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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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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...