#storming of the dragonpit but a couple months earlier

[navree]

"rhaenys could have ended the war by dracarysing all the greens right there" yes because a distant relation to the throne deciding to barbecue an anointed and publicly positively hailed king and his entire family who is well loved within the city and in multiple other parts of the country for the sake of the succession of a far-away princess no one was ever on board with who hasn't been seen by the populace in literal years, her psycho husband, her three obvious bastards, and two toddlers from the psycho husband would go over super well with westeros and especially in king's landing where scores of the still-cheering population were killed for no reason by that same dragon who would do the barbecuing, because when targaryens act unilaterally without thinking of how the people would react there's never any problem, which is why the storming of the dragonpit and robert's rebellion were actually just collective delusions dreamed up by readers who hate rhaenyra and not key parts of the story and house targaryen's history that directly contributed to their demise and are intrinsic to the plot

truly team black stans are made up of only the most genius and media literate amongst us

[moon-ruled-rising]

as the rain hides the stars

Read the full story on ao3...

ix: just an arrogant son of a bitch

You can’t blame me darling,

not even a little bit.

And I’m just an arrogant son of a bitch,

who can’t admit when he’s sorry

-Harry Styles, “To Be So Lonely”

Sitting in the cavernous official office of King Rhaegar Targaryen felt unsettling. Whether it was the dark color scheme or the dragon statues leering at him, Jon couldn’t say, but the subject they were gathered to discuss certainly didn’t help.

They were situated around a smaller table in the room, not the impressive desk at the other end. Papers were splayed around and Ned and Rhaegar spent hours discussing each point in the new contract. Daenerys stewed in silent rage across from Jon, as she had that morning.

The Starks were invited to breakfast in the formal dining room with the royal family. Jon expected another stuffy, extravagant hall with a mile long table weighed down by hundreds of food options. The Targaryens basking in the glory of their ostentatious wealth. What he got surprised him. 

The impressive chandeliers were off in favor of the natural light from the tall windows. The mile long dining table was much more modest with just enough seats to fit all of them in. And the light breakfast foods were offered on a platter in the center. 

The only open seat was across from the Princess and Jon swallowed down the curses he wanted to utter. She had her back to the windows, the morning sunlight making a halo out of her white gold hair. The princess looked up when he entered, something strange flickering in her eyes before she tore her gaze away. Under any other circumstances, Jon would’ve appreciated the beautiful scene and maybe tried his hand at a compliment, but considering their confrontation the night before he thought it best if he kept his mouth shut.

Just the look of her brought back images of last night. Wet hair over a black clad shoulder, a whiskey bottle clasped in a pale hand. The drenched, see-through slip and a pair of violent violet eyes trying to conceal their anger at the world.

She avoided eye contact with him the whole time, preferring to push her food around her plate and throw a few disinterested comments Elia’s way. 

She spoke to Jon only once, breaking her pointless silence to say, “I trust your jacket made it back to you.”

“In perfect condition,” he answered. 

They returned to their silence for the rest of the breakfast. Occasionally, Jon would sneak a glance at her, only to find that she was looking at him too. They both averted their eyes and went back to their food.

The two played the same game as Rhaegar and Ned discussed yet another point on the treaty. 

“There is one thing I would like to propose as an amendment to the contract,” the young woman spoke up, straightening her posture from the slouched, disinterested pose before.

“What’s that Daenerys?”

“The Crown Matrimonial.”

King Eddard sighed and Jon tightened his hands around the arm rests to keep his face from betraying him.

Reading the change in demeanor the princess asked, “Is there a problem?”

Eddard began, “No, it’s-”

“You’ve no right to it,” Jon blurted

She arched an eyebrow at him, tilting her chin up in defiance.

“What my son means is that traditionally the crown matrimonial is-”

“I know. Only granted when the consort in question proves themselves worthy through an act of honor or great courage. I think entering a lifelong commitment to provide your country with supplies to make it through winter is an honorable action.”

“Dany…” Rhaegar sighed.

