Daenerys
Daenerys walked through the streets of King's Landing with Ser Barristan, smiling and nodding to those who greeted her. The people had grown accustomed to seeing her wandering the streets, as multiple times per week for the last several, she had walked this exact route to the same small shop owned by a young and exceptionally talented blacksmith. No one had questioned this routine thus far, but her Queensguard had suddenly gone silent on the subject of her business in the city, and those on her small council had begun to linger after council meetings, almost as if they wished to talk to her about something, but they would bustle away before she gave them leave to speak. She knew that it was only a matter of time before they confronted her.
I'm the queen, I can do as I please, She told herself.
Your father did as he pleased… She could hear what would be Tyrion's only response to such a statement.
Don't be so sure, Khaleesi, Jorah's voice echoed in the back of her mind. Royals and nobles marry to strengthen political alliances, and this man has nothing to offer.
But maybe that's why I'm attracted to him. He doesn't kneel to me every time I walk into his shop, he doesn't try to give me free things, he doesn't ask me for favors, and he doesn't rant to me about what I can do better. I'm just Daenerys to him.
She walked up the front stairs to the door of the blacksmith shop and turned to Ser Barristan. "I don't know how long I'll be, so you have my leave to do as you please for the afternoon, Ser Barristan."
"Your Grace," He smiled and nodded and turned to walk back up the street, most likely to Her Majesty's Royal Tavern. He offered no argument, as they had had this exact exchange many times since she had started visiting Jacen regularly.
She took a deep breath and pushed the shop door open and stepped inside to the thunderous echo of a hammer striking an anvil amid the now-familiar scent of sweat, ash, and burning metal. Another departure from the exotic and sweet smells of her chambers in the Red Keep or her throne room, but it had become most welcome over the past weeks.
Seconds later, the sound stopped and Jacen appeared behind the counter. "Right on time, Your Grace," he pushed a stray brunette hair out of his face, damp with sweat and spotted black with soot. This, too, had become a welcome sight.
"Enough of that," she smiled as she walked further into the shop. "When we're alone, it's just Daenerys."
"Of course," he gave her that playful lopsided grin that had come to make her knees weak. "How are you, Daenerys?" he asked as he grabbed a nearby damp washrag and wiped the soot from his face.
"I'm well," she perched herself on a stool across the counter from him. "Busy day?"
"Not especially," he shook his head as he dipped the washrag into a bowl of water and squeezed it out into a nearby sink. "Just working on some projects that I've fallen behind on lately. I've been too busy entertaining the queen."
"You have, indeed," Daenerys smiled and leaned her elbows on the counter, "and, rest assured, I have been entertained."
"Then my purpose in life is fulfilled, Your Grace," he gave a deep bow, and they both laughed.
"Are you working on the request from Lord Commander Snow for the Night's Watch?"
"I just finished everything this morning and sent them off shortly before you arrived. They should arrive within a moon if all goes well."
"Do you think he'll be satisfied?"
Jacen shrugged his shoulders. "The Lord Commander is a hard man to read, but I think he'll find it sufficient. Ser Barristan tested one of the swords out for me and gave me a second opinion on the lot, and he seemed pleased."
"Oh, so his insults were always a joke, then?"
"I tell myself that," Jacen smiled.
An uncharacteristically long silence passed between them, and Daenerys could almost feel the air getting more tense by the second. Jacen seemed to become very interested in something on the floor that he was scuffing at with his boot. Just as she was about to ask him if everything was okay, he looked up at her and fixed her with those deep, green eyes.
"Would you like to join me in the workshop?" Jacen asked, sounding as if he had unintentionally blurted it out. "I have a surprise for you."
"A surprise?" she raised an eyebrow.
"A surprise," he nodded and motioned for her to follow.
She walked around the counter and followed him back into the workshop that adjoined the storefront.
