Work Text:
July 2023 – King's Landing
The office is alight with excitement as Daenerys stands in front of a group of her coworkers, a wide smile on her face, holding the letter that officially promotes her to senior creative director.
Everyone around her is fawning over her, complimenting her, and congratulating her as though this moment was the pinnacle of her career.
"What a crock of shit." Sansa mutters to herself.
She watches from the far corner of the room, pretending to sip her coffee, but her fingers are clenched so tightly around the mug that her knuckles are white. She can't tear her eyes away from Daenerys, the woman who, despite being fresh to the team and still so…new, managed to secure the very promotion Sansa had been eyeing for months. The promotion that, by all rights, should've been hers.
Of course, she gets it, Sansa thinks bitterly, her jaw tightening. She's so perfect, isn't she?
She watches as Jorah Mormont, their boss, steps forward, placing a hand on Daenerys' shoulder. His smile is almost too eager, his voice warm with approval. "Congratulations, Daenerys," He says, his tone proud. "This is well deserved. Your hard work and vision have been remarkable, and I couldn't think of anyone better for the role."
I could, she thinks bitterly.
Sansa clenches her jaw harder, every word feeling like a fresh slap in the face. She has worked twice as hard as Daenerys, grinding away at the endless hours of overtime, sucking up to the higher-ups, bending over backwards for projects that never got her anywhere. And then Daenerys strolls in with her perfect hair, her perfect smile, and her perfect everything, and here she is, being handed the job on a silver platter.
Daenerys laughs, but the sound seems too high-pitched, too forced. "Thank you, Jorah," She says, her smile too wide, her eyes darting nervously around the room. "I'm…really excited for this opportunity. I have learned so much from all of you, and I can't wait to work with this amazing team."
The crowd claps, some genuinely thrilled for her, others just going along with the tide, but Sansa notices it: the subtle shifts in Daenerys's posture, the way she adjusts her stance as if trying to avoid being swarmed. There is no mistake in the way Daenerys is fidgeting, no mistake in the way she quickly glances down at her letter as if it's the only thing keeping her from fleeing the room.
Sansa doesn't see it, though. She only sees Daenerys' easy smile, her perfectly polished persona.
Probably boasting in her head about the big promotion, she thinks.
Then, she sees all the men.
As Daenerys moves through the crowd, she is surrounded by eager young faces, some of them eyeing her with admiration, others clearly undeterred by the fact that she is technically now their superior. One of the younger guys saddles up to her, his grin almost too wide.
"You're going to make this place run like a well-oiled machine, huh, Daenerys?" He says, and his tone is just a touch too flirtatious. "Maybe you'll even take us to new heights." His eyes linger on her a little too long, and Sansa clenches her fists behind her back, her nails digging into her palm.
Daenerys, of course, smiles, but it's stiff. "I'm just happy to be here, really," She replies, clearly trying to play it off. "I'm excited about what we can do together."
But Sansa knows.
She knows that Daenerys' smile is as fake as her own bright eyes. That uneasy shift in her posture, that tiny flicker of discomfort in her expression. It all means something. Daenerys is clearly uncomfortable, and it's obvious to anyone with eyes. But she doesn't care.
She is too busy seething with jealousy, watching as Daenerys basks in all the attention that Sansa feels she deserves. This should've been me, she thinks again. I've been here longer, I've worked harder. What makes her so special?
A moment later, a different colleague approaches Daenerys, a more seasoned woman this time, offering her compliments with a hint of envy. "You've got the position now, Daenerys. I knew you were destined for something big. But I have to ask, how did you do it?" she says with a knowing grin, looking at Jorah. "It wasn't just luck, was it? You must have had a good…mentor."
Sansa's eyes narrow. Of course, she had help. She watches as Daenerys laughs again, that high, brittle sound, and looks over at Jorah, who is looking at her with something between admiration and…something else.
"Well," Daenerys says, playing along, "I'm lucky to have had support from everyone. Jorah especially. He's been a great mentor."
Jorah beams, completely unaware of the undertones in her voice. "It's been a pleasure, Daenerys," He says, and his hand moves again just a little too close to her shoulder, a little too intimate for someone in a professional setting.
Sansa can feel her blood start to boil. This whole situation is ridiculous. They're all acting like Daenerys is some kind of royalty. This woman who hasn’t even been with the company long enough to understand how it worked. How does she get everything she wants without even trying?
The jealousy twists inside her like a knot, and for a second, she almost doesn't care that Daenerys is probably uncomfortable with all the attention. She's too focused on herself, too wrapped up in her own feelings of resentment.
Then, just as the crowd begins to settle, Daenerys looks up, her eyes scanning the room quickly. Sansa catches the moment, a fleeting expression of frustration, maybe even panic, as Daenerys realises just how much attention she's drawn. The room feels too hot suddenly, the whispers too loud.
But before anyone can comment, her smile is back, plastered perfectly on her face.
She thanks a few more people, then, as quickly as she can without being rude, excuses herself. Her movements are quick, almost too quick, like she can't get out of the room fast enough.
Sansa watches her leave, a slight smirk playing on her lips. At least she's gone now.
September 2023 – King's Landing
A few weeks later, the office is abuzz again, but this time, the whispers are about Daenerys Targaryen's sudden departure from the company.
No one knows exactly why she left so abruptly. Jorah was tight-lipped about it, and the rest of the team merely assumed she'd taken a different opportunity. But Sansa knows. She knows that Daenerys couldn't handle it, couldn't handle the spotlight, the unwanted attention, the pressure of being in a place she didn't belong.
A few weeks after her departure, Sansa finds herself stepping into the very role that Daenerys had vacated. It was everything she had ever wanted, and yet, when she is sat at her new desk, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.
It should've been me from the beginning, she thinks, but there was an odd sense of emptiness, too.
