PLEASE READ THIS - So, without stalling, this is a story about two people who come together by covering up a murder. You can't see much of it in the beginning but as the story goes on it gets to the point so I would advise you to read a few chapters before judging it. I hope you enjoy!
I don't own the characters, just the ideas.
Big thanks to anon named "Bitsyblack", your review on my first upload is what made me rethink taking up this story again, I hope you'll still read it and I really hope you see this! 3
Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. His head is spinning or maybe it's the movement of the train and everything around him that's going so fast. He tries his best to clear his mind, gather his thoughts, try to think of anything that could remotely help him in the moment, but no…all he can hear is that god awful sound…tick-tock.
''Hey, boy-'' a sharp voice across his seat reaches his ears, his head is too heavy to even think about lifting it so he stays put ''-you alright? Someone knocked you pretty hard there.'' The sharp voice belongs to a man in working clothes, his hair is messy, oil stains cover his overalls yet Jon is sure the man doesn't look half as bad as he does. Slowly he lifts his head so he could get a better look and god, he can feel every single muscle twist painfully at the movement. He lets out a small sigh, nothing compared to the internal scream he actually wants to release. He says nothing to the man who seems to have gotten the message and turns his head to look out the window. Jon reaches out to his throbbing head and lightly his fingertips run over the wound there. He grunts at the sight of fresh blood on his fingers. Carefully he tries to get in to a more comfortable position, his hands form fists so he could lift himself. Once again he fails and more pain leaves his body. He winces louder than before, prompting another strange look from the man across him. This time he confronts him with a knowing look.
''It was Mance wasn't it?'' He nods his head up and down while Jon stares at him blankly. ''He kicked you out-'' he leans over while talking excitedly ''-he was cutting people off today, you had a fight with him?'' He stops talking until a realization washes over him, his eyes widen when he looks at Jon and nods knowingly ''It is you, you're Jon Snow, aren't you?''
''Jon Stark.'' He says harshly. The man backs up with his hands up in the air in defense. He leans back in his seat before speaking again. Jon feels tenser than ever.
''Not to him you weren't, you were his star…not that I'd know, regular workers – the stock- he called us, we weren't allowed in the betting circles, but I've heard stories about you, Jon Snow and his daggers.'' He mimics the action of throwing a dagger with his hands all while an excited smile is spread on his worn out face. Jon's jaw clenches, he glares at him coldly, hoping he would get the message but this guy can't put it to rest.
''What happened, did you stab him, word is he was deeply wounded, is that why you were kicked out?''
''I don't want to talk about it.'' Jon hisses, he lets his head down so it almost touches his knees. The blood from his forehead starts dripping over the train floor and his shoes but he couldn't care less.
''He was mad when he came to the workshop earlier, you must have done something to piss him off-''
''I said I don't want to talk about it.'' This time Jon yells earning glares from all around the train. The man's mouth drops slightly in shock, the silence that encounters a confirmation that he got the memo this time and Jon can continue brooding to himself.
It's already dark outside when he gets off the train. He can walk on his own which is an improvement from the crawling state he was in when getting on the train but his body aches with every step he takes. He digs in his right pants' pocket to find the scrunched up piece of paper he's looking for. The street lighting is nothing if poor making him struggle to read anything on that tiny piece of paper. He squints his eyes to get a better look and ultimately makes out the tent like shape with white and red stripes and a washed out flag that reads 'Westeros Circus'. In his faint memory there is a road he has to follow, woods, train tracks…the spinning in his head is back making him weaker and weaker. He can't stop now. He has nowhere else to go.
There are head lights in the distance, whether they belong to a rushing car or a train he can't bother to find out, he appreciates the smallest tracks of light nevertheless. He is exhausted, the weight of his suitcase feels heavier than ever, his system lacks food, water, rest…if he stops now he isn't sure he's ever going to get back on his feet so he ignores the pain, pushes the sleep deprivation away and keeps on walking. If it were any other day he would greatly appreciate the wonderful forest scenery around him. Why people are afraid of dark was never clear to him, how could anyone be afraid of something that makes everything so mysteriously wonderful. The shadows, tall trees surrounding him, the faint sound of water crackling somewhere deeper in to the woods, it all sooths him. Maybe he appreciates it so much because he spends most of his days in the back of a car workshop or that's what people think he does. Well, what he used to do.