As she turned her head to look at her brother, Jon noticed the numerous braids in her hair. All wrapped and pinned around each other with precision. She looked like a queen sitting on a war council, carefully planning her next strategic move.

“Normally, the honorable action is childbirth or, in ancient cases, serving in war. It’s a title that must be earned, not bartered away. I hope you understand that this is the reason we withhold the crown matrimonial.” Ned explained.

Rheagar and Daenerys exchanged looks, the King’s eyes burning in warning.

“Is there any way we could keep it on the table?”

“Of course but the final decision rests with the Council of High Lords.”

Jon didn’t want to believe what he was hearing. Were they really so desperate? 

Daenerys hummed, “No crown, no contract.”

With that she stood and strode from the room, as though it was a casual conversation between passers-by.

“I’m very sorry about her. She just needs time.” Rhaegar collected the papers and put them into a folder marked with the Targaryen crest.

Ned nodded, “I understand.”

“She asked that we give her a month before anything is finalized.”

“And if she decides against this?” Jon asked.

Rhaegar reached for a second folder and opened it, “ I doubt she will but, just to be safe, we planned a month-long tour of the North. If you give her a chance to see why your people need her, she’ll be sympathetic. Daenerys may not act it but she has the biggest heart in this family.”

The tour of the North was strategic to say the least. The first stop in White Harbor, a public appearance at one of the homeless shelters there, then to Winterfell for a few days before setting off to the Mountain Clans. They would arrive in time for Midsummer celebrations. 

It would be fun to watch the southern princess try to understand the ancient celebrations. He couldn’t wait to see her reaction when they told her it was rude to not participate.

When he returned to his rooms he found Robb and Sansa planning a night out. And before he knew it he was dressed up and towed to a rented car.

Sansa made a big deal about wanting to spend more time exploring the city instead of stuck in the castle where they felt like outsiders. Jon knew she just wanted to be seen by the somebodies of King’s Landing.

“Sansa, where are we going?”

“I heard a couple of ladies talking about the Dragonpit last night.”

“The Dragonpit?” Robb rolled his eyes.

Everything in the damned city had a dragon theme to it even when the business didn’t exclude dragon energy.

“It’s super exclusive with tight security and I think we should go.”

“What makes you think they’ll let you in? You’re still seventeen.” Jon joked.

Sansa protested in her usual way, “And three-fourths! Besides, my age doesn’t matter because I’m somebody.”

“Yeah, everyone in the South knows who we are.” Robb’s sarcastic comment had no effect on her positive disposition.

“They will by the time we leave.”

The Dragonpit was in the basement of a high rise in the New City. Cameramen crowded the entrance, held back by a velvet rope. The flashes of their cameras like lightning in a summer storm, their shouts the accompanying thunder. 

Sansa walked down the paved path with all the confidence of a queen. Flipping her hair and smiling for the cameras, flanked by her brothers. Robb gave his best performance but Jon couldn’t find it in him to fake anything. The bouncer didn’t even try to stop her and as they descended the stairs, they found themselves in another world.

The name ‘The Dragonpit’ insinuated a medieval vibe but the space beneath the building was ultra modern. The dance floor was crowded, the people revealed through flashes of the stage lights surrounding the DJ’s booth. Low red lights around the club signaled where the extra seating was. Sansa went straight to the dance floor, Robb following to keep an eye on her. Jon however, went straight for the bar. 

The backlit liquor options and the black marble countertop were too fancy. The heavy bass from the music made it so Jon had to shout his order to the bartender. His unwillingness to be there doubling by the second. 

A commotion at the entrance drew his attention. The song blasting through the speakers faded out and the DJ proclaimed over his mic, “Looks like a special guest just dropped in. Ladies and gentlemen, Her Royal Highness Daenerys Targaryen!”

This time Jon did swear, the applause and cheers loud enough to drown him out. The Gods had it out for him, he was certain of that now.

The track switched back on, the bass reverberating through the crowded club again. Jon’s eyes followed her as she was swallowed by the people on the dance floor. The bright strobe lights reflected off her silvery hair and the impractical hoops hanging from her ears threw it any which way.