No one ever talks about why Daenerys left. No one even asks. But Sansa can't help but wonder if maybe, deep down, Daenerys had known she wasn't really cut out for this world.
And, somewhere in the back of her mind, Sansa can't help but feel a flicker of sympathy for a woman who had been handed everything on a silver platter and had walked away with nothing.
But then her assistant gets her a coffee and suddenly she doesn't feel so bad.
August 2023 – King's Landing
The call comes in just as Jon is about to take a break, his fingers itching for a hot cup of coffee that is sitting on his dashboard. The dispatcher's voice is clipped and urgent. "Car accident on Fishmonger's Square. Female, mid-20s, possible arm fracture, some head trauma. Ambulance assistance required."
Jon doesn't hesitate.
His partner, Sam, nods as he slams the gear into motion. The sirens wail as they race through the streets of the city, weaving through traffic, and Jon's focus narrows on the road ahead.
Fishmonger's Square is bustling with people trying to peer through the wreckage of a car that is crumpled like a pressed drinks can. The sight of the car is enough to quicken his pulse, but it is the person he sees next that pulls his attention. Inside the car is a woman, her silver hair matted with blood and Gods know what else, is slumped against the front of the car. She is dazed, her face streaked with blood, and there's a deep gash on her forehead.
He is a paramedic, he has seen it all, from the grotesque to the tragic to everything in between, but something about this woman makes him pause. She looks so vulnerable despite the strength in her posture as she tries to push herself up. He is quick to his feet as he and Sam approach, and he kneels beside her, his gaze softening.
"Hey, hey, just relax. We're here," Jon says, his voice calm but insistent. He gently places his hand on her shoulder, his touch warm and steady. "What's your name?"
Her eyes flutter open, hazy but still sharp, and he is surprised at the violet hue to them he has never seen before. She takes in the paramedic uniform, and the ambulance, and then finally meets Jon's eyes. "Daenerys Targaryen," She whispers, her voice strained but clear. "Or Dany…You can say Dany."
"Okay, Dany," Jon says, his voice soft as he speaks to her so she will not panic. "I'm Jon Stark. I'm a paramedic. You are going to be just fine. We're going to get you to the hospital."
She gives him a weak smile, but it is more of a reflex than an actual reaction. Jon notices how her lips tremble slightly, betraying the pain she's trying to mask. He has seen this before far too many times. The way people try to hold it together, even in the worst moments. But there's something in her eyes that makes him feel like he has to do more.
"What happened?" She asks, her voice quiet and full of confusion.
"Car accident," Jon explains, keeping his hands steady as he checks her over. "We're gonna take care of you now. Just focus on me."
Daenerys nods faintly, her gaze drifting toward the sky for a moment as if she's trying to ground herself in the chaos. Jon notices the faint shimmer of tears in her eyes, though she doesn't let them fall.
"Can you tell me what hurts the most?" Jon asks, trying to shift her focus away from the panic.
"My arm," She murmurs. "And… my head. I feel a little dizzy."
Jon's heart tugs at the way her voice cracks on the last word, and he gently helps her lie back against the stretcher. They work quickly, loading her into the ambulance, and he stays close to her, his presence keeping her calm in a way Sam's does not seem to. "We're going to get you to the hospital, Daenerys," He reassures her, voice low, meant only for her. "We're almost there. Just keep breathing."
She blinks up at him, her eyes softening in the faintest recognition. "Thank you," She whispers, a small smile tugging at her lips, though it's pained.
Jon feels a tug in his chest. Something new. He has never…He never gets that way usually around people, especially in their most frightened moments, but something in him just wants to protect her then. She is holding herself together when he can see how desperate she is to cry, and he finds himself wishing he could do more to ease her fears.
The ride to the hospital is a blur of lights and sirens, but the only thing Jon can focus on is Daenerys, her pale face framed by the lights, her breathing shallow but steady. He checks on her every few minutes, adjusting the IV, and making sure her vitals stay stable.
"Almost there," Jon murmurs, his hand resting gently on hers as he checks her blood pressure. It is a small gesture, but he can't help himself. Her hand feels delicate, and fragile under his touch, and his heart flutters the warmth of her skin.
She looks at him, her eyes unfocused at first but then sharpening as she locks eyes with him. She looks…comforted. He hopes. Otherwise, he would take his hand away, but when he moves, her hand grips his lightly, making him stay.
"Jon," She says, her voice just above a whisper. "Am I going to be okay?"
His gaze softens, and for a moment, all the professional distance he usually keeps between himself, and his patients fades. "You're going to be fine," He assures her, his voice low. "You are in good hands."
She studies him for a long beat, and Jon feels the weight of her stare, a flicker of something unspoken between them. A connection, maybe. Or perhaps it's just the shared vulnerability of the moment. Or…maybe it is just trust.
The pain meds he gave her may also be playing a part.
Daenerys smiles faintly again. It is genuine this time, though tinged with uncertainty. "I don't think I've ever been this scared in my life," She admits, her voice small. "I don't even remember what happened…It's all a blur."
Jon's heart stirs as he watches her, the vulnerability she's showing tugging at him. People rarely let down their guard like this, especially strangers, but there's something about Daenerys that makes him want to protect her, to reassure her that she's safe, that she'll get through this.
"You're stronger than you think," He says, his voice barely a whisper just like hers, sharing the moment. His thumb brushes the back of her hand without thinking, a tender gesture meant to comfort. "I promise you; you'll get through this."
Daenerys's eyes flicker with a mix of gratitude and something else, something deeper. She nods slowly, her lips trembling slightly.
When they finally arrive at the hospital, the shift changes and Jon hands her over to the doctors with a final, reassuring smile. His heart lingers with her for a moment longer, reluctant to leave. He tells himself it's just the stress of the job. He has seen countless patients, and been through countless emergencies.