His deep thoughts put him in such a state he doesn't even realize how close to his destination he is. It's only when the bright lights in front of him hit him that he notices. In a second he stops dead in his tracks. It is only a few lined up trailers which look way to extravagant to be for everyday use, each and every one of them has the Westeros Circus logo on them. That's good, he figures, he can't be at the wrong place. His mouth opens lightly as a silent gasp leaves his bruised lips. He takes a moment to process things, something that seems impossible at the moment. His heart is thumping so hard against his chest he is positive it will rip through his flesh eventually. His palms are sweaty, his breathing uneven. The sight is so overwhelming he isn't sure how to feel. Relieved? Excited? Terrified? You name it. He tries his best to calm himself by taking a few steady breaths. He should have thought this trough better than he did. Good decision making is something he isn't very talented at, this being a fair proof. For heaven's sake you cannot just show up at a circus in the middle of the night and join in. It seemed like a good idea this morning when he was beaten up and out of a place to live, when he burned with anger and liquor.
Without thinking he takes another step closer. He repeats to himself over and over again You have nowhere else to go. That sentence alone brings him to the very doorstep of one of the trailers. By his estimation it is far after midnight, he hesitates on what his next action should be. Carefully he presses his ear closer to the door looking for any sign of people in there. The noise is louder than he had expected, all male voices. He hears grunting, bickering, fighting even. It makes him step back in an instant. With shaky hands he loosens up the buttons on his dress shirt and clears his voice. It comes out louder than he intended, seemingly he isn't the only one who noticed. The trailer quiets down so much he can hear footsteps on the other side of the door. Idiot. Well it's too late to get out of it now, isn't it? His jaw tightens, his hands ball in to fists ready for anything, but he is tired, oh so tired and if this goes the wrong way there won't be much of him left. He can already imagine his face on the covers of daily papers, the bold black title reading 'Beaten up to death at the age of 22'. Father would be proud, he sarcastically thinks to himself.
The trailer's door opens and he steps back once again. He swallows all of his air and takes in the appearance of the man in front of him. A good three heads taller than him, muscle on muscle, dark braided hair that goes down to his waist and a sharp beard which gives his whole face a sunken look, his brows cast a shadow over his eyes making him that more frightening.
'' What is this-'' he speaks with a heavy accent that Jon can't quite place, European maybe. His brows furrow angrily as he stares down at Jon. In the past six years Jon has fought strong men, he has fought big men, armed men, but he has never felt more terrified than he is looking up right now. ''-Looking for trouble?''
Jon opens his shaky lips to disagree, but before he utters a letter another voice starts speaking.
''What is it Drogo-'' a blonde man peaks his head through the door. Jon makes a grimace at the sight of him, he can't decide whether it's his wicked grin or the fact that he has the blondest, almost platinum hair. The blonde doesn't appreciate his shocked stare, he gives Jon an angry look followed by a smirk.
''What do we have here?'' He speaks and Jon swears this guy is a villain from some sort of a fairytale…or a nightmare. His eyes are periwinkle blue with hues of purple. He feels more than uncomfortable under his analysis so he straightens his posture and toughens up. The blonde guy stops staring, his eyes move to the giant man who looks just about ready to rip Jon in half but neither of them really move.
''Who are you?'' Blonde speaks, he's only whipped out two sentences so far and Jon already can't stand him. There's something about him that gives him the worst kind of chills, Jon's rarely wrong with his intuition.
''Jon.'' He says coldly, the tiredness has worn off him, it doesn't even sound like his voice anymore.
''Jon?-'' The blonde speaks suspiciously and starts walking around him, he feels like he's getting interrogated. He gulps quietly to regain his tough posture, he's been through worse. ''Just Jon?'' When he doesn't answer back the blonde gets visibly irritated. ''What are you doing here, Jon?'' He accentuates his name in a mocking manner. Jon tightens his fists so hard his knuckles turn completely white.
