I pledge to you my living and dying,

equally in your care,

and tell no strangers our grievances.

This is my wedding vow to you.

This marriage of equals.

-Traditional Celtic Wedding Vows

The morning came as it always did on important occasions, quiet and heavy, as though something shifted and there was no way to know if it was for better or worse. When Dany woke, her window was frosted over and the room was cooler than usual. She stared at the wooden beams across the ceiling, recalling the events of last night. Her scars and his hands, their laughter and howling, the biting wind against her cheeks. She expected to feel dreadful or nauseous. Instead, a sense of detachment followed her through her unusually empty morning. No meetings, no fittings, only a quiet breakfast with her family.

Before she knew it she was seated in front of a vanity while the hairstylist flitted about. Dany insisted on doing her own makeup (no one ever got her eyebrows right) and was trying her best to not annoy the woman as she put on the final touches. Her usual flare for the dramatic was absent as she found herself reaching for soft, neutral colors. In an attempt to keep everything organized, and Dany's increasing anxiousness at bay, every single brush and cosmetic product was placed back in its proper place.

The detached feeling disappeared as the loaned tiara from Catelyn, which Dany nicknamed "The Fringe", was lowered onto her head. The weight grounding her back in her body. When she looked in the mirror, she almost didn't recognize herself. The woman who stared back was fiercely ethereal with soft eyes and a halo of sword points. Giddiness ignited in her chest and she couldn't fight the smile on her face.

A member of the castle staff hurried into the room just before Jeyne was scheduled to dress Dany. The snow wanted to stick around for the ceremony and she couldn't wear her light-soled, silk shoes. Somehow, the staff dug up a suitable replacement. Soft, caramel-colored leather boots lined with a lighter shade of fur. They were walking boots from a time before Dany was born with a stumpy heel, they pinched her toes but they were warm.

Finally, the enormous dress rack was rolled into the room and it was time for the main event in ceremony prep.

Jeyne's expert hands fastened the detail buttons on the column of white chiffon pleated and darted to fit like a glove around her torso and waist. Soft tulle lay delicately and near-invisible against her arms and chest. The only embellishments were the patterns of crystalline beads along her wrists, swirling up toward her elbows with similar beading on the edges of the high neckline. At first glance, Dany thought the details were just pretty decoration but upon closer inspection, the meandering lines proved to be an artificial frost with subtle hints of blue and grey. An odd choice for a summer wedding she knew, but by pure chance, it was fitting.

All the drama lay in the layers of tulle expertly folded, pressed, and starched to form the architectural bustle skirt that needed to be attached to the dress through a system of hooks and eyes. The over-skirt added more width than length but there was still a considerable train. It was a royal wedding dress after all and she sacrificed the veil to settle a debt.

"You look absolutely gorgeous, Your Highness," Jeyne commented as she stepped back to admire her handiwork.

"All thanks to your wonderful artistry. This dress is… perfect" Dany sighed, afraid that if she moved, she would disturb the perfect way the fabric rested.

"Some of my best work and all for the most important wedding of the year."

Normally, referring to the occasion as such would annoy Dany but more and more she was starting to see why it was referred to in that way. When she first arrived at Winterfell, the surrounding town was near deserted but according to the staff, the inns filled up and people were lined along the streets to watch the ceremonial carriage route that would take place after the wedding. Not to mention the pop-up gift shops selling royal wedding memorabilia both real and counterfeit.

A knock on the door drew their attention away from ogling the dress. Rhaegar entered with an important-looking document holder in his arm.

"You look lovely, Dany."

"You weren't supposed to see it yet," she huffed, not bothering to turn around to address him.

Her eyes fixed on the reflection of the red padded folder. She knew what was in it, her marriage contract, the source of much debate and ire. It required her signature. A few pen strokes across the parchment and everything would be close to final. Rhaegar didn't have to say anything, Dany was already stepping down from the platform.

He laid it out on a table, the blank space for her name practically glowing in the overcast light from the window. A gilded fountain pen sat beside it. An official document needed an official pen to sign it.

The papers sitting before her detailed everything she was giving up; Dragonstone and her claim to it, her place in line for the throne, her potential career, and a small bit of personal freedom. But for the first time since her return to Westeros she felt a sense of control. She was picking up the pen and signing her name because she decided to, not because Rhaegar forced her hand.

