#nothing sacred? I haven’t been to a concert in a while but I’m assuming they’re going to be affected too and that fucking sucks. It’s sort

[urdeadbestfriend]

come on

[moon-ruled-rising]

as the rain hides the stars

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VIII: wearing a warning sign

Bite my tongue, bide my time,

wearing a warning sign.

Wait ‘til the world is mine

-Billie Eilish, “you should see me in a crown”

The palace’s watergarden was built at the request of Maron Martell, husband to the first Princess Daenerys and the one from which Dany got her name, for his visiting family. The greenhouse was humid with plants native to Dorne and several different water fixtures mimicking the ones in the real Watergardens. It was the most peaceful place in the whole complex and where Dany escaped to when everyone else was occupied.

Floating in the gardens was a tradition for her, born from the days when she and Elia would sneak snacks from the kitchens and have a picnic. And sometimes, Rhaegar would join them but those were the days before Aerys’ health took a turn for the worse. Rheagar never picnicked with them again.

Her little tradition was the same every time. After she completed the necessary duties of the night, she would meet Jorah in the concert hall attached to the ballroom, change, and then slip into the gardens unnoticed. It was her sacred alone time and now it was sullied by a trespasser. 

The figure was obscured by the shadows of the palms and backlit by the dim gallery. They made no effort to move from the side of the room.  

“I’ll ask one more time, who are you?”

“I’m sorry. I was just looking for an empty room.”

He ventured another step into the garden, the moonlight settling over his angular features, highlighting the unmistakable arrogant youth in his face. It was him. 

Fuck, she cursed and turned her eyes up to the Gods, you won’t let me catch one break. 

“What are you doing in here?”

Despite the warm air, a shiver passed through her. Her hair clung to her arms and the slip to her thighs. She crossed her arms over her chest.

He shrugged off his suit jacket, “Just looking for a quiet place.”

He held it out to her. She looked from the jacket in this hand to his face. 

“Nothing no one hasn’t seen before.”

Even in her intimate state, she needed to keep her sense of authority. She knew her appearance made him uneasy and she planned to exploit that. She wrung her hair as she stepped out of the pool, water dripping from the hem of her slip onto the Dornish marble tile. 

“Please?” He offered her the jacket again.

His expression was soft. He wasn’t commanding her or trying to even the odds. It was a simple offer. A chill gently shook her and she snatched the suit jacket from him. It was warm and smelled of orange blossoms and hearty herbs, a cologne she didn’t recognize.

“These are the queen’s private gardens, no one should be here.”

“No offense, Your Highness, but you’re in here.”

She looked him up and down, then straightened her posture, “I’m a member of the Royal House Targaryen, I’m allowed to go wherever I please.”

“Princess, what would like me to do?” Jorah questioned from behind her.

Dany jumped at the sound of his voice. She’d been so focused on Jon she forgot Jorah was still in the room. She could have him take the prince away and go back to her floating but she was too wound up from the intrusion to find peace again. And she wasn’t ready to retire.

“You can go, Sir Jorah, I’ve got this under control.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He was only going to wait outside the proper entrance so he could escort her back to her rooms. 

“Alright, Your Highness.”

As soon as he was gone, Dany took up the bottle of whiskey and settled at the edge of the pool.

“So, you’re the poor fool they’re trying to chain me to.” 

“Aye, I’m Prince Jon of the-.”

“I know.”

She took a pull from the bottle before offering it to him. He took it.

“You spent the whole night avoiding me,” he pointed out.

“And I was doing very well until you got adventurous.” She surveyed him out of the corner of her eye. “Elia and Missy gave you glowing reviews, if you care to know.”

“Why send them to talk to me when you could’ve done it yourself?”

“Because I didn’t want to.”

She remembered her promise to Elia, about giving Jon a chance. A thought struck her. Was this prince going to give her the same chance?

“What have you heard about me?”

“That you’re calculated. You’re fast and loose and you burn through men like wildfire.”

There it was. He already made up his mind based on fictitious information spread by petty old hags and jealous debutantes. If that was what he expected of Daenerys, she was more than happy to give it to him.

“And despite all of that you’re somehow convinced I would be a good match? That you would want me to stand at your side for the rest of your life?”

She swished her legs through the water, watching the way it slid off her legs. 

“Of course not but if it means my people live through winter…”

“What’s it like?”

“The North?”

“No, Dorne,” she simpered then rolled her eyes, “Yes, you’re home. What’s it like?”

“It’s cold and it snows a lot.”

“Doesn’t sound like the proper place for a Targaryen.”

“It’s not.”

She should’ve been offended, angry even, but his comment rolled off of her like the water on her legs. The alcohol of the night inhibited her ability to feel much else but deep contempt.