The room that held his forge and anvils was almost impossibly hot, even for a woman who had stood in the center of a blazing inferno on two occasions, and smelled strongly of sweat and burning metal. She had learned very quickly that a dress was the wrong clothing for coming anywhere near this shop, so she had resorted to a loosely fitting pair of tan pants and a short-sleeve white shirt. Hammers and partially-molded chunks of metal were scattered about the workshop, but she got the sense that Jacen could tell her where anything in the entire store was without thinking. He walked over to a nearby table, grabbed a partially-worked piece of iron, walked over to a nearby anvil, and set it down on top of it. He then grabbed an apron off of a nearby wall hook on his way back over to her.
"Turn around," he said with no preamble.
She did as he said, and he swung the apron around her and pulled it over her head. She felt the gentle pressure in the small of her back as he tied it, sending shivers up her spine. He then gently grabbed her hair and pulled it through to free it from the head-loop of the apron, his fingers brushing lightly against her neck and almost bringing forward a gasp.
Control yourself! He's just a man.
"Now," he said, and Daenerys turned around to face him, hoping that she wasn't blushing.
She looked from him to the piece of metal sitting on the anvil and raised an eyebrow.
"I thought it would be fun to show you how to make a shortsword," he said, his cheeks beginning to take on a light red hue as a hint of uncertainty creeped into his voice to contrast the confident demeanor he always projected. "We could do it together."
Now she knew she was blushing.
"That sounds amazing," she smiled and started to walk forward, but he held up a hand to stop her.
He grabbed a pair of tongs and a hammer from the table and walked over to her and slid them into two pockets on the front of the apron. She almost fell forward as the weight of the hammer fell roughly into the loop. "There," he said. "Now you're ready." He walked over to the anvil with a noticeable spring in his step and beckoned her over. She obeyed, restraining a smile at how animated and excited he had suddenly become. He grabbed the crudely-shaped bar off of the anvil, placed one end of it into the fire, and turned back to her.
He pointed to different places and tools in his workshop and explained the uses of various tools and apparatuses with perfect clarity. Daenerys asked questions, and he answered each in turn, growing more animated by the second when he saw how engaged she was. When finished, he pulled the heated piece of iron out of the fire and placed it on the anvil.
"This will be the blade," he pointed to the heated portion that glowed a bright orange. "I've already worked out the impurities and formed the handle. Come look."
She walked over to join him at the anvil, unfazed by the heat.
"Heating it to such a high temperature turns it into the consistency of hard clay. Using a hammer, we can mold it into whatever shape we like. Once we're satisfied with the shape, we quench it in oil or water to harden it and make it maintain its shape."
"How do we start?" she looked over at him.
He grabbed the piece of iron firmly by what would eventually be the handle, pulled the hammer out of his apron, raised it level with his ear, then brought it down hard on the orange part of the piece of iron.
CLANG!
The sudden sound made her ears ring, but Jacen was unfazed. He stepped back and nodded toward it.
"Your turn."
She walked forward and pulled her hammer out of its loop on her apron. She reached out tentatively and grabbed the slab of iron. It was warm to the touch, but not overly so. She raised the hammer to ear height and brought it down hard.
Clang!
"Good attempt, but your form is all wrong," he walked up behind her and she almost jumped in surprise as he put his hands on her shoulders and pulled them back. "Strong stance, shoulders set, feet planted firmly on the ground. Hit it hard, but don't just hit it as hard as you can. Strong, controlled swing. Try again."
She took a deep breath to recenter herself after his unexpected hands-on direction.
Clang!
"Much better, but don't hold the hammer so tightly," he walked around her and took it from her. "Hold it towards the bottom, just tightly enough so that it doesn't leave your hand when you swing it." He demonstrated for her. "You want the hammer to have a bit of room to move when you strike something as hard as iron on an anvil, or it'll ruin the muscles in your arm." He handed the hammer back to her, and she emulated his grip.
Clang!
