With his hands tightened behind his back, Jorah wondered exactly how much he should tell her. The story was already laid out before him, thick and important in his memories, but he worried over what his words might do to her. The last thing he wanted her to feel was any guilt for what had happened: after all, it had been the result of his own careless mistakes, and nothing further. If he had never betrayed her--if he had just--
Smiling, faintly, he decided to place his trust in her judgement. As much as he wanted to protect her from the world, he knew she was too strong to fold into the warm caress of careful words and blurred truths.
"They have rooms, where they keep the sick," Jorah continued on. "As you know, Greyscale is highly contagious, and it can cause a number of problems with the mind, as it...goes on."
He had been lucky it had not reached that point, when he met Samwell.
"The man, he... he knew my father. He wanted to find a cure, and so he did the best that he could. The maesters forbade him, I believe, but he came to my room, late in the night, and said that he could try. His plan was to remove all of the skin that had been infected."
His eyes fell shut for a moment: the pain was just a memory, now, but it still gave him cause to shiver, faintly, beneath the fabric of his coat.
"It took all of the night. There was a lot of skin to remove. He used an ointment after, to prevent infection... I think perhaps, if we meet again, you may find it useful to speak to him about it. I believe he has a number of ideas, he's a clever man."
When Daenerys touched his arm, he offered her another smile: this one a little truer to form. He could feel the way her gaze wavered; he hoped that he would not make her cry.
"I would have done anything. I would have tried anything, to return to you."
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Smiling, faintly, he decided to place his trust in her judgement. As much as he wanted to protect her from the world, he knew she was too strong to fold into the warm caress of careful words and blurred truths.
"They have rooms, where they keep the sick," Jorah continued on. "As you know, Greyscale is highly contagious, and it can cause a number of problems with the mind, as it...goes on."
He had been lucky it had not reached that point, when he met Samwell.
"The man, he... he knew my father. He wanted to find a cure, and so he did the best that he could. The maesters forbade him, I believe, but he came to my room, late in the night, and said that he could try. His plan was to remove all of the skin that had been infected."
His eyes fell shut for a moment: the pain was just a memory, now, but it still gave him cause to shiver, faintly, beneath the fabric of his coat.
"It took all of the night. There was a lot of skin to remove. He used an ointment after, to prevent infection... I think perhaps, if we meet again, you may find it useful to speak to him about it. I believe he has a number of ideas, he's a clever man."
When Daenerys touched his arm, he offered her another smile: this one a little truer to form. He could feel the way her gaze wavered; he hoped that he would not make her cry.
"I would have done anything. I would have tried anything, to return to you."