Look at the cards that we've been dealt,

if you were anybody else.

Probably wouldn't last a day,

every tear's a rain parade from hell.

Baby, you're doing so well.

You've been so understanding, you've been so good

and I'm putting through more than one ever should.

And I'm hating myself cause you don't want to

admit that it hurts you.

I know that it breaks your heart when I cry again,

'stead of ghostin' him.

We'll get through this, we'll get past this,

I'm a girl with a whole lot of baggage.

But I love you, we'll get past this,

I'm a girl with a whole lot of baggage.

-Ariana Grande, "ghostin'"

Dany couldn't be sure what time it was but her body wanted to be up, or her mind did at least as it pulled her from the dark obscurity of sleep. Her usual wake-up call was the maid knocking and opening her curtains but from the looks of her surroundings, it was too early for that. She rolled onto her back to gaze at the wooden beams across the ceiling, a habit she'd developed recently. It oriented her, reminded Dany of where she was and where she wasn't and in a way informed her mindset for the day. But as she looked up, a strange feeling took root in her chest. Something was off and it wasn't her ignorance to the hour.

She pulled her eyes down to the duvet swaddled around her. It was a different color than she remembered, dusty blue and a different texture. When did that happen? Dany slowly pushed herself up and noticed the sizing and arrangement, a few key pieces of furniture were missing from the room. If she was on her usual side of the bed, then the window was on the wrong side of the room which meant… Oh gods, it wasn't hers.

Despite the harsh bite in her head, she flew from the foreign bed as though it were on fire, taking only a second to blink at it before heading to the doorway between the two rooms. A string of the most un-princess like curses rattled through her brain, both in regret and pain. She wanted to do something stupid, and she accomplished it. Better to slip out and explain herself after she had time to think of something.

Two hushed voices in the sitting room stopped Dany from charging straight through. Instead, she peeked around the doorway in caution. Jon stood there, conversing with someone she didn't recognize. She couldn't make out anything they were saying, the gauzy spectre of her reception dress laid over a chair distracted her. Dany's hand felt over her chest and, realizing she wore a borrowed tee, her heart picked up its pace.

She knew they hadn't crossed the line drawn so firmly in the sand even though she'd taken a step across it. It was the implication of said borrowed shirt paired with her shoes peeking out from under the settee and the abandoned hairpins and dress. And what all of those things meant to the stranger in the room.

"I will let her know, thank you."

"Of course, sir."

The door clicked shut and Dany retreated to the safety behind the door frame, hoping she hadn't been spotted.

"You can come out now."

She exhaled, there would be no slipping out unnoticed. Dany tried her best to appear nonchalant but the cliche, tacky events of last night were rattling through her brain. Those tactics might have worked on the people in university bars or a desperate lord's son but there was no trick in the book for someone considered her equal, if not her better.

"There isn't a castle wide man-hunt for me yet?"

"No, they figured out where you might be pretty quickly."

There was a little humor in his dark eyes, obscured by the lack of brilliant sunlight. It was gloomy outside again, the perfect weather to accompany the first day of their union.

Whoever Jon was talking with would go back to their co-workers and recount their findings, filling in the gaps with whatever they dared to. Their spun tales would reach the right ears and claim anyone who didn't believe in fairytales had better start because they were witnessing one. A love at first sight, happily ever after fluffy wonderland right before their eyes, live and in living color. How were they to know that it was really one battle after another, an uphill climb fraught with tumbles and falls like the one last night.

Dany leaned against her own doorway, in Jon's shirt. The scene conjuring sensations familiar and distant as she eyed him warily. She remembered why she came there, unannounced and trying to drink herself into an uninhibited state. A failed seduction of herself and her new spouse. An attempt to wrench herself free of the past and embrace the promising path she was set upon. The end result being a devastating step backward.

At least, she thought it was but Jon appeared rather calm and unaffected by the events of last night. But something unspoken between them hung in the room like a dense fog weighing down their shoulders and spirits. Both of them like animals trapped in a cage, agitated and unsure. There wasn't the spectacular happiness shared between true newlyweds but a fragile peace and perhaps understanding. The two of them in their shared silence, having decided there wasn't a need to fill every single moment with chatter.

