I won't spoil anything, but this is the song I was envisioning later in the chapter when I wrote that section if you'd like to listen: watch?v=p0mhYdYIy6s
Barristan
"I appreciate this, Ser Barristan," Jacen said as he walked into the front doors of the Red Keep carrying something under his arm that Barristan didn't recognize.
"Of course, son," he led Jacen into the front hall as the doors closed behind them. "So long as our arrangement is still in place?"
"Of course," Jacen nodded. "You're sure it's not too much trouble?"
"Not at all," Barristan waved it away. "A few of us sit in a tavern for a few hours while you two have your fun. Has to be the most desirable evening I've had as a knight in some time."
As he led the young man through the halls in the direction of Daenerys's chambers, he couldn't help but wonder if he should feel guilty for so openly supporting their relationship
You'd be doing her a disservice not to, he told himself time and again. After all she's been through, she deserves someone who actually makes her happy instead of someone whose sole purpose is to strengthen political ties with a scheming family.
Tyrion was a more capable Hand than any Barristan had ever seen, and he had seen a fair few during his time serving the Targaryens. He was a brilliant tactician, quick-witted, and the most politically savvy man he had met since Tywin Lannister himself. For all he was, though, Barristan felt that Tyrion sometimes failed to see the humanity in their queen.
Daenerys Stormborn may be the Queen of Westeros, but she was also a young woman who had a terrible upbringing at the hand of a brother who would one day be as cruel as the Mad King himself, had he not met a premature death. She had been sold like livestock and had wandered Essos aimlessly, bruised and beaten and having lost the support of her former followers, until she had stumbled upon moderate success in Meereen. There she had ruled for a time, despised by many, before setting sail for Westeros and ascending to the Iron Throne with minimal resistance. She had then gone on to rule in complete isolation, the final remnant of the Mad King's legacy, doomed to pay for the sins of a man she had never met.
A sad man, who died on the steps of his precious throne with his pants full of shit.
He thought back to the days immediately after she had ascended the crude steel steps of that vile chair that had taken such a toll on her father and driven her brother mad. He had stood guard outside of her chambers those nights and heard her crying in silence, slowly breaking under the stress of uniting a divided country under a queen whose name they almost feared to speak. He had confided this in Tyrion, and he had taken measured steps to ease her burden, but it was little consolation for a woman who was openly despised by all she ruled.
Even today, though her subjects had come to adore her, Barristan knew that there were still many nights where she would lie awake, wondering when the Targaryen madness would take her as it took her father and brother. It was an impossible burden for a young woman to bear alone, as headstrong and independent as she believed herself to be.
And she's barely older than Rhaegar was when he died…
He had assured himself on many occasions that the companionship of a man like Jacen, someone far removed from the royal court and this life she had chosen for herself, could be of great help during this trying time. After worrying for the past two years that she would find herself in a miserable politically favorable marriage akin to that of Robert Baratheon and Cersei Lannister, he had been most eager to stoke the flames of the budding romance between Daenerys and the young blacksmith once it was clear that they were attracted to each other.
If nothing else, she could do far worse. Even her council had to agree with him on that, regardless of their feelings.
"How are things between you two?" Barristan looked over at Jacen as they walked.
There was a long silence between them, and the air had grown noticeably tense. Finally, Jacen spoke.
"Very well," he said simply.
"Very well?"
"Extremely well," he amended.
"I've been around long enough to know that that is hardly a piece of the true answer."
"Promise not to tell Lord Tyrion?"
"He already knows," he waved it away. "We all do."
"That's what I've been telling her," Jacen chuckled. "She's stubborn, you know."
"Oh, I do know. I assure you."
"Well, we've decided to officially pursue a relationship."
"Have you?" Barristan raised an eyebrow.
"As of yesterday, yes."
"That is a surprise," he remarked, "but no," he stopped Jacen before he could rattle off an apology or an explanation for revealing the information before Daenerys could tell him herself. "I won't tell Lord Tyrion. If he doesn't know already, I expect he will after tonight."