Something about Daenerys sticks with him.
As the doctors take over, Jon steps back into the hallway, his mind still racing. He wonders if she's okay if she'll be alright, though he knows it's out of his hands now. But there's a feeling deep inside him that he can't quite shake.
Something tells him he will not forget Daenerys Targaryen in a hurry.
Jon is about to leave, already dreading the long drive home after an exhausting shift. He is pulling his jacket over his shoulders, his mind already miles away, calculating the hours he can sleep before he's called back in. The door to the break room opens, and he's about to step out when a familiar voice stops him.
"Jon?"
He turns, his heart skipping a beat when he sees the woman from earlier…Daenerys.
Dany, he remembers her well.
She is leaning against the hallway wall with her arm in a sling and her face has stitches, looking a little fragile but still standing strong. She is smiling, which he can only think is a good thing, even if he is confused about how or why she is here.
"Dany," He says, the words escaping his mouth almost automatically. He is glad to see her, though he doesn't know how to put that into words. "I didn't think you'd be out so soon."
"Neither did I," She replies. She takes a couple of steps forward, wincing as she gets closer to him. "But I wanted to leave the hospital before it swallowed me whole. And I wanted to…well, thank you properly."
Jon blinks, his throat tightening for a second. "You don't have to thank me," He mutters, his voice rough. "It is all just part of the job."
But she shakes her head, her eyes holding his in a way that makes him pause. There is something in the way she looks at him with more than gratitude, more than just the usual polite words she'd say to anyone who helped her. He can't place it. But there is something extremely different about Daenerys Targaryen.
She is not like everyone else.
"No," She says firmly. "I do. You were kind when I was at my worst. You kept me calm, even when I was sure I was going to pass out."
He swallows, unsure of how to react. He's not great with praise, especially not with her. He can't help but feel like she is too far removed from his world, someone with a past and a future he can't quite imagine. His whole world is his family and his job, and yet he can't see anyone with her which means her next of kin did not come when called.
He can't imagine not coming if she called him to be with her, and then he berates himself for that thought.
"You don't need to-“ He starts, but she cuts him off, her eyes still fixed on him.
"Please," She insists. "Let me do this. I'm serious."
"Do what?
There's a beat of silence between them, and he looks away for a moment, shifting his weight. His fingers clench around the edge of his jacket. He's not great at this. At talking to people. At letting anyone get too close.
But Daenerys isn't just anyone. She's different. He knows it.
"I was thinking," She continues, her voice quieter now. "Maybe I could buy you dinner? Or a drink? Something to say thank you. You don't have to, I just…I don't know. You're the only person who really saw me today. Or…ever. Is that weird?"
Jon's chest tightens at that, but he doesn't say anything for a moment. He's unsure, unsure of what he is even feeling. He doesn't date and doesn't know how to juggle the whirlwind of being a paramedic with someone else's life. But Daenerys looks at him as she is waiting for an answer, and for some reason, it feels important. She makes him feel like…maybe he should say yes. Maybe, for once, he should take the leap.
He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out at first. He blinks again, his mind racing.
Then, almost without thinking, he finds himself saying, "Aye, okay."
It is a simple agreement, a quiet admission, but it feels louder than it should. Jon surprises himself, and he doesn't know what to say after that. The words hang in the air, weightless but charged, and for a moment, neither of them says anything.
Daenerys looks at him, her eyebrows lifting in surprise. "You're…sure?"
Jon gives a quick nod, his gaze drifting to the floor. "Yeah. Why not?"
A smile slowly stretches across Daenerys's face, one that seems genuine and full of relief. She leans a little closer. "Wow, just what every girl wants to hear. Why not?" She laughs.
He blushes, "Sorry, I would love to."
"Alright then," She says, her voice light with amusement. "It's a date then. No sirens or ambulances involved this time."
"It's a date."
January 2024 – King's Landing
"YOU'RE WHAT?!"
"Engaged."
"Jon!" Sansa screams, rushing to throw her arms around her brother, and he laughs as he returns her hug. "What the hell?! I-I didn't even know you were serious with the girl you've been dating. None of us have even met her!"
"I know." He pulls away from the hug. "It was a…last minute thing."
"Wait, you did it at Christmas didn't you?" Sansa asks, willing to bet every dragon that she has on Jon proposing at Christmas or something just because the moment overtook him. Her brother does not plan things, he just does them, including getting engaged.
"Yes." He confirms. "I told Mum and Dad I could not come for family Christmas because I was taking Dany to Dorne for it. Stupid idea. Hot Christmas will never happen again."
"Wait, you planned it?"
He nods. "I did. I just…I can't explain it. It felt right, so I got a ring, and it felt even better. I know I am making the right decision."
"You met this woman in like September, right?" Sansa remembers, worry filling her at the thought her brother could be making a huge mistake. "None of us have met this Dany girl. I don't even know her last name, you have been so secretive."
"You don't know Dany's last name?" He laughs. "I thought I told you all."
"No! Is it Danielle or something? Soon to be Stark." She jokes.
"Oh." He tries to think if he has ever said it, though he knows he always calls her Dany as it is the only name he has ever used for her. "Her name isn't Danielle."
"Wait, what?" Sansa frowns. "What is it?"
"You may know her, she once worked for Mormont's." He explains, making her brows come together in confusion. "Her name is Daenerys. Daenerys Targaryen."
"WHAT?!"
March 2024 – King's Landing
The reception hall is buzzing with laughter and the clinking of glasses, everyone celebrating the happy couple at the top table. It is not a large wedding by any means, with the bride having no living family and the groom despising too much socialising, but it is bigger than they originally thought.
The Stark family could never allow their oldest son to have a small wedding. Catelyn Stark would not hear of it. 'I am not having my oldest son's wedding in a barn or something!' As was her reaction to learning the pair had intended on going to city hall and marrying quietly.
