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Jorah had returned to her.

It was late at night, and Daenerys couldn't sleep. It felt unreal. Last time she had seen her Bear had been outside of Vaes Dothrak, when he had helped rescue her. She had commanded him to find a cure for his affliction. Though she refused to give up hope, she had known there was a good chance she would never see him again. It had hurt her heart to watch him walk away.

But he returned to me. It was a good thing Jon Snow and her Dothraki guards had been there, else she might have broken down crying from relief and joy. That would not have been queenly of her. She had missed him more than words could say, and there was much she wanted to tell him and hear his thoughts on. For now, though, she needed her rest.

But rest was eluding her.

Dany tossed and turned in bed, a million thoughts racing through her mind. Cersei, Meereen, the North, Jon Snow's tales of a mysterious threat beyond the wall...there was so much work to be done, and decisions to be made. Yet her thoughts kept returning to Jorah. He appeared healthy and strong, and...

And the way he looked at her had made her heart skip a beat.

By the time dawn came, she had only slept a few hours. Daenerys had been pushing herself hard lately, so it wasn't unusual for her to retire late and start the day early. She bathed, dressed, and left her chambers, feeling restless.

So were the dragons. She joined them on the beach, Unsullied guards nearby but far enough away for privacy. Her children surrounded her, waiting impatiently for attention. "Good morning," she called out, smiling. When she was with her dragons, her spirit always felt lighter, and her mind became clearer.

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Earning a dragon's trust was not something just any man could do. Jorah was one of only a handful of people who were allowed to touch them. Missandei, Grey Worm, and Tyrion were the others...it was an honor reserved for only those closest to her.

Daenerys was happy to watch Jorah pat Viserion. Not everyone could see the beauty, grace, and wonder in dragons, and still fewer were brave enough to approach one. It made her feel proud, to have such a man fighting for her.

Jorah's comment about missing them almost as much as he had missed her tugged at her heart. Still, she acknowledged it with another smile. The rift between them had indeed been mended, and Dany was happy to leave it in the past where it belonged.

She turned to go, but Viserion used his teeth to snag the corner of her cloak, ripping. It was a strange sight to see such a deadly creature be so gentle. "Viserion!" she chided, voice stern. "I just had that mended! We must go now, there is much to be done." She embraced him as best she could. "Go play with your brothers, and I will come see you later. Be good."

Viserion chuffed, as if to say, I suppose that is acceptable. Dany rejoined Jorah's side on the way back to the castle, leaving her dragon to amble towards the sea and take flight.

"I am afraid I need to change before the meeting," she said, laughing as she examined her torn cloak. "Thank you for walking with me this morning, Ser Jorah. I shall see you soon." And with that, they went separate ways inside the castle.

===

Daenerys joined Ser Jorah, Lord Tyrion, Lord Varys, Ser Davos, and the man who called himself King in the North. Though she was willing to listen to Jon Snow, she could not justify diverting her army and resources away from attacking Cersei in King's Landing on the word of just one man. That was when her Hand proposed a ridiculous idea: hunting for one of the undead far north, beyond the wall.

While she was concerned for the safety of the men who agreed to it, they were free to do as they pleased.

Then Jorah volunteered, a d she could not help but quickly look over at him in shock. What was he thinking?

When the meeting was over, she requested that he stay behind. It took a great amount of self-control to remain silent until the rest were gone and the door was closed. When they were alone, she stood to face him, a look of disapproval bordering on anger on her face.

"Ser Jorah, what are you thinking?" she asked, tone sharp. "You have only just returned, and now you wish to leave again?"

Now you wish to leave me again?

"The burden of proof is on Jon Snow. Why not let him take his own men north?" Her violet eyes were wide, searching his face for an answer.

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One by one, the room emptied, and one by one, Jorah felt his fingers curl in around his other hand, squeezing at it to keep himself quiet and patient. There was a chill to the room, something more than just the late night breeze coming in through the windows, bringing the scent of the ocean salt with it, and even with the heavy door closed, it felt stuffy, crowded with emotion and words left unspoken.