“Well you’ll have to find someone else to grant your aid.”

“You’re not going through with the arrangement?”

“Why would I want to?”

“You would be helping a whole country.”

“Ask yourself this, what does my country have to gain from this?”

He went silent and not in contemplation. She took the whiskey back.

“You see, this marriage is a way for Rhaegar to sell me off. He sees it as a way to settle me down and ship me away so I’ll stop ruining his day with revealing headlines. He doesn’t care about the North, he cares about his reputation.”

It was not Rhaegar’s fault that he was so protective of the Targaryen name. The dynasty stayed in power for 800 years by adapting and changing, making people like them and setting an example of the highest kind. As he’d told her earlier, the people were growing tired of the burden the monarchy represented and any step out of line, any crack in their perfectly moulded facade would be an invitation for the destruction of the Targaryen line.

The worst part was, Dany couldn’t imagine a life of not being a royal. She’d gone to university and experienced something like it there. But even then it was easy for her and money was never an issue. If the crown fell, everyday would be uncertain and her life would be in danger.

“I don’t care what your family gets out of it, as long as my people get what they need to survive.”

She stood, bottle still clutched in hand, “What do you know of marriage treaties?”

“Not much.”

Perfect. 

“They’re just like regular ones. They require that representatives of the two parties sit down and discuss terms and agreements. While I assume you’re already sold on the fact that your country needs me to secure supplies, there’s still the very tricky matter of my opinion.”

She approached a statue of two lovers, bare and frozen, their mouths inches away. She heard his dress shoes on the tile as he followed.

“That’s why my family came south. To convince you to say yes, to help us.”

“No.” she turned on him. “You were dragged here to be appraised like cattle.” 

Her features were placid despite her need to scream. To rage. To raise her voice and burn him with her words.

“You know what you have to do and you’ve made up your mind. But me? I get to decide whether or not this whole operation happens.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why would you need to convince me to help you if my word didn’t matter on this subject?” 

He was silent again. His eyes betrayed nothing but Dany got the feeling he knew what was coming next. In their stillness, Dany took in how the moonlight laid on his strong face. Something about the scene awoke an urge within her.

Dany was well aware of her affinity for pretty men. Hells, the whole world knew she couldn’t say no to an attractive face. Under normal circumstances, nothing would stop her from adding the Northern Prince to her collection but this conquest came with a significant amount of baggage. And there was an edge to him that reminded her of Daario.

Daario. She hadn’t told him where she was going before she left. He probably thought she was still mad at him and that was why she wasn’t home. When in truth, she’d hardly looked at her phone since her flight took off. And the few times she did, there were no missed calls or text messages.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a harsh laugh from the prince.

“What?” she demanded.

“All day I’ve been told to play nice and make a good impression on you and your family.”

“As you should,” she affirmed, the corner of her mouth tugged into a pleased grin.

“But you… you-”

“I what?”

“You’ve been a rude bitch the whole night.”

Dany supposed she deserved that but it didn’t lessen the sting. She fought hard to keep her composure, the same self-satisfied smirk standing vigilant. She knew the people of the court compared her to fire but Dany liked to think of herself as the personification of the element. Beautiful and warm from a distance, scalding and dangerous up close. 

If she was fire, he was cold, unyielding ice. 

“Did you expect anything less?”

“I don’t want this any more than you-”

“Then why make such an effort?”

“Have you seriously not heard a word out of my mouth? My people are in danger! Our economy isn’t strong enough to secure trade with anyone else. You’re their only help so get off your damn high horse and realize that there are people more important than you.

“I know what it’s like to have people whispering behind my back and calling me names that I don’t deserve. Our lives and positions come with baggage that not even we understand but unlike you, I haven’t decided to take it out on everyone around me and burn more bridges than I build.”

His brief rant brought him closer to her and she caught another whiff of his cologne. She tilted her chin up to meet his gaze but her smirk was gone. There was a fierceness in his eyes that reminded Dany of herself. He was ice but there was a fire burning in there, deep below his cool exterior. Dany would usually fight until she’d worn down her opponent but she’d been put in her place three times in one day. She was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to go to bed. 

“Here,” she whispered, taking a step back and holding up the bottle of liquor.

“What’s this for?” “If you want to marry me, you’re going to need that and a lot more,” she told him.

She looked upon his face one last time before she turned to leave.

“Does this mean you’ll go through with it?”

Dany paused and looked over her shoulder. Her hair and slip were nearly dry, but she kept Jon’s suit jacket wrapped around her. Her intention was to melt him, to reduce him to nothing more than water under another burning bridge. But he tempered her and shrank the uncontrollable blaze of her nature.

“The North sounds like a lovely country. I would like to see it some time.”

