She was standing just beyond the balcony doors, her demeanor hard and rigid.
And he imagines that she has been pacing aimlessly back and forth for some time, her shoulders weighed down by the magnitude of collective dilemmas that have driven her to send for him at such a late hour.
His steps are silent, almost stealth.
And for a moment, he thinks of clearing his throat, to properly make her aware of his presence.
But he doesn't.
Instead, he watches as she pauses mid-pace, head slowly raising, suddenly alert and pulled from the dismal routine that previously had her under its spell, as her violet eyes instantly seek his.
Being pulled to him like gravity.
No, it was more natural than that.
With less force.
A smoother transition.
"You weren't sleeping, were you?"
He wanted to laugh.
Wanted to tell her that he doesn't sleep anymore.
She's robbed him of that.
But he just shook his head instead.
And she looks almost relieved.
Comforted by the fact that she's not the only one sleep has forsaken.
He's not exactly sure of what's troubling her.
Although he suspects it could be the recent news delivered by Varys.
Information that confirmed his previous suspicions of an ambush from their surrounding neighbors. A vain attempt to drive the dragon Queen from their lands and rush her plans of conquering Westeros to an earlier date.
Just southwest of Meereen, thirty ships were spotted at port in Yunkai and it didn't leave much to the imagination as to where such a large fleet was heading and why.
He knew they would arrive soon, two or three days at the most and if they were wise, like the masters claimed to be, they would launch their attack at night.
Jorah assumed the revelation of an impending battle was the cause behind her restlessness.
But then, her expression changes to one of apprehension, as if ashamed that she even sent for him.
Like she's suddenly seeing how silly the rashness behind her decision was.
She looks down at her hands for a moment, fidgeting, prevaricating from one foot to the other, before her eyes move back up to his.
And he sees it.
Suddenly knows the true reason he's here, though she tries desperately to hide it with those impenetrable walls, but it's her eyes that betray her, that give up her secrets.
"You dreamed again, didn't you?"
Immediately, she looks away.
Disconcerted by his ability to see through her many facades.
"What makes you say that?" She whispers, barely audible.
He didn't answer.
Just takes a step and then stops, remembering those damnable, unspoken rules she's so intent on keeping in place.
So respectably, he leaves enough space for her to decide if she wants to erase the distance between them or not.
Giving her a choice.
He always leaves her with a choice.
Even if the answer breaks him.
But then she gives him this pleading look, one that she tries to make unreadable, but fails miserably.
And something in his heart snaps, giving him the voice that he needs.
"Come here." He beckons, low and smooth.
Her eyes widen slightly, shocked and impressed that he's taking the initiative.
She tries to appear affronted.
But Jorah's not buying it and she knows it.
"What?" She breathes.
Her Knight shifts from one foot to the other, tilts his head slightly, then pierces her with those cobalt eyes that always seem to push the beats of her heart into overtime.
"Come. Here." He repeats, a little more demanding.
Daenerys hesitates, arching an amused brow at his hard tone.
She's not buying it either.
He watches as she skeptically points to herself, then to him.
And silently he nods, confirming that's exactly where he wants her to be.
Still, she lingers for a moment, contemplating, then slowly walks toward him, only to stop directly in front of him, bravely turning her eyes up to his.
A silent beseeching playing behind their violet depths.
Carefully, he reaches out and pulls her in.
Despite all pretenses before, his Queen goes willingly.
Almost falling into his embrace.
As if all she ever needed was for someone to hold her like this.
No, not someone – him.
She sighs audibly as she buries her face into his chest, her arms wrapping around his back, grasping handfuls of his tunic and pulling him tighter to her.
Suddenly afraid that he'll vanish into the night, like a wisp of smoke.
"Tell me what you need, sweetheart?"
His voice was so soft.
Every intonation laced with the burden of his love.
Daenerys closes her eyes.
He holds her closer to him.
"Then this is what you shall have."
She's not sure how long he's been holding her.
Or how long he's been gently rocking her back and forth, placing sweet, comforting kisses to her forehead in sporadic intervals.
All she knows, is that what she's feeling, the depth of love he's stirring within her soul, she doesn't want to end.
And the safety provided within its embrace, is a refuge she's never experienced before.
"They seem to be getting worse."
His statement draws her back to the present.
"Perhaps a little."
"Was it the same one?"
She merely nodded, confirming his suspicions.
Jorah pulled slightly back from their embrace, his eyes searching hers.
"I don't plan on dying anytime soon, Khaleesi."
Her eyes drifted to some unknown spot behind him.
"I'm afraid, neither one of us have a say in the matter."
