Chapter Text
"So how is your super holiday going? Is Winterfell all you hoped it would be and more? Is it worth you moving far, far, far away from me and abandoning me?"
Dany laughed, her airpods filled with the protesting, pouting voice of her best friend, who yes, was far, far, far away in Essos, while Dany was tromping through a real-life actual goodness Christmas tree farm. In the snow. While wearing a puffy white jacket, a knit cap with a pom pom, mittens that had dragons knitted on them, and big snow boots that swarmed her small feet, but felt good when she was making her way through the freezing snow.
And also keeping her upright on the abundance of ice that seemed to be coating most of the snow.
She was looking for that perfect tree for her new house, which she'd eagerly snatched up while on a holiday in Winterfell and had fallen in love with. Essos was fine, but she'd wanted more seasons in her life. As a children's book author, she could live anywhere, and so as heartbreaking as it was, she'd packed up what little things she had in Pentos, tearfully hugged and kissed her best friend in the world Missandei goodbye, and made her way west and then to the far North to settle in the capital of the Northern Province of Westeros.
Dragonstone, where she'd been born and raised, was in Westeros and she could have moved there, but it was an island and she tended to go stir crazy on islands. She supposed it was her conquering, wandering DNA. Winterfell would do. It was just so bloody adorable and she already had outlined an entirely new series about a little dragon who moved to the cold and made friends with a wolf.
"Christmas is in like a week, you're just now getting your tree?"
Dany sighed hard, reaching to lightly touch the pine needles on a massive fir. She pursed her lips. "It's hard to explain Missy. I just want it perfect."
"Drogon will just knock it down."
"No he won't, I'll make sure of it."
Missy snorted. "Sure, you do that. That cat is pure obstinance."
Yes, he was, but Dany had a plan to ensure her treasured ornaments would do fine in light of her massive furball of a demon dragon. She stopped in front of another tree, gazing at it, her eyes widening.
This was it.
"It's perfect," she whispered.
"Now, I know I said obstinance, but that reminds me of another term that you seem to be living up to the fullest. Abstinence. Are you going to find yourself a hot, hunky Northerner to mount this Christmas or am I going to have contact with...your friend Margaery and see if she wouldn't mind going into a "Let's Get Dany Laid" fund?"
Her cheeks flamed red. That's the last thing she could ever want or need. Missy and Margeary teaming up? The world would never be the same. Especially for her. "No!" she blurted out, stopping hard in front of a gigantic Douglas fir. "You are not going to talk to Marge. Both of you need to stay on opposite sides of the Narrow Sea. I can't handle it."
Missy chortled. "All the more reason to contact her." She paused, a loud sound in the background and what Dany heard were muffled curses in Astapori Valyrian. "Ah....sounds like Grey is struggling with the lights outside. I'll talk to you later."
"Bye boo."
"Bye boo too."
Dany disconnected, shoving her phone in her pocket. She studied the tree in front of her and walked around it a few times. There were no large gaps in the fronds, it didn't appear as though it were falling apart already. It was at least twice as tall as her, which was perfect, and also somewhat expected given her tiny size. She cocked her head, pushing into the needles and branches to take hold of the trunk, gazing up and down as best she could, half buried in the tree.
The trunk appeared to be solid, straight. That was good, she didn't want any mishaps and trees falling over. There was enough sap on it to stick to her hands when she tried to remove her mittened hand. Drogon might stay away from it because of that; he was fastidious, even for a cat. She struggled a moment to pull her hand away, her mitten sticking to one of the branches. "Shoot," she grumbled, trying to get her other hand out.
She gripped one of the branches, suddenly off balance. Her boots were skidding in the mud, melting snow and ice from all the people who had been clomping through having created a bunch of muck around the base of each tree. It started happening before she even realized, too late to stop it. Her feet began to go right out from under her, despite the fancy Gore-tex super gripping traction they were allegedly supposed to have– wasn’t that why she paid so much for them!?
“Oh!” she yelped, grabbing for the branches, her heart leaping straight up in her throat while her stomach bottomed out to her feet.
Feet which flew right into the mud, straight up.
The tree should have kept her from truly falling into the slush, leaving her with a bit of some hot cheeks and a surge of adrenaline, but this one wasn’t attached to the metal posts like the others, meant to keep them upright.
Nope, this one wasn’t attached at all and with her mittens sticking in the branches and her feet disappearing beneath her, Dany went straight down into the muddy, cold, icky, dirty, slushy, gross patch of ground.
And the beautiful tree she had contemplated bringing home with her came straight down on top of her.
Except it was worse.
How was it worse?
Because there were two other trees that seemed to be attached to the one she’d been looking at, and they came right down on top of her too.
