Jorah was in full battle mode. His senses were heightened as he sat upon his horse, tall and proud. With the weight of Heartsbane at his hip, and his freshly polished armor fastened tightly to him, he felt indestructible. Which he knew was the adrenaline, but he couldn't help it.

This wasn't his first time into battle and he prayed it wouldn't be his last. After this it was on to Kings Landing. She would need him there. He felt sure of it.

He feared that Cersei and her Lannister soldiers were going to be the real battle. Part of him wished that they would have just continued on to Kings Landing. Just let the North handle the dead. They seemed hesitant to follow her anyhow.

Instead they were at Winterfell about to lose thousands of their warriors.

He knew that she had made the right decision, the good decision, but he also knew that it was going to hurt her chances of taking back the throne.

Daenerys didn't feel at home in Westeros, and he worried that it was beginning to become a problem. It hurt her confidence, he had seen her falter many times under their scrutiny.

He smiled to himself, she has overcome so much, oh how they underestimate her. The mother of Dragons, the breaker of chains, a woman who despite everything still has a kind heart.

The North were a proud people, that didn't love outsiders. Especially the daughter of the Mad King. He didn't want to recommend it, but he swore to the gods if she asked for his advice he would tell her, the solution was to marry Jon.

She couldn't use her dragons to gain their trust. It had to be a marriage. She needed to show them her undying support, and what better way than to marry the King of the North.

The North would still be wary of her but with the support of their king, Ned Stark's son, whom they would no doubt fight and die for, she had a much better chance. They would learn to respect and love her just as everyone else has. It was impossible not to.

Jorah had loved her since the beginning, but the love was constantly evolving. At first it was just the protecting of a lost, scared girl. He loved the compassion and the fire within her. She adapted so well to so many impossible situations, he was literally left in awe most of the time.

But it wasn't until he saw her with her dragon children, covered in ash, and nothing else that he fell in love with this powerful woman, this Queen.

This woman who endured and conquered. Who from pain became strength. Who turned into the strongest most incredible person he'd ever met.

After that gods help him he lusted after her. He never let it show, well he tried not to, but it seemed as though everyone around them saw but Daenerys. And how could she? She was busy building her empire.

She asked him once what he wanted, but he didn't dare tell her the truth.

You! He wanted to yell from the highest point in Qarth, but he didn't want her to think that was his only reason by her side. It wasn't about power. He could care less about becoming a King. He was a dishonored knight, titles meant very little to him.

And most importantly he didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable around him. If she didn't feel the same way it would change how she saw him. It would make her question his motives. She wouldn't let him get as close as he'd graciously been afforded.

If he were being honest with himself, he was scared. An emotion that Mormonts rarely conveyed. His people were as strong as the bears on Bear Island, and just if not more stubborn, but never scared.

Bears weren't afraid when poachers came for them, they fought with all of their being to defend themselves. His father used to tell him stories passed down from long ago, of Mormonts who used to transform into bears to protect their island.

The fear that she sometimes put inside of him made him wonder if he was a Mormont at all.

So he didn't say what he should have. What he desperately wanted to, but knew that a scared man forfeited the right. A scared man didn't deserve her.

He grew to realize that he loved her so much that just being in her presence was enough. She didn't have to reciprocate his feelings, he just wanted her to be happy. Whether that be with Daario, or some other hopefully more suited suitor.

Then the Greyscale changed him. He was alone, and the only thing he could think about was how he had let her down. It kept playing in his mind, torturing him. He saw her dying many painful deaths all because he wasn't by her side, protecting her. He had visions that if he didn't have the greyscale she would have ran into his arms. That they would have been happy and together.

All of which he attributed to the disease toying with him.

He felt himself grow weak in the body and the mind. He wanted it to end, but felt guilty that he couldn't even follow her last command.

'Return to me'. He couldn't even do that.

So he began to write her a letter of apology. He poured his heart out and with each word he felt his composure slip. He looked at his blade more and more frequently.

He wanted to be free. Free from pain, free from all of his failures, and in a way free from her.

And then he met Sam.

Sam removed his infected skin piece by excruciating piece. It was almost a form of relief. It hurt worse than anything he could have ever imagined, but instead of focusing on all the bad thoughts, he started to have hope.

Hope that he would be back by her side.

Hope that he would keep her from harm.

Hope that he would help her take back the throne that she deserves. Even if it was the last thing he did. Even if he was cured just so he could live to die for her another day.

And with everything that happened, it became more than love. He didn't think that there was a word for it, at least not one he was familiar with. But he vowed he would do anything for her, and expect nothing, but the honor of being by her side.

That to him, was more than enough. More than this scared, scarred man deserved.

Melisandre krept out of the darkness pulling him out of his thoughts. He instinctively didn't like her but felt they had nothing to lose. He allowed her request as he heard the faint shuffle of the wights as they dragged their feet across the rock hard frozen ground. As she lit the Dothraki arakhs, he gave the signal and charged into the unknown.

Confidence soon left him as they approached the horde. They were way outnumbered. And as he raised his blade he couldn't help but think, here I stand for my Queen.

Life didn't flash before his eyes, but death did. Men were flying from their horses left and right. Even with fire, even with the brutal fighting style of the Dothraki, they were no match. The flames died out one by one until all that was left were piercingly blue cold dead eyes, and in the distance the glowing castle.

He yelled retreat with so much force he felt his throat burn, but it must not have been loud enough, or maybe there was no one left to hear.

In disbelief, he charged his horse back towards Winterfell. They were all in trouble.