Chapter Text
“Drink!”
Another shot of Caraxes Fireball burned its way down Dany’s throat, joining the other four shots that were probably going to make themselves known soon if she didn’t slow down. Gods, what does it matter, she lamented inwardly. She slammed the shot glass upside down on the little mirrored table, where it joined the dozens of others, courtesy of her, her best friend Missandei, and her brother, who…was no longer there.
She blinked, everything blurry, and side-eyed her glance towards Missandei, who was lifting her fingers to the waiter for more shots. “Where’d Vis go?” she wondered. I hope he left the tab running.
Missandei shrugged, taking more shots from the tray that the waiter– an incredibly hot Dothraki in nothing but a loincloth– swooped in front of her, and set them down with little clinks in front of them. “No idea where he went, the Shade of the Evening he took from that dude in the alley probably wore off and he realized he was in a male strip club called The Red Viper.”
Oh seven hells they really were in a male strip club called The Red Viper, weren’t they? “I thought it was a revue?” she wondered, leaning back in her chair and staring at the empty stage in front of them. The show hadn’t started yet, but apparently it would soon, and in the meantime she– and all the other bachelorettes and a few gay bachelors– were whooping and drinking in anticipation.
“It is a revue, but they dance and take off their clothes. Butts only, nothing frontal. Unless you pay extra in one of those private rooms over there.” Missandei wiggled her brows. “And I am happy to get one for you.”
“Ugh…what is wrong with me?!” She slammed her head down onto her arms, the movement making her dizzy. She mumbled, shaking her head, and feeling sicker. “This is a total mistake.”
“It is not a mistake, it’s something that was already planned, so we’re having fun, it just isn’t quite a bachelorette party as it is a…”
“I dumped my fiance a week before the wedding, quit my job, and decided to cut off my hair and dye it pink?”
“You didn’t cut off all your hair, just like a few inches.”
It was the shortest it had ever been, coming just to the tops of her shoulders, and instead of her usual long braids, she’d only managed to weave a few little ones in on the sides, pulling it back from her face. Still, she’d been really close to dying it dark brown or something, anything to get out of her comfort zone, but instead she’d streaked it with pink. Right before she walked into the law firm she’d worked for since she graduated law school and announced her resignation. Tyrion had been livid, but had accepted it. So even when she panicked and thought about calling them back saying she was out of her mind, it was a joke, she didn’t think he’d accept her back.
She pushed her fingers into her eye sockets, shaking her head slightly. “Missy, what am I doing?”
“You’re having fun, letting loose, and about to see some hot guys dance around.” Missandei draped a red feather boa around her neck and passed her a bottle of water. “Here, hydrate before the next round.”
Dany closed her eyes, fighting back nausea. Yeah, she definitely had to slow it down. Last time she’d spent a whole night pounding back Caraxes Fireball, she’d woken up engaged to Drogo.
At least she saw the light before she married him.
Hence why she was having a "you're staying a bachelorette" bachelorette party to apparently celebrate the fact that for once she'd made a decent decision in her love life, but which also meant that she was alone, yet again. Also that she'd quit her job and gone a bit off the deep end.
She swallowed back fireball tasting bile, blinking bleary-eyed at Missy. "You know what they say," she said.
"What do they say?"
"Every time a Targaryen is born..."
Missandei cut her off, waving her hand. "Don't even start with that nonsense. You're not crazy, you're finally seeing sense, it's like when they have to burn down the dead forest to make room for the new growth, that's what this is."
"I burned down my life?"
"Well...no."
"Oh my gods!" She buried her face in her hands. "I'm a mess!"
"A good mess."
Was there such a thing? Or was Missandei just being the bestest best friend ever and saying wahtever she could to keep Dany from doin gsomething even further off the deep end? This was insanity. She should go back to the htoel, sober up, and get on the first flgith back to King's Landing. She wouldn't beg for her job back or go back to Drogo, but she did have a wedding to continue canceling and apologies to make and…
And honestly right now seeing hot guys dance around might not be such a bad thing.
