I'm not entirely sure what made me think "hey, you know what's a great idea? Writing a modern AU based on the ASOIAF universe" but there you go. This takes place in a modern setting but follows, loosely, with modifications for setting and plot reasons, Dany's basic storylines throughout A Game of Thrones. Because it's AU, I'm borrowing certain aspects from the television program and certain aspects from the books, because I can and I'm making such heavy modifications as it is. If you don't like AU or modern AU, this may not be the fic for you. Otherwise, enjoy! Title is from the Bruce Springsteen album of the same name. All chapter titles are lyrics or song titles.

There's a sadness hidden in her pretty face

A sadness all her own

From which no man can keep Candy safe.

~Bruce Springsteen, Candy's Room

"I don't see what the big deal is." Daenerys smoothed down her skirt, fussing with the long strands of hair that fell over her shoulders and seemed to serve only to drive her up the wall.

Viserys, for his part, looked like the mere idea that his sister couldn't grasp how important this event was was enough to knock him out. "Daenerys, making a good impression at your debutante ball is the single most important event in your life. How else do you expect to find a well-appointed society husband to restore our name back to its former prestige?"
It's going to take a whole lot more than a husband to restore our name, Daenerys thought. Like you not being such a crazy asshole. But she would never dare to say that. She liked to poke her brother with a stick sometimes, but that was a big enough stick that even she wasn't going to go there. Instead, she mumbled, "What is this, the Middle Ages?" Which still earned her a clip to the side of the head. "Go," Viserys instructed, and so Daenerys went.

Maybe at one point, like when her parents were alive, the debutante ball had actually meant something if you were a Targaryen, but as it turned out, no one wanted to talk to you when you were the silently unamused only daughter of a family with a reputation for losing their god damn minds, and they definitely didn't want to talk to you if you were perpetually flanked by your pompous brother, prone to fits of nonsense, so the debutante ball ended much the same way as the countless other social events that Viserys had dragged her to since she had turned thirteen: standing dutifully next to him, smiling stiffly and making uncomfortable small talk with the men her brother was introducing her to-businessmen old enough to be her father, which was just as well, given the fact that the boys her age didn't want anything to do with her, lest they catch the Targaryen crazy. She had accepted this fate as soon as she was old enough to understand: she would have a loveless marriage to one of those fat old men, or she would spend the rest of her life in her brother's house, adhering to his every ridiculous rule and doing his exact bidding on command without complaint. It was an easy enough decision, but it was still not one she particularly liked having to make.
"Excuse me," Dany said, and took off.

The first time Drogo laid eyes on Daenerys, he was fixing the latch on a gate. She was wearing a white dress and crying. He loved her immediately.
"Why are you cry?" he asked, setting down his tools to sit next to her on the wall. "Sorry. English...not so good."
The girl wiped her eyes, staring at him. "I feel trapped," she said.
Drogo nodded, studying her. Her eyes were violet, and he found himself unable to stop staring.

They looked at each other for several long moments until Drogo reached for her hand, breaking the silence. "Drogo," he said.
The violet-eyed girl smiled and took his hand. "Dany."
This time, it was Drogo's turn to smile. "Is nice to meeting you, Dany."

"Daenerys! Daenerys! What in the hell do you think you're doing?" A shrill voice-male, but shrill nonetheless-cut through their pleasant silence. Drogo felt-rather than saw-Daenerys' fear. "Oh no no no," she whispered, burying her head in her arms.

But it was no use. A wild-eyed man, barely out of boyhood, with the same violet eyes and pale hair as Daenerys suddenly appeared in front of them, furious, and dragged her up roughly by the arm. "He's filthy, Daenerys," the wild-eyed man said. "How could you think about touching someone that filthy?"
"We were talking," Daenerys began to explain, but the wild-eyed man reared back and hit her in the head.
Drogo had seen enough. He got to his feet, and the wild-eyed man tossed Daenerys to the side, drawing himself up as big as he could to face Drogo. Even puffed up as much as he could be, he still looked tiny in comparison to Drogo. Pathetic. It wasn't worth fighting him. "If you raise hand to her again, I find you. I make you regret it. Okay?"

As he walked away, Drogo heard the wild-eyed man mutter "filthy Russian" under his breath before turning to shriek at Daenerys again. Drogo wasn't sure how, but if there was one thing he was sure of, it was this: he would find his Dany again. And he would save her.