"
"How do you think I almost married a khal?" she said as she mounted.
The implication of her words made Dany chuckle and so did Jon when he caught on. Their reserved snickers blossomed into full-blown laughter as they started their ride across the land between Winterfell and the Wolfswood.
The snow was picking up, not yet stronger than a flurry but it was more frequent. The flakes caught in their hair and Dany's cheeks, which were earlier red from warmth, were now stinging with the cold wind. She didn't mind. Something about being on horseback again reminded her of her time on the Great Grass Sea.
Racing through the high grass with reckless abandon made it easy to forget the family she belonged to and all the drama that came with it. Out there, she was no one, she was whoever she wanted to be. She never rode much after the sudden severing of her relationship with Drogo. Braavos wasn't a place for horses, the royal family didn't keep them anymore, and Dany was never in Westeros long enough to spend a weekend in Dorne or the Reach.
In spite of the chill creeping through her coat, Dany lifted her head to feel the wind bite at her already frozen cheeks and tangle through her loosely bound hair. For the first time, the weight on her shoulders didn't keep her down, her rapid tattoo of her heart beating against her ribcage and at the base of her throat.
They slowed at the edge of the Wolfswood and the reasoning behind horses as their mode of transportation became apparent. The path they followed was clear but thin and would be difficult to navigate on something like an ATV.
"Where are we headed exactly?" Dany asked as she leaned to avoid a low hanging branch.
"It's an old hunting lodge where royal couples usually spend their honeymoons. Since we don't get one of those, I figured it'd be a nice place to hideout."
Dany visited her fair share of hunting lodges in the south, including the famed Baratheon monstrosity known as Stag's Retreat in the Stormlands, but she didn't expect something that gaudy from the Starks. She pictured the supposed lodge as more of a small cabin nestled under some tall trees, something cozy and special. However, the North had a way of surprising her.
When the trail opened up into a small clearing, the lodge stood before them. The 'nestled under pines' part Dany got right, but their place of refuge proved larger than the picture in her mind. Of course, it would be sizable since it was meant to house large parties of guests for a week or two at a time. The structure was older too but no less impressive.
Jon helped Dany down, her booted feet landing in the dusting of snow. A staff member rushed forward to take care of their horses. Dany shoved her hands deeper into her coat pockets. Her gloves were thin and not meant for long exposure to the cold.
"Gods, that was great. I haven't ridden in forever."
"They don't keep horses in King's Landing?"
"No, we house them elsewhere. I'm surprised Winterfell still has them on site."
"Well, that's partly because of me."
"Really?"
"Aye. My aunt Lyanna was always good with them and I guess it must be Stark blood because Arya and I are the same way. It's just these two though."
"I suppose I rode on her beast then?" Dany stroked the animal's long, muscular neck.
"Nymeria," he answered, looping his fingers through the bridle and stroking the elegant head.
Dany nodded. Of course, Arya named her horse after the famed Rhoynish warrior queen.
"And yours?"
Jon grinned, "Night's King."
"Very fitting."
"It's an old legend," he explained. "During the first years of the Age of Heroes, a Lord Commander of the Night's Watch was bewitched by a ghostly woman and laid with her, giving her his soul. He proclaimed himself Night's King and her Corpse Queen and took control of the Wall. Some versions say he was a sorcerer who made deals with the Others. My ancestor, Brandon the Breaker, and the King-Beyond-the-Wall, Joramun defeated him. If you ask my Nan, she says he was a Stark as well."
A shiver seized her, teeth chattering and shoulders hunched.
"Right, I think it's time we got you inside," he said.
Dany nodded in agreement and gladly followed him to the door, but stopped him before he opened it.
"Thank you for all this but you really didn't have to," she reminded him.
"It's nothing. Besides, it's-"
"Don't say it. That word is now forbidden for the rest of the night."
He scoffed and opened the door.