She finished off the water bottle, tossing it onto the table littered with the shot glasses, other water bottles, and a stack of ones that Missandei was very much looking forward to sticking in some briefs. She gazed around the club, finally seeing it for what it was. It wasn't seedy or anything, it was actually kind of nice. The red leather, red-tinted lights, and snake motifs were a bit....on the nose, she supposed, or on the something but hey, that's what they got.
There was an exceptionally hot Dornishman who seemed to be holding court near the bar, wearing a gold snakeskin vest, pants, and nothing else. He had that look that hinted that he was the one in charge. She blinked a few times and finally recognied him. She poked Missandei. "Hey, that's Oberyn Martell."
"Yeah, it's his club."
"Really? I didn't know he owned a..."
Missandei cut her off. "He's Oberyn Martell, Dany. He owns like half of the Sunspear Strip and does whatever he feels like doing. Guess tonight he's feeling his hot stripper entrepreneur self."
Huh.
She settled into her chair, gazing back at the stage, with its mirrors everywhere so no one missed a thing and reached for her bag, but it was missing. Her eyes widened, grabbing at the side of the chair. "Oh my gods, Missy my bag!"
"Don't worry, I have it." She held up the small red handbag. "I don't want you making any more decisions and I'm not giving you back your phone."
"I just want to see where Viserys went!"
"I shoved an AirTag into his pants when we left the hotel, I'll check on him later."
"But that just will show where his pants are, he could be without them!"
Missandei shuddered. "Then I'll check the microchip that Rhaegar put on him a couple years ago, I think I still have the app on my phone."
Oh yeah, she forgot about that. After Viserys had gone on a bender for the better part of two weeks and finally was located in Asshai wandering around talking about vampires, her eldest brother took matters into his own hands. It was truly something being a member of her family, sometimes she thought about writing a book about them but most of the time it was so unbelievable she didn't think anyone would read it.
She really figured it was time to go. It was nice of Missy to take her on a classic bachelorette party event but honestly this was just sad. She was a drunk mess, lamenting quitting her job, her terrible taste in men, her psychotic family, and questioning her next move as a mid-thirties woman who had never done anything crazy or off-the-wall in her entire life-- until now.
Might be best to just pack it up and go back to the hotel.
Dany opened her mouth to say as much when the lights dropped and the packed club began to scream, glowsticks and bracelets flying in the air as a voice-- she recognized the accent as Dornish and figured it was Oberyn-- boomed over the speakers, with some kind of thumping party bass filling the space around his words.
"Welcome ladies-- and some gents-- to the Red Viper!" A spotlight dropped onto the stage and revealed it was Obyern, in all his snakeskin clad glory, holding a microphone. He chuckled as more screams filled the club. "We have a show for you all tonight, who is ready to see some incredibly talented men?" He didn't wait for all the screams of 'Yes!' to die off before he swept his arm out. "Then without further ado, I give you the Vipers!"
She snatched up Missandei's forgotten shot glass, downing the last bit of fireball-- she was going to need to be super trashed for sure to get through this, especially because Missandei was now screaming with everyone else, pounding her feet on the floor when the lights flashed, strobes blinding her as the music pounded almost in tandem with the lights. Through the lights, she could see the stage had lit up as about five men strutted out, their figures shadowy, and smoke– rainbow colored as it was pouring out against light filters– began to fill the stage area.
The music crashed, the lights turning bright and strobes ceasing, as the men on stage began to dance, all the women around screaming and jumping up and down. Dany could barely focus on any of them. They were all incredibly attractive of course, each in their own way. There was one dude who was absolutely giant, with red hair and bright blue eyes, leering down at the women as he passed by them. Another was just fucking pretty and she thought she smelled roses when it was his turn. Then there was another who also looked too pretty, with blond curls, and there was a Dothraki too, dark eyes kohl rimmed, and then…
She was surprised to see the fifth was…well she wasn’t sure what to make of him. He was handsome, built and everything, but…there was something about him she couldn’t quite figure. It was like he wasn’t supposed to be there. Sure, he was smiling and laughing with them, and gyrating his hips and all, but…she didn’t quite know why she couldn’t stop gazing at him.
The first show wasn’t the stripping that Missandei and all the others clearly wanted, but Oberyn, Master-of-Ceremonies, wasn’t going to disappoint them. He introduced each one by their ‘stage name’ as they came up and the spotlight hit them, and while Dany practically ignored ‘The Wilding’, ‘The Knight of Flowers’, ‘Satin’, and ‘Khal Qhono’, it was the last one that had her eyes widening.
