Chapter Text
“You are going to make someone very happy today.”
Jon reached across the counter and accepted the bouquet of flowers from the florist. He pushed his nose in between the stems, smelling the sweet dragonsnaps, and let his fingertips brush across the soft petals of daisies and lilies. “It is lovely,” he agreed.
“A new one every week,” the florist pondered out loud. She leaned her elbows on the counter as she plopped her face down to rest in her hands, her eyes thoughtful. “Must be one lucky lady you’ve got.”
Jon smiled slightly as he slipped on his sunglasses. “I suppose.”
“Bring her by one day. I’d like to meet her.”
“I’ll think about it,” Jon promised.
“That means no,” she huffed, “You could at least be frank with me.”
“Okay, then - no,” Jon empathised as he stepped outside into the sun. As the door shut behind him, he could hear her laugh.
At least I’ve made someone happy this week, he thought to himself as he started making his way downhill toward the harbour, the bouquet swinging by his side. He hadn’t managed to do the same for himself.
It started Monday when his van broke down. The old Volvo had been making noises for a while, but Jon had purposely cranked up the radio to max volume to drown out the sounds. Perhaps, he thought, if I can’t hear it, it’s almost like the problem doesn’t exist. Of course, that didn’t last forever. As smoke started seeping out from beneath the hood, resembling a grumpy dragon, it was time to visit the mechanic.
Then Tuesday came along with bills, bills, and more bills. His landlady also decided to make an appearance, reminding him that: “Rent is not an option, it’s an obligation.” He had just managed to scrape enough cash together to make up his arrears when the mechanic called, telling him that his car would suit the local scrapyard. Great.
Wednesday, however, he hit a new low. In the early hours of the morning he was awoken by heavy knocking on the door. Barely awake, he’d answered, almost expecting his landlady to be back for round two. But instead he found his old friend from university, Sam, standing drenched in the hallway.
“She kicked me out,” Sam said, a nervous smile on his lips as he referred to his fiancee Gilly.
“Again?” Jon asked, but let him scoot past him inside. Sam scuttled toward the sofa and made himself comfortable, not awaiting any further invitation. He stayed like that for all of Thursday and Friday, moaning about his love life whenever Jon was around.
But today will be different, Jon promised himself and slipped out his mobile to glance at the time, Today, nothing will bring me down.
He didn’t see the bicycle hit him, but he felt the wheel push into the side of his knee as he was knocked to the ground. He lost his grip on the bouquet and it went into the air, the ribbon loosening and the flowers scattering.
There was a hollow sound as metal was dropped onto the pavement. From the corners of his eyes, he saw the spinning wheels of the bike, and he heard the sound of footsteps come close. “Oh, Gods!” someone cried, “Are you okay?”
Jon prodded himself up to sit and pulled off his shades. At first, all he could focus on was the light bruises on the palms of his hands, bits of rock stuck in a bloodied scrape, but as a shadow fell above him, he looked up and gawked.
There she stood. Whoever she was. The sun was hitting her from behind, making her silver hair glow, and between the falling petals from the bouquet, softly landing on them like drops of pink rain, her violet eyes stood out. They were gazing upon him with concern.
Jon closed the shades in his hand and swallowed. His mouth suddenly felt dry.
“Oh no, did you hit your head?” she asked and waved a hand in front of him as if to check his eyes.
Jon shook his head.
“Please say something,” she begged, “You are scaring me.”
“I’m okay,” Jon finally managed to say, although his voice was more faint than intended. He cleared his throat and repeated, “I’m good,” before accepting her outstretched hand. It was soft, he noted, as she helped him back up standing.
“You sure you’re okay?” she repeated her question, concern still filling her eyes, and Jon almost felt embarrassed by her worry.
“I’m fine,” he promised and corrected his leather jacket. He was suddenly very aware of how dirty he looked and casually tried to brush the dirt off his jeans. “No need to apologise.”
“Apologise?” she said, and it was as if a switch turned in her head. All concern seemed to leave her eyes. “No, I don’t think so. You ought to apologise to me.”
“Me?” Jon blinked.
“That’s what I said,” she nodded and tapped her finger at his chest. She looked up at him with a brow raised. “Crossing the road whilst looking at your phone? I thought that was something only teenagers did.”
“I wasn’t looking at my phone,” Jon protested, but, as if on cue, they both turned to look at his mobile on the ground, the screen still lit up. Jon quickly grabbed it and turned it over, ensuring there were no cracks. “I was just… glancing.”
“I could’ve been hurt.”
“Well, were you?”
“No. But I could’ve been.”
Jon stuffed the mobile in the pocket of his jeans as he hesitated. She was right, he realised, however much it annoyed him. So he finally nodded and averted her gaze. “I’m sorry,” he said, feeling a bit like a scolded child.
“Thank you,” she smiled, then bent down to pick up one of the flowers that had come loose - a single pink dragonsnap. “These are my favourite,” she said.