”Ahhhhhhhhh!” she screamed, no longer trying to keep from being embarrassed. She was more interested in keeping herself alive. Death by Christmas Tree. She could see the headline now. “Help!”
Her ass went down hard, cushioned only by her heavy– and white– parka. Her head smacked down next, and her legs flew into the branches, pine needles and sap falling over her. She sputtered, needles poking into her face, smacking at the damn branches. “Get off me! Help!”
“Hang on I’ve got you!” A thick Northern accent– the owner of which thankfully wasn’t laughing at her– shouted through the branches. “Just stay put, you could have hurt yourself!”
The only thing hurting was her pride. Her cheeks flamed red, embarrassed at falling, but also pulling down the trees and making a mess of things. Did this mean she had to buy them all? Was that a thing in Christmas tree farms? Pull down the tree and you have to buy it? “I’m fine!” she sputtered, needles sticking to her lips. She struggled over, her mitten pulling off her hand and remaining in the sticky tree.
She slid a few more times as the trees came off her and she got to her feet, flailing momentarily, until a set of arms wrapped around her, keeping her upright. “Oh gods,” she mumbled, closing her eyes and turning towards her savior. “I’m so, so, so…” she opened her eyes and gaped.
Her savior was the hottest man she’d ever seen.
Well, perhaps an exaggeration, but…no, no definitely not.
It had taken some getting used to, these Northerners. They weren’t the overly tanned, sun-streaked bodybuilder types she was used to seeing in the beach towns of Essos. Or the rugged, ripped and long-haired Dothrakis from the Essosi plains. They were generally ruddy-faced, bodies designed for withstanding harsh winters and actual real work, in the forestry and mines across the massive Northern province. It was rare to find one with hair that was a shade lighter than maybe sandy brown. Eyes ranged from the palest gray to the deepest black, shades of brown in between, perhaps some dark blue here and there but even then that was odd.
Also, facial hair. It was everywhere. It seemed impossible for a Northern man who had made his way through puberty to not sport some kind of facial hair. Dany wondered if she’d stumbled into a constant Long Night fairytale remake. The Northerners sure loved their folk tales.
This man was like all those stereotypical types but if someone had designed to turn it into perfection. Like, pure perfection.
His hair was inky black, curling out of a half up/down top knot, the rest of it at his shoulders. He had the requisite facial hair, a black cropped beard, rather neat, swathing his sharp jaw. His cheekbones could cut glass. He had a perfectly straight nose, which led up to eyes that were the clearest gray, sparkling like cut ice. His lips were pulled in a tight, nervous smile, and were deep red from the cold.
He had on a black Carharrt with pine needles sticking to it, a flannel scarf tucked into the neck, and a quick scan from the top of that perfectly curly head to the tips of his muddy black work boots, was a body she was sure was cut from dragging trees all over the place instead of hours and hours in a gym. His thighs alone, straining in tight black skinny jeans, were enough to have her swooning again like a maiden in some Victorian drama.
“Oh,” she gasped, locking in once more on the eyes. They were so pretty. She grabbed hold of his arms, swallowing hard. “I’m so sorry!”
“Don’t worry about it, it was my stupid cousin, he was supposed to tie the new trees up but seemed he was more interested in running off to hang with friends.” The man’s pale face turned from concerned to annoyed. “I suppose I’ll have to fire him.”
“Oh no don’t do that!”
He smiled again, this time slightly more relaxed. “I was kidding, we’re volunteering. He’s just not getting the credit for his high school class.” He swallowed hard, his neck tightening and bobbing, the concern returning to his chiseled features. “Can you stand? Did you twist your ankle at all?”
“No, just…”
He ran his finger back and forth in front of her eyes and she subconsciously tracked it with her eyes, continuing to protest. He nodded smartly. “Doesn’t appear to be a concussion. I should call an ambulance just to be sure…”
Mortified, she buried her face in her hands– one mittened and one just plain muddy– groaning. “Gods no! Please, it was just my fault, I slipped and the tree was in one hand and…”
“Down they came?” he finished.
She nodded quickly. She sighed hard and shrugged, sheepish. “Only my pride is wounded.”
The man smiled again, somewhat satisfied. “Alright. Well, is this the tree you wanted?”
“The one that tried to murder me? I suppose so.”
He laughed, reaching into his back pocket and removed heavy thick work gloves. “I’ll tie it up for you.” His eyes narrowed, quizzical. “You aren’t one of the regulars. Are you new in town?”
“What gave it away?” she sighed. She waved her hand at the trees. “My obvious lack of tree knowledge?”