''Yes, what are you doing here-'' the guy with a heavy accent speaks, ah Drogo, or something like it. ''-You're not here for the late night show, are you?'' It's a rhetorical question yet Jon feels a strong urge to answer anyways, the insatiable need inside of him to somehow get himself in to trouble almost gets the best of him.
''Excuse the materialist in me… but a boy this well dressed…you didn't just get lost in the woods, did you? You're from the city-'' The blonde guy keeps circling him, pondering his beard and nodding indifferently. ''-how exactly does a city boy such as you find himself where he is right now. Tell me, I'd love to know.''
Jon doesn't move a muscle, if he acted out on his impulses his hands would be around the blonde guy's neck stopping him from ever uttering another word.
''Still not talking, huh-'' it all happens in a blink, he doesn't have a chance to react.
''Viserys!'' Drogo warns but not fast enough. Before Jon knows it a sharp piece of metal is pressed against the veins on his neck. The knife feels like ice against his skin, he sees its reflection and a reflection of his own fear in Viserys' eyes.
''Well if this doesn't rip a word out of your pretty throat I don't know what will.'' He threatens. Jon's mind goes into overdrive, he figures that even this tired he still has enough strength to take him down, but the determination in Drogo's eyes tells him he shouldn't bother trying anything. Oh if only he could disobey his own need to dominate just once. With one swift move Jon wiggles out of Viserys' hold, pushing him on the ground as he does so. The blonde tries his best to get up but Jon is quicker. Being both heavier and the more muscular one he keeps him on the ground without a struggle.
''Drogo, you imbecile-'' Viserys screams pinned underneath Jon's weight ''-do something, kill him! Kill him. Get off of me, you bastard.'' For a second Jon stops every movement. He blankly stares down at him. Bastard. It's a simple insult, oh but the word has such a different meaning for Jon. It's the final drop. The beast inside of him is unleashed and he starts hitting back. He doesn't even care what part he is hitting, madness comes over him. Soon enough Viserys is nothing more than a human punching bag and Jon doesn't intend to stop. A lot of times he has wondered what it felt like to feel nothing, not anything at all. This is the closest he's ever been to that feeling.
He could have killed him right then and there but the screaming and scratching from the man under him got too painful for his companion to watch. Jon feels a pair of strong hands violently grabbing him by his shoulders and trusting him hard on to his back. This time Drogo is the one holding the knife against his neck and there isn't much for Jon to do than say his last prayers or whatever is expected of people to do right before their death. He has heard people telling stories about your whole life passing in front of your eyes right before you're about to die. Another lie. His eyes shut with force and all he can see is his father standing above him with a leather belt, the words ''You're a bastard Jon, that's all you're ever going to be.'' echoing through the walls of his childhood room.
Just when he is about to accept the fact that he is about to die the most pathetic death of all under the hand of the most egregious person he has ever met the door of the trailer swings once again. A part of him doesn't even want to look, he just wants it to be done.
''What in seven hells-'' a raspy voice murmurs ''-the hell is happening out here?!''
Jon registers an oddly familiar voice, he brings himself to open his eyes but can't connect the face with a name. Drogo's hand that holds him in firm place tightens.
''An intruder-'' Drogo grunts ''-It's taken care off. You know how things work Stannis… You don't look, you're not involved, so turn around.'' He commands coldly.
''That's not an intruder-'' Stannis gasps ''-that's Jon Snow.''
''That's Jon Snow.'' The words linger in the air for a while. Jon allows himself to open his eyes. He expects to see a familiar face but finds himself staring in to a complete stranger. The stranger returns the look but a much sterner one, he stares at Jon in disbelief and Jon fails to dig his face out from his memory. Their intense eye contact is interrupted by Viserys' irritated growl. Blood is dripping down his face, half of his features swollen.
''I don't care is he's the fucking queen of England, I'm about to rip his pretty little face off.''
He lunges forward but a strong hand grabs him by his shirt, dragging him backwards so he falls back on to the ground, lost in a heap of dust. Drogo steps in front of him, finally releasing Jon from his grip. Jon's hands immediately seek for his throat, rubbing up and down to release the pressure. He winces as his hand runs over the cut on his neck, droplets of blood smudge all over his hands.