"I wouldn't doubt it," Jacen smiled as they climbed the final staircase that would take them to the hallway that held her private chambers.
"Just promise me you'll be careful," Barristan turned to him when they had reached the top of the stairs. "Take care of her." He had always joined Daenerys during her visits to King's Landing, and he had never let her out of his sight.
Is this what it feels like for a father to watch his daughter grow up?
"I will," Jacen nodded. "I promise."
Barristan smiled and inclined his head in acknowledgement and thanks, then he watched as Jacen walked off down the hallway in the direction of Daenerys's private chambers.
Daenerys
The moon hung high in the night sky, casting a soft glow over the quiet streets of the city. Daenerys Stormborn lay in her bed, the silk sheets cool against her skin. Moonlight spilled through the windows, casting a soft glow on the intricately woven tapestries and gilded furniture that surrounded her. She had always liked to leave her curtains open on clear nights to allow the moonlight to trickle in and the slow coming of dawn to wake her.
She couldn't sleep, her mind filled with the weight of the crown she bore and the responsibilities that came with being a queen, but this was hardly a rare occurrence. The worries of ruling the Seven Kingdoms seemed to permeate the very air she breathed, and she couldn't escape the constant hum of responsibility that echoed in her mind. Even with Tyrion Lannister as a trusted and exceptional advisor, the crown felt heavier every day as she navigated the intricate web of ruling the Seven Kingdoms. It was a symbol of both power and authority, but also of great stress and misery.
Just as Aegon the Conqueror intended, I suppose.
Even the grandeur of her chambers offered little solace on these long nights, the quiet of the night merely amplifying the hum of constant reminders of her responsibilities. It was a dull white noise that constantly permeated her thoughts. The weight of leadership, the expectations of her people both in King's Landing and beyond, the ever-present threat of political machinations. Every decision carried consequences, both for her and the whole of Westeros.
Every night, the same question plagued her: I've tried my best, but is it enough?
Tyrion had always told her she was excelling at her position as a young woman tasked with ruling seven kingdoms, but nonetheless she often wondered if she could do more. Sometimes, she even wondered why Tyrion himself didn't sit on the Iron Throne. She had always assumed that it was because no man would bow to a dwarf, no matter how talented and worthy of praise this particular dwarf was. If he were the height of his older brother, he would have the whole of Westeros wrapped around his finger in a matter of days, and Daenerys would gladly be one of them. Most of her biggest and most praised decisions either came from Tyrion directly or were born out of a long meeting with him where he had helped her refine her own ideas.
It was in these solitary moments, when the world outside slept and she lay restlessly awake, that Daenerys felt the true burden of what the Iron Throne demanded of those who would sit upon it. The silence of the night seemed to magnify the distance between the queen and the young woman who bore the title. She contemplated the paradox of being both powerful and powerless, a ruler who bore the weight of her subjects' hopes and dreams, but could not directly impose her will on them without becoming a chilling echo of her father.
I would be just another Targaryen who danced a bit too close to madness.
Beneath her regal and composed air of confidence, she yearned for a reprieve. She yearned for just a day in the life of a humble blacksmith who could steal the heart of a queen. She had dreamed of sitting on the Iron Throne for many years before she took it for her own, but did she ever truly dream of ruling?
As the night deepened, Daenerys continued to lie in bed, a solitary figure in the grand expanse of her chamber. Sleep remained elusive, and the yearning for a reprieve from the crown's relentless grip lingered, as it so often did on these nights. She threw back her sheets and rose from the bed. A shiver ran through her body, covered only by a sleeveless nightgown that went down to her mid-thigh. She grabbed a robe off of a nearby chair, wrapped it around herself, and walked to the window.
She looked down into King's Landing and saw a sea of lights. The distant echoes of revelry from a dozen taverns reached her ears, a stark contrast to the quietude within her chambers. The muffled laughter seemed like a distant melody, a reminder of a world she yearned to touch without the constraints of royalty. Without worrying about people bowing to her, gushing and calling her by her formal titles, or airing their grievances about what they thought she could do better.