The man shook his head and reached in, seizing the tree and lifting the heavy thing easily, barely a grunt or strain. Dany wanted to swoon again; this was getting suspiciously close to a scene from a stupid romantic comedy. She hated it. She mentally chastised herself, trying to wipe mud off her ass and also maintain what shred of dignity she might still possess. “No, just a guess.”
She sighed; they all knew she was new in town. It was the Valyrian features, this guy was just too polite to say so. “Got me. I’m new.”
“It wasn’t the hair.”
“Huh?” She trotted after him towards the little tent where the checkout was.
“You probably thought it was because of your hair, no I figured you were new because of your boots.”
Dany looked at her boots, wiggling her toes in them. “What’s wrong with my boots?”
“They’re not built for the snow up here, probably better for skiing in the Vale. Might want to invest in a better pair.”
She scoffed. “These were expensive!” Although she made a note to definitely look into a different pair. They certainly didn’t give her any traction when she’d fallen. She sighed and rummaged in her pocket for cash to cover the cost of the tree, while he cut a few stray branches on the bottom. She looked up, at the same time he bent over to pick up the branches, and her jaw dropped.
Rholl’rs flaming balls.
That ass.
It was beautiful.
The skinny jeans couldn’t have been practical for hauling trees but somehow he made it east. They were, however, perfect to show off that shapely rear. Dany never considered herself an “ass woman” but my gods, she hadn’t seen one as perfect as the round peaches stuffed into those jeans.
She licked her lips before she could stop herself. Thankfully he didn’t see. She coughed and steeled herself, her butt achy from falling. “My car is just over there…”
The tree man placed the tree into the machine that wound it up with twine and picked it up again, walking with her towards her new SUV. “Three Dragons?” he read from her vanity plate, “3 DRGNS.”. He smiled briefly. “Is that a nickname?”
“Something like that.” It was the name of her publishing company. Not that he had to know that. She smiled and stepped back as he tied the tree to the roof. “Thank you so much. For…saving me from attacking trees and all.”
“No problem.”
Dany paid for the tree and fished her keys out. She wiggled her cold toes in the boots. Yea, she did need a new pair. Damnit. “Um…thanks again…” she trailed off, wondering what his name was so she could at least give him a proper thank you.
He must have sensed it and nodded briefly, removing his work gloves to offer her his hand. It was warm and wide, fingers nimble. “Jon.”
She smiled wider. “Dany.”
“Just give us a call if you need help getting it inside.”
“I will…thanks.” Dany made a mental note that she wouldn’t make any such call. She was still red cheeked from her fall. “Merry Christmas.”
Jon gave her a mock salute, walking backwards towards a set of waiting customers and their tree. “Merry Christmas Dany.”
Dany waited for a beat, watching him walk away. “Gods,” she mumbled, climbing into her car and shaking her head. “Get a grip Dany!”
And cold, covered in mud, and with her new tree, she drove off.
"It's perfect!"
The tree-- which did try to murder her so she was treating it with a bit more respect than one would a tree-- stood proudly in the front bay window of Dany's gorgeous old stone farmhouse. It was snowing, adding to the romance of the whole scene. The star topper sparkled thanks to the million little tiny white lights she'd wrapped throughout the branches, all her ornaments from her travels and some from her mother hung from it, catching the light and adding even more sparkle. She'd even found fake candles she'd stuffed here and there in the boughs and wrapped a garland of little wooden dragons around the top.
Since her family didn't really follow the main Westerosi holidays too closely-- they practiced a festival of lights and flames-- she didn't have many heirlooms to decorate, but her mother had always been fond of the pagan-like concept of bringing in greenery and celebrating, so she had some treasured ornaments she'd placed at the top of the tree with her dragon garland, so she could see them each time she walked into the room.
The candelabra for the Valyrian traditions of lighting a candle each evening-- and following the lunar cycle-- sat on the opposite side of the tree. She went over to it and adjusted the center candle, which she would light that night. It was an intricate setup, hand-carved dragonglass with dragon mouths serving as the setting for the candles, so it looked like they were blowing flame.
"It's perfect," she said again, sighing. She glanced over her shoulder at her fat black cat, Drogon, who was sniffing in one of the boxes. "Don't you think so?"
Drogon yowled, disappearing into the box. She rolled her eyes and went to tug him out. The entire moving process had driven him apoplectic with excitement and frustration. So many boxes, so little time, sometimes he had no idea what to do with himself. She wrestled him out of the box, to his annoyance, and he yowled a few more times.
She frowned; it wasn't his usual "Leave me alone, I hate you" crying. "Are you alright?" she asked, hoisting him up on her hip. He opened his mouth again, releasing another scream, his yellow eyes bleary. "Drogon?"