''Damn it.'' He mutters under his breath. It takes a second for him to notice that the people around him formed a circle, each pair of eyes staring intensely in his direction.
''You let him go-'' Viserys yells impatiently from the ground ''-why did you let him go?''
''Quiet.'' Drogo gives him a deadly look, even though he isn't at the other end Jon gets shivers all over his spine. Just to think this beast of a man almost killed him a few minutes ago makes him nervously sick to his stomach. Even Viserys seems to get the message and stays quietly put, his jaw visibly tightens, his once purple eyes turn darker and narrower.
''Who is this man then?'' Drogo speaks loudly. Stannis takes a step forward, his hands rest securely over a bulge in his pocket that looks oddly like a gun.
''Jon Snow-'' Jon's blood rises at the mention of that damn name, Snow. He opens his mouth to correct him but stops mid breath, if this man is trying to save him from being gang murdered or beaten up he really has no say in it. He shuts his mouth in a tight line. ''-he works for Mance.''
At the very mention of that name half of the crowd around him changes behavior. A middle aged man behind Stannins says the name then spits on the ground as if he had poison in his mouth, a boy next to him rolls his eyes with irritation. Drogo's hands form tight fists, his words are strained trough his teeth when he speaks.
''Mance.'' He mutters in disbelief, he lets out a sarcastic smirk not at all amused with this situation. He looks like he's at the very end with his patience, Jon can only wonder when those fists will make contact with his face.
''I can't believe I'm saying this but Viserys is right, should've gotten rid of him, we don't need no Mance's rats snooping around here. Haven't we been through enough already, haven't all of you had enough?'' The young man who stood behind Stannis speaks with disgust. A few of the other man nod their heads respectively, some of them sending Jon nasty, unwelcoming looks.
''I'm not one of Mance's people. I no longer work for him.'' Jon finally raises his voice. Drogo immediately turns to him, anger shinning trough his eyes. His brows are furrowed in determination. Jon gulps regretting saying anything in the first place. What is he supposed to do, he's gonna die anyways, he's sure of it now. At least he will die knowing he didn't spend the last seconds of being alive by feeling completely useless like for the most of his life.
Jon isn't facing Drogo's direction but he can see by the smirk on Viserys' face that the giant was getting ready to rip him apart. He hears heavy footsteps steadily walk towards him.
''Wait-'' Stannis growls ''-he saved my life.'' Drogo stops in place, everyone's eyes are now glued to Stannis, including Jon's, his are the widest. Saved his life? You don't just forget saving someone's life, do you? Well Jon certainly can't remember doing anything that could benefit anyone. Is this man lying just to protect him? Could be but why bother, he's just another lost and found intruder, no man is crazy enough to put their life on the line for a kid they just unofficially met. Think Jon, think. Stannis…Stannis…the name is as foreign to him as it could be.
''I-I was in dept-'' Stannis stammers and steps upfront ''-I got a little carried away at Mance's little shop, you know…didn't think what I was doing, put in a lot of money on a fight that ended badly for me. I-I lost everything, there was not a single bill in my pocket by the end of the night…and you know how Mance is-'' he speaks nervously ''- he wanted his money right then and there otherwise he said I was gonna pay with my life. He already had his bat out, that's when this kid came along…''
Just like that it all starts coming back to Jon. It happened two months ago, it was one of the first fights that started his feud with Mance in the first place. Stannis was just another nobody who owed to Mance and Jon was specially fired up following his latest fight. At the time he was angry at himself for defending this guy and getting beaten up by Mance's people afterwards, but right now it seems like the smartest decision he has ever made.
''He flattened him with the ground, I thought that son of a bitch was dead for a second. I'm telling you, this kid-'' he looks at Jon who stares at him intensely ''-he's something.''