“And give it up for our King in the North!”
The one she’d had eyes on winked at the name, all the women screaming– he was clearly a favorite. She couldn’t quite get a good look at his face before he ducked back behind the stage. Missandei leaned towards her, pointing. “I’m getting him for you!” she shouted over the music and general noise.
“You are not!” she screeched.
“He’s totally hot and he was checking you out!”
There was no way he could see her from the stage, that was ridiculous. There were also a billion other people screaming for them, it was…it was a madhouse, she realized, not apparently realizing the fame that this particular “all male revue”, as Missy kept correcting her to say instead of ‘stripper.’
She leaned into Missy, shouting, “Are they famous or something?”
“Fuck yeah, you think I would bring you to just any all male revue for your ‘Anti-Bachelorette Party’!”
Seven hells. An ‘Anti-Bachelorette’ party? She closed her eyes and exhaled hard through her nose. “Yeah…I’m going to need another drink.”
Missandei whooped, grabbing a handful of ones and stuffing it into the leather loincloth of Khal Qhono, who had just thrust his pelvis up towards her as he danced to the edge of the stage.
Dany stood up and grabbed some of the cash, heading straight to the bar for more shots.
It took some time to get through but when she returned, the next dancer/stripper was up, Mr. Satin Flowers, who she had to admit was incredibly attractive. Well, they all were incredibly attractive but there was a very refined aspect to his features and his eyes were such bright green it was like they were reflecting the neon green lights that flashed around during his set back at her.
She was back to feeling her floating buzz, rather than the nauseous sick feeling of earlier drinks. She whooped and cheered; and Mr. Flowers leaned down from the stage towards her after he finished, wearing a pair of green tiny shorts that left nothing to the imagination. He draped a white sash that said ‘BRIDE’ on it over her head.
It wasn’t even accurate and she had no idea how he’d gotten it or thought to put it on her but she didn’t care. She laughed and danced in a circle, almost climbing onto the stage with him when he pressed a kiss to her cheek and winked. “You’re fucking cute!” she shouted.
He laughed, taking her hands and twirling her around. “I’m fucking gay!”
“Aw, too bad!”
“Trust me I’m not your type but I know someone who might be!”
Dany didn’t quite understand that comment, stumbling back when her high heel caught the leg of her chair. She fell down into the seat, at the same time Missandei tugged on her forearm, before shoving another shot in her hand. She threw it back, desensitized to the burn.
The room was spinning, almost pleasantly. The music was good and she was finally feeling loose and happy.
The thoughts from before…she dumped Drogo, canceled the wedding, quit her job…she was taking back her life and fuck anyone who stood in her way.
And right now she was drunk and dancing and watching super hot dudes take off their clothes and dance. They were good too, it was actually super impressive, all their muscles and the movement and…and she was losing her thoughts again.
Oberyn as Master of Ceremonies came back on, but she wasn’t really listening. She was swaying back and forth in her chair, sipping on a drink she’d flagged down and trying not to think too hard about the fact that she was not actually a bride but was still happily enjoying all the hot pretty guys dancing up on stage and really trying not to think about her lack of focus or…or…job….
“Stop thinking!” Missandei shouted, dropping a white feather boa over her shoulders. “Here, you dropped this.”
“When did I get this?”
“I don’t know but it totally becomes you, now look alive!”
All the women were starting to go even more insane— if that was possible— the glowbands on wrists switching to blue and the lights dimming further, flicking to a moody blue. She heard something about ice and…
“Everyone get those winter coats out and bundle on up, we’re headed to the land of ice, and who else would greet us but…the King in the North!”
Oh…it was him.
Dany stared as the music shifted, moody and almost dark as the smoke thickened and lights flashed, everything all shadowy and fuzzy, and then…she gasped, a bright light suddenly landing on him, sitting in a throne, one foot up on the arm and the other stretched out in front of him, lazy and…bored.
She watched him, transfixed, as he used a huge sword he had in one hand to stand from his relaxed position. He wore a huge fur cape, which blocked any view of his body— for now. The music was pounding around her but she couldn’t make out the lyrics— something about fire and ice.