Well shit. She hoisted him again, but in doing so, she caught a glimpse of red near his butt. Her eyes widened and she turned him over, her mouth dropping.
There was a red string of tinsel sticking out of his ass.
"Drogon!" she screeched, racing with him bouncing in her arms to his litter box, digging around with the scoop and spotting a few pieces of tinsel among the clay and dried poo. "Oh shit!"
There hadn't been any tinsel in her decorations, so she couldn't fathom how he'd gotten hold of it, unless it...she glanced at the empty box of old ornaments, which she'd set out the night before. She riffled through the wrappings and found a few strands of tinsel that must have remained from a previous tree. Fuck!
One of the things she hadn't done yet was get him in to see a local vet, since he'd just had an appointment before they left Essos. She grabbed his carrier from the top shelf in the laundry room, where his litter was, and stuffed him into it, all while fumbling with her boots and phone to check for emergency vets in the area.
Thankfully, there was one open on a weekend, and she hurried him into the car and threw it into drive, racing backwards out of her driveway, muttering in Valyrian that he would be fine. All the while, her heart pounded, and she raced through everything she knew about what was toxic to cats and what they should and shouldn't eat, and all manner of horrible things that could happen to the one creature who actually tolerated her. He'd been with her through thick and thin, even before she met Missandei, and if anything happened to him....
"No," she shouted, glancing at her frantic reflection in the mirror. "No, you are fine Drogon!"
He yowled in response, scratching at the door to the carrier. Dany ignored him-- and several stoplights-- during the drive to the vet office. She parked haphazardly once she got there, next to a muddy and dirty Land Rover, which was the only car in the lot.
Busting open the front door, a bell tinkling above, she fell into a front desk window, where a young teenage boy leaned back in a chair, headphones half on and off his ear. He glanced up and frowned. "You okay?" he asked.
"No! I need to see the vet, Dr. Mormont? My cat ate some tinsel and it's coming out of his butt. I don't know how much or how long ago it was."
The kid sat up a little straighter and picked up a phone, hitting a button. "Uh, yeah, Doc? Got a cat with tinsel in its ass." He paused and glanced up at her. "He'll be out in a second." He hung up and leaned back again, still studying her curiously. He flashed a quick grin. "I'm Rickon."
Dany could not care less about a teenager who obviously had a bit of an instant crush on her, judging by how he leaned forwards and seemed to straighten up and be more interested. "Okay, how much longer..." She trailed off when the door to the side of the waiting room opened and an absolute bear of a man emerged, with a snowy white beard that made her think of Santa Claus.
He unhooked a set of glasses from his lab coat pocket, approaching her, a hand out. "Dr. Jeor Mormont, I hear we have someone who tried to taste a bit of Christmas tinsel, hm?"
"Uh, yeah, I'm not sure...it couldn't be much, it was leftover on some wrappings."
"Ah, well shouldn't be any harm, let's get him in the back room, but wait a moment..."
To Dany's surprise, the incredibly hot Northerner who had saved her from the tree yesterday, Jon, was walking out of the back room, holding the leash of a very large, very white, and very fluffy dog. Her mouth dropped. "Jon!"
He grinned. "Dany."
Rickon leaned over the window ledge, scowling. "You know her already?"
"Aye, saved her from a falling tree while you were off having a smoke break," Jon said, scowling at the teenager, who was instantly abashed. He flashed a quick smile. "He's my cousin, Rickon." He glanced at the huge white dog, who was straining towards her and Drogon's carrier. "And this is Ghost, who ate a bit too much chocolate when I wasn't looking."
"Her cat has tinsel coming out of its butt," Rickon shouted from behind the ledge.
Dany's cheeks turned pink; it seemed her lot in life to be embarrassed in front of this man. She sighed hard, forcing a smile. "Yes. Seems Drogon decided to scare me."
"Well, Dr. Mormont is the best vet in Westeros, you're in good hands." Jon smiled again, tugging on his leash. "Come on Ghost, leave the kitty alone."
Ghost strained again and she noted his eyes were a bright ruby red. Curiously, she leaned towards him, her hand automatically going to touch his head. He was truly as fluffy as he looked, like a walkin cotton ball. "Is he an albino?"
"Aye, he's mute too. Used to be the runt of his litter if you can believe it, now he's the biggest."
"He's beautiful."
"He's a good boy." They stared at each other a second; he was still smiling, a little nervous, his hand on his dog's head, and her hand near the dog's muzzle, getting a lick or two on her palm. Awkwardly, she smiled again, biting her bottom lip, unsure what to do. She swore his eyes had some kind of hypnotic spell about them. There was no way she had ever felt so...stupid in front of a guy before.
