She was crying. Jorah didn't know why, or when it had started, but his Khaleesi was crying. He had entered her room in Qarth to discuss their next move—now that they had sacked Xaro's manse and bought a small ship, they needed to decide what course to take from there—but the last thing he expected was to find Daenerys on her sleeping silks, wrapped in her hrakkar, crying softly into the night. His heart clenched at the sight, and he struggled not to rush to her side and lock her in a passionate embrace, as he would have liked. Instead, he took a few cautious steps into the room and coughed to let his presence be known, so as not to startle her when he spoke.
"Khaleesi, may I ask what is troubling you?" he asked tenderly. She looked up, and her tears shone brightly in the moonlight. She hesitated before speaking.
"I am simply homesick, Ser, but I thank you for asking. It will pass."
"May I… may I ask what your was home like, Khaleesi?" asked Jorah in an (admittedly foolish) attempt to make her feel better.
She chuckled darkly. "Ser, you know that I have never truly had a home. But… there was one house… in Braavos, a house with a red door. I was young, and don't remember much, but… but there was a knight there, Ser Willem, who treated my brother and I kindly. It did not last long—Ser Willem had grown old and sickly, and died not long after, but it was the first and last time I knew what it was like to have a home. I suppose sometimes I just miss that feeling, is all."
Jorah nodded. He, of all people, understood the feeling of homesickness—and that often times it has less to do with home and more to do with the feeling of belonging somewhere. He sighed and sat beside her, carefully placing his hand on her shoulder.
"I know this may be of little comfort, Khaleesi," Jorah began. "But when I was exiled from Bear Island, I felt as though I'd never know home again. But then…" He paused, unsure of whether to go on or not.
"But then, I… I met a frightened princess, who was to wed a Dothraki Khal, and I swore service to her. As the months went by, I realized she was not a frightened young princess, as I had once thought her to be, but in fact she was a strong and mighty Khaleesi, and rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. Her strength and wisdom continued to amaze me, and I swore to follow her till the end of my days. She became my home, and I haven't felt homesickness since."
Jorah swallowed. "And I… I only wish she could find somewhere, or… someone to call home, as I did, so that her sadness may vanish."
He felt her soft fingers draw his chin up, and looked to see her tear-stained face smiling warmly at him. Tears were still falling, but now they seemed happy, grateful-rather than sad. She planted a soft kiss on his cheek that made his heart quicken and his breath catch in his throat.
"I think I have, my bear," she whispered, and carefully laid her head in his lap. "Ser Jorah, can we… can we just stay like this? Until morning?"
Jorah, desperately hoping Daenerys wouldn't look up to see how red his face was, cleared his throat.
"Of course, Khaleesi. I would be honored."
She smiled, and drew him back against her sleeping silks. She snuggled against his chest, sighing contentedly. After a while, her breathing slowed, and Jorah knew she had fallen asleep. Smiling, he stroked her hair and thought to himself: You are my home.