He moved slowly over the stage, staying away from the edges and the screaming women, and she followed him the entire time, almost unblinking. He had an odd aura, not as instantly engaging as some of the other dancers, but no one was taking their eyes off him.
And then suddenly there was a crash of the music and the lights brightened and he threw off the fur, revealing a broad chest and a pair of black leather pants that definitely left little to the imagination. Both front and back.
“Wow,” she mouthed, as he moved across the stage, engaging the audience. He snagged a microphone from somewhere and spoke, pointing to the crowd, but she couldn’t quite focus on what he was saying, her mind so fuzzy and blank.
Whatever he was saying, it resonated with the audience, everyone beginning to scream— louder— clamoring for the stage, jumping and raising their hands, shouting about birthdays and bachelorette parties and retirements, even.
Until she locked eyes with him, and he was gesturing for her to come up on the stage, did she realized it was an audience participation thing. “What!?” she screeched.
“Get up there!” Missandei almost bodily lifted her from her seat, hands on her sides, pushing her towards the stage. “He picked you!”
For what!?
The King in the North reached down with one hand, gripping hers tightly and single handedly hauling her up to the stage with him. His palm was warm, comforting. A whiff of him filled her nostrils with spice and something…northern. She couldn’t place it. It smelled really good though.
He smiled warmly at her, instantly putting her at ease, and guided her to the “throne.” “It seems our queen is a soon-to-be bride, but don’t worry, this king just needs a queen…for one night only.” Suggestion filled his voice, his vowels rounded and the Northern burr adding to the drunken dizziness.
If it was an act, he was fucking good, she thought, smiling goofily. She had no idea what was even happening. Her cheeks flamed red, but she found herself laughing as he used the boa around her neck as a prop, dragging it up and down her shoulders and dancing around her. He didn’t actually touch her, but he got close, and the heat he gave off was…doing things to her.
It was honestly the first time in years…ever? she was feeling this way.
Fuck, everything was on fire. All her nerves and skin and her throat was dry, her heart pounding. She ran her hands over her exposed chest, along her collarbone, unable to stop herself, trying to soothe her overstimulated nervous system. Her mouth fell open when he leaned backwards in front of her, in a rather highly suggestive pose.
Her fingers itched to grab for his belt; the black leather pants he wore were like a second skin, the muscles in his thighs straining against the material. She swallowed hard, laughing when he leaned forwards, winking at her again.
His eyes were an insane gray, even under the bright lights on stage, and she swore she could see her reflection in his pupils. He was so fucking hot. He grinned, his eyes crinkling. “What’s your name?” he asked, shouting over the screams.
Her mouth opened, to yell her name, but gods above she didn’t even think she knew it when he turned around, and the music shifted— it was the climax, ironically— signaling the end of his routine. He turned over his shoulder and winked at her again, mouthing something she thought might have been ‘hang on.’
An intense heat filled her, settling between her thighs, which she subconsciously had widened while sitting in the ‘throne’, as he got closer and closer to her with the dance. It was a raw, throbbing, ache. It was a feeling she had never felt in her life and from what? Being the center of attention during a male stripper dance revue?
It had to be all that Caraxes fireball, she was never drinking that again.
The King in the North reached for her boa, dragging it around over her collarbone again. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she gasped. Fucking hells, she was so wet. She rolled her eyes up towards his and he lowered his face to hers again. “Ready?” he asked.
“Ready?” she squeaked.
“Hold on.”
Dany had no idea what to expect; she didn’t think they could do much by way of touching, and fuck that seemed to be the hottest thing. The fact he hadn’t put any hands on her besides holding them and bringing her to the stage. She opened her mouth to say something when he did another maneuver on the stage and…
Seven hells and Aegon’s dick!
The leather pants came off, went to the side and all he was in was a pair of black briefs, which showed her the greatest ass she had ever seen in her life. It was crafted by the gods, must have been carved out of marble into two taunt, perfectly round globes she could bounce a coin off. She wanted to bite one perfect cheek.