But as Jon crossed the room to sit, Dany wanted to fill the expanding quiet.

"I'm surprised they didn't assume I'd run off," she chortled.

"Why would they think that?"

"Stress, nerves, making an absolute fool of myself."

He only arched a brow at her and Dany returned her gaze to the dress in the chair.

"Throwing myself at you when we clearly aren't there, which, I'm sorry for by the way."

She glanced at Jon, meaning to gauge his reaction but instead getting distracted by the casual look of him. All messy curls and slept in clothes and a pinched brow that her fingers ached to ease. Then she noticed the blanket tangled up on the cushion next to him and her heart twisted itself up. She was still unsure of the mood, it couldn't be terrible.

He shook his head in dismissal, the following words escaped with more bite than he probably intended, "We really aren't going to get anywhere if you keep apologizing for every little thing."

"Right, sorry," she said automatically, cringing as soon as the word left her mouth, "Starting now."

Dany finally noticed the bouquet occupying the center of the coffee table. Modest and delicate with blooms in soft pink, lavender, and white of varying lengths, small puffs of bold yellow peeking through. All of it framed the little card nestled in the center. Curious, she forgot her previous hesitations and approached the bundle of flowers in their plain glass vase.

"Who are these from?"

"Their majesties," he answered simply.

"Yours or mine?" she plucked the card from the holder, a singular congratulations inked in elegant script was all that was written on the creamy cardstock. She ran a finger along the edge, with the same tenderness she'd traced the scars on her husband's face the night before.

"Ours."

Dany jerked her head slightly, not expecting what she considered a bold answer, but resolved to a little smile and considered the card once more, "Cute."

"My father's secretary dropped them off and asked me to relay a message."

Dany hummed, absentmindedly fiddling with the floral arrangement, "And what was that?"

"He's requested a meeting with you."

She paused, a jolt of mild shock possessing her nerves. She knew something bad would come of her spilling her guts and now she was about to enter a very complicated lion's den, or wolf's den for that matter.

"Just me? Not … us?"

"Just you."

"I'd better get going then," she decided, turning her back to Jon and removing the shirt he'd let her borrow.

Slipping back into her abandoned garment and managing the short zipper with ease, she spotted her shoes hiding under the settee.

"Do you want me to walk you back?"

"No, I'm alright. I'm actually starting to understand the layout better, I mean, I found my way without issue," Dany joked as she secured the straps, the shoes were much more comfortable now that her feet had recovered from the pinching and cold.

When she stood, Jon was there, offering her a jacket, "Aye, that you did."

"Thank you, for everything." Dany slid her arms through sleeves too long for her arms. "I know I'm not easy to deal with."

When she turned to face him, there was a quizzical look on his face.

"What?" she asked, her own brows furrowing.

"I'm trying to figure out why you do the things you do."

"Good luck," she shrugged before breezing past him toward the door.

She stopped before crossing the threshold, a thought pinging into her head, and paused in the doorway. For all the damage caused by her blaze of boldness, she might as well offer an olive branch.

"Will I see you later?"

Better to leave it open-ended, the decision was his to make.

Jon's brow creased, then smoothed, "Tonight, maybe, if you're sober."

"Of course. How else could I tell you everything your father said in our meeting,"

And with that she started on the longest and strangest walk of shame ever, but she was grinning like a damned fool. So everything wasn't totally ruined, there was something salvageable from the wreckage of last night. A month ago she would've left things as they were, shattered and scattered with her reveling in the middle of the mess, dancing in the flames. But she needed to pick up the pieces and put them back together however she could. There was no other option, she knew. No doors to run through, no windows to break. Dany huffed at herself, she had to stop thinking of her marriage as a trap with no way out when it wasn't. It was a shining opportunity like Braavos had been, a chance to escape and thrive but Winterfell offered her more. It was a fertile field she could put roots down into and grow and create. And she'd nearly scorched it.