“Oh shi-” Jon looked around at the flowers, spread all over the road like confetti. He took in a deep breath and groaned in frustration. “I only just got them.”
“Let’s salvage what we can,” she said and handed him the dragonsnap.
Jon accepted it with a grateful smile.
It took them a few minutes, but soon most of the bouquet was recovered. It wasn’t as pretty, naturally, but besides a few broken stems, some lost petals and a squashed lily left beneath the bicycle, it was almost (key word almost, Jon noted) as new. Jon watched as the girl tied the stems together with the ribbon, making a perfect bow before holding out the bunch to admire her work. “Done!”
“Looks good,” Jon said.
They were seated on the curb, their legs stretched out in front of them onto the bicycle path. Whilst she had fiddled with the flowers, Jon had tended his scrapes and picked out the stones from the wound. It hurt, but he tried to play it off as she smiled at him.
“I think we did well,” she said.
“Certainly did,” Jon agreed, “thanks, uh…” He grabbed the flowers and rested them in his lap as his tongue hesitated, looking for a name but having none to speak.
The girl tilted her head a little and offered, “Daenerys.”
“Daenerys,” Jon spoke, the name foreign to him. “I’m Jon.”
“Nice to meet you, Jon,” she said, “although I’d preferred it to be different.”
“What, you don’t like men jumping in front of you for attention?”
“I don’t like men seeking attention, full stop,” she challenged.
There was a twinkle to her eyes as she spoke, Jon saw, and he watched her as she tucked a loose braid back into her updo. “I haven’t seen you around before,” Jon said, only realising too late what a lame pick-up line that sounded like. “I mean, I know most people in town.” Even worse, he thought. “I mean, I’m sure I would remember if I’d seen you.” Strike three, I’m out.
Daenerys smiled mercifully and, as she couldn’t just sit watching him dig himself deeper into a hole, agreed: “I am new. Just moved here last week.”
“Well, welcome to Winterfell,” he said and gestured around the empty street.
“Yeah, thanks,” she said, “seems like a downright riot here.”
“Why anyone would move here is beyond me,” Jon admitted as they got up. He helped Daenerys pick up her bike and dusted some dirt off the seat. “It’s a dying town I’m afraid.”
“You’re really selling the place.”
“Sorry,” Jon mumbled.
Daenerys shrugged as she took a hold of the handlebars and pulled her bike around to face downhill. As she turned, her blue dress lightly fluttered in the breeze. “I’ve lived in a city before. It’s hard to make a change. So I thought I’d start small.”
“You sound like a politician,” Jon laughed but stopped at the look she gave him.
Daenerys wrinkled her brows. “You make that sound bad.”
“Politics killed the town, moved all the jobs out. Of course it’s bad.”
“I work for the town hall,” she said, a certain air of self importance to her voice.
“Oh, as an official?” Jon queried.
Daenerys' cheeks reddened and the self importance in her voice seemed to blow away with the breeze. “Well, not yet,” she said.
This time Jon raised his brows. “So you’re not in politics?”
“I suppose I’m a sort of administrator.”
“So a paper-pusher.”
“A clerk,” Daenerys corrected him. As she noted his smile, she got up onto her bike. “Alright, Jon,” she said, “you can laugh now, but in time I’ll be deciding your taxes.”
“I hope you stop by to claim them in person, then.”
Daenerys’ cheeks reddened even more. She pulled a braid loose to cover them, but Jon had already seen it. Her gaze fell to his bouquet. “Well, I suppose someone’s waiting for those,” she said and, before Jon could say anything further, she stepped onto the pedals and pushed herself forward. The wheels started spinning as she rolled downhill. “Nice to meet you, Jon!” she called over her shoulder.
“Good luck saving the world!” he called back with a grin. He stood watching as she disappeared into the distance, her blue dress fluttering behind her. He then turned the bouquet in his hands and sighed. “Now I’m late.”
It was quiet. The sun had managed to push its way through the leaves of the old weirwood, and the earth felt warm. Jon leaned down and placed the bouquet on the soil where the sun shone the brightest, then stepped back to admire the plaque that read: “UNKNOWN.”
“Hi Mum,” he said and popped his hands in the pockets of his jeans. He glanced around the graveyard before looking back down at the bouquet. “Sorry I am late. I had an… accident.” He smiled a little and kicked the dirt by his feet. “I bumped into a very pretty girl. She had a certain fire burning in her. Never had someone talk back to me like that - I’m sure you would’ve liked to hear it. Our little talk was the best part of my week, can you believe? Everything’s gone wrong. It started Monday-”
And just like that, Jon stood talking at the grave of the unknown as he did every Saturday, believing that perhaps among the spirits of the dead his mum too would listen in. But even then, as he recounted his week, his mind wandered back to Daenerys’ face as he first saw her, lit up and covered in pink petals, and he realised: I have to meet her again.