AN: This is a one-shot that takes places after Daniel is dumped by Emily and after he finds out that Victoria died in the plane crash

Disclaimer: I do not own Revenge. If I did, Jack would have died in the first episode. :)

Ice Queen

"Hope is just a ray of what everyone should see

Alone in the street is where you found me

Scared of what's behind"

–Tell Me a Story: Phillip Phillips

Daniel Grayson has never felt so cold. All those snowy, frigid winters spent in New York City haven't prepared him for this. He stands, shivering, on his mother's balcony in the summer air, looking towards the small house just down the beach. The two coldest women he has ever known are out of his life: his mother and his fiancée. But all he feels is the ice slowly freezing the blood in his body. He watches his tanned skin fade to a snowy pallor. In the summer air, he sees his short, shallow breaths.

Daniel Grayson isn't supposed to get cold. His smile, his good intentions, his naivety make him the epitome of warmth. Emily Thorne, blonde and distant, is pure ice. Victoria knew them both so well, choosing the theme of the engagement party. Fire and ice. How fitting, Daniel thinks, the ghost of a smile dancing around his lips. With both ice queens gone, Daniel wonders why he's suddenly freezing his ass off. The logical, Harvard-attending side of him decides that he probably is in the beginning stages of shock. The impulsive, alcoholic side of him just wants a drink.

Daniel Grayson is thirsty. He aches for that damned amber liquid to scorch his throat. One glass of whiskey would warm him right up. Victoria is too dead to scold him. Emily is too unfaithful, too busy with the damn bartender to disapprove. Charlotte is too high. Conrad is too similar. So Daniel heads inside, turning away from Emily's house. He heads straight to the liquor cabinet, grabbing the closest alcohol. He doesn't care if it is cheap wine from a box or Conrad's oldest scotch. For Daniel, it's not about the taste. Especially not now. He desperately needs something, anything, to escape the terminal chill.

Daniel takes a long swig from the bottle. The liquid scorches down his throat, bringing a twisted grin to his lips. But the fire disappears so quickly. Daniel takes another draught, and the burning returns. After a few cycles, Daniel realizes the only solution to get rid of the incessant cold is to keep drinking. So he does. He stumbles past Conrad's office doors, clumsily slamming against one of his mother's beloved paintings. Daniel pauses, expecting Conrad to emerge from the confines of his study. When Conrad doesn't, Daniel feels a pang of disappointment. Which he smothers with another sip.

Daniel crashes through the house, until he finally staggers onto the beach. The moon is full and bright, casting an eerie glow onto the waves and sand. Daniel quickly loosens his tie (a gift from Victoria), and throws it to the ground. The bottle feels like a feather in his hands. He sloshes the liquid around. Muted feelings of disgust poke and prod at his mind. Daniel stifles a cry, shoving the bottle to his lips. He gives up drinking for warmth when he realizes that it will never work. Daniel sets another, more attainable goal. He plans to drink to become numb.

As he begins his trek across the beach, he broods over his relationship with Emily. In his drunken haze, Daniel sees things more clearly than in sobriety. Emily is damn good at lying, Daniel decides. He hears his mother's voice scornfully talking to Conrad, cursing Daniel's quickness to trust. Daniel shakes his head, trying to clear out thoughts of his mother. Victoria's death is far too painful, far too confusing to even consider. So he turns back to thoughts of Emily, which at least he can try to comprehend.

"Miss Freaking Perfect!" Daniel shouts into the inky sky. Daniel hates and loves her for being too good for him. Their relationship was too perfect. Emily always said the right thing, always knew how to calm Daniel down. The first sign of her deceit was when she admitted she loved Daniel. Daniel kicks at the ground, spraying grains of sand into the air. He wistfully remembers how genuine some of their relationship felt. With a derisive snort, Daniel returns to a glass-half-empty state of mind. He should have known better. It's impossible to love a Grayson. With another drink, Daniel concludes that it is even harder to love him.

Daniel knows he's a bad person. He's an alcoholic in denial. He nearly killed that waitress last summer. He even betrayed his own mother when he didn't turn in the evidence concerning the framing of David Clarke. Daniel had fought against becoming like his mother and father all his life, only to succumb to his predestined fate. Maybe Daniel isn't meant to be good. Maybe Daniel is supposed to become a greedy, selfish bastard. After all, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

To Daniel's surprise, he has walked straight to the steps leading up to Emily's porch. He sinks to the ground, cradling his head in his hands. Daniel was so convinced that Emily could turn his life around. Emily made him want to fight against his dark, seemingly inevitable inheritance. And then Emily gave back the engagement ring, then Emily gave up on him. Daniel suddenly feels agonizingly sober. The remaining alcohol sloshes as the bottle thuds to the ground.

A soft throat clearing interrupts Daniel's misery. He looks up to see Emily Thorne, standing right in front of him. The moon's light illuminates her features, making her look like an angel. She looks at Daniel with an expression Daniel has never seen before. It's soft and sad, but most of all, Daniel sees understanding in her eyes. He thinks he's watching Emily fall in love. Slowly and hesitantly, Emily kneels down in front of him. She brushes a tear off Daniel's cheek. He marvels at the tingling warmth that her touch leaves.

"My mother," Daniel says softly, "is dead." He had wondered how Emily would react to this news. Victoria had never been welcoming or accepting of Emily, for reasons Daniel never understood. So when he sees pain and regret flash in Emily's eyes, Daniel is surprised.

"Daniel, I'm sorry," Emily says, her dark eyes full of concern. For once, Daniel doesn't question whether Emily is being honest. For the first time, he simply knows. Right now, Daniel is certain that Emily is the only other person on the planet who matters. Jack is insignificant; Emily's eyes promise him that. An inkling of fear grows in Daniel's stomach. He doesn't want to disappoint Emily.

"I don't want to end up like my mother or turn into my father," Daniel admits. "I'm afraid I'm too late." Emily shakes her head adamantly, securely interlocking her fingers with his. Glorious heat spreads from his fingertips to the rest of his body. He could be in the middle of a New York blizzard and still be blissfully warm. Emily and Daniel stand up, hands still tightly connected.

"You just left, didn't you?' Emily asks him. She smiles at him. Her radiance blinds him. Emily leads him up the porch steps. As they enter the house, Daniel pulls the returned engagement ring out of his coat pocket and slips it onto Emily's finger. Emily kisses him; Daniel smiles against her lips.

"Maybe I should take your last name when we get married," Daniel suggests with a grin. Emily rolls her eyes, pulling him in for another kiss.