"Better!" Jacen smiled. "You're just not hitting it hard enough. Here," he reached out and placed a hand on top of hers. His grip was gentle, though his hands were rough and covered in soot. She blushed and looked down at the piece of iron to distract herself. He pulled her hand up to ear height and pushed it down hard.
CLANG!
Her ears rang and her arm shook violently with the blow, even in spite of her loosened grip, but she persevered. Jacen slowly took his hand away, and she found herself wishing that he hadn't.
"Try again," he nodded.
CLANG!
"Excellent!" He exclaimed. "Give it another, exactly like that."
She gave it four more hard strikes.
"Perfect!" Jacen gave her a smile full of warmth and encouragement. "But I almost forgot," He disappeared out of her periphery and reappeared seconds later. He held out a small band to her. "Tie your hair back, if you would. I won't be held responsible for singing her majesty's hair."
"How thoughtful," she smiled and looked down at her hands, caked in soot. "Could you?" she glanced over at him.
As if his hands are any cleaner.
"Of… of course. Yes. Absolutely…" he stammered after a brief moment of silence and disappeared from her periphery again.
Seconds later she felt her hair lifted gently and pulled back. He then gathered the loose strands that hung around her face and ears and secured them all together behind her head with the band.
"A gentler touch than my handmaiden," she observed before she could stop herself.
"Growing up with two sisters has its benefits, I suppose."
"I didn't know you had sisters," she said before striking the anvil again.
"I do," he walked into view and leaned against a table adjacent to the anvil. "They're both older than me. One lives in Riverrun and the other in a small town near the Trident."
"What are their names?"
"Rosaria is the oldest, and Jenna is the youngest. I think you'd like them."
"I'd love to meet them sometime," she smiled and glanced up at him before striking the iron again.
"I'd like that too," he returned her smile after a few seconds of awkward silence passed between them.
Too much? It was too much. Gods, deliver me.
They continued to work at the anvil, alternating every so often. Though it had been slow going at first, they quickly fell into a rhythm as Daenerys became more comfortable with the hammer, and the conversation flowed freely as Jacen shared stories from his early days as an apprentice blacksmith and told her more about the technique and qualities required for success in the craft. He spoke with such immeasurable passion that Daenerys found it difficult to focus on anything else, almost resulting in her breaking her hand with her hammer on more than one occasion, which never failed to make Jacen laugh.
Once Daenerys had finished another turn at the anvil, Jacen walked over to it and examined the sword, which had cooled to the typical dull black of iron tinted with a faint shade of orange. Daenerys watched intently, wiping sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand and pushing a few stray strands of hair out of her face, secretly hoping that he would be satisfied.
"I think it's ready to quench now. Come over here," he led her around the table to a barrel filled with what looked like oil. He held the sword out to her. "Take it firmly in one hand and stick it straight in for three seconds, then pull it straight out."
"Why oil?" she looked over at him as she took the sword and stepped up to the barrel.
"Every blacksmith in King's Landing will give you a different answer to that, but in my experience, it's more efficient than water at transferring heat and has a much smaller chance of causing distortions or fractures in the blade."
She shoved the blade in and it hissed loudly as steam billowed up from the barrel in thick clouds that obscured her vision and filled her nostrils with an acrid smell that she didn't recognize. She counted the seconds, and then withdrew it in one swift motion and held it up before her.
"Amazing," she whispered as she slowly turned it in her hand. What had once been a crudely worked slab of iron had become a shortsword, beautiful in its simplicity.
"Your first always is," he smiled and walked over to admire it. He pointed to a nearby rack on the other side of the table from the fire. "Put it there to cool for a while, then I'll show you how to put on the grip."
She nodded and did as directed.
"I missed lunch earlier, so I'm going to grab something from the back office. Care to join?"
"I'd love to," she grabbed a nearby wash rag to wipe her hands. "Is it normal to be this sore?" she asked as she stretched and worked her arms as she followed him. It truly was a dirty and exhausting job, as she had deduced during her past visits.