Therefore, fifty people was the maximum the couple would allow his parents to invite, and even that was too many for Jon.
The whole place is beautiful, and glittering and the couple have never been happier as their toast over expensive champagne that the bride worries about spilling on her wedding dress.
Everything is as it should be.
But the moment Sansa Stark rises, glass in hand, the room goes quiet.
She has a mischievous glint in her eye, her lips curling into a smile that's just a little too wide to be entirely genuine. Jon looks up at her with an expression that is equal parts nervous and resigned. He knows what is coming, just as the bride does.
It is the first time Sansa and Daenerys have seen each other since they worked together, with Sansa always coming up with an excuse not to come shopping or out for lunch or any activity that Daenerys invited the Stark women to.
She has no family. Jon's family will now be hers, and all she wanted was to be part of it, not just on the side. Sansa's rejections hurt her, and she may not fully understand why, but she knows she is not well-liked by her.
"Well," Sansa begins, raising her glass high, "A toast to my brother Jon and his lovely wife, Daenerys." Her voice rings out with a too-sweet tone that is unmistakably laced with sarcasm.
The crowd settles, some bracing themselves for whatever remark the young woman is about to make. "Now, I know I'm supposed to stand up here and say something sweet and moving about my brother and his beautiful bride. But let's be real, I'm not that kind of person. We all know I'm a bit more complicated than that."
She pauses for effect as if she expects laughter, but the silence in the room is too full of tension. "So, instead, I'll just say this: Jon, you've always been the quiet, humble one. The one who spends his days brooding and working to afford to go to these great places. Always plotting out his next adventure and making us all think he is going to get lost in the wilderness again."
"I went on one trip higher than Winterfell and she thinks I am some kind of Bigfoot," Jon mutters, making his new bride giggle.
"And then…" She turns her gaze toward Daenerys, the smile on her face still just a little too sweet. "And then you, Daenerys, show up."
A few people laugh awkwardly, unsure if Sansa is being serious or playing around or if there's something more to it. Jon, of course, blushes and shifts in his seat, the beginnings of a nervous laugh bubbling in his throat.
Daenerys, for her part, remains a mask of indifference.
"And I'll admit it," She continues, her tone dripping with mock sincerity, "At first, I wasn't sure what to think. I mean, you've managed to not only steal Jon's heart, but you-“ She raises a finger in the air as if she is making a very serious point. "You managed to do what I thought was impossible: You took my promotion."
There's a collective gasp from the crowd, and Jon looks like he might disappear under the table. He shifts uncomfortably, but Sansa's smirk only widens.
"Yes, ladies and gentlemen, my promotion. The one I had worked for, slaved over and daydreamed about every night. But no. In comes Daenerys Targaryen, all bright and shiny with her charisma and ability to turn every single man's head, and suddenly, bam! The corner office was hers," Sansa says, her tone dramatically exaggerated, playing up the rivalry between her and Daenerys in the most light-hearted way she can. "It was like a scene straight out of a corporate romance novel, and let's be honest, we all know what that means."
A few guests chuckle at the jab, while Jon shifts in his seat, eyes wide. He catches Daenerys's eye, and though she is smiling, there is an undercurrent of something more in her gaze, something that says, I knew this was coming, even if she does not know why.
Until now.
The whole reason Sansa avoids her…
It is all for a promotion she never wanted in the first place. The reason she left. She met Jon when she was the unhappiest she had ever been personally or professionally. In meeting him, she knew she wanted to be a better person. She completely changed fields and changed her life.
And yet Sansa holds onto it.
"Oh, don't get me wrong," His sister continues, taking a sip of her champagne and casting a sideways glance at the bride, "I'm sure it's not all because of her looks. I'm sure Jorah Mormont's very professional and, " She pauses, dramatically lowering her voice. "Completely unbiased in his decisions."
Daenerys glances down at her and Jon's joined hands.
He knows how uncomfortable her old boss would make her. The lingering looks and touches and the way he always favoured her, holding her high above everyone else. It is part of why people disliked her so much in the office, always being accused of sleeping with the boss.
The crowd laughs again, some nervous, some genuinely amused, while Jon groans into his hands. Robb, sitting nearby, stifles a laugh, knowing full well where Sansa is going with this. He leans over to whisper something to Arya, who smirks.
"Sansa." Jon makes a cutting motion against his throat, his face unimpressed, though he is trying not to make a scene. "End it now."
"Anyway," Sansa says with a wave of her hand, clearly enjoying herself now, ignoring Jon's glare. "After all that, I guess it shouldn't have been a surprise that you caught Jon's attention. Fast." She makes air quotes around the word 'fast,' drawing a few more laughs from the crowd. "I mean, seriously. I blinked, and you two were married. I'm just saying, that's a speed record, even for the Starks."
She looks at Jon now, who shoots her a glare that could kill. But it's too late. The audience is already hooked, eyes darting between Jon and Daenerys as they wait for more.
"But listen," Sansa says with a sigh, trying to soften the tone of her voice. "What I'm trying to say is that despite all of my deep, heartfelt resentment for your ability to steal my thunder, and my promotion, I guess I can admit one thing: You make Jon incredibly happy."
She lets that sink in for a moment, and Jon's face softens just a little, though he's still visibly uncomfortable. Sansa looks at Daenerys now, her smile softening just a fraction. "I mean, no one has ever seen him quite like this, so…I guess you must be doing something right."
The room is quieter now, the tension having lifted slightly, but Sansa's playful jab isn't quite over yet. "And let's not forget, Daenerys has a certain way of making everything look effortless," She continues, her eyes narrowing in mock suspicion. "Like, did you see how quickly she settled into our world?"