It wasn’t long until she made her way to the bar.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she complained when she saw him. 

Her hair was still braided from earlier but the short red dress was a complete turn around from the soft grey sweater she’d worn that morning.

“If you care to know, my sister dragged me here.”

“You’re sister? Isn’t she a bit young to be going to clubs?”

“No one tells Sansa no.”

“Maybe someone should.” Despite her previous rudeness upon seeing him, she sat next to him.

“I understand you changed your mind,” Jon said, eyeing her.

“I didn’t change my mind, I bought myself time.”

“So you can try to wiggle your way out of having responsibility?”

Instead of the deathly stare he expected, she arched a brow at him.

“So I don’t have to spend the rest of my life with you.”

The bartender came around and took her attention away.

“A Braavosi Apple Martini and a Dragon’s Blood.”

“Cocktails? You were drinking stronger stuff last night.”

“I’m here with Missandei and I’m banned from drinking in public.”

“Whatever you say,” he smirked.

He knew what game he was playing. It was how he got Theon to do anything stupid. Jon didn’t want Daenerys to embarrass herself but their love of liquor was the only thing they had in common.

“You don’t know anything about me,” she sneered.

“No, but I’ve heard plenty.”

Her jaw tightened and she lengthened her neck. Jon learned quickly that it was her little way of gathering confidence, preparing for battle.

“Fine,” she declared and reached over the bar, “If that’s how you want to play it.”

She slammed down two shot glasses. The bartender came over with her previous order and she demanded a bottle of Crown Royal.

He knew he should’ve stayed away from the alcohol, it never ended well, but the princess was a challenge he was determined to beat.

“Let’s turn it into a game. We make assumptions about each other. For each one you get right, I take a shot and vice versa.”

“I have to warn you, I’m very good at reading people.”

“Unfortunately for you, I’m impossible to read.”

Jon shook his head, no one was impossible to read. Bastards had to learn to notice things and that aspect of his nature was honed during his military time.

“Ladies first,” he offered, sliding his original glass out of the way.

She narrowed her violet eyes at him, scanning his face.

“Your best friend is your brother.”

Jon took the shot then considered Daenerys as she refilled his glass.

“You’ve played this game before.”

“That’s obvious,” she pointed out, the edge of the glass hovering in front of her lips.

The nude shade she wore was soft and inviting unlike the vicious red of the night before. Jon found himself watching as they parted into a smirk before taking her shot.

“You smoke. You told everyone you quit but you still do it.”

Jon took his shot.

“How the fuck did you know that?”

“When you gave me your jacket last night.” she reached into her bag and slid the pack across the bar. “You left your pack in the pocket.”

“And you’ve been carrying it around with you?”

She shrugged, “There might be a couple missing. Your turn.”

A few shots later, Missandei came over to see what was taking Dany so long. She saw them together and simply grabbed her drink and told Jon to keep an eye on her.

“You joined the military because you felt like you had something to prove.” she stated.

Jon couldn’t refuse her and took the shot. The previous assumptions were light, simple things that barely scratched the surface of a person, but Daenerys made it clear that she wanted to move on. She had ripped away the skin and was ready to tear into the meat of her prey. 

“You ran off to college to escape your family.”

“And this dreadful city,” she added before tipping back the glass.

“Your father is the reason for your discharge from the military, not an accident, like your profile said.”

Shot. It was only half true.

“You’ve been with more than three people.”

Shot.

“You’ve never been with anyone.”

He allowed himself a stupid smirk as her eyes shifted from the shi\ot glass to him.

“Am I wrong?”

 “Yes.”

She looked at him as though she didn’t believe it before reaching over the bar and taking the shot for him. 

“For getting one wrong,” she excused.

As they carried Jon felt the pressure building in his head as he tried to come up with something.

“Your relationship with the Dothraki Khal was much deeper than people know.”