He spun around, grabbed her hand, and twirled her in a circle, the satin skirt of her skimpy white slip dress swirling around her legs. The movement distracted her from the nausea the movement induced, and then he was dragging her by the waist to sit on the throne’s armrest, as he draped himself back into the seat she’d been in a moment before, her legs kicking up to drape over the other armrest. Once again, not one part of her was touching any part of him but it didn’t matter. It was the mere whisper of it that almost had her coming right then.
“Yes Dany! Yes Queen!”
“And speaking of Queen,” the King said, reaching around and removing a tiara from somewhere— she didn’t want to know where it had been hidden— waving it so the blue lights caught the sparkles. He dropped it onto her head and sat up quickly to kiss her cheek.
The spot where his lips, warm and rather soft, touched her cheek caught on fire. She closed her eyes, laughing nervously and reached her hands to steady herself on his broad shoulders. Gods, he was so hard. Maybe he truly was carved out of marble.
The lights dimmed again and she moved to stand, the King helping her. “You okay?” he asked, his breath tickling her ear.
“Fine!” She had no idea what other answer she could say. She stumbled towards the step leading off the stage, refusing to look at him. She was dizzy and hot, electric currents shooting through her.
Because of a stranger. A super hot stranger who had stripped in front of her but a stranger nonetheless. Nothing like this had ever happened before. It was an entire week of firsts, she supposed. Dumping her fiance, canceling a wedding, quitting her job…
Getting super turned on by a stripper.
She fell forward slightly into Missy’s arms, her best friend cackling. “Oh my gods Dany! That was amazing! That guy is so fucking hot, I have like a million pics and vids for you. Does he smell as good as he looks?”
And then some, but she didn’t say that because she was double fisting shots. Anything to stop feeling like she had to hurry back to the hotel and make use of the shower head with a million settings. Or run backstage and find the King in the North.
Missy pushed her down into the seat, chattering about how awesome and fun it was, she was glad she got to have some fun, and something about flowers. Dany waved a waiter down for more drinks. She glanced up as the next dancer came out for their solo act, which was fine but she was starting to feel even more pressure again, crashing down from her previous buzzy high.
Throughout the next act, she kept pushing away thoughts of the King in the North, and her body’s reaction. She looked sideways at Missy who was texting a mile a minute. A bit more eye strain on the screen confirmed it was with her boyfriend Grey, who was holding down the fort back in King’s Landing.
She took another drink, sipping it slowly, but that didn’t seem to matter much. Nausea and pressure built in her stomach again.
Quit her job.
Dumped Drogo.
Drunk in Dorne.
Seven hells what was she doing!?
“Missy,” she called, getting to her feet. She waved her hands near her face, sweating and hot. Gods it was so fucking hot. “I…I have to get out of here.”
“Dany?”
“No like…I’m just going to the bathroom.”
“I’ll come with you!” Missy grabbed her purse, but Dany shoved her back. She frowned. “Are you sure?”
“Just getting…be back.” She couldn’t even form sentences.
Air, air, air, she needed air.
The street. The street would have air.
There were people everywhere closing in on her and the flashing lights and pounding music didn’t help. It made it impossible to figure where the fucking exit was, especially in the middle of this panic attack thing she was currently experiencing.
She fumbled her way through the club, not even seeing corridors and signs, just pushing through a series of doors-- it was some kind of haunted house she was sure of it-- running up some stairs until she exploded out onto...the roof.
Somehow Dany ended up on the roof and not on the street, as was her intention.
What the fuck, she wondered, rubbing at her eyes, inhaling deep gulps of cool night air. It still had a tang of something to it-- the salt from the Summer Sea, exhaust fumes from all the cars and people, and...smoke?
Just sweet smoke though.
It wasn't Shade of the Evening, but she recognized it as just plain ole' sourleaf, the smoke tinged red from the leaf’s properties.
"Oops, busted."
She jumped, tripping slightly on the uneven roof at the movement. A few feet away from her, leaning against a brick barrier and the edge of the roof was…
Him.
The "King in the North."
The guy she’d almost orgasmed over because she was in his mere presence.
Unlike his “character” outfit, he was in a pair of loose black joggers and black t-shirt, his black hair damp and pulled from his face in a knot at the base of his neck. He seemed fresh-faced, like he’d recently showered and she swore she smelled the same hint of blue winter roses and ice…or maybe it was the onset of a stroke or something.