Of all things, he should have expected her anger. He should have expected frustration and disbelief, and perhaps even hurt, but somehow it still came as a surprise to him. Part of him had thought she might be pleased, as though his willingness to see it through to the end might be admirable. That she might take some pleasure in his loyalty to her. But Daenerys whirled on him with disapproval splashed across her features, and yet he stood tall, his jaw locked, listening silently to her sharp words.

"It would not do, my Queen. This is something we all must resolve. Together," he managed, in a soft, even tone. He couldn't tell what she was more upset about--that he had volunteered to go and help someone who still would not bend the knee, or that he had volunteered to leave so soon after returning.

"He needs the help. If it brings us one step closer to your Throne, is it not necessary that I help us take that step?"

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Daenerys listened to what he had to say, jaw clenched, trying to keep her emotions in check. She didn't know which was strongest right now: anger, or hurt, or fear. Why am I so upset? After all, she could simply order him not to go. But the fact that Jorah had volunteered without even consulting her...it stung.

"I agree that this must be resolved." Somehow, she was able to keep her voice steady, speaking calmly yet firmly. "Even though he has not yet bent the knee, I have given Jon Snow permission to mine all the dragon glass he needs, and offered the supplies to do so, as well as men to help. In addition, I have also made it clear that should the North truly need protecting, I am willing to do just that."

She clasped her hands behind her back, fingers digging into her own skin almost painfully. "But I draw the line at sending my oldest and most trusted advisor." Her expression softened just a bit. "Too many things could go wrong. Even I have heard tales of how dangerous it is North of the Wall. You could freeze to death, or be eaten, or injured and left behind..."

Daenerys trailed off. The thought of losing him again made her heart hurt. It was unthinkable. Part of her wanted to beg Jorah to stay by her side. And yet...she couldn't do that. It wouldn't be right.

Instead, she took a deep, steadying breath, and stood up straighter. "That is what I think, but the choice is up to you. I am willing to send another man in your place, as a gesture of good will. However, if accompanying Jon Snow is what you truly feel to be right...I will not stop you. The choice is yours, Ser Jorah...as it always has been."

It pained her to say it, but that was part of what made her who she was: Daenerys always gave those who followed her a choice. That would never change.

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Perhaps in another time, after his betrayal, Jorah would have worried that this could be the last straw. He would have worried that the tense bow of her jaw might snap, that her words would lash out at him, that her anger and frustration with his choices might be too much to keep them together, and that she would send him away again, far away, so as never to be seen by her eyes again. Yet here, as they stood, he found that he did not worry--he did not even think once that she might grow so weary of him as to remove him from everything entirely. Their morning on the beach had changed something; he felt as secure in his position as he ever had. All of his secrets were bared to her--he had nothing left to hide, nothing to protect but his Queen, his Khaleesi.

And if going to the lands beyond the Wall would help protect her, then he would volunteer over and over and over again to do so.

"I was a man of the North, Khaleesi," he said, though he knew she did not need the reminder. Truthfully, Bear Island was such a small but fierce part of the snowy winterlands that it could be easy to be overlooked, and he had never been up to the Wall himself. He did not truly know what lingered beyond it, or what might find them there--besides what Jon Snow had described.

"I do not fear what might be waiting for us on this journey. I only fear that in staying behind, I will not be serving you to the best of my ability."

One of his hands lingered faintly on his sword hilt, as though reassuring himself of it. He was a knight, after all--and he could still fight, especially for her. Yet something felt peculiar, as though even Daenerys was not sure of why she was protesting.

Gently, his voice continued. "You do not have to worry. I will return again, you know."

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Daenerys had hoped that her words would sway him. That he would see how foolish this mission was, that others could take on the task instead. But no...he had made his choice, and was sticking to it. Stubborn bear, she thought to herself. What are you trying to prove?