It wasn't as lofty and spacious as the exterior promised, in fact, the common room looked more like that of a common cabin with the usual hunting trophies and skins. There was a surprising lack of lighting fixtures composed of antlers.
They shucked off their outer layers and stepped further inside but instead of heading straight to the worn leather sofa, they came to rest in the space between the coffee table and the fireplace. The spread of light food and wine was ignored for the promise of warmth.
She sat as close to the fire as she could and reached her hands out, trying to warm them.
"Wait," Jon said, pulling her hands back from the flames and encasing them in his own, "You have to use your own body heat first."
His hands were cold too but not nearly as frozen as Dany's.
"Why?"
"I don't know. That's just how it's done."
Dany didn't question it further, Jon had a lifetime of cold survival knowledge, but she was wary of the way her heartbeat quickened when he held her hands. The sleeves of her tawny sweater were pushed up to her elbows from her rush to put on her coat, firelight illuminating the uneven row of small crescent-shaped scars on her forearm.
"If the summers can be like this, the winters must be terrible."
"Maybe for you southerners but we're adapted to it here," he assured her.
Dany shifted, pulling her legs closer and leaning her shoulder against the coffee table. She kept her gaze on their hands, trying to distract herself from looking at the scars. Did he see them too? Of course, he did, he was just being nice by not mentioning them.
"Yes, but what about this winter? What's going to be so bad about it that you need humanitarian aid?"
Jon sighed, "My father won't get into specifics about it, even though it's my place to know, but I can make assumptions. It sounds like extreme snowfall and sub-zero temperatures for the actual winter months but the maesters say we can expect below freezing for the summer after and much of the same for the following winter."
He switched from pressing their hands together to holding just her fingers. His thumbs smoothing over the backs of her hands in soothing circles. Despite their relationship's recent growth, Dany feared the gesture too familiar. She didn't pull away though, something inside wanting to indulge her curious mind.
"I know what winters on the wall are like. People lose power or freeze to death or get sick and those are only mild ones lasting a few months. With the below-freezing summer temperatures, our farmers won't be able to plant crops, leading to food shortages. We can't import food from Essos because the prices will increase and people will still starve. It doesn't help that we've got no real exports besides timber and most of the forests are protected now."
She watched his thumbs draw their lazy circles in the flickering light as she responded, "What about manufacturing? Factories and the like?"
"We have a few, nothing sticks around for long. They build their giant warehouses and then end up bankrupt so the buildings sit empty. What we need are the big companies from the South who have more reach but thanks to your ancestors we can't do business with them."
With a gentle squeeze, Jon let her hands go. Dany pulled her sleeves over them.
"Couldn't," she corrected, "Once we're married, Southern companies can bring their factories here."
He looked at her with a furrowed brow, "There won't be time to build anything new."
"No, but they could retrofit the empty ones you mentioned. There's still two and a half months of summer left, plenty of time to start production and maybe turning a profit before the winter comes. And you said it yourself, the Northmen always find ways to adapt so maybe they could find a way to keep running with the snow and cold."
"Maybe. There are a lot of theoreticals."
"Of course, it's just an idea. That's why you present it to the idea people and then they figure out how exactly it works."
Dany, deciding she was warm enough, stood and went to the sofa. Picking up a throw blanket from the arm and draping it around her shoulders.
"Sounds like a bad way to rule."
She sat and started preparing herself a glass of mulled wine from the insulated carafe, "Not bad, different. We can only know so much about so many subjects. And there are people who dedicate their lives to problem-solving."
She added cinnamon and an orange slice to her wine before settling into the sofa, tucking her feet beside her and covering them with the edge of the blanket.
Jon joined her, "I guess we've never done it that way. The monarch is the ruler, the people's problems are theirs alone to handle."
"Maybe when you're king, you can try it out."
"Maybe. You know, we don't have to talk about politics all night?"
"Of course but what is there to talk about?"
"We hardly know each other so maybe we start there."