She was roused from her musings by a light knock at her chamber doors. She walked over to it and opened it slowly to find Jacen standing in the empty hallway outside, holding a simple red dress. He was dressed as simply as the dress he held, though markedly more clean than she had seen him as a blacksmith. She saw his eyes quickly scan her, and she could almost hear his heart skip a beat.
"Jacen," she smiled in spite of her surprise. "What are you doing here?"
He held out the dress to her, sounding as if he hadn't even noticed that she was wearing her nightclothes. "For you. Get dressed."
"You do know how late it is?" She stepped aside and allowed him into her chambers.
"Of course I do," he smiled and turned back to her.
"Then how did you get in here?"
"I spoke with Ser Barristan earlier this afternoon and asked if I could bring you a gift this evening."
"And he agreed to that?"
"He did, with some stipulations, of course," he added with a shrug and a sly smile. "Now," he held the dress out and shook it. "We don't have all night, Daenerys."
"Okay," she said slowly, grabbing the dress from him and going into the washroom to change out of her nightclothes. She put on her undergarments and the dress over it, and looked at herself in the mirror. Dissatisfied, she grabbed a nearby comb and began running it through her hair.
Where could we possibly be going at this hour? And why would Ser Barristan agree to it? It seems awfully out of character.
"What is this you have planned?" She asked as she continued combing her hair.
"A party," he responded through the closed washroom door, "at my friend's home in the city."
"At this hour?"
"When else?"
She put down her comb, mostly satisfied, and walked back into her room.
"You look… stunning," he said, his voice just above a whisper. "Genuinely."
"Thank you," she smiled, blushing despite her best efforts.
"Well, shall we?" He walked over to the door, opened it, and held out his arm to her.
She walked over to him and slipped her arm into the crook of his elbow, "By all means, lead on."
Daenerys looked around as they walked through the city, bustling with the night life of the commoners she so often envied.
"Is this what King's Landing is at night? Just taverns?" She leaned against Jacen as they walked, her arm still through his.
"Many nights, yes," he looked around. "The occasional brothel, but I can't say I'm familiar with them."
"I'm sure every man in Westeros would say the same." She grinned up at him and squeezed her arm.
Jacen chuckled. "Not as many as you'd think, Your Grace."
"Have you ever been to one?" She whispered conspiratorially.
"Not once," he shook his head. "My friends tried to take me on my sixteenth name day, but I didn't even make it inside," he smiled. "I vomited at the smell as soon as the door opened."
"Working the forges all day and you vomit at the smell of a brothel?"
"It was a bad smell," he said with mock defensiveness. "Maybe someday I'll take you there and see how you like it."
Daenerys laughed. "Taking the queen to a brothel? You certainly know how to stir up a good scandal. Tyrion would have my head if he found out about that."
"I'll be sure to keep that in mind, then," he smiled down at her.
She laughed and hugged herself closer to him and leaned her head on his shoulder for a few steps. He squeezed her arm in his and pulled her closer.
"Where is this party?" She lifted her head and asked after a few seconds of walking in silence.
"Just beyond the edge of town. Straight down this street a ways more."
"And what's the occasion?"
"Does there have to be an occasion for a good party?"
"I suppose not."
"Are you nervous about meeting my friends?"
"A bit, now that you mention it," she said with a shy smile. "Are they expecting me?"
"Of course," Jacen smiled. "One of them practically begged me to invite you so they could meet the girl I've been talking about for weeks."
"That's sweet of you," Daenerys smiled, thankful that the sparse lighting on the streets would hide her blushing.
"You say that now, but wait until you meet them."
"You're not exactly easing the nervousness here."
"I wasn't trying to," he chuckled and squeezed her closer to him. "They're a bit rougher around the edges than the people you're used to in the Red Keep, and a few are more of an acquired taste, but they'll love you."
"Well, let's hope so," she smiled up at him.
They continued down the street to the edge of town. Situated across from a small tavern was a modest home emanating sounds of laughter and revelry.
"That's it?"
"It is," he smiled. "Ready?"
"Of course," she lied, and allowed him to lead her to the door.