"Very well. Then I suppose you should prepare. I will leave you to it, and when Jon Snow is ready to leave, I will see you off." She turned to leave...

...Then changed her mind halfway to the door. Dany turned around and approached Jorah, leaning up on the tips of her toes to kiss his cheek, just as she had done to reassure him before walking straight into the fires of Khal Drogo's funeral pyre.

"You had better return to me, Ser Jorah Mormont. I have need of you here, by my side." Despite her best efforts, her voice wavered just a bit, momentarily betraying her fear. Then it was gone, and she composed herself once again.

She walked briskly out of the council chamber, feeling utterly foolish. I should not have done that, she thought, fingers brushing against her lips. Her mind should be on the state of her allies, on planning her next move. Not excessively worrying about Jorah. He was a skilled warrior, a smart man who was perfectly capable of making his own decisions...and she feared that now, he must think her foolish.

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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.

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'I will return, Khaleesi.'

Those words echoed in her mind for the rest of the day. She did not have a good feeling about this mission, but as queen, Daenerys couldn't afford to let even the smallest shred of doubt show. Her people looked to her for strength, and she could not -- would not -- let them down.

The night before the men's departure, Dany could not sleep. She paced restlessly about her chambers, unable to distract herself from a mounting feeling of dread. A waning moon hung low in the sky, surrounded by bright stars. There would be no bad weather, no reason to delay the inevitable.

'He will return, she told herself. My bear will return to me, and when he does, I will feel foolish for ever doubting.

It was nearly dawn before Dany drifted off to sleep, and when she did, vivid dreams plagued her. Viserys whispered in her ear, and Drogo's rough hands grabbed at her, and Mirri Maz Durr laughed at her...

When Missandei woke her she had been whimpering in her sleep. Dany clung to the other woman until the images faded, and she could not recall what had upset her so in the first place.

===

Dozens of men scurried about the beach, readying the ship that would take them further north. Daenerys had personally made sure the men had everything they would need for their journey and more. Her children were out hunting, which was just as well -- even the men who had been with her the longest grew nervous when they were nearby.

Jon Snow tried several times to engage her in discussion, but Daenerys had not the patience for it, though she was never rude. She kept glancing over at Jorah, hoping for an opening that would allow them to speak privately, if only for a moment. Sadly, that moment never came.

After bidding Jon Snow, the blacksmith, Thoros, Clegane, and the others good fortune, she approached Jorah. The smile on her face was convincing...to those who did not know her well. "I pray the gods watch over you, Ser Jorah," she said softly. Though men were coming and going around them, it felt as if they were strangely removed from it all. "And...I pray you remember your promise to me."

Her queenly demeanor disappeared briefly, revealing a tender expression on her face. Violet eyes gazed up at him, brimming with emotion that she had yet to understand. "Come back soon, and come back unharmed."

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It was a morning with clouds and fog, a morning where the dragons were conspicuously absent, as though Daenerys had feared they would cause some kind of disruption in the moods of men who were already uneasy about their long travels. After time aboard the ship, they would have to march to The Wall and then still beyond it, into snow storms and bounds of ice, and Jorah feared that not all would return as bravely as they were to venture forward. Squinting up at the sky, he found that he would miss the slight chill to the air, the warm breeze of salt water off the ocean, and the feel of the sand hard beneath his boots. Most of all, he feared he would miss Daenerys--that he would be unable to think of much else on the long journey ahead of him.

She had her respects to pay to all of the men, of course, and he was both quiet and patient, a solid presence behind them all, until his turn came, and she approached him with a smile that spoke of the volumes she could not and would not say. Her eyes peered up at him as they always had, like the violet sheen of them saw through any sort of wall or blockade he would possibly put up, and when he smiled back, it was soft and quiet.

"I will think of nothing else, Khaleesi," he reassured her, "...but my promise to you."

He knew, somehow, that this would not be their last meeting. He was not meant to expire past the Wall; he would return to her, somehow, in some way. He would not let their last moments together be in the presence of other men milling about, orders being shouted and supplies prepared.

