A breath knocked out of him, quiet at first, and in it there was the feeling of disappointment, a panging in his heart. Perhaps it would be the last time they would be able to speak in confidence like this, and he felt almost disheartened leaving it this way, as though he had done something that could not be forgiven. When she came to see him off, after all, it would in the presence of others; it would be in a place where they would have to be proper, and he would have to steel himself for the kind of gentle yet commanding farewell that a Queen might give to her knight.

Yet she did not seem to be content with this parting, either. When she turned on her heels, Jorah's eyes went round, and the kiss to his cheek was so soft and so gentle that part of him wanted to reach out and take her by the arm, to pull her close in against himself and return the favor.

But he would not do it. It was not his place to, nor did he have the right to. She knew his feelings--and he knew they were not returned. So he smiled, but it was faint, full of a longing he knew he would have to get under control. Perhaps the cold of the North might help him, might have him bury those feelings deep down, freeze them beneath his heart.

"I will return, Khaleesi," he said softly, before she turned to leave.

He found it hard to move, at first, as though rooted by the kiss, as though she had somehow turned him to stone with it.

"I will return," he said again, but it seemed only to be to reassure himself.