Chapter Text
A blustering flurry of snow whips around Daenerys Targaryen as she enters the dark cafe. A maroon wool hat is pulled tight over her head of familiar, silvery hair and despite the welcome warmth of the coffee shop, she pulls her matching coat tighter around her body and ducks her head to hide her purple gaze from anyone inside. She had to walk several blocks because the main street was packed and the only spot she could find was in the lot between the Methodist church and the high school. She wasn’t going to risk parallel parking Viserys’s car, not when she hasn’t driven in months since she normally has her own driver.
Snowflakes from the shutting door settle on Dany’s hair like a melting crown as she scans the room. Nothing seems to have changed in the last seven years since she was last in Cafe Dracarys. The floors are still smudged and dirty, the short man behind the counter wears a familiar frown, and even the portraits of visiting celebrities on the wall hang at the same crooked angles. She ducks her head, hoping Tyrion doesn’t ask for her photo to add to the wall. Luckily, he’s too busy setting up the stool and mic for the biweekly open mic to notice the celebrity in their midst.
At the table in the corner that was their high school haunt, Sansa Stark’s head of coppery hair stands out against the electric candlelight that illuminates the room. She waves at Dany, beckoning over her old friend, and stands to welcome her with a tight, squeezed hug.
Meeting here was Sansa’s idea, wanting to catch up in person for the first time in a long time. Her friend spends all her holidays in their hometown, visiting with her extended family of many, many cousins. Dany bites her lip, trying not to think about all those cousins. She hasn’t been back much since high school graduation, and even then it was only for the weekend. A day or two here or there, when she can find the time. Normally, her parents and brothers come to visit her in LA. The sun and warmth is better for her mother’s fragile health, and Rhaegar’s wife’s family lives nearby. But this year, her father had a stroke and was too weak too travel so the entire family gathered in Westeros, Indiana for the winter festivities.
“How have you been? Finals absolutely killed me this semester, I’m so glad I finally get to see you without having anything to study for.” Sansa says, taking the seat across from her as Dany takes off her coat and drapes it on an empty chair. She sits, her back to the stage. Sansa’s manicured, unpainted fingers wrap around an eclectic magenta mug, brimming with some sugary concoction. A plate of cookies already waits on the table, including lemoncakes and Dany’s favorite honeyfingers. “I ordered a peppermint tea for you, I hope you still drink it. Old gods and the new know I need more caffeine than I used to.”
Dany adds the waiting tea bag to her dragon-shaped mug and raises an eyebrow at Sansa’s drink. “Really?”
“I’ll have you know there’s two shots of esperesso in this!” She argues back defensively. “Besides, the sugar helps me get through third shift in the ER just as much as the caffeine.” Sansa takes another sip of her drink and uses a finger to brush away the line of whipped cream on her upper lip. Her smile fades as she watches Dany prepare her tea.
Dany startles when Sansa takes her hand and squeezes it. “I know it’s not public yet, but I heard about your dad. I’m really sorry, Dany. Mom says to let us know if there’s anything she can do. She’s already dropped off a casserole, but we’re here for you guys.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it.” Dany squeezes back, then goes to take a bite of a honeyfinger so she doesn’t need to respond. Even though Sansa was her best friend in high school, they haven’t shared close emotional issues in a very long time. It’s been years since they’ve done more than a FaceTime call, and even longer since Sansa came to visit Dany in the city. After a swatch of advertising roles and small-time modeling, Daenerys left Indiana for her first TV right after Christmas their senior year in high school. She finished classwork for the final semester online and the day after graduation, she broke up with her boyfriend and hasn’t looked back since.
Sansa breaks the silence and settles awkwardly back into her seat. “So, tell me about this new project. Do you really get to make out with the Harry Styles?”
Dany takes another sip of tea before launching into the detailed story of the random coincidence that got her the lead role in Florence and Jonquil. She’s just explaining what the book’s author is like and wondering if she can get an autographed copy for Sansa when Tyrion announces the start of the open mic. Dany stills as someone steps up to the mic, clears their throat, and begins reciting a poem. She remembers when that husky voice used to whisper babe in her ear, soft and low while they were wrapped in each other’s arms in the back of his beat up chevy truck. She turns around in her seat and her distant gaze drifts up, disbelieving, until she sees Jon Snow reading from a worn black notebook.
Immediately, she turns back to Sansa. Dany’s eyes are wide.
“I didn’t know he was going to be here. Him and his crowd normally come to the Thursday night slam.” Sansa swears, eyes wide. And she would know; Dany’s ex-boyfriend is her high school best friend’s cousin. That’s how it goes, growing up in such a small town. “Do you want to leave? We can go window shopping, or head over to Winterfell for a drink of something stronger.”
Dany shakes her head, trying to still her beating heart. “No, it’s fine.” She fakes a smile. Dany can handle crowds of paparazzi, she can handle seeing an ex from seven years ago. She thought she passed him on the way here, driving from her parents’ house, but its different to know they’re in the same room. To know that he’s so close, but she’ll never hold him again.”
Dany turns back to Sansa. “So, are you seeing anyone these days? There’s that cute doctor in your cohort pictures?”
“Alexander?” Sansa laughs nervously, plucking a lemon cake from the tray. She knows how to dodge questions almost as well as Dany.
“Come on, I see you blushing.” Dany leans forward. “Tell me everything.”