She slipped out the greenhouse door, making her way back to her apartments, Jorah trailing dutifully behind her. He didn’t ask questions, he heard it all. 

The back hall was quiet considering there was a party still blazing nearby. The distant sounds of music and numerous conversations muffled by the thick walls. The rooms flanking it shut up, waiting for their occupants to return. It reminded her of walking through their summer home on Dragonstone.

The ancient keep stood empty for most of the year, used only for exclusive diplomatic trips and the Targaryen’s summer vacations. The first few hours there were spent breezing through the lifeless corridors and reveling in the solitude.

Dragonstone was meant to be bestowed to Viserys, since he was second eldest, but after his death the lands and titles fell to Dany. She planned to make it her permanent residence when she eventually settled down but if things went according to Rhaegar’s plan, she wouldn’t need to worry about that. 

They arrived at her door and she thanked Jorah and went inside. Still wrapped in the prince’s suit jacket, she shook out her hair and lay across the settee. The exhaustion she forced to the side settled in, weighing her limbs down, but her mind still rattled with the words Jon said.

No one looking to gain her favor had ever spoken to her like that, no one ever dared. They were overly nice, bought her expensive things, and complimented her to no end. All in an effort to appease her scaley nature and get somewhere, and it always worked. When their relations inevitably bored her, they said nothing and found someone else to bide their time. There was never a time they called her out on her behavior.

Rhaegar tried but their confrontations focused on public habits, not so much her behavioral ones. And the words hurled around in those verbal scuffles never stuck. They didn’t dig their claws into her already abused brain and drag her down a long and winding path of second guessing. 

Luckily, a knock at her door pulled her away from a downward spiral of overthinking. Elia swept into the room with Missandei on her arm. They were blushing and bubbly, glowing from the social atmosphere. 

“It’s so dark in here,” Missy commented as Dany reached up to turn on the lamp. 

“Did you get to talk to Prince Jon?” Elia asked, her voice a mixture of business and giddy girlishness.

As if they were teenage girls at a sleepover about to discuss their crushes.

“Yes, we had quite the discussion,” Dany answered, allowing herself a stupid smirk.

The women looked her up and down. Missy pursed her lips as she sank into the seat at the vanity. 

“Oh, Dany, please tell me you didn’t-”

“Don’t worry Elia, nothing happened. Nothing fun anyway. This-” she tugged at the fabric around her- “was just a gentlemanly gesture.”

“Is that where you disappeared to?” Missy questioned.

“We just happened to run into each other.”

“And?”

“We talked.”

“What did you talk about?” pressured Elia, still standing.

She’d shifted her weight and placed her hands on her hips, employing her motherly nature. “I’d prefer not to say.”

“Daenerys…”

A warning.

“Elia, I’ve made up my mind. About the marriage.”

Missy sat up straighter.

“And what did you decide?”

“I decided that I need more time. A month at least before anything is official. I need to tie up some … loose ends.”

Elia swooped down to hug Dany, pulling her up from the bed. Dany wished she could share in the queen’s happiness but she felt devoid of anything but deep seeded dread. And she’d left out the very crucial detail of Rhaegar’s black mail.

“I’ll tell Rhaegar in the morning, he’ll be overjoyed. I’m so glad you’re considering this. You’re going to be an amazing queen.”

Missy cleared her throat, “I’m really sorry to rain on the parade, but Dany won’t be a queen. She’ll still be a princess. In order for Dany to become Queen of the North, she needs to be granted the crown matrimonial.”

“How do you know this?”

“Missandei studied world governments as part of her degree in Public Relations.” Dany informed Elia. 

“And a quick glance back at my notes on the North told me that traditionally the Crown Matrimonial is only granted once the consort in question proves themselves worthy through an act of honor and great courage.”

The princess frowned and looked toward Elia.

“When you attend the contract meeting tomorrow, bring it up. I’m sure Rhaegar will have it amended to the documents.”

Dany didn’t try to fight back the yawn that crawled its way out, hoping it would remind Elia that she was tired and wanted to sleep. The queen gave her another tight squeeze and hugged Missandei before saying her goodbyes and slipping from the room. Missy was staying with Dany because the guest apartments were for diplomatic guests only. 

Not long after, there was another knock on the door. Dany let out a groan of frustration and got up to answer it. She expected Rhaegar, but it was only the night maid stopping by to collect the dresses. She finally removed the suit jacket and gave it to the woman, requesting that it be express cleaned and returned to Prince Jon first thing in the morning.

“I can’t believe you’re getting married… in a month,” Missandei sighed as they lay on Dany’s bed.

Dany stared at the ceiling, trying to calm her racing mind, “Me neither.”

If she had her way, by the end of the month, there would be no wedding and the past twenty-four hours would only be a bad memory.