Her jaw ticked as the words left his mouth. She furiously threw the shot back, setting the glass down with more effort than needed. He’d really struck a nerve. He should’ve backed off and sober him would’ve but the alcohol made him bolder. It blurred the lines between the self he presented and the one that looked at the world through a bitter lens.

They continued, the world blurred around the edges but both of them were determined to get the other to quit. Especially Daenerys. 

“You hate me.”

Gone was the diplomacy and tact. She was messy, trying to get as many hits on him as she could, trying to get him where it hurt. Jon thought he saw how ruthless she could be last night but she proved herself to be even more devastating now.

He clasped his hand around the shot glass but when it came time to take it, he paused. He wanted to take the shot, to throw it in her face that she didn’t phase him and her little games were pointless, but something deep in his mind stopped him. 

She took note of his hesitation, “Well?”

The smug look on her face was all it took. Before he could second guess it, the liquor was sliding down his throat. He found comfort in the way it burned. 

“Good because I can’t stand you either.”

He didn’t need to think hard on what he would say to her, he’d figured it out last night. 

“You’re in love with that Tyrohsi millionaire- what was his name? Daario Naharis?”

From the way her eyes widened Jon knew he caught her off guard. The corner of her mouth twitched like she wanted to say something, but she snatched up the glass and downed her shot.

She slapped money down on the counter for their alcohol and leaned in close, “Don’t ever say that name again.”

 “I thought you didn’t get attached.”

She released a bitter laugh, “I don’t usually. But I’m a woman and we’re known to get too emotionally involved. The press has been profiting off of that my whole life.”

“If you weren’t so public with your exploits, the media wouldn’t have so much stake in your life.”

“Let’s think about this critically for a moment. If you were to exhibit the same behaviors-”

“I wouldn’t-”

“Don’t interrupt me,” she snapped.

Jon didn’t think the look in her eyes could turn any more venomous but it did.

“If you were to do the same things, people wouldn’t bat an eye because you’re a man. I don’t care what higher moral authority you think you have but don’t assume for one second that makes you better than me. If the roles were reversed, your reputation wouldn’t be affected at all.”

“That’s where you're wrong,” Jon corrected.

“Oh really? Explain it to me.”

“I was born a bastard. When I was legitimized that title didn’t go away, it was put under a magnifying glass. If I stepped out of line there would be more than whispers in the court. It’s not only my reputation on the line, it’s my family’s.”

He stopped himself before he could mention the underlying tensions with the other high lords. That was deeper than he needed to go. And there was no need to discuss private matters of state with a woman who could care less.

She was quiet in that contemplative way when people thought things over. Jon was reminded of last night, when his outburst led to her reconsideration of the marriage contract. That same night he realized he was the only person who had ever told her off. She could’ve used that during their meeting to free herself from the arrangement but she didn’t. Not for the first time did Jon wonder what was going on in that pretty, stubborn head of hers.

“Do you think I have a higher moral authority now?”

“No. But I’m not one to ignore the pressures and restrictions monarchy puts on us. Let’s call it a truce. At least until you give me another reason for an alcohol fueled confrontation.”

She held her Dragon’s Blood cocktail up, her face betraying no emotion. Not even a smile at their hastily made peace. He clinked her glass with his empty one. She retreated to the dance floor where her friend was, surprisingly sturdy on her high heels with the alcohol she’d consumed. Then again, she boasted about her ability to hold liquor. 

He had no interest in joining the mass of bodies and heat that was the dance floor. He preferred to observe what kind of foolishness took place.

Sansa danced near the edge of the floor, Robb kept an eye on her from outside the commotion. He was usually in the middle of it all but Talisa gave him quite the talk before they left. It was a good thing Robb was taking it seriously. Jon liked having Talisa around.

One of the spotlights blazed across the crowd and Jon’s eyes followed. When they landed on the braided, white-blonde hair of Princess Daenerys, he didn’t look away. She mouthed the words to the song with her eyes closed, head thrown back and body moving with the beat. The track ended and as the crowd on the floor responded to the DJ, she looked dead at Jon. A new bassline rumbled through the club and she was leaving.  For the second time that day, she was storming out because of Jon.