The pen was cool to touch, as everything was that morning, and Dany took a deep breath to ground herself. She had a personal saying she liked to tell herself whenever she made an important life decision. If I look back, I'm lost. The door was open, all she needed to do was walk through and shut it firmly behind her.

A hand on her arm stopped her, "Dany, before you sign those papers I have something to ask of you."

She furrowed her brow and made a motion to Jeyne, who gracefully bowed her head and left.

Dany waited until the door closed to glare at her brother, "Haven't you already asked enough?"

"It's just one more thing," he assured her, "When you returned to King's Landing, I told you about the military strength gathering here, do you remember?"

"Yes," she answered, "but if this doesn't concern me or the wedding, you need to discuss it with the King."

She tried to turn back and sign her name but he stopped her again, with more force. The pressure from his hand was enough to make her blood run cold.

"I want you to keep an eye out while you're here and let me know if you learn anything."

The way Rhaegar worded it made Dany's stomach twist. Using the unsubstantiated military threat to cover up what he was really asking.

"You want me to spy on them," she whispered, pen hovering above the parchment.

"We've wanted to get someone into the Northern court for a long time but they're very closed off. Tywin suggested we use you since you're already here."

It was well known that there were Westerosi agents in every major government around the world. They had the ears of the most influential people, guiding their hands in favor of western interests. Wealthy men like Tywin Lannister, Rhaegar's Hand and current Lord Supreme of the High Council, benefited greatly from the exploitation.

She'd expected Rhaegar to suggest such a thing but the fact he actually said the words amazed her. She recalled the ignorant comments of the radio hosts after the engagement was announced, accusing her of seducing their prince so she could further her brother's agenda. Dany scoffed at the notion but there she was, facing the exact situation she'd dismissed as mere conspiracy. She refused to let them be right in their assumptions. With a glance back at her marriage contract, she rolled her shoulders back and lifted her chin.

"No."

"What?"

"You heard me perfectly fine. I won't do it."

Before Rhaegar could get another word out, she signed her name on the line. It was done. The pen clattered against the lacquered wood table. There was a reason he asked her before her name was signed but he obviously didn't expect her answer to be 'no'.

"There." She flashed her palms, "I'm a Targaryen in name only now, you can't command me anymore."

"You're still a citizen of the United Kingdoms of Westeros and I am your king."

"Not for much longer. I'm not your pawn, Rhaegar. Did you think I would sign away my future because you asked?"

"Yes, because that's what you're supposed to do."

"The South has nothing to gain from this treaty, it was pointless of you to consider it, so why are you pushing so hard."

"I have the chance to get someone in the ear of the most influential person up here. With your marriage, you have the chance to steer policy in our favor."

Dany barked a laugh, harsh and abrupt against the level tones of their conversation.

"Daenerys, do as I say or I'll-"

"You'll what? There's nothing for you to take away. I've done exactly what you asked of me and signed away my future and my own damn claim. You think I said yes because you wanted me to but that's wrong. I didn't do it for you, or the Targaryen legacy, or the United Kingdoms of Westeros. I did it for the North, for the Starks and their people." For Jon. "And you know better than anyone that I keep my promises."

He opened his mouth to respond but she cut him off.

"How dare you come in here and demand things of me when I've already sacrificed everything so you can play Aegon the Conqueror come again. You think you're going to be some great Targaryen King but you're not, you're just a bully like our father," she ranted.

A wild rage flashed in Rhaegar's eyes and he struck out like a snake, gripping her forearm like a vice. The soft weave of the fabric scratched under the force and the beads dug into her skin.

She cried out before tearing away, "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

You didn't know father! Everything he did was to protect us from a world that wants to see us fail."

Dany clutched her arm close to her chest and tried to back away but in her gown only allowed a few inches distance.

"You're messing with things you can't even begin to comprehend," Rhaegar hissed.

"If you're keeping something from me, you had better spill it right now."

He only looked at her. It was enough to confirm Dany's fears and set her off.

"Get out," she seethed, forcing herself to keep as level a voice as she could.

When he only blinked at her, she surged forward and seized the thick folder, shoving it at his chest.

"Go!"