Everyone is quiet after his confession. People are no longer staring at Jon like he is from another planet, now everyone just seems reserved to themselves, deeply indulged in their own thoughts. Drogo looks down at Jon, with a huff he extends his arm motioning for Jon to get up. He does as silently asked of him and dusts off his now wrinkled clothes. With a sigh of relief he dares to make eye contact with Drogo. There is something unnerving in the way this man peers in to him, Jon tells himself to calm the fuck down, he even tries a stupid breathing exercise he learned once in school. Realizing his heavy nervous breathing will give him out he stops and simply stares back with much wanted determination. Without breaking contact Drogo speaks to Stannis.
''And what do you propose we do with him?''
''Just let him go, he'll return back to his life, we'll play another round of poker and tomorrow we'll put on a show. We'll never see the boy again.'' Stannis pleads. Jon almost wants to laugh… return back to his life? Nothing more than unimaginable and nothing less than impossible.
Viserys starts fidgeting again, releasing intentional, displeased huffs and eye rolls. That boy who wants him dead more than anything starts pacing, distancing himself from the situation. Drogo breaks his silence and for that matter breaks eyes contact with Jon, giving him the opportunity to breathe again.
''No-'' he says with a wicked grin playing in the corners of his mouth. Jon's heart starts thumping loudly again. ''-the boy stays.''
Everyone turns around to look at Drogo in shock, even Stannis stands there with his mouth agape. He starts shaking his head in confusion. Before anyone has a chance to ask questions Drogo speaks.
''You look like a strong man, I need strong men around here, if you're as good as your little charity case said, there should be no problems, should there…mister Snow?'' He drawls out with his heavy accent. Jon's brain goes in to overdrive. Work here, as if actually join a freaking circus?! It all seemed like a fun idea earlier when he was drunk out of his mind and had nowhere to go. He still doesn't, but he's sober as he'll ever be and the bare idea of doing such an extravagant thing scares him out of his mind. There's really no refusing, though. This isn't a job offer, this is a do or die thing. Literally, do this or you die, Jon.
''I'll take your indifferent silence as a yes.'' Drogo turns around and starts walking back to his trailer when Viserys jumps up, blocking his way in.
''Are you insane. This peasant will not work for my circus.'' His voice reeks with emotion. He spits his words out before chewing them, something Drogo doesn't appreciate all too much.
''Your circus?'' Drogo laughs villainously in his face, daring him to provoke further.
''Our circus-'' Viserys yells with annoyance ''-he doesn't have any skills, for someone as huge as you, I'd expect there's a brain in that big head of yours.'' Viserys continues. It only takes a slight push like that for Drogo to go overboard. He gives Viserys a forceful shove and pushes him against the trailer, his feet are dangling in the air while Drogo keeps him safely pinned by his neck.
''I would think twice the next time I decide to open my worthless mouth….if you'll even have one.'' He releases his grip so Viserys falls on all fours under Drogo's shadow. ''If you have any concerns, take it up with him-'' he motions towards Jon ''-although I doubt that's a good idea judging by how well you stood up to him ten minutes ago.'' Viserys stays on the ground, his face is velvet, embarrassment and anger kick in simultaneously. He gives Jon a deadly look, something tells him this won't end well. Well, a lot of things support that thesis.
''Take him to the ring Stannis. Let him experience the real show first.'' Drogo orders, Jon's brows furrow in confusion, it must be somewhere past three, he is sure of it. A show in the middle of the night makes no sense in any way, besides half of the performers are right here. Is this really what he think it is, did they really let him be without a scratch or is this just some kind of sick ploy to mess with him… pushing his doubts aside he follows Stannis and the rest that were heading towards the huge tent embellished with white and red stripes, it looks exactly like it did on the picture, only he never imagined it to be so enormous. Figures, with all the exotic animals and air stunts they are pulling off. As they get closer the noise on the inside gets louder. Some faint seductive music is playing, the sound of clinking glasses echoes off the thin walls. None of this adds up, in this very moment he has no idea where he is and what this is supposed to be. In all words it seems like they're approaching a brothel rather than an active circus. He keeps this to himself; he's walking on thin ice and the last thing he wants to do is offend anyone.