Thankfully, Dr. Mormont broke the awkward moment, coughing and reaching for Drogon’s carrier. "Let's come check this guy out. Jon, let me know if there's any more issues with Ghost, but he should be fine."
Jon cleared his throat and nodded quickly. "Aye, will do." He glanced at her again, stepping around her as she backstepped nervously towards the door, not wanting to break eye contact with him. "Good luck with Drogon."
"Um, yeah thanks....bye."
"See you around."
Dany watched him leave, the fluffy dog Ghost looking over his shoulder at her until he was pulled from the office through the front door. She chuckled; what a sweet boy. She looked back at Dr. Mormont, who was waiting for her and ran after him, mumbling an apology. Poor Drogon, he was sick and she was mooning after some guy. "Sorry."
"No harm done. He has a way about him."
Dany glanced at Dr. Mormont, eyes wide. "What?" It was that obvious!? Good gods, she was a mess.
Dr. Mormont looked up from letting Drogon out of the carrier. "Aye, Ghost," he answered gruffly. "Everyone loves him."
Oh Ghost, the dog. Seven hells. "Yes, yes of course." She crossed her arms over her chest, watching Drogon hunker down, like he usually did at the vet, and hiss up at Dr. Mormont who began to palpate his belly. "The dog." She exhaled hard. "The dog sure."
Dr. Mormont worked over Drogon, his voice booming in the small space. "Been seeing Ghost since he was a runty little pup. I keep meaning to retire. Half retired now anyway. Jon's a good lad, that dog is his family, you're new in town and you know Jon already? Good lass, he's a good one to know."
She flushed. Loosening her scarf, she shrugged, trying to play it off. "I met him at the tree farm yesterday, he ah..saved me from a falling pine."
"Jon loves saving things, it's always been his problem."
Huh?
Dr. Mormont didn't seem to realize what sort of pronouncement he'd made, instead straightening up and leaving DRogon on the table, going to wash his hands at the sink. "Belly is fine, good sounds, doesn't seem like there's any trouble. I could do an X-Ray but that might scare him more. Keep an eye, if there's any bleeding, call back immediately. Otherwise, no more tinsel for you." He wagged his finger at Drogon, who started trying to bat at it.
"Thank gods," Dany breathed. She collected Drogon, shoving him back into his carrier. "This holiday is not starting off great. First a tree, now Drogon."
Dr. Mormont held the door open for her and smiled wide, chuckling. "Tis the season."
For disasters, Dany thought, walking out.
Dany checked the oven, smiling at the cookies that were happily baking away, the scent of sugar and chocolate chips filling the kitchen. She hummed Christmas carols to herself, bustling around cleaning up the baking ingredients-- there were cat paws tracking through some flour scattered on her counter. She sighed, glancing down at Drogon, who had spent two days getting rid of whatever pieces of tinsel might still be in his system and was no worse for the wear.
He was now licking flour off his paws. "You're a mess," she said to him. He meowed loudly, scratching his paws up the side of the kitchen island.
She had a bunch of work she still had to finish up for the end of the year publishing review, plus she had a story idea she wanted to work on. It was floating around in her head since that encounter with the fluffy dog Ghost at the vet. She jotted it down in her notes when she got home, but now that she had a little more sit-down time in between baking, she would look at it again.
The treats would go to Dr. Mormont for helping out Drogon and she'd also pop by the Christmsa tree farm and see if Jon was there. Just to thank him for saving her from upending trees. No other reason.
No other reason at all.
Dany moved things out of the way on her messy kitchen table, setting her laptop in the center so she had a perfect view of the Christmas tree in her front window. She smiled at it and cocked her head, studying the old-fashioned candle lights in the top. They flickered like real ones. She glanced down at her laptop and took a deep breath, to set about working, when she paused, glancing up again at the tree.
That's funny.
They did look like they were flickering.
Drogon howled, jumping up onto the stovetop, his nose lifting to the air. She stood quickly, knocking her chair back, eyes wide. "OH my gods!" she exclaimed.
The tree was on fire.
They were definitely flickering because there was actual fire and the scent of burning pine, plastic, and smoke filled her nostrils, a cloud of it beginning to form around the top of the tree. Dany shrieked, vaulting over the table and into the laundry room, snatching up the fire extinguisher she kept there for emergencies. She fumbled with it and hurriedly sprayed the foam atop the tree, dousing the flames that were comin from the old-fashioned candle lights that clearly were too old-fashioned.
She knocked over the tree in her haste, ornaments scattering on the rug, the star flying off, and Drogon high-tailing it up the stairs. "No, no, no!" she cried, lifting windows to get rid of the smell, at the same time her smoke detector started going off. She stomped her foot. "Fuck!"