He did, with an awful, storming fury. Dany braced herself against the table, her legs weak and her throat tightening. She wasn't sure if she was going to vomit or cry or both, she couldn't afford to do either. I am still the blood of the dragon, she reminded herself with a shaking inhale, dragons do not cry.

Ser Jorah, who had been standing guard at the door, was at her side, "Are you alright, Your Highness?"

"I'm fine," she assured him, accepting his guiding arm. She had to keep moving to distract herself from thinking about anything other than the task at hand.

"Dany…"

"I'm sure there's somewhere I'm needed so if we could get going."

He nodded and took her to the room where the rest of the women were getting ready, trying her best to put whatever just happened out of her mind. In another hour, she would be free from her brother completely. Until she had to see him again for the Southern ceremony.

The reactions to her wedding look lightened her mood, her heart swelling at the gasps and sincere compliments. There were a few selfies and pictures for private memories before they were forced to continue on to their places.

Dany waited for the ceremony to start, concealed with her wedding party behind trees and a trellis of flowers the staff managed to salvage from the cold. Even with the bride's cloak draped over her shoulders, she was still feeling the effects of the cold. The castle staff worked their way through the seating, dusting off chairs and decoration as best they could and blankets were offered to guests who hadn't planned for the sudden snow.

Missy swept her into yet another hug, "I can't believe my best friend is getting married. You look so beautiful."

Dany murmured her thanks into her best friend's shoulder.

"I'm really sorry you couldn't be in the wedding party, I know it's a big deal."

"Are you kidding me? This is the hottest ticket in town and I've got a front-row seat. There are watch parties for this thing, Dany."

"You're joking," she gasped.

"I would show you but, no phones," she shrugged, "Apparently you love birds are the epitome of fairytale romance and the people have hardly seen you."

"That's a good thing," Dany sighed, "We wouldn't want to spoil the narrative."

A coordinator poked their head in to remind them of the time. Missy left to find her seat, leaving Dany with Elia and the gaggle of noble children.

Usually, Dany preferred the company of her sister-in-law but at that moment she wanted to keep her distance. Elia had a way of knowing when something was up and Dany knew if she didn't keep her mind off of the confrontation with Rhaegar she wasn't going to be able to fake a smile.

Elia wasted no time in getting to Dany.

"How are you feeling?"

"Mostly nervous," Dany deflected, about to cross her arms when she remembered the embroidery on her sleeves would snag her dress.

"Jeyne came to us after you asked her to leave. We heard yelling but no words so what happened?"

"You mean you didn't know?"

"Know what?"

Dany scoffed, "It seems Rhaegar's keeping secrets from us both then."

The coordinator started arranging everyone in their places, thankfully separating the two royals before any more explaining had to be done. However, it meant that Dany was now face to face with her brother.

It never failed to amaze her how similar to their father he looked. Whereas Aerys had tried to preserve the monarchy through keeping a low and positive profile, Rhaegar meant to do it through securing his power and expanding his influence. He was too ambitious for his own good.

As the melancholy string music started from the other side of their hiding spot, Rhaegar offered his arm for her to take. In his other was the precious Valyrian steel sword, a symbol of the protection provided by her family. She wanted nothing more than to rip it from his grasp and march herself down the aisle.

When she refused to take his arm, he glanced at her and sighed.

"Dany, I apologize for earlier. I don't know what came over me but it was out of line."

"Apologies are for when you step on someone's foot, what you did was not only out of line, it was unforgivable. Especially since you know my history with situations like that. Unfortunately, I am not a frightened little girl hiding under daddy's desk and I will not be intimidated into doing what you ask."

Elia started her procession, escorted by Bran. Dany and Rhaegar would follow when they got the go-ahead from the coordinator.

"And Rhaegar, if you ever suggest something that absurd ever again-" she looped her arm through his and accepted her bouquet from a waiting Sansa- "you'll have a lot more than a PR mess to clean up."

The green light came and Dany put on her best, pleasant smile. She fought herself to keep from putting too much distance between her and Rhaegar, though her dress helped in that aspect. And to keep from rushing ahead of the music accompanying their achingly slow march. The sooner she was standing in front of that sacred tree the better.