Dany sipped her hot wine and shook her head, "What do you want to know?"
"If you didn't have to marry me, what would you be doing?"
"That's very basic."
"But important."
"Okay, I would, hopefully, be starting my career as a civil rights attorney. That's what I went to school for anyway and that's what I would be doing if it weren't for… all this," she admitted.
"All the professions in the world and you chose to be a lawyer."
"It was kind of an accident really. I was halfway through my four-year program for social work when I found this outreach mission through the university. It was supposed to be three months of waking up early, helping out in the shelters and camps, and going to bed late. Maybe some sight-seeing here and there but I didn't care, it seemed like it would keep me busy and away from Westeros so I was sold.
"When you work with people, they tell you stories. A lot of the time they were in those shelters because they'd been kicked out of their homes because of where they were from, their gender, or what they did for a living. And there were stories of loved ones they'd lost because of those same factors. When I got back to Braavos, I had a long conversation with my advisor about a career."
Dany nudged him with her foot, "What about you Prince Charming?"
"Veterinarian."
"Really? Well, I should've guessed. Is it just horses or are you good with all animals?"
He smiled, "I don't know about all animals but my dad had a dog when I was younger, a coronation gift from the Council. He was this massive, mean beast. Catelyn always complained about him, worried he was going to hurt Robb. She wasn't too worried about me, for her own reasons, but I climbed all over him, pulled at his fur and he never once growled at me. I was really upset when we had to put him down."
"What did he do?"
"Nipped at Robb, didn't actually catch him but there was plenty of warning. Robb even admitted it was his fault but Catelyn wasn't having it."
"I'm very sorry to hear that," Dany offered.
"Don't worry about it, it was a while ago."
"So it was the military then?"
"To be honest, I didn't feel like I had much of a choice. When you're a young boy who's mad at the world for something you can't control, you do a lot of stupid stuff. And sometimes that stuff ends up in the news. I felt like, if I went to university for something I didn't care about, I would just be freeloading."
"Hold on, you had bad press?
Jon just sighed and drank.
"That makes me feel so much better. Here I was thinking this pure, wholesome prince and his nice family were taking pity on me when we're both just PR nightmares."
"It's nice to know you're not the only fuck up."
"It is," she grinned, slightly pleased with herself, "But we're not those people anymore."
She finally took her eyes off her lap and studied Jon for a moment. The firelight deepened shadows on his face, the scar over his eye looking ominous. The stubble along his jaw made his face sharper, hardened. They'd progressed, somehow, in the few weeks they'd known each other. He wasn't the arrogant boy in a suit tracking her down and she was no longer the girl in the dress running from responsibility.
"I've been meaning to ask you why you were so dead set on being terrible the night we met."
"Well… it's easier for one thing. Everybody hears things about me from outside sources who have no clue what's actually happening in my life. They get these ideas about who Daenerys is and I got tired of trying to convince them I wasn't like that. So when I asked you what you'd heard about me, I figured you already had your mind made up and that wasn't going to change. And I was pissed at my brother for everything and I wanted to scare you off," she admitted.
"But you still said yes."
She held onto her response, knowing she couldn't tell him the whole truth about Rhaegar's suffocating pressure no matter how desperately it clawed at her chest to escape. Dany didn't need his pity any more than she already had it.
"You stood up to me. You didn't let me bulldoze over you and I respect that. It was also a sign that you really cared. And then I got to come North and experience everything and-" she leaned forward to take Jon's hand- "I meant it. I want to help, even if this is the only way."
He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. He knew she didn't want him to say thank you.
"Can I ask you about your scar?" Dany had to steel herself from reaching out to touch the vertical mark over his eye.
She knew of an accident he was involved in and assumed it was from that but she'd noticed the way he acted on their trip to the Wall, there was more to it.