Jacen knocked on the door and smiled down at her, visibly excited. The laughter from within quickly died off.
"You've never knocked before, why start tonight?" A man's voice called.
Jacen opened the door, and a rush of warm air and foreign smells washed over them both. Jacen stepped back to allow her over the threshold, then stepped in behind her. The flickering candlelight cast a warm glow, creating an intimate ambiance that contrasted with the grandeur of her chambers in the Red Keep. A group of fifteen or so young people were scattered about the small home, drinking from glass goblets and eating off of small plates. They all looked up at the pair who had just joined them now, however.
As Jacen closed the door behind them, a young man stepped forward and broke the silence. He had black hair that hung messily over his forehead, and he was slightly shorter than Jacen.
He approached within two meters of them, bowed comically low, and declared, "Welcome, Your Grace!"
A ripple of laughter spread through the room, and Jacen couldn't help but roll his eyes with a playful smile. Daenerys, in response, shot a mock glare at the friend who had likely been planning this joke since he had first found out that she would be attending.
However, before she could say a word, he sprang up from his bow and slapped her hard on the shoulder, a boisterous grin on his face. "It's good to see you, Daenerys!"
He pulled her into a hearty embrace, a gesture that felt more like a greeting between old friends than a meeting between a queen and a commoner. Daenerys, caught off guard by the unexpected show of camaraderie, couldn't help but burst into laughter. The weight of titles and formalities dissolved, and soon, everyone in the room joined in the laughter, Jacen included.
With a playful glint in his eye, Jacen's friend released Daenerys from the hearty hug that had engulfed her. As the laughter echoed, Daenerys, her eyes sparkling with amusement, stepped back and playfully adjusted the fall of her dress. The friend who had initiated the boisterous welcome grinned at her.
"Your Grace," he said with another bow, "it seems I may have been too enthusiastic in my greeting. Please forgive me."
Daenerys, no stranger to the complexities of royal formality, responded with a regal nod before smiling and reaching out and giving the friend a hard shove in return. The playful act caught him off guard, and for a moment, he stumbled backward, his own laughter joining the chorus of the room.
"It appears your enthusiasm is contagious.".
More laughter erupted as the friend, a good-natured grin on his face, regained his footing. Daenerys, now fully immersed in the joy of the moment, felt a sense of liberation she hadn't experienced in quite some the guests returned to their food and drink, the young man walked up to her and shoved a goblet into her hands.
"Well played," he tapped the rim of his against hers when she took it. She took a sip and barely managed to stifle a cough. A far cry from the wine they served in the Red Keep, and even worse than the vintages enjoyed by Tyrion.
"This is Harry," Jacen introduced him.
"One of the 'acquired taste' friends?" She smiled slyly and looked over at him.
"Acquired taste?" Harry asked with joking anger. "Whatever he's told you about me I can assure you is a lie."
"Are you the one who burned his beard and eyebrows off trying to impress a woman?" Daenerys raised an eyebrow as she forced herself to take another small sip from her goblet.
He laughed loudly and tapped his goblet against hers again. "The very same. I've never been able to get my beard to grow in like it used to, but she was well worth the sacrifice. Just promise me you won't tell Joanna," he whispered.
Daenerys grinned. "After what you just pulled? No chance."
Harry laughed again and shook his head. "You know, you're a lot more fun to have around than sad eyes, over here." He gestured to Jacen. "I'll tell you one thing, Your Grace — Jacen has smiled more in the past few weeks than he has in years. Whatever you're doing, promise me you'll keep doing it. It's almost made him bearable to be around again."
Daenerys turned around and glanced at Jacen, who was blushing furiously.
"That's something I think I can promise you," she took another sip from her goblet. Deeper this time, though still not as deep as if she had been drinking a reasonably flavored wine.
"Is he this quick to blush with you?" Harry asked as Daenerys turned back to face him.
"A queen never kisses and tells…" She let her voice trail off with a sly smile.
Harry threw his head back and laughed as he slapped her again on the shoulder.
"Next time we have a party, why don't you tell Daenerys where to go and turn in early," he looked around her at Jacen.