She almost laughed at the thought. A month ago she was ready to fight the Gods one-on-one to get away from the arrangement imposed on her. Now, she had to restrain herself from sprinting down the aisle like a madwoman. The eyes of the guests reminded her that there were thousands of people gathered in front of their televisions to witness the strange liberation of Daenerys Targaryen from one gilded cage to another. But this new trap was roomier and Dany could move and breathe and dance as she pleased, without judgment or trepidation.

At the end of the aisle stood Jon, looking every bit the part of Prince Charming. His black ceremonial uniform wasn't the same one she'd observed on the Wall, with the pale green sash and silver braid it must have been from another order. Only three medals shone against the dark fabric.

With a few more steps, the snow packing beneath her borrowed boots, she was there. Released from Rhaegar's arm, her bouquet safely in the hands of Sansa, she took Jon's hand.

"Dearly beloved," Jon's uncle, Benjen, started, "we are gathered here today to witness not only the joining of a man and woman in holy matrimony but the joining of two nations, separated for too long.."

As he continued, Jon leaned closer to whisper, "I heard about what happened with your brother. Are you alright?"

Dany jerked her head to look at him, her jaw dropping for an instant before she snapped it back shut. She had to remember where she was.

"I'm fine. Or I will be. How did you find out?"

"Sansa," he said simply.

That girl.

He squeezed her hand, "You've got this."

"We've got this. We're a team now, whether either of us likes it or not," she replied with a reassuring pulse of her own hand.

She wished she could bring an easy smile to her face again but at least she could relax her jaw.

Elia stood to give her reading, a piece from the Book of the Maiden that was usually read at royal weddings in the south. There were at least fifty different variants of the song version.

"The maid presented Hugor with a bride and the fair woman said, 'Entreat me not to leave you, to turn back from following after. For where you go, I will go. And where you live, I will live. Your people shall be my people and your Gods, my Gods. Where you die, I will die, there I will be buried. The gods do so to me and more also. If aught but death parts you and me."

The words sounded less somber in her Dornish lilt, prettier too. Eddard Stark stood and gave the next reading, a longer piece Dany remembered. She tucked her free hand under the warmth of the lined bride's cloak, the cold was starting to settle through her boots.

"The little things are the big things. It is never being too old to hold hands, it is remembering to say, "I love you" at least once a day. It is never going to sleep angry, it is at no time taking the other for granted; the courtship should not end with the honeymoon, it should continue through all the years. It is speaking words of appreciation and demonstrating gratitude in thoughtful ways, it is not expecting the husband to wear a halo or the wife to have wings of an angel. It is not looking for perfection in each other, it is cultivating flexibility, patience, understanding, and a sense of humor. It is having the capacity to forgive and forget. It is giving each other an atmosphere in which each can grow. It is finding room for the things of the spirit. It is a common search for the good and the beautiful. It is establishing a relationship in which independence is equal, dependence is mutual and the obligation is reciprocal. It is not only marrying the right partner, it is being the right partner."

The King smiled at his son and soon to be daughter in law, Dany found it in herself to return the gesture.

"It is now time for the unity promise," Benjen announced.

Rhaegar passed the sword to Dany, who presented it to Jon. She wanted to ask Jon if he'd come up with a name for their weapon but it was too quiet. The sword passed from his hands to Robb's which meant it was time for her to change cloaks. Her brother waited behind her to remove it. Before she turned to face him, she unclasped it and pulled it from her shoulders. Dany carefully folded it before handing it to Rhaegar.

She was supposed to let him do that, he was the one giving her away, but she couldn't stand the thought of it. And she couldn't wait to hear the fuss it made later.

The chilled air nipped at her exposed skin and she hummed in relief when the new cloak was placed over her shoulders. The weight of the embroidered direwolf was calming, like a welcoming hug. The symbolism was evident then, she would be safe with the Starks.

Despite the rehearsal, the exchanging of rings and vows snuck up on her. Her left hand was presented to Jon, her fingers red from the cold and her ring finger bare. The beautiful engagement ring sitting on her right hand for the ceremony. Then he was saying the words and sliding the silver band onto her finger.

When she looked into his eyes, there was understanding and encouragement. They were doing this and it was nearly over.

It was her turn. The ring pressed against her palm and she shivered.