The silver-haired woman's eyebrows come together, and she squeezes Jon's hand harder.
She has never felt like she belonged in anyone's world. Not even her own. She just about feels like she fits into Jon's, and he is the only person she has ever felt so comfortable around or so adored. She has tried her hardest to fit in with the Starks, even if Sansa refuses to try.
"I'm over here still feeling like I've got to work for everything, but Daenerys?" Sansa laughs. "She breezes in, looks like a queen, and bam! Everyone falls at her feet. Not that I'm jealous, of course."
Robb laughs loudly at that, everyone turning to face him instead, and Jon is grateful for his brother then, holding up his glass. "Alright, alright, Sansa, you've made your point. But honestly, Daenerys, we can all see that you're good for Jon. You've made him happier than we thought possible, and that's saying something."
Sansa raises an eyebrow at her brother but decides to go along with it, lifting her glass in Daenerys's direction. "Fine, fine. I'll admit it. He is happy. Just don't move any faster. We've all seen what happens when you do."
Jon sighs and looks at Robb. "Alright, can we all stop talking about the speed of our romance? I get it."
Sansa smirks. "Hey, at least it wasn't as quick as my promotion. Sorry. Daenerys' promotion."
Instead of carrying on, Daenerys merely raises a glass, "To Jon and I…And our really fast marriage."
"To Jon and Daenerys!"
Later, as the crowd dies down and everyone settles back into conversation, Ned Stark stands, patting Sansa's shoulder. "I think that's enough to drink for now," He says with a knowing smile, guiding her back to her seat. "Let's not overdo it."
Sansa huffs but nods, the playful edge to her expression softening just a little. "I wasn't being mean, Father. It's just…Daenerys did take something from me. It was mine."
Ned chuckles, his hand still resting on her shoulder. "Maybe. But you see, Sansa. She's good for Jon. She's earned her place here. In this family."
Sansa watches Daenerys, who is talking quietly with Jon, her expression a mix of contentment and what she can only describe as adoration. Despite everything, there's something in the way Jon looks at her that makes Sansa realise just how much Daenerys means to him.
"Maybe." She agrees.
Across the room, the bride and groom kiss, sharing matching smiles. "I love you," Daenerys whispers her hand cupping his cheek, her nails scratching his beard as she always does to comfort herself. "You'll never know how much."
"I have a vague idea." He nudges his nose against hers to make her smile. "Everything will be fine, Dany." He promises. "Sansa just had too much to drink."
"I hope so." She whispers, her eyes full of worry. "All I want is for the Starks to like me. I want us to be a family."
"You are my family," He lifts her left hand, showing her their matching rings. "Mrs Stark."
She grins, "And you are mine, Mr Stark."
He shudders, "That makes me think of my father."
Dany laughs, pulling him in to kiss her again.
December 2024 – Winterfell
"They're here!" Catelyn calls, rushing to the front door as they hear a car pull up. "Remember everyone! Sansa! Nice!"
"I am nice."
"To Daenerys."
Sansa rolls her eyes, "I will be a dream to her." She mutters.
The door opens, revealing Jon and Daenerys, and they are immediately pulled into hugs that make them drop the present bags they hold. Catelyn squeezes the breath out of them before Ned does the same. Arya throws herself into Jon's arms, making him lift her as she is still so much smaller than the rest of their family. Bran and Rickon feign disinterest, but Robb is throwing his arms around their shoulders as a greeting.
Sansa smiles, hugging her brother tightly, "I'm happy to see you."
"Congratulations on another promotion." Jon smiles, remembering their father messaging him about it. "I am very proud."
"Thank you." She grins. "Finally, this family will celebrate me this Christmas." She jokes, making him chuckle. She pulls away, glancing at Daenerys. "You look ill. You okay?" She smiles politely.
Her sister-in-law smiles back just as tightly, though she looks pale, and Jon glances at her with concern, "Long trip." She supplies.
Catelyn gasps, rounding on the couple with her hand over her mouth, "My Gods…It finally happened, didn't it?" She asks, looking at their faces as if she is detecting any lies. "You're pregnant, aren't you?"
The couple shares a look.
"You have got to be kidding me," Sansa mutters as everyone else squeals and rushes to hug them again.
This woman irks her. Her constant ability to outdo her on everything! She got her promotion and now she has bigger news than her. She marries Jon and makes him happy and now she gets to be the one to give the Starks their first grandchild.
She knows she sounds like a child, but it is not fair.
Though she wonders what their mother meant by finally. They have only been married since March. Eight months is barely any time at all, and Jon never mentioned anything about trying for a baby. She reasons it is just her mother's desperation for grandchildren that made her say that, but something about the tears in Daenerys' eyes makes her pause.
Daenerys has had everything Sansa could ever want. She gave it up. Isn't this just another great thing on top of a good life?
"Congrats, Jon." Arya smiles wide. "I can't wait to be the favourite Aunt!" She says, glancing back at Sansa. "Are you prepared for the Sansa eruption?" She whispers, knowing of her dislike for his wife.
Jon rolls his eyes, "This is good news. It will be fine."
Dinner is a happy affair, especially after the couple's news. Daenerys does not hide her want to hold her hand to her belly despite admitting she is only six weeks along – far too early to be saying anything but Catelyn guessed.
"Jon and I are hoping to be moved to Winterfell by the time he or she is here." She explains as she eats. "We really want our children to grow up surrounded by family."
Ned grins, "Well, I for one cannot wait to be a grandfather."
"I can't believe you're moving back home," Robb comments with a smile. "Finally, the Starks will be back together! We just need Sansa back now." He eyes her, nudging her arm.
"Dany and I can't wait." Jon smiles at the thought, their move has been in the works since the day they got married and decided they wanted to have a family.