Stannis stops walking and grabs him by his upper arm making them both stay behind. Jon's eyes widen in surprise. Stannis clears his throat and whispers. ''Now listen, you better not mess this up, alright? I put not only my life on the line for this but yours too-'' His eyes keep checking back and forth from Jon's to the moving group to check if no one is listening ''-so if you have any plans to run away in the middle of the night, you're sentencing me and you to death, get that?''
''I understand-'' he starts but is quickly cut off.
''-Don't think they won't find you, you think Mance is the worst thing that could happen to you? Well you're wrong, all of us in here might seem like a tight community but it's really just waiting for someone to stab you in the dark. Stay out of trouble.'' He lets go of his arm that must have bruised by now ''Also, always carry a knife on you, Viserys-'' he pinches the bridge of his nose in deep thought, trying to find the right words to say ''- he's insane, sometimes all it takes is one look at someone who's never done anything to him and he proclaims them his arch enemy…and with you, well, I'd say he already has a really good reason to hate you.''
Jon nods in silence. He follows Stannis in step, soon enough they catch up with the group. None of them seemed to notice they were behind as everyone had their own troubles over their heads. Viserys looked most invested in his thoughts. His brows were furrowed, jaw tight. Jon remembers Stannis' warning and shivers. He is so occupied by observing people around him he doesn't notice they're at the very entrance. When he checks out of his reverie everything instantly becomes brighter, the music louder, the tent seems taller.
''Jon Snow-'' Stannis speaks with a wide grin on his skinny face ''-welcome to Westeros.'' With one swift move he pushes the curtain aside. Jon takes a step forward, just enough to enter. He finds himself immediately lost in the glamour. More so, the realization that this isn't what he has been expecting turns out to be completely true. He's only been to a circus twice so he can't act like an experienced man but he is positive there shouldn't be an evening piano, crystal chandeliers, a bar filled with liquor and burlesque performers entertaining suited up gentlemen who sat at the bar.
Jon quirks an eyebrow and sends Stannis a rather confused look. Stannis laughs at his reaction and drags him in by his arm. ''Not quite what you'd expect, is it?''
Jon can't find his words so he simply shakes his head no. His eyes are unable to rest on one spot at the time, he frantically goes over every little detail, desperately trying to put two and two together but it doesn't come along.
''We're pretty successful you know, world famous even, you try to find a country on the world map where there is a person who has yet to hear about us, I dare you.'' He goes to one of the bars and orders some dark liquid Jon can't recognize. He downs it instantly. His hand invites him to take the seat next to him, Jon obliges without a word.
''I still don't understand, I thought this was a circus.''
''Oh but it is….but let me tell you one thing, being a day time circus in this very time isn't very economical…it doesn't bring the big bucks, not since the god damn Lannisters and their god damn lion show-'' he says with disgust ''- they were our attention grabbers, everything was going so smoothly until the one who we shall not name, the head of the lion family-'' he mocks ''- decided he was tired of sharing money with useless circus performers…they fled over the night, started their own little show…they've been stealing the spotlight ever since.'' He raises his hand to call in a waitress. ''You still look rather confused.'' He comments, then orders another drink on the rocks. ''This wonderful place we call Westeros is now an eventful family circus during the day and a very very eventful nighttime burlesque club-although some of the girls don't seem to understand the concept and act like it's a brothel after their respective performances. It aint' pretty but it brings in a lot of money.''
Jon stays quiet, he tries to process his thoughts, figure out where his head is with this whole situation but can't put together one meaningful thought. Very quickly he gives up on this and decides to simply let things settle on their own.
''Thank you darling-'' Stannis swiftly thanks the red headed waitress who responds with a wink of her own. Not so subtly she eyes Jon from head to toe, nodding with delight.
''And where did you find this handsome stud?'' She says while pouring another glass of dark liquid, this one she slides over to Jon. He's still feeling the consequences from his latest drinking spree but accepts the drink anyways. One won't hurt, if anything it will release the tension.
''This is Jon, our newest addition-'' Stannis introduces ''-and this is Ros, our most beautiful staff member.''