It was an actual fucking disaster, she thought, fanning smoke out of the windows and trying to drag the tree towards the door, scattering more ornaments and getting fire extinguisher foam all over her new Christmas rug. She wanted it out in case the lights sparked again.
It took about ten minutes to get the tree out and she rescued the ornaments that belonged to her mother, thankful for small miracles that they'd survived the crush and fire. She kicked at the stupid tree from the seven hells and stomped back inside, just in time to sniff smoke...again.
This time it was from her oven.
"Ah!" she screamed, bolting for the oven. Smoke was coming out the top of the door and the smoke detector in the kitchen was shrilling. Tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes, probably from smoke, but also probably from her frayed emotions. She used two potholders, seized the pan of burnt-to-crisp cookies, and rushed it out of the house and through the front door, throwing them angrily into the snow with the tree.
And right in front of Jon.
And his cute dog.
Her eyes widened, shocked to see him on the sidewalk in front of her house. " Um," she began, vaguely gesturing to the carnage. "Had a...a problem."
Jon's mouth formed a tight line; he was trying not to smile. He walked up the driveway, gesturing towards the door. "I take it you had a problem with your tree? Again?"
"Lights on the tree, I'll never buy vintage again," she muttered, closing her eyes and trying to exhale the smell of burning from her nose.
"And the cookies?"
"Distracted." She glanced at them, shrugging. "Or maybe my oven is broken. Doesn't matter."
Jon nodded sympathetically. "I can take a look at it if you want."
She jerked her head up, confused. "Huh?"
"The oven thermostat, I can get it and make sure it isn't set too high, that will burn anything no matter what temperature you have it at. Also, if you want, I can bring another tree by. The farm doesn't have much left, a few days before Christmas, but it's better than none." Jon smiled a little wider, his eyes crinkling. Gods, she thought, staring into their depths. They truly were something else. He ducked his head, a little sheepish, and shrugged. "If you want of course."
Dany laughed-- it was more a sob-- reaching for him and grabbed his shoulders, almost bodily shaking him. "Thank you, thank you!" she let go almost as soon as she touched him, stepping backwards, her cheeks red from the heat of the flames and running around, but now from embarrassment. "Gods, sorry. I forgot I'm not in Essos."
Jon laughed softly. "No problem. Here, let me help you clean up and get some of those ornaments off."
"You really don't..."
"Nah, it's no big deal. Ghost and I were just on a walk." He waved vaguely towards where Winterfell castle was, just down her street. "I live over there."
"Oh alright...that's not far at all."
He shook his head and let go of Ghost's leash, lifting his finger up. "Stay." Ghost plopped his fat butt straight into the snow, tongue lolling, and sat perfectly still, his red eyes tracking them as they entered the house. She caught sight of Drogon on the stairs, lurking and glaring. Jon saw him too, smiling briefly. "Hello Drogon."
Drogon hissed and then turned around, showing his butt before running straight up the stairs. Dany rolled her eyes. "Sorry about him, he's ornery."
"He's a cat, it's expected, I'm not offended." Jon followed her through the house, glancing around, his hands in the pockets of his black jacket. "I've always liked this house. It used to be part of the Winterfell estate, back in the day. It's got good bones."
She managed to get out a brand new toolbox she'd bought when she moved in, on the off chance she might need it, and thrust it towards him. "If you need this."
"Let me check the oven, but it might still be too hot to really tell." He approached the door, which she'd left open, crouching down to peer inside. In doing so, the jeans he wore pulled right over that perfect arse and she felt hot again, forcing herself not to look and objectify the nice man who was helping her out when he didn't have to. Gods, she could imagine what Missandei would say. Probably yell at her for letting a strange man into her house and then follow-up with telling her to get his number.
Dany would do no such thing; he was being a gentleman and helping out someone who needed it. Besides, were they already acquaintances from the previous disasters she'd endured thus far? Felt like they'd known each other forever. She cleared her throat loudly. "How...how is it?"
"Still a bit too hot to tell, but from what I can see, looks like the thermometer might be broken. No wonder the control didn't register." He stood up and dusted off his knees. "I'll take a look at it when I deliver your tree."
"You really don't..."
"It's no trouble, really." He grinned, his eyes crinkling again, gray eyes sparkling. "It's Christmas."
She wrapped her arms around herself, nodding. "Yeah, Christmas." She waved her hand vaguely at the cookie ingredients. "I'd offer to repay your kindness with cookies...like I planned but..." she sighed. "That's out of the question."