She waved her hand at him, turning away, feeling even warmer. It was like seeing your teacher out of school or something. Oddly human. “Sorry, sorry I…didn’t mean to interrupt…” Godsdamn, she felt lightheaded again.
The King in the North stood from his perch, a frown creasing over his fine features. He dropped the sourleaf joint into an ashtray, stubbing it out. “You don’t look too good, here, sit down.” He reached for her and lightly took her elbow, guiding her gently into an old club chair that was next to a rusting patio table.
She closed her eyes, plopping into the seat a bit harder than she intended, the movement sending nausea shooting straight to her belly. “Sorry,” she apologized again, unsure why she kept doing that. Maybe Dany with this many drinks in her system was an over apologizer. It was so unlike her. “I didn’t mean to interrupt…I was just looking for some air.”
“Seems you found it but most people go outside onto the sidewalk instead of the roof,” he said, with a tiny, almost teasing smile. He reached for a bottle on the table, breaking the seal on the plastic cap and handing it to her. “Here, drink this.”
It was just a bottle of water, but for some reason it seemed like he was offering her a priceless object. Maybe in her still semi-drunk state that’s why it was. She took it and chugged, but he reached over to grab it, shaking his head. “What?” she mumbled, startled.
“Slowly,” he advised. He smiled briefly, his eyes crinkling in the corners. She'd noticed that when he'd been...well...earlier.
She nodded, but the movement made her sick again and she froze. He helped her sip the water, like a parent feeding a baby a bottle-- which she supposed she was kind of a baby, being this drunk-- until it was empty. He then lightly touched his fingertips to between her shoulder blades. "Put your head down."
"If I do that I'm puking all over this place," she groaned.
"Trust me, a random stranger, it will help."
Well, he had grinded against her and given her a lap dance, and she’d run her hands over his bare chest, so she didn't think they were quite random strangers any more. Fine, fine, she figured, and lowered her head between her knees. It felt awful for a second and then relief began to fill her. Her braids fell over her head, skimming the rooftop.
"Wow," she mumbled. "That's not bad."
"It calms your vagus nerve, helps when things are a bit too stimulated."
After a few quiet moments, she slowly lifted her head, feeling a million times better. She was still totally drunk, but at least she didn't feel like she was also having a panic attack at the same time. She blinked little black spots from her eyes as the blood in her head began to return to her limbs, studying him momentarily. He was watching her carefully, his face relatively unreadable. She smiled, loopy. "You have pretty eyes."
He blinked those pretty gray eyes, before chuckling. "Thanks, I guess."
"No really, they're like...crystally or something."
"Always thought they were just gray, but 'crystally' sounds a lot nicer."
She giggled, pointing up towards her face. "Could have these."
"Your eyes?" He shook his head, his voice dropping, kind of gravelly. "Nah, your eyes are beautiful. Not every day you see someone with violet eyes."
Violet. He actually gave it another description than most. They just said 'purple.' But 'violet'...it made her think of flowers and springtime. Not just a generic color on a palette.
She smiled, wrinkling her nose. "Well...I think we all find things that we can dislike about ourselves no matter what."
"Trust me, it's not just girls."
"Oh?" She scanned him up and down, remembering just how defined he was under his black t-shirt. Not that she needed that memory; it was just tight enough on his broad shoulder and biceps to hint at a very nice…package underneath. She laughed. "You too?"
"Well...no," he said, still smiling. She had no idea what she was doing. Am I flirting with this guy? He squinted and leaned in, like they had a secret. "But that's because I don't give a shit what people think about me."
There was definitely that. She grinned. "I think you'd need to, in this business."
"It's just a job. Just a body. No big deal." He leaned back from her, dropping his hands between his knees, forearms resting on his thighs as he maintained his perch on the edge of the roofwall. He kept his feet on the old chair seat, clearly comfortable and seemed as though he had no interest in getting up just yet. He reached for the sourleaf blunt still sitting in the ashtray and picked it up, using a lighter he deftly pulled from his pocket to light it. He took a drag, holding the smoke before blowing it out the side of his mouth.