''Funny, you said the same thing about Margaery just earlier.'' Ros returns with a knowing smirk. Jon finds their interaction amusing and smiles a little himself. The woman is in all words beautiful, one of the most beautiful he's ever seen. Every female he has encountered so far in here is not your average beauty, they all have something special, exotic about them…or maybe it's the alcohol talking again. Soon enough he realizes he's staring, his cheeks blush in response. He downs the rest of the drink, slightly changing his position so now he has a perfect view to the stage. A sharp red head named Sansa has just finished her performance and is bowing down while the crow cheers, some of them whistle, there are even ones who stare emotionlessly but still throw rolled up dollar bills for her to pick off the stage. She is very well built and tall but this doesn't hide the fact that she is way too young to be doing this. It makes Jon's stomach twist, a girl this young and fragile should be at home, safely tucked in to her bed, not dancing around in provocative clothing to please men for money. The announcer, a guy Jon recognizes as one of the man from earlier, thanks Sansa and starts working up the crowd for another performer.
''And now, gentlemen, praise yourselves as you are about to witness the most enchanting, the most beautiful, the most stunning performance by an even more stunning performer. Her name is Daenerys, but we also know her as the amazing Girl on fire.'' He gets louder towards the end to build up the excitement. It seems to work perfectly, the crowd is filled with cheers before this girl even shows up on stage. The lighting changes from a bright yellow to a much more subtle, romantic one. The piano starts playing the notes of a song that sounds awfully familiar. The velvety red curtain on the stage is parted by a pair of delicate pale hands. Jon is so engrossed in her perfectly shaped thin legs that follow afterwards that he doesn't even notice her face at first.
''Birds flying high you know how I feel'' she sings and his heart flutters. She is so goddamn good he is half sure it's playback. This finally urges him to trace his eyes up her doll like figure to her face and he is done…so so done. For a sole minute he just stares shamelessly like a child staring at a piece of candy. His eyes trace the lines of her jaw admiring its perfection, he continues on to her lips, they look so soft even from here. He gets way too carried away and starts thinking what it would be like to kiss those lips… heaven, he is sure.
''Sun in the sky you know how I feel'' the way her lips shape every word… it has to be her singing, there's so much soul to it. It's just that all of this is too surreal for him, this whole night has been. It's stupid to say at least, for him to be acting so immature, like it's the first time in his life he's seen a girl. Not the first time, but the first time he realizes what the term star struck stands for. She doesn't make it any easier on him, not with the seductive swaying of her hips to the rhythm of the song, especially not by that vicious smile or the fact that she also smiles with her eyes. How often do you see that in people? The lighting in the room suits her nicely. It brings out the color in her cheeks, reflects off her silver like hair. The song goes on, it's over before he even gets a chance to get himself together. Too soon for his liking she is bowing down, smiling coyly at the loud crowd who demands more. Without thinking Jon stands up from where he is pleasantly seated. He walks closer to the stage, if only to catch the last glimpse of her as she makes her final bows. He notices she is the only one of the performers who doesn't collect the bills people throw at her, he wonders why. Is she too shy…or too proud to do it?
''Thank you, thank you all very much.'' She says gracefully, she picks up her silvery gown in order to get going, the announcer is already there and much to everyone's disappointment it is time for her to leave the stage.
''How 'bout a private show?'' One of the rich men in the crowd asks while grinning. She raises her brow to this. Jon gets angry for no evident reason and narrows his eyes at the gentleman in question. He then switches his eyes to Daenerys, just to see her reaction. It is then when for the first time her periwinkle eyes look back at him. Her lips are slightly opened in an unspoken comeback to the man in the crowd. As soon as her eyes catch Jon's her jaw slightly drops, she shuts it quickly. She finds herself unable to look away. Jon stares back with a new found intensity, there is a storm brewing inside of him. He tries to make sense of anything he is feeling in this very moment. One word comes to his mind to describe it perfectly. Fire.
So this is about it for the first chapter. I know this is an unusual story but I would love to hear what you guys think so far. Would you be interested in reading more? I would love to continue this but I have to know if it's worth the time and devotion. So please review, favorite, follow, PM me. Your opinion is what matters the most now. Thank you all in advance. I'm still in college so sometimes I don't have an opportunity to write, but I will try my best to update at least once a month, that is, if the story catches on.