"If you want to hear about it. It was standard patrol, I wasn't supposed to be out but it was just dumb luck. We were attacked, I got separated and when I tried to radio for help one of them jumped me. Gave me the scar on my face and stabbed me in the leg."
There was a long pause, Jon gazing into the fire.
"I shot him. My father was furious after that. The Lord Commander tried to explain that it was a freak coincidence but my father wasn't hearing it. He's got this weird thing about protecting me like I'm a little boy who can't take care of himself."
"Fathers are like that with their sons," Dany said, "Especially with firstborns."
She knew Aerys was overprotective of Rhaegar, even before what happened with Viserys. Dany believed it was just one of the reasons for his behavior.
"I was fine at first, then I couldn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes I was there in that freezing cold forest, reliving every sound and sight. It's better now but the stress of being back in Winterfell didn't help things."
"Why?"
"The Lords, for one. They never asked but they had their guesses about why I was mysteriously discharged and I could tell none of them were positive. And all the added attention wasn't pleasant."
"You didn't miss the 'marry me, Jon' signs at every public appearance?" she teased.
He chuckled, "You've seen those?"
"They're hard to miss."
She'd seen them first at White Harbor and they filled her with bitter irony at the thought of someone actually wanting to be in her position. Thinking about them again, a strange pride warmed her chest, as if she'd won some coveted prize.
"What about yours?" he inquired.
Jon pulled her hand close and pushed her sleeve up, his thumb brushing lightly over the raised shapes. Under his touch, they burned, white-hot against her still chilled skin and he looked at her with sympathy and question. Her heart was in her throat and she hated it. Dany swallowed hard, willing herself to speak.
"I don't think I'm ready to talk about mine yet. But I couldn't sleep after it happened either," she confessed, "They're pretty ugly, aren't they?"
"You think scars are ugly?"
"Mine, not yours," she corrected, "Yours looks all strong and mysterious. These are just unfortunate."
She pulled her arm back, pulling the sleeve down yet again. There was still one more scar hidden by her collar, thankfully. It happened at the same time as the ones on her wrist and she wanted to talk about that one even less.
"Why are we so obsessed with everything being perfect?"
"What?"
"Not about the scars necessarily, but the wedding and lying about our relationship. Why does everything have to be a damned fairytale?"
"Rhaegar once phrased it like this, we exist to rule and set an example of what everyone should aspire to be, the perfect citizens. If one of us acts up, it's easy to dismiss but if the general public knew what happened behind closed doors, it'd be disastrous. Gods, that's depressing, I thought this was supposed to be a relaxing evening."
That made him smile but he hid it. Dany liked seeing his grin, she liked it even better knowing it was because of something she said.
"Admit it, I'm fun," she pestered.
"You're not as bad as I previously thought."
"A-ha! So I'm not a raging bitch?"
"No, but you're fucking stubborn."
Dany smiled, "You're not as sullen and broody as I thought you were. In fact, you have a decent sense of humor for a prince."
"Alright,"
"And-" he tried to interrupt her again but she spoke over him, "And you're an excellent dancer."
"Oh please."
"It's true! I'm the one who keeps screwing up."
"No, you're not."
"I get so nervous that I'm going to forget something, I get worked up and then actually forget."
"You'll get it tomorrow," he promised.
"Thank you." She rolled her eyes.
"I mean, at least we haven't crushed each other's fingers." His eyes sparkled with mischief.
Dany sighed, "Do you want to know that badly?"
"I'm kind of intrigued."
With his admission, she told him the account of the dance gone wrong with one of the Tyrell boys when she was seventeen. He'd tried to end their anti-climactic waltz in a dip and instead dropped her to the floor, leading to one of the couples exiting the floor stepping on her vulnerable fingers. He felt terrible and tried to make it up to her with a weekend in Highgarden but his twelve-year-old sister Margaery was more entertaining.