"I, Daenerys, choose you, Jon, to be no other than yourself. Loving what I know of you, trusting what I do not. I will respect you as an individual, a partner, and an equal. I promise to laugh with you when times are good and endure with you when they're bad. I will always adore, honor, and encourage you. From this day, until the end of my days."

She shook as she slid the ring onto his finger, from the cold and her own nerves. Both her hands were caught in his as Benjen started his next declaration.

"By the power vested in me by the Old Gods and The Crown, I pronounce you husband and wife, two hearts that beat as one. You may kiss the bride."

Even though they kissed last night, this time was different. There was the same chaste sweetness but a weight resting behind it. And just like last time, it was over as soon as it had started. At first, Dany didn't hear the cheers. She was too busy staring into the conflicted eyes of her new husband. The nuance that caught her eye was gone when they turned to face their audience.

"We did it," Jon said, wide smiles of relief spreading across both of their faces.

"Yes, but the day's not over yet."

The ceremonial carriage ride that followed was crowded and long but Dany managed to escape the cold tucked next to Jon. As soon as they arrived back at Winterfell they were separated. Dany could still feel the impression of Jon's hand clasped in hers as she was hauled off for her second costume change of the night.

According to the coordinator they were running late, which was Dany's fault. Luckily, the bustle skirt was removed so she could fit in the tight confines of the antiquated vehicle, making the dress switch easier and quicker.

The second dress of the evening, unlike her main gown, Dany was in love with from the first moment she put it on. She tried to remain firm on her preference for structure and drama but this dress changed that. The soft layers of pure white silk chiffon fell around her legs into a handkerchief hem just above her ankles, flowing from a gathering at her chest and carefully cinched at her waist with a thin strip of matching white ribbon. It was the sort of dress worn by a woodland fairy or a mythical maiden and it brought out the girlish nature Dany fought hard to keep at bay. She wanted to spin around in it for hours.

She was relieved of her hardly effective winter boots and didn't have time to let her feet relax before she was doing up the straps on her dancing shoes. She winced when she stood, it was going to be a long night.

She let down half of her hair and replaced The Fringe with a simple thin band of silver. Then she was escorted to the heavy door of the Great Hall, where Jon was waiting for her. Looking sophisticated in his tux, having ditched the princely uniform. If it weren't for the hundreds of high profile guests congregating in the room before them, they could pass for an ordinary groom and bride. Well, husband and wife, now.

Dany never thought she would be a wife before thirty yet there she stood. All things considered, she'd done pretty well for herself. Making the best out of an awful situation and turning it in her favor. She shifted her weight and sucked in a breath. Even though the shoes were well broken in, the residual pain in her feet grew worse.

Through the heavy doors, The King of the North's voice boomed, "I have the pleasure to introduce, for the first time, Their Royal Highnesses, Prince Jon of House Stark and Princess Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Duke and Duchess of The Last River."

The doors were wrenched open and the cheers that accompanied were louder than the ones from the ceremony. Of course, there were more people at the reception and they were waiting for the newlyweds' arrival to commence their feasting. Jon and Dany were seated at the center of the high table, with the Targaryens on the right and the Starks to the left.

The guests were too interested in their drink and food to gawk at the supposed love birds, it took a great deal of pressure off them. In anticipation of the dancing later, Dany watched how much she drank and ate, everything was going well and she didn't want to ruin it with throwing up. There was plenty of toasting too, Jon politely telling Dany about each Lord and high ranking officials who offered their words.

She recognized the Mormonts and Manderelys and, of course, Roose Bolton. His amiable wife was dulled by his off-putting demeanor as they sat at a table nearest to the royals. He kept his bone-chilling gaze off of Dany this time, hopefully because the nuptials quieted his suspicions of her intentions with Jon. The creepy duke would be at it again by sunrise tomorrow. Thinking about snooping, a thought struck her.

If Elia and Sansa heard the argument between Dany and Rhaegar, did that mean other people in Winterfell heard it too? No, Elia said she couldn't make out the words. And Duke Bolton had no business being in the guest wing, especially when it was blocked off to non-wedding personnel. But walls had ears and every sensible, titled man with a bone to pick had an extra set of eyes. Dany knew she wasn't escaping court politics for good, she was entering an inherently political position, but she hoped she wouldn't have to be so vigilant.