"I'll do that, Harry," Jacen responded with a weary smile, clearly accustomed to his jests.
"Now, leave me and go mingle. Everyone's desperate to meet you, Your Grace," Harry gave her a wide smile. "I'll be seeing you later, when your goblet starts running low." He winked at her and took off in the direction of the table covered with foods she didn't recognize.
"Yes," Jacen whispered into her ear as she watched him go. "He is one of the acquired taste friends."
Daenerys laughed and turned to him. "Let's hope all of your other friends make as good of a first impression, then."
Jacen smiled down at her before he led her around the room and introduced her to all of his friends. Some called her by her name, but many took to calling her by her formal title with a wide teasing smile on their face. Daenerys met each with equal amounts of mirth, responding with a joking insult or a comeback drenched in her most regal tone of condescension, which they loved almost as much as seeing a queen shove a commoner. Most hugged her as an old friend, some shook her hand, and one planted a kiss on her cheek that stunk of mead. They were certainly as unique as Jacen had promised.
"Like them?" Jacen asked as he led her over to the table covered with food.
"They're amazing," she smiled.
"Seems you've won them over, too," he smiled proudly and stopped at the table and grabbed a plate. "Now for the true test: how much of what?" He gestured to the table.
"Anything you recommend?" She looked around the table, confirming to herself that she did indeed recognize none of it.
"For a queen? None of it," He passed her the plate and a fork and took one for himself. "Anything look appetizing?"
She looked around the table, intimidated by the sheer scope of what Jacen likely considered a normal spread of food. Her gaze passed over meats of all different colors and types, mushrooms cooked in a strange way that she didn't recognize, small green cakes that looked deceptively similar to lemon cakes, and a distinctly foreign fruit with pink skin and a white core, spotted with black dots that must have been small seeds.
"What's that?"
Jacen gave a small chuckle. "Dragon fruit. Just for you, I suspect."
Daenerys laughed in surprise and reached out and stabbed a large piece with her fork. She gingerly placed it on her plate and turned her attention back to the table. "What else?"
"Nothing nearly as amusing, I'm afraid," he responded as he looked around the table. "Standard fare, for a commoner," he added with a small smile.
She returned his smile and held out her plate for him to take it. "Do your worst, then, commoner."
Jacen
Jacen sat at a table with a group of friends, the ambient sounds of music and laughter weaving through the air. The warmth of camaraderie enveloped him as he shared stories and jests with those who had become an integral part of each others' lives.
His eyes, however, couldn't help but wander across the room, where Daenerys stood amidst a group of young women, all laughing and talking in hushed tones. Her silver-blonde hair caught the flickering light, turning it into a cascade of moonlit strands. She seemed to have effortlessly become a part of their circle, her regality softened by genuine smiles and shared laughter. He felt a warmth in his chest, knowing that he was sharing something extraordinary with someone who, despite her royal stature, had come to mean so much to him.
One of Jacen's friends, Jacque, a grin playing on his lips, nudged him out of his reverie with an elbow. "Well, Jacen, looks like the Queen has found herself a court. What's her story?"
Jacen gave a small chuckle, his gaze never leaving Daenerys. "Her story? Well, she's a queen, Mother of Dragons and all sorts of other titles. But beneath it all, she's Daenerys Stormborn. She loves to explore, tries new things, she's kind, and has a smile that could light up a room."
His friend raised an eyebrow. "And she's here, laughing and mingling with the likes of us?"
Jacen nodded, a sense of pride welling up inside of him. "She's not a queen tonight. She's a woman, enjoying the simple pleasures of life. And it certainly looks like she's making the best of it."
"You're in love," another friend, Louis, said with a smile.
"No," Jacen responded quickly as he turned away from watching her, feeling himself blush. "This is only our second date, and it's not even a proper date."
"Doesn't matter," Louis shrugged his shoulders. "Love knows no timeline, my friend."
"Spoken like a true poet."
"Thankfully somebody notices around here," he smiled and took a bite from a piece of meat sitting on his plate in front of him.