Dany requested an entertaining story from him which led to the recounting of the time he and Robb convinced Sansa to help them prank Theon with anonymous love letters. It lasted all of two months, coming to a disastrous close when Theon decided it was Dacey Mormont and attempted to kiss her in the Godswood after a feast. He had a black eye and all the Stark siblings were lectured about playing pranks on each other. The speech from Catelyn did little to deter them.
"We never had prank wars like that. Rhaegar was too old and Viserys would throw a tantrum if I did something like that. Not to mention the reaction from all the staff."
"You'll have plenty of time to catch up with Bran and Arya running around."
"At least there won't be any fake love letters," she smirked.
"No, I think we've worn that one out."
The next couple of hours were spent exchanging the most lighthearted memories they had. Eventually, Dany let out a huge yawn, poorly concealed behind her hand.
"Is that a sign that we should head back?" Jon inquired.
She hummed, burrowing further into the blanket around her shoulders, "No, I want to stay here until the sun comes up."
"And be exhausted for our wedding?" his coaxing was interrupted by his own yawn.
"If we must," she stated dramatically.
They pulled back on their layers and Dany said a quick thank you to the staff who had readied the lodge for their use and were probably glad the royal couple was leaving so they could rest too.
Outside, the snow accumulated, blanketing everything in a nice, soft layer of sparkling white. There was too much so they would return to the castle via SUV, to which Dany wasn't complaining at all. It was now far too cold for her. As soon as she was out the door she was shivering.
A high lonesome sound echoed through the trees as the driver opened the car door for them.
"Is that?" Dany asked, looking into the trees as she instinctively tucked herself into Jon's side.
Maybe it was the wine going to her head but when he grinned down at her with that ridiculously pretty grin, she swooned a little. Then he threw his head back, cupped his hands around his mouth, and howled back.
"Try it," he dared.
"Dragons don't howl, they roar."
"Humor me."
She gave him the side-eye as she raised her hands to imitate him. Dany's was quieter and much timider but it still carried and sounded haunting in the still of the forest.
"Could use some work," Jon offered.
"Oh, shut up." She punched him playfully in the arm before turning to climb into the vehicle.
Their driver took the much more accessible southern trail that wound through the forest and could easily be classified as the scenic route. Dany fought her eyelids as they grew heavy, refusing to give in to the temptation to lean her head on Jon's shoulder.
Her good fight was spoiled when the SUV hit a divot in the trail and upset her balance enough that she ended up braced against Jon's shoulder. It was downhill from there. He was warm and she was tired and they both snickered as Jon wrapped his arm around her shoulder.
When they finally arrived back inside Winterfell's walls, Jon escorted Dany to her room. They didn't talk, letting their footsteps fill the silence. She held his hand as she leaned against him, oddly exhausted from all the excitement and talking and the wine. Tired as she was, every nerve ending was buzzing and she was hyper-aware of her pulse.
It wasn't supposed to be like this. Their marriage was a business transaction between two nations, it wasn't built with romance in mind. But Elia and Rhaegar had it. Dany was tempted to see if there was a possibility in her increasingly tangible future.
Her door came faster than anticipated and she was reluctant to let go of Jon's hand. She wasn't sure if it was their night full of confessionals or the subconscious feelings she harbored about him. Dany was never able to pinpoint exactly what she was feeling in the moment, no matter how hard she tried. In moments like these, she did whatever came naturally.
Gods, she was going to regret this.
As fluidly as she could, Dany grabbed his other hand, pulled him as close as she dared, and pressed her lips firmly to his.
As quickly as she'd lunged forward, she pulled back. It wasn't the frenzied, desperate, tongue and teeth sort of kiss she knew before, and it wasn't supposed to be. She meant it as a promise. There could be something if they were patient and let things take their course. Dany noticed something different in Jon's eyes.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled and averted her eyes, "I just thought… because we had to do it tomorrow… we might as well get it out of the way."
He pressed a delicate kiss to her forehead, "Goodnight, Dany."
"Goodnight, Jon."