Just as Bolton's head turned to look at her, Dany's gaze was torn away by Jon's hand on her shoulder. She hadn't even noticed how quiet the hall was as the king announced it was time for the first dance. The momentary gap in sound vanished as everyone took to helping move the benches and tables out of the way.

She survived the first half of the day without any jitters and somehow, her sudden stage fright made up for it.

Swallowing her nervousness, Dany stood, wincing as she did. Even though her shoes were well broken in, the residual pain in her feet only grew. She made it as far as the edge of their temporary dance floor before she bent to tear them off, sighing as her feet felt the cool stone. The shoes found a home with the person standing next to her, Dany offering a smile in apology, then she and Jon took their places.

The moderate tempo of the fiddle filled the room, accompanied by a softly picked guitar. In rehearsal, they used a pre-recorded track and the song always sounded pretty but now it sounded alive and brilliant. The difference in sound quality did nothing to quell her nerves and her restraint for not rushing ahead of the music was wearing thin. Dany caught Jon's eyes, reminding herself to relax and breathe. There was no use getting worked up over it now. At least most of the people watching were tipsy so if she screwed up, it would be the last thing they remembered.

The guitar picked up and so the step started to get more interesting. They were still the basic ball changes and three-step turns but with more energy. Jon and Dany traveled across the floor, passing each other but never interacting except for a few quick glances. The force behind Dany's smile eased up as she let herself fall into the ebb and flow of the dance.

The fiddle gave a low whine before resuming the melody. From opposite sides of the floor, Jon and Dany started to walk towards each other. A pipe joined in the orchestration, it's high, lamenting sound rising over all else in the room as the two circled each other. Their palms resting together and rising over their heads before they switched directions and did the same thing. They circled each other again, growing closer as the fiddle and guitar intensified and the pipes soared over it all.

The music broke from its build as Dany and Jon carted each other around the floor. She wasn't trying to think ahead, letting herself exist within the lively rhythm. Encouraged by the enthusiasm of the court, the musicians played louder as the song entered another build; the drums becoming a driving force.

They abandoned the choreography to spin each other around the floor with all the vigor and freedom of children, something that would never happen in the south. Those waltzes had specific steps and a break from protocol could result in a few scrapes and bruises. But Dany tried not to focus on anything other than the feel of the soft fabric of her dress as it fluttered around her legs, the cool floor against the balls of her feet, and Jon's warm hand against her waist.

She was content to stay like that for the rest of the song, but Jon surprised her by lifting her straight off the ground. It was just the little lift they rehearsed a dozen times before, there was more momentum behind it and Dany felt suspended in the air, only to be lowered to the ground as though she were a delicate package. She twirled away and around herself, never wanting to stop. Then the music stopped, and she stopped, standing face to face with the man she now shared her life with.

He would've looked a disheveled mess if he weren't so damn beautiful. Dark curls tousled and shirt partly unbuttoned, breathing hard. Dany was suddenly aware of how warm the room was and the light sheen of sweat along her back, her head still spinning a little. The near-hysterical laughter of relief bubbled in her chest, spilling from her throat as she threw her arms around Jon's shoulders. He responded much the same and her feet left the floor as he spun her around once more.

Dany felt more like herself than she had in a while. She spent quite a bit of time on the dance floor, spinning Rhaenys and Aegon around and swaying to the occasional slow song with Jon. She hit a wall sometime after the cake cutting, the heat of the hall getting to her as she rested her head on her husband's shoulder.

They were back at the high table, taking a break from the action and observing from afar. It would've been cooler there but a fire burned in the hearth behind them.

"I'm exhausted," she sighed, letting her eyes flutter shut for a moment.

"Me too. Ready to slip out of here then?"

"What time is it?"

She felt him shift to check his watch, "Still early."

Dany hummed, "I've still got another hour in me, just need some air."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, I'm not going far," she promised, pulling herself away from him, "Be right back."

She found respite in the empty hallway. It was dark and cool and surprisingly quiet despite the noise next door. Dany sat on a cushioned bench beneath a window overlooking the blanketed courtyard. It had been such a long day and now that she was alone and away from the party, the ache set in her muscles and tempted her to take her shoes off again. A sweet ache from dancing as she hadn't in a long time, but the one in her head was going to be an issue. She rested her head on the frigid glass.

