Daenerys and Jorah have landed in King's Landing and have been separated from her Kahl. Meanwhile, Jon Snow is also in King's Landing after abandoning the Knight's Watch to seek revenge for his father's death.

Years later, when I had crossed the narrow sea and found my way to the place I once called home; the place where the iron throne had been stolen from my family, I found myself overwhelmed by all that surrounded me. The crossing from Pentos had not been easy and my stomach still tumbled like the waves. I heard fanfare in the distance, and I knew that I was not safe here; the Usurper was moving through the streets. Grabbing Jorah, I stumbled into a nearby alley, where I found myself face to face with a man.

In truth he was no more than a boy. Dressed in the tattered remnants of what seemed to be the uniform of a man of the Night's Watch, he seemed as startled as I was, but looked right through me, instead staring at Jorah as if he had seen a ghost. "Lord Mormont?" he gaped at us, confused, and in truth, a little scared. Jorah laughed, a hearty laugh, the kind of which I had never heard cross his lips before. "Never in my life would I have expected to be called Lord... it is not in a traitor's story to be called a Lord." The boy gasped, his hand moving to the wolf's head pommel which protruded from his coats. Jorah reacted with incredible speed, pulling me behind him, and simultaneously drawing his own sword.

A curse left the boy's lips, and he raised his hands in a gesture of peace. "Please Ser, I mean you or your lady no harm, it's just that you took me by surprise. The sword... I didn't intend to draw it, just to check that it was still real, that this is all still real..." Jorah and I looked at him, confused. The boy lowered his arms, gesturing that he was going to draw the sword. As he pulled it from its sheath, I saw Jorah's eyes widen, a look of sorrow dawning in his eyes. "You see Ser," the boy whispered, "Your father, whom you resemble so much... he gave me this in payment for saving his life... I... I knew it was yours, that's why I had to touch it. To see... to make sure, that this isn't all a dream."

Jorah hadn't moved an inch since the longsword had been drawn; he stood stock still, frozen. The revelation that this boy had served his lord father seemed too much for Jorah. He sunk to the ground, pulling me down with him, as he hadn't loosened his grip on my wrist. The boy obviously saw the emotion which he had stirred within my knight's heart, and he too sat, pushing the longsword across the ground, until its Valyrian steel blade was inches from Jorah's fingers. Absent mindedly, Jorah stroked the flat end of the blade, murmuring what sounded like "Longclaw" under his breath.