"Oh, just wait until you wake up tomorrow morning," he grinned as he led her out of the workshop and into a back room. "You'll have a good mind to have me beheaded for putting you through this." He walked over to a nearby icebox, opened the lid, and began rummaging through it.
"If I decide, you'll be the first to know."
"I would be most appreciative, Your Grace."
Daenerys allowed herself a small smile while his back was turned.
He turned back to her holding a small box and gestured to a nearby table, where they sat down opposite each other. He set the box down on the table and opened it. "Deer meat," he said. "Cooked and prepared last night."
"Oh, do you like to hunt?" Daenerys asked as she grabbed a nearby pitcher of ale and two small mugs.
He shook his head. "I used to go with my uncle as a child, but it's not something I stuck with. I have a customer who does, and he always gives me some of what he kills before he sells it."
"It sounds like your customers really think a lot of you."
Jacen blushed and shrugged his shoulders modestly. "Some days, I suppose," he forced a small laugh and returned his attention to the box in front of him.
Jacen pulled two large sandwiches from the box and unwrapped them, their savory aroma mingling with the ever-present scent of heated metal. The makeshift meal felt worlds away from the grandeur of royal banquets, but Daenerys couldn't deny the raw appeal of the moment. His face was caked with soot, and Daenerys imagined that hers was no cleaner, but neither of them cared. If anything, it brought them even closer.
"Daenerys," Jacen said with a grin, offering her a sandwich with a hand covered in soot, "a feast for champions, forged by my own hands." He sat down across from her.
She took the sandwich with a grateful smile, her soot-covered fingers brushing against his. "To champions," she toasted, raising the sandwich and tapping it against his before taking a hearty bite.
The rich flavor of the meat exploded on her palate, and she couldn't help but let out a satisfied sigh as the clear juices from the meat ran down her wrists and her chin, mixing with the black soot on her skin. The rough texture of the bread, the succulence of the meat, and the lingering warmth of the forge combined to create a sensation that was vastly different from any royal delicacy.
"I take it you're satisfied?" Jacen asked after she had taken a large second bite.
"Very," she said around a mouthful of partially chewed meat. Jacen could only laugh at the distinctly improper gesture, almost making her choke as she joined in.
Between bites, they exchanged stories and even more laughter. When Daenerys looked at Jacen, his face illuminated by the light from a nearby brazier, she saw not just a blacksmith, but a passionate man from humble beginnings who had fallen into a job that he adored. A man who had such fond memories of growing up with two older sisters during a time of relative peace in Westeros. As he shared stories of his upbringing, Daenerys came to realize just how different the two of them were, and she found herself wanting to share these memories with him. To make new memories together.
As they finished their sandwiches, Daenerys looked around for a cloth, then settled for wiping her hands on her apron. She looked at Jacen with a sparkle in her violet eyes. "I must admit, Jacen, this has been a better meal than any I've had in the Red Keep."
He grinned, mirroring her sentiment. "Well, sometimes the simplest things bring the greatest joy."
"The company wasn't half-bad, either," she smiled and stretched as he blushed yet again. She looked out of the nearby window and saw that it had suddenly gotten much darker outside. Ser Barristan would be waiting for her by now. She sighed and rose from the table.
"Jacen, I've had an amazing day, but I have to get back to the Red Keep soon."
"Oh," he sounded almost as disappointed as she felt, "of course. Would you like to put the grip on the sword before you leave? It won't take long."
She had almost forgotten. "Absolutely. Lead the way." She followed him back into the shop, glad to have an excuse to stay just a bit longer in this small paradise that they had inadvertently created for themselves this afternoon.
"I've already prepared the leather, so all we have to do is apply the adhesive and wrap it tightly. It dries quickly, and it should be fully dry by tomorrow morning."
He grabbed the sword off of the rack and took it over to the anvil and set it down. He then grabbed a large sheet of leather from the same table the sword had just occupied, passed it to her, and gestured her over to the anvil.