"Admit it," Alex took a sip from her goblet. "You've gone through friends like none other I've ever seen in your life. We've known you since we were kids, and we've seen you go through heartbreak after heartbreak to the point that you could hardly look a woman in the eyes. Now here you are bringing the Queen of Westeros to a shack on the outskirts of King's Landing in the middle of the night, and you've been grinning like an idiot since the moment you showed up."
"Okay," Jacen smiled and shrugged his shoulders sheepishly. "Maybe I do."
"Maybe, he says," their host, Brandon, laughed. "We knew it before we even saw her. You haven't shut up about her for weeks."
"What I want to know," Louis leaned forward, "is how you managed to capture the heart of a queen."
Jacen smiled. "It wasn't about titles or crowns. We just... connected, I suppose. Like I said, she's not a queen; she's just Daenerys, and that's what makes her special."
"Jacen," Alex groaned and put a hand over her heart, "just wait until I tell her you've said that."
"Oh, she'll be thrilled, I'm sure," Jacen laughed and took a sip from his goblet.
"I've seen the way she looks at you," Alex winked at him over the lip of her goblet. "She will be, I promise."
Almost as if on cue, Daenerys appeared next to him and set her goblet down on the table next to his own. She sat down awkwardly on his lap, draped an arm around his neck, and kissed him on the cheek. He instinctively wrapped an arm around her waist to hold her there as he felt his face growing almost unbearably hot. His friends were visibly amused by this, but Daenerys didn't seem to notice.
"Having fun?" Jacen asked.
"Like you wouldn't believe," she laughed and gave him a smile with a look in her violet eyes that melted his heart. She grabbed her goblet and took a sip from it, which had been refilled more times than he had cared to count since they had arrived, mostly by Harry.
"You don't drink often, do you?" Louis looked over at her, amused.
"Not whatever this is, no," she laughed and hiccupped as she returned her goblet to the table and rested her head on Jacen's shoulder.
Clearly an affectionate drunk, he thought, very thankful that they had made their relationship official before tonight.
"The key is to keep drinking until it doesn't taste like piss," Brandon took a sip of his own.
"True enough," Jacque chuckled and did the same.
Before Daenerys could do more than laugh in response, Harry approached with a sly grin. "Your Grace," he began, bowing once more, "may I have this dance?"
"A dance with a commoner?" She lifted her head from Jacen's shoulder and looked up at him and raised an eyebrow.
Harry looked at Jacen, a dumbfounded look on his face. "Don't tell me this man hasn't taken you dancing."
"He hasn't," Daenerys looked back at him with a grin.
Harry's jaw dropped. "Next you're going to tell me he hasn't played his guitar for you."
"He hasn't done that either," Daenerys said with genuine surprise. "I didn't even know he played."
Harry threw his head back and laughed. "Aren't I the worst?"
Jacen shot Harry a quick glare that he likely didn't see.
"Now, that dance?" He held out his hand to Daenerys.
Daenerys laughed and kissed Jacen on the jaw before grabbing her goblet and withdrawing her arm from around his neck. "You may." She smiled and held out her empty hand.
He grabbed Daenerys's newly outstretched hand and pulled her to her feet and whisked her into the center of the sitting-room-turned-dancefloor, and the room watched in amusement as Harry led the Queen of Westeros in a clumsy drunken dance. The music swirled around them, and soon, the entire room was filled with the rhythmic cadence of their laughter and the gentle shuffle of dancing feet.
"Stop blushing!" Louis said warmly, reaching out and giving him a hard shove. "You've finally found a woman worth keeping around!" Everyone else at the table nodded their agreement.
"I know," Jacen smiled at him and turned back to watch the unexpected scene playing out in the middle of the former sitting room. Daenerys, once burdened by the weight of her crown, moved with a grace that transcended royalty. In that moment, she was simply a woman lost in the joy of the dance.
The night unfolded in a symphony of shared moments and newfound friendships. Daenerys, surrounded by open hearts and genuine smiles, seemed to revel in the authenticity of the night. The modest home became a place where the boundaries of status and titles melted away, leaving only the warmth of connection between friends, both lifelong and new. Jacen even shared a rather clumsy dance with her himself.