"Aye, but sometimes a dream is just a dream…Nothing more."
Her eyes search his, sad and desperate.
"I fear what would become of me if I ever lost you under such circumstances."
It was a confession he didn't see coming and for a moment, he wondered if she was even aware that she said it out loud.
But then again, she told him of the madness she encounters in her dreams.
The overwhelming magnitude of her rage and hate.
Of her need to destroy everything that's daring to breath in her wake.
As well as her lack of remorse afterwards.
The memory is seared into his brain, of how she cried in his arms, repeating over and over, 'It's not me…it's not me.'
And as long as he draws breath, it never will be.
"Come here," He whispers, drawing her back to him, his hand lightly stroking her silver hair. "That won't happen, Khaleesi. I won't let it."
"Aye, I promise."
"Come what may?"
She could feel him smiling into her hair.
"Come what may."
And she believes him.
Trusts him more than any other man who came before him.
It's just not in his heart to make false promises to those he loves.
Her bear just isn't built that way.
He'll fight to live, just to keep his word.
And her heart will rest easier because of it.
Daenerys turns her head, lips pressing intimately against his neck.
"Must it always be this hard?" She asks, almost pleading.
"Aye." Jorah confirms. "Unfortunately, it will only get harder."
He thought she was referring to the arduous efforts it takes to rule a Kingdom.
The struggle for peace, when everyone around you is screaming for war.
But when she leans back and looks at him, serious and thoughtful, worrying her bottom lip as her eyes drift lower to his, contemplating the rationality behind her next move.
He suddenly realizes she's speaking from a more personal level.
Such as matters of the heart.
And he desperately wants to take his answer back.
Tell her it doesn't have to be hard.
If only she'd give up the fight and wave that white flag, he's been so faithfully searching the horizon for.
But she's a dragon and dragons never surrender.
He waits for her to close the distance.
Silently prays to the gods that she will.
Watches her debate the act in her mind and lose out once again to the cold, distant Queen he's slowly becoming accustomed too.
"You should get some rest, Your Grace."
She blinks at the formality in his voice and he knows she doesn't like it.
Not one bit.
His Queen steps back further from his embrace.
The moment broken and lost to countless others.
If they keep going at this rate, all that will be left of them is a disheartening trail of 'what ifs' and 'almost's.'
Jorah desperately tries to counteract her retreat by leaning down and swooping her up into his arms.
She actually laughs at the rashness behind his act.
And suddenly, all is forgiven.
"You know I cannot sleep." She mirthfully protests.
"You will tonight."
Daenerys arches a brow, a small smirk gracing her lips.
"You sound so confident, dear Ser."
Jorah flashes her that half smile that always seems to make her weak.
"You do realize that I am capable of walking."
She watches as he steals a glance, his steps moving closer toward her bed.
"I'm very aware that you are capable of many things, Khaleesi…All strong women are."
And she actually blushes from his compliment.
Making her all the more beautiful.
Spell-bound that such a feat was even remotely possible.
Jorah pauses in front of her bed and for a moment, they just stare at one another, smiling like two teenagers experiencing their first love.
Slowly, her hand moves up to the back of his neck, running her fingers through his curls there.
And she sees it.
Just how beneficial they could actually be together.
Just how good he would be for her.
Just how easily she could fall for him and never look back.
Forgetting it all and regretting nothing.
And oddly enough, she doesn't shy away from the thought.
Instead, she carefully leans in, placing a gentle kiss to his cheek, catching the edge of his mouth by accident.
He leans down, their foreheads touching, eyes closed in content.
"Thank you." She says softly.
"For being you."
"I'll be whatever you need me to be."
Gently, he lowers her onto the mattress.
"But for now, you need to sleep."
And she looks disappointed.
Her light-hearted mood suddenly dismal.
Jorah watches her silent disposition, watches how she wouldn't completely meet his gaze, despite being mere meters from him.
"What troubles you, Khaleesi?"
She briefly meets his eyes, then focuses upon his chest, as if embarrassed by what she was feeling.
"I'm not certain I want this anymore."
His heart sank, as did his knees to the floor.
Suddenly, losing the strength to meet her gaze.
Emotionally preparing himself, as she named off the countless reasons of why 'whatever this was,' needed to end.
But the speech he feared never came.
Just the brief, gentle caress of her hand to his face, softly lifting his eyes to hers.
"You misunderstand me, Ser. I speak only of the Iron Throne."
His forehead creased predominantly. "Is there something you want more?"
Jorah held his breath, as she nodded, her eyes fixed to his.
Jorah sighed, smiling sadly.