Daenerys wanted to have his family around them, and he was more than ecstatic to move back home, never having intended to stay in King's Landing so long but he went to university there and just…stayed. He is happy he did, as he met her there, but he misses home every day, and he is grateful to have found someone who wants to be there as much as he does.
She has no family living. She wants their children to have as much family as possible.
"We found this really beautiful house about ten minutes from here," Daenerys explains, pulling up photos on her phone to show his parents, and they gasp as they look at them. "It needs a little work, but Jon is pretty handy."
"Correction." Jon smirks. "Jon is sort of handy. Robb, however, will be doing most of the work."
She rolls her eyes playfully, "You will not outsource it all to Robb!"
"Watch me."
"I have to say," Sansa pipes up, her hand rolling the liquid in her wine glass. "I would find it hard to move here after being in the glamour of King's Landing. I could never leave now." She comments. "You must miss it."
"Not really." Daenerys shrugs. "All I remember is forcing my body into too-tight dresses and plastering make-up in case someone ever saw what I really look like."
Sansa laughs, "Oh come on! You had such beautiful dresses then." She says, glancing at the jeans and blouse her sister-in-law has on now. "You had this really great silk purple one. A little too revealing for my taste but it was nice. Where is that?"
The couple both blush.
"You don't want to know."
"Oh, I do." She sips at her wine. "Such a beautiful dress. Jon would never appreciate how nice it is. It is the kind of a dress those women in the films have affairs in."
Daenerys frowns, "Well, Sansa," She chews on the inside of her cheek. "If you must know…that dress is being dry cleaned after playing a large role in the making of your niece or nephew. Roleplay is such a good thing in a marriage-"
She gags.
"I said you don't want to know." She smirks.
Well played, she thinks, downing the rest of her wine. "Well…It was glamorous. I am sure you will miss that life. You went into being a social worker, right?" She pretends to ask, continuing anyway. "Not a lot of glamour in that."
Daenerys, maintaining her composure, replies, "It's true, social work isn't glamorous, but it's the most meaningful thing I've ever done." She says. "I wanted to do something good with my life."
"Really?" His sister shrugs. "Some people just…can't take the pressure I guess."
Jon coughs once, "Anyway! Let's…move on. Robb, you had thrush recently. Discuss."
A roll is thrown at his head.
The snow outside has begun to settle, thankfully. They were not so sure they would be able to go out at all if it carried on the way it had been. Though the cold remains, meaning the fire is still going in the room, keeping her warm as she curls up on the sofa close to it.
Her legs are tucked under her, her eyes trained on the flames as they flicker, her hands twisting around in her lap. It is a silly nervous habit she has always had, one she thought had gone away forever, but today has made it come back.
Sansa hates her. She knew there was an element of professional jealousy between them because of the promotion, her speech at the wedding made that clear, but she never knew quite how much it stemmed.
When Jon enters the room, she sees him from the corner of her eye as he carries two mugs of tea. He places them down on the table closest to the sofa before sitting beside her, "You're quiet." He comments.
"Mh."
"You okay?"
Daenerys hesitates; her gaze still fixed on the fire. She takes a deep breath, then finally looks at him. Jon knows her. He can read her like a book. He knows her better than she knows herself and he is usually able to read her mind. Even if she messes up what she wants to say, Jon will usually understand. "Do you think they hate me?"
Jon frowns, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What? Who?"
"Your family," She murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. "Sansa, especially. She barely looks at me unless it's to glare at me."
"Ignore Sansa. She is just a bit jealous. She will get over it." He promises.
"I can't." She pauses, her lips pressing together before adding, "If she hates me, it won't be long before the rest of them do, too. I'll be the outsider."
Jon leans closer, resting a hand over hers, and his touch is an immediate comfort. "Dany, that's not going to happen. They just need time to get to know you. Like I did. You are not exactly easy to forget. Look at me, I swore off love and here I am over a year later married and expecting a baby."
Daenerys lets out a small laugh. "Maybe. But I'm not sure they'll like what they see. Maybe they will pretend for the baby but…I've done things I'm not proud of, Jon. I'm not sure I would like me if I were them."
Jon tilts his head, his eyes soft but unwavering. "You're not that person you thought you were. It was the situation. Not you."
She smiles faintly, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "I left the fashion industry because I hated who I'd become there. I was selling a dream I didn't believe in, making people chase perfection while feeling like a fraud the whole time." She reminds. "It wasn't just the industry that was toxic, Jon. I was, too."
"No-"
"I was." She insists. "I lied, I competed with people like Sansa for promotions I didn't even want. I said things to make myself look better. I hated it all, but I didn't know how to stop. I didn't think I could be anything else."
Jon reaches up, brushing a strand of silver hair from her face. "But you did stop. You chose to walk away and start over."
She nods, her eyes glistening as she looks at him. "Because of you."
"More than that." He says, unable to believe even now how big of an impact he made on her life. "You were always good. You just got a little lost."
"No, Jon," She smiles sadly. "I met you, and for the first time, I saw someone who didn't care about appearances or status or any of the shallow things I'd built my life around. You cared about helping people, about being kind and honest. You made me want to be better."
Jon's hand tightens around hers. "You didn't do it for me, Dany. You did it for yourself. And you've become someone incredible. Sansa just doesn't see that yet, but she will. Give her time."
Her voice trembles as she asks, "And if she doesn't? If they never accept me?"
Jon leans closer, his forehead resting against hers, and their hands drift to her still-flat belly. "They already do." He promises. "But, if they don't then it's their loss. I don't care what anyone else thinks. I love you, and I know who you are. That's enough for me."
A tear slips down her cheek, though this one is not of sadness but of adoration for the man she loves. And she smiles, her fingers curling around his. "You're too good for me."
Jon chuckles, the sound warm and rich. She has always loved his laugh. So low. Just for her. She loves knowing she can make him happy. "You keep saying that, but I think you've got it backwards."