As the hours passed, the gathering spilled into the yard behind the house, where Brandon had built a small fire pit several years ago. They sat on large logs situated in a circle around the fire underneath a clear sky adorned with stars, sharing stories and laughter around the warmth of the fire as they continued picking at the remaining food they had scavenged from the dwindling table.
The laughter was broken by Jacque appearing at Jacen's side. He looked up at him, and Jacque held out Jacen's guitar. "As always, you know you owe us at least one."
"How could I forget?" Jacen smiled and took the guitar from him. He looked over at Daenerys, who was clearly excited as she swallowed a piece of dragon fruit. He smiled back, in spite of how uncomfortable it made him to have her hear him play.
You love music, and she's excited to share that with you. Don't overthink it.
"What'll it be this time?" He looked around the fire as he absentmindedly tuned the guitar.
"Follow your heart, maestro," Harry raised a newly filled goblet and took a deep sip.
"As you say," he smiled and began to absentmindedly run his fingers along the neck of the guitar.
As it always did, time slipped away as soon as he started strumming the guitar. He immediately lost himself in the music, not thinking about what note to play next or even where to place his fingers. He weaved through different chords and sang of a cabin at the end of a river of memories, a personal favorite of his. All of those around the fire alternated between singing along and simply swaying to the music as they sipped from their goblets and stared into the fire or up at the stars. His heart skipped a beat and he thought he would snap one of the well-worn strings when he felt a pressure on his shoulder and looked over to see that Daenerys had leaned her head on his shoulder as she stared into the fire.
That was what he had always loved about music — the ability to make people lose themselves in the moment and throw their troubles to the wind, even if for a short time.
Jacen finally came to a gentle stop and let the final note ring out into the night. He had learned when he first started playing the importance of savoring the moment and to always leave the audience wanting more. He found a special beauty in forming this connection with others and then gently stepping away — like sampling a fine wine, the magic is lost if consumed all at once. He always liked to leave them with a sense of longing for one more song, to create a memory that would last far beyond this night.
They lightly clapped, but the sound died out quickly as the moment began to fade. Jacen gave a small, polite nod as he set the guitar on the log next to him. All were silent for the better part of thirty seconds, and then Louis took a loud sip from his goblet and launched into one of his stories as if nothing had happened.
While listening to the story of one of Louis's many exploits in the worst of the taverns in Flea Bottom, Daenerys reached out and grabbed his hand, threading her fingers through his. Jacen felt his heart leap, but squeezed her hand in return. He caught Alex's eye across the fire, who took a sip from her goblet to hide her smug smile.
As the fire began to die to a pile of smoldering cinders, Brandon stood up from his spot next to Alex and stretched.
"Well, I have to be at the apothecary in a few hours, so I need to go get some sleep. My place, so see yourselves out if you would."
"Always the welcoming host," Jacque smiled.
"I'd offer you my spare room, but I'm still trying to get the vomit stains out from last time I let one of you stay over."
Laughter rumbled around the group once more, and then they began to say their goodbyes. Daenerys hugged all of them tightly and thanked them profusely in turn for including her. She had sobered significantly since they had come outside, but she was still noticeably feeling the effects of the concoction that Brandon liked to call wine.
"Maybe Daenerys will have us in the Red Keep next time instead of you inviting us to this shithole," Harry said across the fire to Brandon, who made a rude hand gesture in his direction in response.
"As long as you don't vomit on the banners, you're more than welcome," she grinned at him before pulling Brandon into a tight hug. "This has been amazing, and I can't thank you enough for having me."
"Thanks for joining us, Your Grace," he smiled and clapped her on the shoulder before turning and walking to the back door of his home. "Oh, and later, Jacen," he glanced back over his shoulder without slowing down.
"Thanks, Brandon," Jacen smiled and took her hand and walked her back to the main street that cut through King's Landing as they all began to disperse back to their own homes and dwellings.
"So," he squeezed her hand as they walked, "did you enjoy life outside of the palace walls?"