It was fucking sinful.
She was staring; she blamed the alcohol. "Can I have some?" she blurted, already reaching. It might calm her down. Make her forget this entire ridiculous thing she'd embarked on.
He arched a brow, holding it between his index finger and thumb. "You sure? You've had a lot to drink."
"Well, it's been a bit of a night....well...week."
"Most brides wouldn't say it like that."
"Like what?" She took the blunt and drew on it. It had been gods knew how long since she'd smoked anything, and she hadn't been prepared for the strength, immediately coughing. Her eyes watered and she sputtered, sucking in her breath. “Shit, that’s…”
“Head between your knees,” he advised, taking the blunt back from her. He drew on it one more time and set it back in the ashtray.
She did exactly that, mumbling, “I can’t even get drunk and stoned right!”
“Nah, it seems you’re doing it right. You should see some of the bachelorettes that come through here.”
Ugh, that’s right. He thought she was a bachelorette. She lifted her head about halfway, gazing up through her braids still flung over her face. “You want to know a secret?”
“Are you going to confess to murder or something?”
“No.”
“Then sure."
She pushed her braids over her shoulder and leaned a little closer; he did the same, meeting her halfway, those 'crystally' gray eyes dancing, amused. "I'm not a bachelorette," she stage-whispered, her nose wrinkling. It felt kind of a relief to get off her chest for some reason. Telling someone else. Someone who was not at all affiliated with her world. She lifted her finger up, mimicking a 'shhh' motion. "Don't tell the others."
To her surprise, he smiled. It was such a nice smile; the way his eyes crinkled and his dark beard contrasted against the flash of white teeth. He was more wolf than man in that second and she felt...tingling. Or maybe it was the sourleaf. And the booze. He cocked his head briefly. "You're not a bachelorette?"
"Nope."
"Then why were you wearing a sash that said, 'Bride' on it?"
"And the white dress and the white feather boa my dumb friend wrapped around me?"
She rolled her eyes; it hurt her head. "That's the big secret."
"Not that you're pretending to be a bachelorette?"
"No, the big thing is that I kind of ran out on my wedding...or rather..." She frowned, trying to think it through. "Does it count as running out if you cancel like a week before? I mean...it's like...this is the bachelorette party I should have had...if I was getting married but it kind of became....the..." she waved her fingers in circles, trying to find the right descriptor.
He supplied it, shrugging, "The anti-bachelorette party?"
"Yes!" She pointed at him. "Yes! That's what it is!"
"Does your not-future husband know?"
"Oh yeah, yeah he knows, plus I quit my job." She mimicked a 'mic drop' with her hand and laughed. Gods, it felt good to laugh. "Just told my boss I was done, tired of being his lackey and I wanted to go...go out on my own. Have a life...not be...what they all wanted me to be."
The King in the North smiled again, only this time it was gentler, his lips closed over his teeth. Gods, she thought again, staring at them. They were just...perfect. She wondered what they tasted like. For all the roughness of him-- the black clothes, the messy hair, beard...he seemed like he was also a bit gooey on the inside. Then there was that voice...she never cared for Northern accents, finding them too harsh for her liking, but his burr had a roundness to it that didn't quite feel like icicle picks in her skull. It felt like...like snow falling.
Man she was totally drunk.
He reached down near his ankle, where she realized he had a bottle of beer he'd been drinking before she came up. He took a quick swig and swallowed, his throat constricting. There was a flash of silver on his neck, a chain that disappeared underneath the neck of his t-shirt. "Sounds like you took some major leaps lately. Nice of your friend to bring you down here to blow off steam."
"You don't think it's pathetic?"
"Why would I think it pathetic?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. Like a big pity party."
"Nah, you were having fun. That's the point, right? To have fun?"
"I guess."
He drained the bottle, dropping it next to the ashtray with a clink. "Besides." He paused. She blinked up at him, waiting. His voice dropped again and this time his crystally eyes went dark, almost black. "Far be it from me to say so, a total stranger, but if you dumped the guy, I'm sure he deserved it."
Wow. She swallowed hard, choking her response, "I didn't love him."
"Good reason to not marry someone."