How does Jon do it? Dany wondered as she turned a corner and hugged the plain, unassuming jacket closer to her body. Spilling her emotional baggage wasn't how she planned on starting a marriage, specifically not this one. And certainly not when they were about to embark on a tour of the south before the southern wedding, just the two of them parading around the countryside for all to see. She was so focused on herself last night and causing trouble like she always did in that mindset. If she pulled the same antics on any other prospect they would've dropped her like a fad that ran its course. But Jon hadn't washed his hands of her yet.

He had every right to, Dany wasn't going to deny it. With the way she acted from their very first meeting until the night she changed her mind, she would understand if Jon avoided her save for public functions but he didn't. She hurt him with her actions, even if he wouldn't show it. He was selfless, he was compromising. Dany needed to be more like him.

She reached her resolution and turned another corner, finally in the wing of the castle containing her guest room. A trio of maids were there, whispering among themselves as staff were so apt to do. Dany wanted to duck her head and rush past like any woman returning from a man's room in the same clothes as last night, but she reminded herself of who she was. A princess, a married woman in her new home, a dragon turned wolf. The maids bowed and addressed her in hushed tones, Dany dipped her head in recognition.

A sense of relief filled her chest when she opened the door to her room, like returning home after a long trip. Everything was familiar, comforting. She'd grown attached to the temporary quarters and would be sad to leave them so soon but Dany was excited to show Jon the south. Outside of King's Landing it had the most beautiful sights: Sunsets over the Golden Coast in the Westerlands, the acres of masterfully cultivated gardens in the Reach, the real watergardens in Dorne, the mountains of the Eyrie. It was the thought of meeting her brother again that dampened her mood.

She shook it off at the same time as her shoes, dress fluttering like delicate petals on a windblown flower. Now she was faced with a new dilemma, what did one wear to meet with their new father-in-law whom they've never talked to outside of formal occasions.

Black was out of the question, something reserved only for mourning and she had nothing to observe in that respect. Red was the color she usually chose when in need of courage, a shade to bolster her strength. But it was too bold, too Targaryen, and Dany's fraught relationship with the color pink eliminated it from her wardrobe entirely. There was always the option of grey and white, Stark colors. A subtle show of allegiance if this meeting entailed what she thought it did. Or perhaps she should choose something unrelated to house colors, there were plenty of blues and beiges among the clothes she brought with her, lavender and sage and a handful of jewel tones too.

In the end she selected a sweater in a grey shade that leaned toward beige and dark trousers, neutralizing herself visually and mentally. She brushed through the mess of curls and hairspray comprising her hair, smoothing it back into a low bun. She removed her very obvious nighttime makeup, but didn't reapply much besides hiding the dark circles under her eyes and some mascara. She managed to get her hands on some food as well, knowing better than to go into something important on an empty stomach.

Eventually, someone came to retrieve her, taking her on another journey through the halls of Winterfell. The wing in which the king's study was housed felt older, heavier. The persistent overcast sky outside didn't help, it only deepened the impressive shadows in the hall. As she swept into the room, a steward announced, "The Princess Daenerys, Your Majesty."

Dany curtseyed, dipping her head, "Your Majesty."

"Daenerys, thank you for coming. Have a seat, please."

The inside of the study was brighter, the arched windows letting in whatever natural light there was to offer, highlighting the bookcases and portraits. Stark ancestors looked down upon them in different styles, but it was the smaller frames lining his desk that caught her eye. The few that faced her weren't the usual official portraits at state gatherings, they were candid moments caught by chance. The twins, younger than double digits, with cake smeared on their faces. Sansa in a fluffy formal dress stretched on a sofa, tiara askew as she napped. A slightly blurry snap of who she could only assume were a teenage Robb and Jon, chasing after each other in the courtyard.

"I see you've noticed the unconventional display of pictures."

"They have a lot of personality."

"I'm glad you like them." Ned picked up a folding frame, the kind that displayed two pictures, "This one-" he offered it to Dany "-is my favorite."

A picture of Jon, in the white and grey of Stark regalia, kneeling before his father and surrounded by the lords of the North. An investiture ceremony, the naming of an heir. The image in the next slot was a complete departure from the formality of the last. Young Jon with a wide smile on his face, holding onto the silver coronet as it tilted at a playful angle. The absence of his characteristic scar was a little jarring, enhancing the youthfulness and instantly dating the photo to a bygone time.