"And in return, perhaps you can think of me." He chuckled a little, before he turned to glance at the ships, heaving a deep breath. He should go, and yet he found himself waiting, as though there could possibly be something else for her to offer him.

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Dany tried to take heart from his reassurances. He is a knight, one of the best, he has survived worse odds, he will not be alone...

Ever since Jorah's return and that early morning on the beach, something had shifted between them. Feelings she had buried and done her best to ignore had been unearthed. It was new, strange, confusing...Dany had no experience with such things. So she did her best to hide them.

It was quite audacious, asking a queen to think of her knight like that. It made her smile. "Of course I shall."

There was shouting to their left -- most of the supplies and men were already aboard the ship. They had to bring this farewell to a close. There was only one thing left to do.

Dany reached into her pocket and pulled out a small leather drawstring pouch. "This is for good luck -- it has worked for me before. Don't open it yet; wait until you are on the ship, and well on your journey." She handed it to him. Whatever was in the bag did not weigh much at all. "I'm only lending it to you. It's very precious to me, so bring it back."

With that said and done, she made herself take a step back, smile still in place. "I will see you soon."

Once on the ship, Jorah would find the one thing Daenerys had left of her mother: a ring made of white gold and pearls. The same ring he had found on the Dothraki sea, which had led him to her. It now hung securely on a length of braided leather.

'I'm only lending it to you.'

It was a sign of her faith in him.

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Although he had expected something--perhaps a hand squeeze, or maybe just another longing rake of her gaze across him that he could not quite interpret--Jorah was surprised to see the pouch. Part of him thought to insist she keep whatever it was to herself; after all, she needed protection, too, and more direly than he did. To the world, he was simply a shamed man who had found some small way of redeeming his mistakes through his support of their true Queen, and could not, or would not, ever deserve such a gift as the one she prepared to give him.

But he found that he could not refuse it. He could not look at her and hand it back, so he closed it into his palm, wrapped his fingers firmly around it and held it up, close to his heart.

"I shall carry it well, Khaleesi," he vowed, but there was a solemness to his voice that he could not quite imitate. Whatever it was, as light as it could be, it felt heavy to him, as though she were entrusting him with something precious and rare.

Aboard the ship, he opened the pouch.

Aboard the ship, he slipped the braided leather over his neck, tucked the weight of the ring in beneath his tunic.

And in the North, he clutched at the ring and prayed, begged for the Gods--whichever Gods, he did not care--to watch over his Khaleesi, to protect her from danger once he was gone.

Because there was danger, there, beyond the Wall, and it appeared to be danger he would never return from.

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As soon as the raven reached Dragonstone, Daenerys began to prepare. Something had gone wrong: one man, the blacksmith, had returned for help. She wished she could question him, but there was no time. Her heart was racing as Missandei braided her hair back away from her face, helped her to choose warm furs, and laced up sturdy leather boots.

"You can't go!"

It was her Hand Tyrion, trying to persuade her to stay. Dany's temper flared, but she hid it well. The time for sitting back and waiting was done. There were people in danger, people including her old bear, and she had the power to help. Besides, her children would protect her.

So she ignored his advice, and instead climbed upon Drogon. "Come, let's find Ser Jorah," she said in High Valyrian. He stretched his wings, ran for the edge of the cliff, and took flight. Right behind them were Viserion and Rhaegal.

===

It took hours of searching before she found the hunting party. They were surrounded by what she could only guess was the Army of the Undead. "Dracarys!" she screamed, both anger and fear flooding her veins with adrenaline.

Dragon fire cleared an area around the men, and gave them room to breathe. The ground shook as Drogon landed, letting out a roar of challenge. Rhaegal and Viserion continued to blast fire, keeping most of the undead at bay.

Almost right away she locked eyes with Jorah, and quickly reached for him. They almost clasped hands when a wight came charging at him, forcing him to fight. The next closest man was the large wildling with the bright hair. He was quick to climb upon her dragon, and assisted in hoisting the captured wight up. Her Drogon did not like that.