Daenerys laughs quietly, the tension in her chest easing for the first time all day. "You're impossible, you know that?"
"And yet, you're stuck with me," Jon teases, brushing a soft kiss against her temple.
The next morning is slightly happier.
They sleep in and ignore the bustle of downstairs as everyone is up and ready. By the time they go down, everyone is out doing their assigned chores from Catelyn. When Arya is back, she insists on going out sledging with Jon in the snow, and he is more than eager to join.
The only problem is that Daenerys can't go. She would love to, but she is not about to risk getting injured. Not now. Not for anything. But she is happy to watch and cheer and video them.
With Sansa standing next to her.
"Yes, Arya!" Dany cheers, videoing them despite how cold her hands are. "Are you not going, Sansa?" She asks when her camera is off, and Jon is getting ready to go down the hill.
"Not this hill." She answers politely. "It is too steep. Only those two do it."
"Oh." She nods. "It looks fun."
"It is."
They fall into silence again, and Daenerys holds up her camera to video Jon as he goes down the hill. "You're doing great!" She yells, making Sansa wince at the noise volume and pull her hat down further over her ears.
"Here is hoping the baby does not inherit your lungs." She tries to joke, trying to ease any tension. She may not like the woman, but at least she is trying to involve herself in family activities. She expected Daenerys to find it childish.
It makes the older woman laugh, turning to face her sister-in-law. "I hope he or she is quiet like Jon." She agrees, grateful for the small olive branch. "Though to be honest, I would be grateful either way. It has been so long-"
"Eight months."
Dany frowns, "What?"
"You have been married for eight months. It is not that long." Sansa reminds her, wrinkling her nose. "The way mother said finally before…You all act like it is such a long time."
"Oh." She looks down at her phone. "Jon didn't…He didn't mention…"
"Mention what?"
"Nothing."
"What is it?" Sansa turns to face her fully, her arms crossed over her chest. "Did I say something? I just…You know. You're Daenerys Targaryen, you get whatever you want. I figured this was just another thing. You're used to getting whatever you want so waiting even a few months-"
"I do not get whatever I want." She insists. "Sansa, you do not know enough about me to say that."
"Really?" Sansa raises an eyebrow. "Because the way I see you, you had the big job and then the husband and the house and the baby and whatever you want. I have to work twice as hard, and I don't get anywhere but you seem to-"
"I never wanted the job!" Daenerys exclaims. "I said no to the job. Sansa, I put you in for my replacement when I left!"
"Wait, what?"
That takes her by surprise. No one ever mentioned why she left, and all Sansa knew was that she was chosen for the job.
"Why wouldn't you want that job?" She asks, wrinkling her nose. "Everyone in the company wants that job, it is one step down from-"
"Because I was unhappy!" She says, her voice breaking at the memories. "Sansa, my whole family was dead. I had no one. I worked a job that made me feel like a fraud and when I got into a car accident, no one cared about me enough to even call! All I have ever wanted was a family and yet I had no one to care if I lived or died until I met Jon. And yes, we moved fast, but that was because we both knew we were it for one another!"
"But-"
"Before I even met Jon, I was told I would never have a child, so when Jon and I got married, we started trying from day one." She explains, her eyes full of tears.
"I-"
"It has meant IUI and IVF and it has killed us financially, which is why we wanted to move here where we can actually afford a home and be around his family, so we don't have to take so much time off work and get savings back!" She yells. "So, no, Sansa, I did not have everything! Everything I want, I have had to fight my arse for, except Jon! He is the only thing in my life worth anything, and all I wanted was a family again, so I am very sorry about your promotion, but I had bigger things to care about than that!"
Daenerys takes a deep breath then, wiping under her eyes to rid herself of her tears. Sansa stares at her, unable to say the words in her throat, a thousand apologies wanting to fly out.
"I am so-"
"JON!"
Arya's voice breaks through, and they both turn to see Jon lying at the bottom of the hill with his sister beside him. Daenerys yells, running down to him despite Sansa trying to reach for her in case she falls, and she throws herself into the snow once by his side.
"He fell down the hill." Arya cries. "I was going too fast, and he was running to stop me and save me, and he did b-but he tripped and now he's out cold. Do something!"
As Sansa reaches Jon, she can see how shaken Daenerys is. She is trembling as she checks his breathing and calls his name. Her voice cracks as she pleads, "Jon, please wake up. Please."
Struck by Daenerys's raw, unguarded panic, Sansa can only see the usually composed woman as a mess. She has never seen this. She is always so…above everyone.
When Jon's eyes open, she sobs in relief, throwing her arms around him. "I'm fine." He promises, pressing a kiss to her hair when she cries. "I just knocked myself out. I'm okay. Just winded."
"We should get you inside." She sniffles as she and Arya help him up.
As Sansa watches them go back to the house, for the first time, she sees not a rival or manipulator or any of the things she has always thought of Daenerys Targaryen, now Daenerys Stark.
She just sees someone who deeply and truly loves her brother.
And she knows she has never been so wrong in her life.
"I am fine," Jon promises as Daenerys rests a blanket over his lap.
She has been fussing over him all day since he got hurt. She got an out-of-hours doctor to come to the house who confirmed he was fine and just winded himself as he said. She has not left his side unless it is to go to the bathroom, and whilst Sansa has come in and out, she is only more convinced of how wrong she has been.
"You got hurt." She sniffs, pressing a kiss to his curls before sitting beside him. "I just want to make sure. Let me be weird."
He chuckles, pulling her in for an embrace that makes her body relax, "What else is new?"
"Shush."
From the doorway to the room, Arya comes up beside her older sister, a mug of tea in hand intended for Jon, "I like her." She comments quietly. "The last time I saw someone so scared for Jon, it was when he was a teenager and got pneumonia. Remember how scared Mum was?"