"I wanted something else," she rambled, not breathing, "and I have no idea what it is but it wasn't him and it wasn't my stupid job and it...I was kind of having a total panic attack moment there when I came up because maybe it all just hit me at the same time, you know? I mean we’re only on this world for so long and I wasted so much of my life doing and saying what everyone expected of me and so I just figured..."
"You'd do something unexpected," he interjected.
That was exactly right. Something unexpected. Something the perfect Daenerys Targaryen wouldn't do. She didn't even want to be a lawyer. She didn't want to marry Drogo. She nodded. "Yeah," she whispered. "Something unexpected."
They were silent, the only sounds coming from the street below, the thumping music down in the club, and random car horns honking from all over Dorne. If she focused really hard, she might have heard the sound of the Summer Sea hitting the shore, but that was probably just her imagination. It was where she wanted to be right now.
Gods, what was she doing now? Pouring her heart and soul to the dude who was basically naked dancing in front of her not an hour ago? No matter how pretty his eyes, she really should not be swayed. She stood quickly from the chair, stumbling a little in her heels, forgetting that she was still tipsy. Her hand darted out and touched his arm for balance; he'd popped easily from his crouched position to help her. She tunneled a hand over her hair, blinking herself back to upright. "Uh...thanks you know...for...for the water and the...the talk." She was so thirsty now. "But I should...should get back to my friend. She's going to wonder where I am."
"The friend with the dark curly hair? The one who was stuffing ones into my pockets?"
Embarrassment cringed through her. "Oh yeah...sorry about that, she can get a little..." Dany shrugged, not sure how to describe Missandei. "Nevermind....uh, thanks though."
"Sure, come on, I'll help you get downstairs."
"Thank you uh..." She turned to him, pointing and laughing. Even in her haze, she realized she didn't quite know exactly how to thank him. "I don't know your name,...King in the North?"
He smirked. "Jon. It's Jon."
"Well thank you Jon. Appreciate it."
"And you're Dany."
She froze at the door, glancing over her shoulder. "Um...how did you..."
"Your friend," he supplied, holding the door open for her and gesturing to head down the stairs. He laughed; it sounded a bit like a wolf. "She kept shouting, 'Yes Dany! Yes Queen!', so I figured that was your name."
Gods. Even more embarrassment warmed through her. "Yeah it's short for Daenerys."
His eyes widened briefly; she wasn't sure what to make of that. "Daenerys? That's pretty. Valyrian, right?"
"Hmm, I always hated it."
"Nah, you hate a name, you hate one like 'Jon', it isn't even short for anything."
"Your mother just named you 'Jon'?"
"Apparently she liked the simplicity of it."
Well look at that, there was Just Jon and then there was Dany with the Long Name, she thought. What a random pair. The drunk patron and the male stripper/dancer who was off duty, she guessed, judging from his cleaned up appearance. She swallowed back the lump forming in her throat. "Hey um...you're all done, yeah?"
Just Jon cocked his head briefly, the movement dislodging a springy curl near his forehead. He smiled momentarily and slowly nodded. "I am."
"How about I buy you a drink to thank you for..." What the fuck are you doing Daenerys? This had to be the alcohol speaking. She was never like this. She waved her hand towards the table where they'd been sitting. "For keeping me from having a full blown whatever that was over there."
He edged around the door, gesturing for her to step ahead of him. A small frown creased his brow. "Oberyn doesn't usually like us fraternizing with patrons."
Well shit. She swallowed hard, her inebriation clearly wearing off because of how sharp the sting of embarrassment felt. "Oh well..."
His fingers lightly touched the small of her back; the dress she was wearing was a slip dress, of thin white satin with a lacy cut out over her midsection that dipped down to the dip of her spine, thin straps that went over her shoulders and well, most of the back wasn't there, so he ended up hitting warm, bare skin. A jolt of heat shot through her, settling a bit south of her belly. Where a rather nagging ache happened to be forming the longer she remained in his presence.
He smiled; in the poorly lit entryway it threw his already angular face in relief and he was more wolf than man. "I said he doesn't usually like us to do it. Not that he forbid us."
She swallowed hard again and a smile pulled over her lips, before she realized it was even happening. "Well Just Jon...let's go get that drink."
"After you Dany With the Long Name."