"Ser Jorah!" she called out anxiously. Dany could not make out his tall form now. Where had he gone? Part of her wished to dismount, but if she did, Drogon would not tolerate the others on his back. And besides, she was not trained with a sword...

Something went whistling through the air only a few feet above her head. Drogon shifted from one side to the other, tail thrashing with agitation, and let out an angry roar. When Dany looked over to where it came from, she saw a tall man, frozen and gaunt, with the most hateful eyes she had ever seen. He caught her gaze, and it chilled her blood. Another man -- no, creature, these beings were not human -- just like him was handing over another spear.

He means to kill my children.

Daenerys did her best not to panic. She helped Jon Snow up behind her, and urged Drogon to move in a circle, searching for Jorah.

She could not leave him behind.

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Jorah could not leave. Not like this, not with the wights still coming for them, and inching closer and closer to where Daenerys waited upon Drogon's back, as though they sought to take her with them, as though they wished to drag her screaming into the pit of them all to become a silver-haired wisp of the undead. The rest of the party were climbing up onto Drogon's back, grasping for scales and horns and hoisting up their captured prey onto the beast, and Jorah knew that he could not simply turn tail and run to join them. They needed the distraction--they needed the opportunity to get his Queen and the North's King out of this icy hell. Shouting, he fought his way forward, his sword cutting through bone and withered flesh, ripping through tattered clothes and small, meager weapons that tried to cut at them.

He could hear the screams of her children--Rhaegal and Viserion still circled around them in the air, lighting up wights as though they were little matches, capable of huge fire that spread out among them, torching their enemies. He couldn't focus on it; he had to put his energy into what was in front of him, and if he had to die out here, then at least he would die doing something righteous and good, and perhaps they would write songs of his bravery, and perhaps his Queen would remember him, years along, when she took her throne safely.

He could hear Drogon screech, as he took flight, and his heart sank. He knew he had to keep Daenerys safe--and the safest place to be was, perhaps, in the air. Yet in front of him, so close and yet still with so much distance between them, was the man that Jon Snow had called The Night King, the one with deep blue eyes and an almost frighteningly pale face, so devoid of anything but hatred that Jorah could not look at him.

"Khaleesi!" Jorah shouted out over the mayhem, the sound of dragons and wights mixing into a painful cacophony. "You must leave! Leave!"

For there were spears there, long blades of icicle that Jorah knew would sail through the air, and his breath felt painful in his throat. If he were to hit Drogon--if they were to come crashing down--

"Go," Jorah shouted again, even as he drew his sword to prepare to rush in.

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The dragons could sense the danger they were in. Drogon wanted desperately to take off, to keep his mother safe, but Dany refused to let him fly away. Not yet. "Jorah!" she yelled, desperate. He was moving further away from her...what was he thinking?!

Behind her, the men were speaking, urging her to go. She ignored them, pretended that she could not hear them over the sounds of battle. Then a familiar voice cut through the noise:

'Khaleesi! You must leave!'

"No," she whispered to herself...even though she knew she must. Could she risk the lives of her children and several men to save one? Dany could, but not Queen Daenerys.

Another spear went sailing through the air, nearly impaling Viserion. Her heart stopped for a moment. She looked back at Jorah one last time, anguish and heartbreak clear as day on her face. Her last sight was of him bravely charging a large group of the undead.

Dany urged Drogon to take flight. She could feel the dragon's relief as they took to the air. The cold froze her tears on her cheeks, and the sound of rushing wind and dragon wings hid the sound of her weeping. I knew it, I knew it would all go wrong, I should have ordered him to stay, it is my fault, all my fault...

===

Once they reached Castle Black, Daenerys waited impatiently for the surviving men to dismount, and for the Night's Watch to come running with aide.

Then she climbed right back onto Drogon, ready to go back and look for Jorah.

Please, hold on, just a little longer...