"I can see why."

"Daenerys," the king began but she had to stop him.

"Please, call me Dany."

"Then you must call me Ned."

"Of course," she acknowledged, passing the treasured photo back to him, a little pleased and comforted at the sense of familiarity.

"I wanted to let you know that the first round of aid from your country has already reached our borders and reiterate how thankful we are for it."

Dany only nodded so he could continue but his gratitude felt hollow. She wasn't the one coordinating the dealings between North and South, nor was she dispensing the resources herself. She was only the cyvasse piece that allowed for it to happen.

"And to apologize for the security breach last night. Our team is already doing a thorough investigation of protocol to determine how Mr. Naharis got in and was able to corner you."

Not the topic Dany thought they would start with but she was glad they were discussing it.

"He had an invitation. I saw it," Dany affirmed, "But he was never even considered for the list. And there were only four people with access to them. Myself, the wedding planner, Elia, and Her Majesty, Catelyn. I know that she and your son have a complicated relationship but I couldn't imagine her doing something that underhanded."

"Her Majesty is unflinching in her views but she's competent enough to know how something like that could do more harm than good. The planner on the other hand is worth looking into. For now, we've decided to bring on more security and there are a few men retiring at the end of the month, so those positions will need filling as well."

"Could I ask who is in charge of the hiring process?"

Whichever lord Ned chose would need to be alerted to her brother's ambitions, or at least, to be more thorough in their interviews and background checks.

"His Grace, Roose Bolton has been chosen to work in collaboration with Ser Rodrik."

Dany made a face, unable to hide the gut reaction to hearing that name. She expected Ned would judge her for the way she distrusted Bolton but he only chuckled.

"I understand, there is not much to like about the Duke of The Weeping Water but out of respect and allyship he maintains a certain degree of power and influence at court."

"He doesn't have a very trustworthy demeanor, forgive me for saying it, and from the way Jon explained it to me, the Starks and Boltons have been uneasy allies since the middle ages."

"That is true and they were quite outspoken in their opinions of strengthening our relationship with the South. But everyone is skeptical of change and we must often make concessions to keep everyone happy. House Bolton hasn't done anything to upset the balance and Roose's input has been helpful on many occasions."

Dany hummed in agreement, it was classic political understanding and a strong philosophy to hold, though she didn't think it should apply to political rivals. But perhaps Bolton was the best choice as he was wary of outsiders and could spot one of Rhaegar's southern plants if needed. Something that could work in her favor for once.

"Is that all you called me here for?"

The statement came out with more desperation than she meant. Dany didn't intend to sound like she had somewhere else to be, or that the meeting was unimportant to her. She suspected there was an ulterior motive to the harmless beginning and braced herself for the bombshell question to ring through the room.

"Well, I was hoping to check in with you. Make sure you're settling in alright."

"Oh," Dany answered, a little stunned, "I think you're the first person to ask me that. Thank you."

"Everyone assures me you're doing fine but I wanted to see for myself."

She was reminded of their first interaction, in the meeting to negotiate the terms of the marriage contract, when she showed a nasty side of her that wasn't made for first impressions. And she stubbornly demanded something she had no right to.

"I'm adjusting. I know I'm going to miss it while we're south, that's a good sign. Then I can finally stop living out of my suitcase when we return."

"Cat and I have had our fair share of intense touring, it's exhausting but fulfilling. Getting to see the people and the sights, the funny thing about them is their ability to strengthen the bond between a couple. We were already crazy for each other but after our first tour, we were inseparable. Of course, we were married for a while before it happened but it certainly changed our dynamic."

Dany felt ridiculous saying it but she had to be sure, "And you think it will have the same effect for Jon and me."

"In a general sense, not necessarily as romantic partners," Ned assured her but the tone in his voice implied that it wouldn't hurt.

"Got it," Dany replied with a small smile.

Relieved she didn't have to explain the actions of her brother, she felt much more comfortable in the study. No sense of intimidation or otherness existed; she didn't need to establish herself as an unyielding force.

"You should know that Jon used to complain about you whenever the topic came up. Now, he has a much more positive outlook."

"And I feel much the same way."