Thinking of aches brought back a phantom feeling in her arm. The feeling of soft tulle and embroidery turned harsh under a harmful hand. She pushed the thought away, rubbing her forearm. It would do her no good to dwell on it. She had to look forward.

"Dany?" a familiar voice asked.

She whipped her head around and sure enough, there he was, like a figment of a hazy memory. Dany stood, her head clear in an instant.

"Daario, what are you doing here?"

He took a step towards her and she took one back

"I was invited," he offered.

"You most certainly were not."

"Then how did I get this?"

He reached into his suit pocket and produced the official invitation for the reception only.

"I don't know but you weren't on the guest list. You shouldn't- you can't be here."

If someone saw them, she was doomed. The wife of the Crowned Prince, married only a few hours, talking alone in a secluded hallway with an ex-flame she had been publicly photographed with was bound to start rumors. And that sort of gossip would be the fuel needed to drive down public opinion of her. Not to mention the havoc it could wreak on her already delicate relationship with Jon.

"I want to talk to you," he supplied, a tinge of desperation in his voice.

Dany huffed, "I have nothing to say to you."

"Please, I came to apologize."

The one time she actually needed to run away from a situation and she was glued to the spot.

"Fine, I'll hear you out but you have to leave immediately after. And we can't talk here."

A little further down the hall was a small sitting room, which was bound to have alcohol in it. Dany made sure to secure the door once they were inside. Ignoring the light switch and finding her way around in the dark, she poured herself a glass of whatever looked the strongest.

"Well?" she asked as she settled into a sofa on the opposite side of the room.

"When you called me to end things, it was so out of the blue. And you wouldn't tell me why, I got so upset and said things I knew would hurt. But they weren't true and you didn't deserve any of that."

She just watched and listened, there was no reason for her to interject yet.

Daario exhaled harshly, "Seeing your engagement everywhere stung because I thought you moved on so fast. Then I remembered you talking about your brother and the crown and it started to make sense. You said, legally, you couldn't say anything. Can you now?"

"I'm afraid I still can't be one hundred percent honest with you," Dany answered, "But I can assure you this was my decision, even if it's strange to you."

"How was it your decision?"

"They presented me with an agreement and I said yes, after a short while."

"But you should be in Essos. You were happy."

"I'm happy here. Besides, I never set up an internship after graduation. There wouldn't be much for me to do there."

"What I meant was, we were happy."

Dammit, there it was. "I'm such a fucking idiot," she grumbled, putting her head in her hands.

"Dany, I love you."

"No, no, you do not get to come in here and say that to me on my wedding night!"

"Why not?"

"Because I don't love you." Her temper flared. "I thought I did but I was lying to myself because I was so desperate for a reason to say no. I wanted so badly to cling to my old life I made myself think my feelings were deeper than they really were. And for what? All it did was cause me more pain. It was stupid and childish of me. I made my decision, I went through with it, and it's time to move on."

"What about him, do you love him?"

"Not right now, but I will. It may take months, maybe years. Jon is a good man and he would never say the things you've said to me."

Yet she stomped on the faith he had in her with every second she spent in that sitting room.

"And he's probably wondering where I am, so I'm going back to the hall and I want you the hell out of this castle." She pushed past him, surprised there wasn't steam rising off her skin in the cold air.

She found Ser Jorah as he ended a conversation with his father. It seemed her union fixed relations in more ways than one. After telling him about Daario, she scanned the room for Jon. He was nowhere to be seen.

The Great Hall was a chaotic environment and it didn't look like it was going to calm down until the dawn.

Dany bumped into Talisa, who was tipsy and hanging on the shoulder of a much more sober Robb.

"Where have you been?" she demanded,

"I was taking a breather. Have you seen Jon?"

"I think he's looking for you," Robb cut in.

Dany huffed and looked out across the courtyard, spotting a light shining from one of the rooms across the way. She was still learning the layout of Winterfell but she had a hunch about whose room it was. Grabbing a whole bottle of wine from a passing server, she ventured away from the revelry and into the cold. The night was young and Dany was about to do something very stupid.