She remembers. She remembers how hard their mother sobbed and blamed herself because she had asked for five minutes of peace from the children. She said it was her fault. She remembers their joy when Jon came around.
"I remember." She whispers.
"She loves him." Arya says. "If anyone in this world deserves to be loved, it is him. I could have died today, but Jon saved me…"
"He is always there protecting us." Sansa agrees as she watches Daenerys fuss over him once again, oblivious to his sisters in the doorway. "Sometimes I think he got so good at it; he became a paramedic to save everyone."
"Nice try but he became a paramedic because he loved watching Casualty."
She smiles, "I think I need to stop trying to be the Jon of the family." She says. "Trying to protect him from someone who needed protection from me. He was always better at it."
"Maybe the first thing you need to do is apologise to said person." Arya agrees, smiling when Daenerys once again fusses with his blanket and tries to rearrange the pillow at his back.
When he kisses her, they gag, leaving the room before they can see something they would rather not.
Jon kisses her sweetly, teasing, "You're going to give yourself a heart attack if you worry this much every time I fall."
Daenerys glares but then softens, whispering, "I thought I lost you." Her voice shows her fear so clearly, and he drops the teasing to wrap her up in his arms. "I could never."
"You didn't. You won't." He promises, pressing a kiss to her hairline and holding her close despite her insistence she will hurt him. He is fine. He keeps saying it, but she never believes him. "I'm not going anywhere."
"You better not." She smiles, her hand resting over her belly. "I want a lot more Christmases out of you before I allow it. Our kids have to be at least fifty minimum before you go anywhere."
"Fifty is such a long time." He groans, making her laugh. "Sixty is longer-"
"Good. Then sixty at least." She insists, leaning in to nuzzle her nose into his cheek. "I love you, Jon Stark. Sixty years is not long enough..but it will do as a starting point." She says.
"I love you, Dany Stark." He kisses her nose, making her grin up at him. "Even if you fuss."
"You love it."
"I do. I really do."
Christmas is the next day, and it is filled with the ripping open of presents and too much food and alcohol – well, for everyone but Daenerys. Jon tries to behave, but then Robb brings out more ale and he is done for, mumbling how much he loves everyone before taking himself to bed.
When everyone is asleep, Daenerys is still wide awake, sitting at the window as she watches the snow fall once again. She has a mug of hot chocolate in one hand and the other resting over her belly, a content smile on her face, enjoying the silence.
So, when she hears footsteps, she frowns, turning her head to see a familiar redhead coming into the living room. "Hey." She greets quietly.
Sansa is the only other person who did not drink, and she wishes she did not as she has no clue how to speak to the woman now. She once used every ounce of her energy to be witty and a little cruel. But now she knows what she does…every bit of that energy is going into trying not to beg for forgiveness.
Maybe she should. She is undecided.
Instead, she goes with, "Hi."
"Can't sleep?" Dany asks. "My morning sickness is a little early I think. And it is night sickness. Sorry if I woke you."
"No, you didn't." Sansa waves her off, sitting at the window seat opposite her. "I just had a lot in my mind is all. A lot of stuff to think about."
"Ah…"
They fall into silence then, with Daenerys watching the snow once more, but Sansa can only watch her. A sense of peace that she never had in the office is clear, and she looks younger somehow than ever. Happiness is bliss, she supposes.
Jon looks happy with her. He loves her. And she loves him most unreservedly.
"Daenerys," She begins, looking at her nails so she does not have to face her eyes. "I am sorry. Until yesterday, I never knew enough about you to make a decision on how I felt about you. And yet I did anyway. A stubborn, childish hatred over nothing at all. I am sorry for that."
"It's fine-"
"It is not." She insists. "I may not…We may not be best friends. But I have cut you out, and I have refused to try. I should have tried for Jon if not you, and I am sorry about that. So…because of that, and because it is Christmas and time for forgiveness and all of that, I ask that you forgive me. And we restart."
"I forgive you." Dany sits up, placing her mug aside. "And not just because it is Christmas. We are family now. And whatever you think or thought of me, I love Jon more than anything or anyone. So if forgiving you is what I have to do to be a family, I will do it."
Sansa blinks back tears, nodding in gratitude, "And I am…" She swallows thickly. "I am very excited to be an Auntie."
The mention of the baby makes the older woman grin, both of her hands falling to her belly as they always seem to be, still in disbelief about it all. "This time next year, we will be too busy with the baby to remember this."
"I am going to buy that kid so much." She promises, smiling at the thought. "You will hate me for it. So many squeaky toys. So many musical gifts."
Daenerys laughs, though she inwardly groans at the thought, "Please do not buy that annoying purple dinosaur otherwise I take back my forgiveness!" She jokes.
"Now I am definitely buying it! A big one that sings!"
They laugh together. A feat once thought impossible by both. And it feels good to smile and have no awkwardness or meanness between them. It feels like friendship. A family. One Daenerys had longed for all of her life.
It wakes Jon, who stumbles down the stairs just as they are brainstorming name ideas. And whilst he loves the sight of them getting along, he is not calling his baby Atlas as Sansa suggests at one point. Or after Sansa.
When Sansa leaves them, Daenerys stands, joining him in the doorway, her eyes going to look at the mistletoe above their heads.
"You best follow the rules, Stark."
Jon does as he is told, his hands cupping her face as he draws her in to kiss her. She giggles at how sloppy it is, and it is terrible as he is still drunk from earlier, but he mutters how much he loves her, and she has never been happier.
Until, of course, a year later.
In the same doorway, watching their daughter as she sits in Sansa's lap. When Sansa opens her presents with her, she shares a look with the couple, and she knows any animosity is long gone.
For the first time in so long, she has a family again.