Applying the adhesive and leather to the handle was trivial in comparison to the process of shaping the metal, and Daenerys's arm muscles were immensely thankful. When they were finished and the handle was secured in place, Jacen gingerly picked up the sword by the base of the blade and nodded to a sheath nearby. Daenerys held it before him and he gently tipped the sword into it and slid it down to sit firmly in the sheath. He then buckled the sheathe with a strap around one arm of the crossguard. He held it before him, considering it for a moment, then held it out to her.
"For me?" She asked. "I can't take it, I didn't even pay you for it."
"Of course you can," he smiled and shook it before her. "It's a gift. From one blacksmith to another."
She relented and took it from him in mock exasperation. She ran her hand over the sheath, a fond smile creeping across her face at such a personal gesture that had brought them so much closer. "I know you put a good deal of thought into today, and it means a lot. Truly, it does."
"It was nothing," he waved it away. "The pleasure was mine." He led her to the door of the workshop, but he stopped before they reached the storefront and turned to her. "I'm just glad you enjoyed it too…" His voice trailed off uneasily.
"More than I can say," she responded, a warmness filling her heart unlike anything she had ever felt.
"That's good…" He blushed and seemed to suddenly become very interested in something on the floor.
Without pausing to consider the consequences, Daenerys took a step forward and reached up and placed her right hand on his cheek. She then leaned up and gave him what was intended to be a quick kiss on the lips, and he responded by placing a dirty hand on the back of her neck and pulling her closer to him. She was thankful when he pulled away after several seconds, because she knew that she didn't have the willpower to do so.
They stood unmoving for several seconds, frozen in the moment, then they both laughed as they lowered their hands. When their laughter died, they were left staring at each other in silence, both very aware that they had just crossed a line that could not be easily uncrossed.
"I'll need my apron back before you leave," he broke the silence.
"Of course," Daenerys smiled and begrudgingly stepped back from him to remove it.
"Would you like to come to my house for dinner later this week?" he asked as he took the apron from her. "Maybe we could spend more time together in a less physically demanding setting."
She chuckled and nodded, melodramatically stretching and working her arms again. "I'd love that. The night after tomorrow?"
"I'm looking forward to it," he smiled and led her through the storefront and to the front door. "Until then, Daenerys Stormborn."
"Until then, Jacen Senneck," she returned his smile and nodded and stepped out into the night. She looked to see Ser Barristan waiting for her at the end of the street. Had he not been waiting, she may have been tempted to run back into the store and kiss Jacen on the cheek in farewell.
"Oh, and one more thing," Jacen poked his head out of the door when she had reached the street, "A hot bath will work wonders for the soreness."
BEHIND THE CHAPTER
The blacksmith/forging the sword scene was one of the first ideas I had when I first sat down to think about the outline for this story, and it was the first chapter I completely finished! It was always an interesting one to write. It was a struggle to balance character beats that I wanted to include with the realism of a blacksmith forge. In the end, I decided to write all of the conversation and interactions first, then I went through and adjusted a few sections to maximize accuracy. It was a neat challenge.
The lunch scene was a scene I had been looking forward to since the beginning of the story. Something about two people, covered in sweat and ash, eating messy food and laughing was something I found very appealing and almost intimate in a way. It was kind of a stream of consciousness passage that wasn't heavily outlined, I just had the characters do what I thought would be funny or cute and naturally play off of each other instead of forcing them into a conversation that I thought would be natural. I really wanted to show just how different their lives were, but how that didn't actually matter to how they felt about each other.
This kiss was an idea I played with for a good while. I always knew there would be something that happened between them, it just took a while to figure out what it would be. I originally had it as a quick kiss before Daenerys leaves without looking back, then I settled on a deeper kiss that neither wanted to pull away from, especially after all of the lingering smiles and touches from throughout the day.