"More than you can imagine," she smiled up at him and leaned her head on his shoulder.
Jacen smiled and kissed her on the temple as he looked over to the tavern across from Brandon's house to find it dark and empty, and he couldn't help but wonder if Ser Barristan had ever even left the Red Keep.
Once they were back in Daenerys's chambers, Jacen led her to the open washroom door.
"Go change back into your nightclothes," he nudged her towards it.
"Are you going to help me?" she grinned slyly at him, clearly not as sober as Jacen had initially thought.
"Another night," Jacen returned her smile and walked over to her bed and set about straightening the sheets and pillows. He turned back to the washroom door and found Daenerys in a sleeveless white gown that hung down to her mid-thigh. His heart jumped into his throat just as it had when he had arrived earlier that evening, but he quickly regained himself.
"Bed's made, come here."
She walked over to the bed, sat down in the place he had indicated, then reached up and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him down to face her directly. She then kissed him deeply on the lips for what could have been several seconds or several hours. She bit his lip as she pulled away and gave him a seductive smile, then patted the bed next to her.
"No, I'm sorry," Jacen took a step back. "You're drunk. I can't. Not like this."
"I can ask the Grand Maester if he has something for that, you know."
"Not that," he chuckled. "It wouldn't feel right, is all."
"It's not like you're forcing yourself on me," she rolled her eyes theatrically. "I'm inviting you."
"Nonetheless, not tonight."
"So you're turning down a queen in her nightclothes sitting right in front of you, on such a large and luxurious bed?" she patted the bed on either side of her.
"For now, yes," he smiled and walked into her washroom, filled a glass with water, and grabbed a small bucket. He walked over to her bed to find her already sound asleep, her body lying awkwardly on the bed and her legs hanging off of the side. He set the glass on her bedside table and the bucket on the floor next to it, gently lifted her legs onto the bed, turned her onto her side, and adjusted the sheets and comforter to cover her.
He leaned down and kissed her lightly on the forehead before quietly leaving her chambers.
BEHIND THE CHAPTER
This chapter was actually one of the first ideas I had that inspired me to start writing this fic in the first place, and it was the second one I completely finished! It's gone through quite a few changes since then.
When I first outlined this fic, this chapter was Chapter 5 and there hadn't been any sort of sexual contact between Daenerys and Jacen to this point, though the tension was always noticeably there. There were several "I like you (and maybe love you), but I can't bring myself to say it" moments scattered throughout the party, and of course Jacen's friends interjecting their thoughts unbidden, whereas in this iteration, they're "officially" in a relationship already and it focuses more on them being in love with each other, but neither being able to bring themselves to say it.
I also originally didn't have a Barristan POV until one of the final versions of this chapter, which I couldn't resist because he's one of my favorite characters; and his history with the Targaryens and memories of his time with them is something I really wish we could have seen more of in the show.
Also, for those who haven't read the books, the "he died on the steps of the Iron Throne with his pants full of shit" line is from the books when Jaime recounts the day he killed the Mad King (A Storm of Swords, Chapter 37). Yes, it is book canon that the Mad King literally shit himself in fear when he saw Jaime with his sword out. Crazy.
As for the song choice, I'm not sure why I gravitated towards the one I chose. I've just heard it a lot over the years, even growing up, and I've always found the guitar to be one of my favorite parts of the song. It just felt like the song that was right for the intimacy of the moment as they all sat quietly under the stars and just existed together. Music has a weird way of making you remember certain parts of your life that you may have forgotten or would never otherwise think about, which is another thing I wanted to capture. Oddly enough, I didn't even decide to have Jacen sing anything until the final version of this chapter. It was always just an instrumental piece, but I found that having a song to listen to and "visualize" vastly improved the feel of the moment.
The idea to do this sort of "Behind the Chapter" passage came to me as I was finishing this chapter, and I plan to keep it up, so I've decided to add some A/N sections like this to the end of all of the previous chapters. Feel free to go back and read those if you're interested in some more insight into how the fic started and how I go about writing and plotting things!