It started as a fascination with flames.
When Daenerys retired to her bedchambers in the evenings she would become lost in the flickering light of the candles, not knowing if she was staring at them for minutes or hours. This compulsion became a necessary ritual before she could even contemplate falling asleep.
A short time later, these embers would present themselves in Daenerys consciousness during the day, long after they had smoldered away in her chambers. "Khaleesi?" Jorah asked her one time at a council meeting, noting that the queen had been staring out the window at the blazing sun.
"Forgive me," Daenerys said as she mentally returned to the present. "Please, continue,"
This growing trend of Daenerys' inability to keep her mind on a single topic only troubled Jorah slightly at first. After all, she WAS a very busy queen, not to mention the Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons, so she must have a lot on her mind.
Then came the irrationality.
Daenerys made some controversial calls as queen, despite the warnings of her council. It was only when the decisions became illogical that Jorah came to the heartbreaking conclusion that Daenerys had, in fact, lost her mind.
This was not unheard of for the Targaryens. The "Mad King" Aerys II had succumbed to insanity. It was in the family, and had clearly been passed down through the generations.
Word traveled fast, and the people who called Daenerys "Mhysa" began to whisper about her state of mind. What would become of the woman who rescued them? The question flooded the streets until every ear had heard the question. And when it had a small group conspired against the queen, eventually poisoning the shipment of wine that was delivered specifically to Daenerys quarters.
The poison was fast acting, giving the queen only days to live. During that time Jorah never left her side, caring for her during the long nights where he wondered if it would be her last.
"Sir Jorah?" Daenerys asked one night.
Jorah inched his chair closer to her bedside. "I'm right here Khaleesi," he said. This had been a particularly rough evening, but when Daenerys was awake her mind had been more in tune with reality (albeit still fuzzy, most likely due to the milk of the poppy).
"I'm sorry," she said simply.
"Sorry for what, Khaleesi?" he asked. "There is nothing you should be sorry for,"
"I'm sorry I wasn't able to do more," Daenerys said. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to free more men, woman, and children,"
Jorah took her hand in his. "You've done plenty my queen," he said. "Countless people have been freed because of you. Do not believe for one second that you could not have done more with the time you had,"
"And I couldn't have done it without you," Daenerys squeezed Jorah's hand. A single tear ran down Jorah cheek; it broke his heart how weak the strength of that squeeze was.
"Promise me that when I'm gone you won't let anything happen to them," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Jorah looked into her eyes. The flames behind them were dulling fast. "I promise you I will fight for the freed men, woman, and children, and all those who are still bound by chains,"
Daenerys gave a small smile. "That's all I ever wanted," she said, and then closed her eyes for the last time.
Jorah's face was shining with tears. "Goodbye my Khaleesi, my queen," He bent forward and kissed her forehead, "And my love,"