She wants to listen, but then there’s Jon’s voice, drifting in the background, melodic and deep and everything that still haunts her dreams.
“She was there until she wasn’t, the girl with silver hair
and violet eyes that bloomed like fire-flowers,
the garden that brought me to life. This season was ours,
twinkling stars and our happy place, driving in my car.”
Dany takes a deep breath and a sip of tea, emptying her mug to the dregs, and focuses on Sansa and nothing but her. When she hears clips of words - she knew the smiles I was faking, behind the clouds in my eyes / but I doubt she’s stopped to think of me since we said our goodbyes - she breaths again and takes a nibble at a cookie. This Alexander sounds amazing, intelligent and witty and kind. Sansa’s had her share of bad boyfriends, even in high school, and Dany is overjoyed her friend has found what sounds like real happiness. But soon enough, more words cut through and they both stop to snap at what seems to be the final standing.
“She knew my heart like no one else,
granted it seasons of happiness, then years of hell.”
Even with all the nasty comments she’s seen on the internet, and the mean tweets she read on Jimmy Kimmel Live, Jon’s manage to heart the worst. Tyrion takes the stage, thanking Jon and inviting the next speaker up, but Dany barely notices because of the thudding in her heart. She knew she hurt him when she left, when he barely got a real goodbye, but she didn’t think it would still hurt them both so much. Did he even realize that she ended it because she couldn’t stand the distance? Because the infrequent calls and time difference were just too much to handle when she was so in love? It didn't feel the same, when he didn't call back because of soccer games and yet she found the time between scenes. That the ache in him was put there by the ache in her, and that it still sat in there no matter how many celebrity singers, dancers, and actors she showed up on magazine covers with?
Jon is heading over to their table, she can tell from the pained look on Sansa’s eyes. Dany stands up. “I’m going to go get a more festive drink. How about a peppermint mocha? ’Tis the season and all that.”
“Sure, I’d love another round.” Sansa hands Dany her empty mug.
Dany had hoped that by the time she got back with their second round of coffee, he would be gone and the awkwardness would be avoided. But instead, Jon is sitting alone at the table in the once-empty chair with her coat draped across the back.
She sucks in a breath. Time has only made him more handsome, refining his chiseled jaw and elongating his tumble of dark brown curls. He meets her eyes with his misty grey gaze, the one she used to get lost in during Spanish class, and flashes his superlative-winning smile.
“Dany.”
“Jon.”
Jon visibly swallows, his throat bobbing. “Sansa ran to the restroom and she brought her makeup bag, so it may be a minute.”
“Okay.” Dany is thinking of exactly the ways she would like to torture Sansa and quietly reneging on the idea of getting her a signed copy of Florian and Jonquil. But Sansa isn’t foolish, and there’s a good chance this is a purposeful, calculated move. Stubbornly, Dany sets down the coffees and takes Sansa’s seat across from Jon. He takes a sip of Sansa’s coffee and Dany isn’t going to refuse him it. She’s not going to say anything, if she has her way.
“So . . . do you remember Ygritte?” He asks, nodding back to a fire-haired woman at a table closer to the stage, sitting with Sam Tarly and some other large men. “She was a few years ahead of us in school, girls’ track captain?”
“If I wanted to know who you were hanging with, I would’ve asked you.” Dany says, not meaning for the words to bite as much as they do.
But all the same, Jon tenses and ducks his head. “It’s not like that. She’s just a friend.”
Her voice falls, words slipping out of her guarded heart because that’s what his steady grey gaze does to her, even after all these years. “You hurt me to, you know, but you don’t see me mentioning it in every interview.”
“There were definitely a few quotes about me in Vanity Fair a few months ago.” He says, voice surprisingly light. “Something about a handsome stud of a rocker you’d dated in high school who wrote bad songs about you.”
Dany feels her cheeks light aflame. She remembers that interview, done in tandem with her cover shoot for her charity for neurorehabilitation. She smiles a little, trying to throw it off. “We could call it even, then.” Remembering her earlier strategy, she takes a deep drink of her peppermint mocha, letting the minty, chocolatey goodness give her some pleasure in this encounter.
Jon is staring at her when she finishes, and before she can realize why, he’s reaching across the table to wipe whipped cream off her lip. He licks it off his own thumb, holding her gaze the entire time. “If it’s all the same to you, it’s the same to me.”
“I’m back, sorry it took me so long, I ran into Margaery Tyrell and we ended up catching up.” Sansa says, sliding into Dany’s former chair like it was hers all along. She sets her makeup bag back in her purse, although her face looks notably the same, and levies a glare at her cousin. “My drink is lower than it should be, and I don’t think Dany is rude enough to take it.”
Jon smiles mischievously. “Would your favorite cousin do it either?”
“Well, since Robin isn’t here, who knows.” She smirks, then flashes her gaze at Dany and raises her eyebrows with an unspoken question.
In the brief moment of silence, Jon rises from his seat. “I should get back to the guys, but it was good catching up with you both. Until Christmas, Sansa. Tell Robb I’m going to destroy him during charades.”
“Will do.” Sansa wave her hand nonchalantly.
“I’ll see you around, Dany?” He asks, and she refuses to acknowledge the hope in his voice. To think about what’s been said, in these moments and in his poem.
“I’m only in town for a few days, so probably not.” She barely whispers, then lifts her gaze from the table to meet his once more. “But maybe.”