"You can leave it all behind, Khaleesi. Sail to Braavos and search the city over until you find that red door you long for." He reached out for her hand, holding it to his cheek. "Settle there and be happy."
"Would you remain by side?"
"If you'll have me."
"But I would no longer be your Queen."
His eyes turned soft.
"You will always be my Queen."
A small, smile graced her lips, as she leaned in to lightly kiss his forehead.
"Stay with me tonight?" She asked.
Jorah nodded, as she scooted over, making room for him to lie beside her.
She easily molded into his embrace, content now on going to sleep and finding it easier than she originally thought it would be.
Of course, he always had the ability to embolden her whenever she lost faith.
As did she, for him.
Making their dreams sweet.
They had been up for an hour now.
The reprieve they had reached last night forgotten and pushed among the shadows.
At least for now.
Until, Tyrion briskly walks into her chambers, shouting.
"Skirts down and breeches up!"
Then looks up to see both, Jorah and Daenerys, giving him a strange look.
"Oh, I see you're already fully dressed." He tosses the scroll in his hand, flippantly upon the table. "Thank the gods." He mutters under his breath.
They exchanged a bewildered look.
"Why wouldn't we be?" Jorah gritted out.
"Because normally when two people fuck, they do it naked. Surely you remember that much when you're visiting our Queen during all hours of the night?"
In a rage, Jorah instantly moves toward the dwarf, only to be stopped by Dany's firm hand on his arm.
The little Lannister forces a smile, then turns his accusatory eyes toward his Queen.
"Do tell, Your Grace. The suspense is almost too much to bear." His eyes alighted with the irony of that last word. "Am I to believe the rumors – are you summoning Mormont to your bed? Because oddly enough, I'm afraid I don't recall a council meeting where you are inquiring about the pros and cons of fucking your Lord Commander."
"You should be mindful of whom your speaking too?" Jorah snapped.
"That's funny, I see neither of you denying the claim."
"Nothing happened." Daenerys stated flatly.
"Really?" Tyrion's brows shot straight up to his forehead. "Oh, how foolish of me. You mean nothing happened last night. Correct?" He picks up the scroll again, emphasizing. "Because it's all in here. A full report on the Queen's nefarious activities with her Lord Commander."
Jorah looks to Daenerys. "Varys."
"Seven hells," Tyrion bellows, throwing his hands up in the air. "It's true, isn't it?"
The Queen rolls her eyes as her Hand continues maniacally shouting about the room.
"Do you know what it's like, explaining to Varys' little birds the reason behind their Queen's screams? That they are not in fact witnessing the event of her murder, but something else entirely different? Something good?!" Tyrion suddenly becomes dramatic, enacting out that very scene. "Oh, don't fret little bird, those are called multiple orgasms."
"You would make a horrible father." Jorah states flatly, as Daenerys stifles a laugh.
"Do not start with me, Mormont." He points an accusing finger in his direction. "Not today!"
"You need to calm down." Daenerys argues. "No one had any qualms when I was sleeping with Daario Naharis."
Jorah flinched at the mention of the sellsword's name.
But Tyrion never noticed, to busy countering the Queen's claims.
"That's because you weren't in love with –"
He instantly stops midsentence, looks to Jorah, then back to Daenerys with a newfound discovery.
"Wait…" He says, pointing to Jorah. "Are you in love with him?"
Daenerys blinks at the accusation.
"It's a simple yes or no question, Your Grace. Are you in love with Mormont?"
And she's suddenly very aware of Jorah's eyes upon her, awaiting the answer to a question he was too afraid to pose himself.
"I don't see how the answer to that matters."
Tyrion scoffed. "I'm afraid it matters a great deal. You see, I'm trying to ascertain if the Queen I serve, has a weakness or not."
He watched as she defiantly crossed her arms, her chin tilting slightly in opposition.
"No." She finally answers, refusing to look at the man beside her.
"Good." The dwarf said. "Very good." His eyes snap to Jorah's. "Remember that the next time she summons you to fuck her."
And before he knew it, he was sliding across the floor, blood pouring from his nose, as Mormont stood imposingly above him, with his Queen at his heels, reprimanding him harshly for the assault.
But he heard none of it.
Only Tyrion's complaints reached above the shattering noise of his heart.
"Shit." He pinched his nose, then carefully moved it from side to side. "Oww, gods…You fucking broke my nose, Mormont."
"Good." Jorah said, with a dangerous mixture of bitterness and anger lacing his voice. "Remember that the next time you open your mouth."
And with that threat, he was gone, despite the desperate calls of his Queen for him to return.