Jon walked towards the front door, chuckling. "It's really not a problem. It's the North, we take care of our neighbors. Besides, my mother would never forgive me if I let someone in need go without help when I can offer it."
"Sounds like you have a very thoughtful mother."
The smile on his lips faltered. "Had," he said softly.
Oh shit. Except...she got it, she was in the same position too. A gentle smile tugged on her lips. She was compelled to touch his elbow, comfortingly. She nodded, understanding. "Yes, I get that. My mom is gone too."
They stood in a quiet, thoughtful silence for a moment, until Jon coughed lightly. "I better get Ghost home. I'll be by with the tree later today or tomorrow."
"Please don't rush."
"It's really not a big deal." He hopped off the front porch and picked up Ghost's leash; the dog had stayed in place the entire time, she marveled. He waved and started off down the driveway, leaving her rooted in place at the door, watching him go.
And wondering what she'd gotten herself into.
Daenerys didn't understand how it was possible for a small town music store to be so busy, even four days before Christmas. It couldn't possibly be because they were also waiting on a delivery of a rare, one-of-only-ten-in-existence violins that she'd only just found out via her persistent Searcharos search. She knew he was disappointed she wouldn’t be spending the holidays with him and his family on Dragonstone, so this should make up for it.
If she could get it there in time.
And if she could get through this horde of people in the tiny store, all of them scrambling around and generally in her way. She caught sight of the kid from the vet’s office. Rickon, she remembered. “Hey,” she called, coming up to stand beside him. “What’s going on?”
Rickon leaned lazily against the front counter, grinning. “Oh this? Apparently Edd got hold of a signed copy of some old person band’s live recording on vinyl. Never knew old people could get this excited.”
“Edd?”
“Dolorous Edd, he owns this place. Used to be in an indie band or something, I don’t know.”
“What are you doing here?”
Rickon shrugged. “Edd is my hookup.” His face went white. “Uh, don’t tell Jon.”
Given the pot wafting off Rickon in waves, Dany suspected anyone who stood beside Rickon longer than five seconds knew he was into the more herbal lifestyle. She waved her hand, not caring, and wondering why he’d mention Jon. Her stomach flipped. She swallowed hard. “I wouldn’t do that.”
Jon had stopped by that morning with the new tree and he’d fixed her oven. He’d protested when she offered to reimburse him, buy him coffee, make him a cake, anything. Just said “that’s what we do here.” She wasn’t sure if that meant he’d do it for any other woman and just had some kind of savior complex– Missandei was sure he did– or if there was just something else there.
He’d asked her what her plans were that day; she’d just said she would be working, which was the plan until her alert went off on the search and she got in contact with Edd, who said yes, he had the violin, he’d just received it from an estate sale and posted it on the collector’s forum. He set it aside for her and now here she was.
There was a frantic man up at the register by the time she got up. He had a round, sweaty face, and he went beet red at the sight of her. “Um, the line for the auction on the Bobby B vinyl is…” he moved to point to the group of people.
Dany waved her hand. “No, no, I’m here about the Rhaenys violin. I spoke with Edd this morning? I’m Dany Targaryen.”
“Dany…oh…hang on…” The man went ashen again, rummaging through post-it notes, slips of paper, and old receipts all over the stickered and cluttered countertop. He lifted his face again, weakly saying, “The Rhaenys violin?”
Call it intuition or Targaryen realness or something, but Dany’s stomach bottomed out once more, and very slowly, she repeated herself. “Daenerys Targaryen…for the Rhaenys violin. I put down a deposit?”
“Um…” The man looked devastated. “I’m so sorry there was a mixup…I…I also took a call about it…Edd didn’t…I’m only filling in to help out because Grenn ran off to get married and…oh no!”
A weedy, small man came around the counter, appearing exhausted. “These Bobby B fanatics, I’m going to kill them…Sam, what’s wrong?”
“Are you Edd?” Dany demanded, her teeth set so tight, her request sounded like a snarl.
“Uh, yeah Edd Tollet, this is my place.”
“I placed a deposit with you for the Rhaenys violin? This man says there was a mix up!”
On the other side of her elbow, scanning guitar case stickers, Rickon chortled. “Busted Sam, you suck.”
“Rickon! Get back to work!” Edd shouted. He raked his hand through his hair. “Sam, just…go over there.”
“I didn’t want to help out!”
“Who bought the violin?” Dany demanded; she was desperate, this was seriously the only thing Rhaegar had ever wanted and she had been looking for ages. The fact it happened now, in her new little town, was almost too good to be true. Clearly.
The man, Sam, glanced at Rickon and pointed. “Your sister. You could ask her to sell it.”
Rickon’s eyebrows jumped to his curly hair. “My sister? I have two sisters and either one of them would rather shoot me in the back with arrows than do anything I ask them. Besides, Arya hates classical shit. Nah, def Sansa and I am not talking to that bitch.”
Dany wanted to burn this incompetent Sam alive. Edd rounded on him, shouting how he couldn’t seem to do one damn thing right, and she couldn’t disagree, having nothing to go off other than this interaction. She shouted, slamming her hands on the counter. “I want my deposit back!”
“You’ll get it back, don’t worry, and it’s coming from Sam!”
“Goodbye, I can’t stand to be here any longer,” Dany exclaimed; she wanted to burst into tears. She was so close to the perfect gift for Rhaegar. He’d given her everything in life and she truly wanted to repay him and this had always been the way she wanted to do it. The one thing he probably wanted more than anything, even if Christmas wasn’t really his thing.
Rickon waved weakly. “Bye Dany, sorry.”
“Bye Rickon.” She waited until she got out of the tiny store and about a block away before she dropped her bag onto the end of the sidewalk, dug her fingers into her palms, and closed her eyes, releasing a wail.
This had been the week from seven hells.
She kicked at a bunch of dirty snow at the end of the sidewalk, sniffling and fighting back tears. The few that had leaked out were frozen to her cheeks. “I hate this Sansa person!” she shouted, to no one or nothing in particular. The North already thought her a freak, with her silver hair and purple eyes, and Targaryen name, she might as well give them something to hate as they bustled through with their last minute shopping, gazing at her like she was a lunatic, yelling on the street corner.
A very familiar voice sounded behind her. “I know Sansa and I’m sure she deserved it, but what happened to have you cursing her name out in public like this?”
Dany wheeled on her foot, gaping. It was Jon Snow. “You!” she exclaimed.
“Me,” he laughed.
She narrowed her eyes. “Are you stalking me?”
“No, I was bringing Rickon his lunch.” Jon was without Ghost this time and to her surprise, he seemed to be wearing gray sweats and flashy sneakers in lieu of his jeans and boots. His coat was zipped up to his chin and his hair was pulled all the way back from his face. He cocked his head, frowning. “What did Sansa do to you?”
“Bought a violin that I’ve been looking for, forever. Apparently someone named Sam…”
Jon nodded. “Say no more. Sam gets overwhelmed too easily, I’m sure she also bullied him to give it to her at a discount.” He frowned. “I can talk to her. Make her see the reason, maybe she can sell it to you for what she paid for it?”
“Please don’t.” This man was like that stupid violin. Too good to be true. She reached up to adjust her pom-pom hat, tugging it farther over her ears, freezing cold standing in the street. She shoved her hands into her pockets. She smiled sadly. “Some things just aren’t meant to be. I’ll get Rhaegar something else.”
His brow furrowed, concerned. “I’m sorry. It seemed like it was for a very…important person.” He shifted on his feet, his meaning quite obvious. “Ah this Rhaegar must be…a…a special person.”
Is he flirting with me? Dany smiled, in spite of herself. “Yes, he’s very special.”
Jon’s frown broke into an impassive, set expression, nothing moving. “Ah.”
“He’s my brother.”
The frozen look broke again, this time into a smile. Dany couldn’t have imagined it, but he was…relieved? She nibbled her bottom lip, wondering if she was making it up. Perhaps he really was just a concerned citizen? These past few days, all the disasters he’d stumbled upon with her right in the middle, he had to think she was absolutely bananas. Or had the worst luck of all time.
And Dany couldn’t disagree there.
Jon shoved his hands into his pockets. “Well…like I said, Sansa is my cousin. I can definitely see about getting that violin.”
“Thank you but you’ve really done more than enough for me lately.”
“Just being…”
“A good neighbor,” she finished, suspecting that was what he would say.
He touched his fingers to his heart, aghast. “I wasn’t going to say that!” Except he was smiling; she was pretty sure he was indeed. He stepped backwards. “I’m sorry about the gift, but…do try to stay out of trouble, I’ve got work today so can’t be coming and saving your Christmas tree.”
She pinked, but smiled in spite of herself. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him what he did; aside from running Christmas tree farms and rescuing her when she needed it. She kept her mouth closed instead, watching him walk off.
And wonder how criminally unfair it was his ass still looked that good in gray sweats.
Her phone buzzed, just as she was cocking her head, watching him turn a corner. Dany pulled it from her pocket and stared at the image of her second oldest brother, Viserys, and disconnected, not interested in hearing what he had to say.
Because gods knew, if Viserys got involved, it really would be a disastrous Christmas.
And even as crafty as he was– and omnipresent– Jon Snow couldn’t get her out of that one.