When Fire and Ice Collide

Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to GoT. If I did, Jorah and Dany would have slept together that night in Qarth, after he melted Dany's panties off with that, 'I still can't believe you're real,' speech …So there!

Rating: I've rated it T for now, but later on, as the story progresses, it will become a very strong M.

Author's Notes: This is my first GoT fic…but not my first fic altogether. Some of you might recognize me from the Star Trek: TNG world, then again, you may not. Also, I have read the books, but I prefer the characters of the series, only because Iain Glen has ruined Jorah for me (in a good way).

This story is canon up until S6. After that, well, my story telling takes place and I begin manipulating and remolding the whole storyline between Daenerys/Jorah. There will be a sequel to this story later on. In fact, if this story keeps evolving in my head like it is, it may well become a series. With that said, I hope you guys enjoy.

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Chapter 1: The Line in the Sand

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In the Sea of the Grasslands

The moon was high in the sky, as the stars lit the black backdrop of the skies above, creating an infinite show of power by the gods. But Jorah's eyes were fixed to the flames dancing about before him, mesmerized by the sparkling embers being carried skywards by a light breeze. The wind lightly rustling through his hair, as the fire warmed his skin. It was an intoxicating façade of complacency, to know that you could be cooled by one and burned by the other.

He wanted to laugh, ironically knowing that the description was a befitting characterization of the Targaryen Queen they were now seeking...or at least in his case it was, maybe not so much for the sellsword who was sitting opposite of him, still spouting off about his glory days as a gladiator.

The Knight successfully refrained from rolling his eyes as he let out an exasperated sigh, burying his face into the palm of his hands.

"You haven't heard a word that I've said, have you?" Daario asked.

Jorah wearily peered up at him, "No."

The Tyroshi pointed an accusing finger in his direction. "You know, most men would take your lack of interest as an insult…but I know you far better, Jorah the Andal."

He arched a suspicious brow, and then sighed as he turned his eyes back to the fire. "You know nothing about me."

Daario tilted his head, studying the older man before him. "Tell me, do all bears fret so much over their cubs?"

Jorah ignored him, refusing to be bated.

The Tyroshi shrugged his shoulders. "Perhaps you're right…I only know what the dragon whispers when she sleeps."

Jorah's eyes cut to his, causing the sellsword to smirk in satisfaction. But still, he remained silent, hoping the Queen's lover would choose to drop the subject altogether.

"You've honestly never wondered what she's like in bed?"

'For the love of gods, would he just shut up,' Jorah thought.

"Whom?"

Daario's smile widened at the Knight feigning ignorance.

"You know exactly who I speak of?" The sellsword picked up a small log and threw it onto the fire, ignoring Jorah's hard glare. "I could enlighten you on the matter, if you so desired?" Naharis ventured a look in the Westerosi's direction, noting how the muscle in his jaw began to tick. "I could tell you many secrets about our Queen – Does she prefer to fuck or make love? Does she like to be in control or submissive? Does she scream like some theatrical whore in a brothel, earning every bit of her coin, or does she remain silent like some dull, broken chambermaid?"

Instantly, Jorah was to his feet, his hand swiftly landing on the hilt of his sword as a warning.

"We need each other right now." He gritted out. "After we're done needing each other, then you can take this as far as you like. But for now, you will be mindful of how you speak of our Queen."

Daario held his hands up in surrender, an undeclared apology.

"I don't want to fight you Jorah the Andal. I'm merely letting you know –"

"…Who she belongs too." Jorah finished for him, slowly taking his hand off the sword and sitting back down. "Believe me, I know all too well what kind of man she has chosen."

Daario's eyes turned a little darker from the insult.

"I see," A wry smile began to form on his lips. "You don't approve of me?"

"I don't."

"And you fancy yourself a better match?"

"No," He answered honestly. "I'm just as unworthy as you are."

"And yet we both love her." Daario added, then shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not so sure you two would make an ideal match to begin with. She talks incessantly after sex. I mean, nonstop. Enough to drive any man from her bed." He paused, his eyes distant as if recollecting a memory. "It can be quite…irritating. And no offence, Jorah the Andal, but you are a man of few words, not very much of a conversationalist and our Queen is very…vocal."

"Do you just speak, so you can hear yourself talk?" Jorah asked a bit peeved.

"Yes!" Daario jested honestly. "What can I say, I'm a vain man."

Jorah stared blankly at him, as if baffled that the Queen could possibly choose a man so self-absorbed.

"Ah, I see that criticizing look… come on, out with it?"

"Have you always been this in love with yourself?"

The sellsword laughed. "It's called confidence," then leaned a little closer to the fire, whispering. "And it's what got the Queen's attention in the first place." Jorah was desperately suppressing his desire to roll his eyes, as Daario continued. "Perhaps instead of criticizing, you should be taking notes. Besides, I always thought you never really tried hard enough for our Queen. No wonder she overlooks you."

Mormont gave into the urge this time and clearly rolled his eyes, sighing up to the heavens.

"I assure you that I need no advice on the matter from you. Daenerys has a heart of her own and is more than capable of deciding whom she wishes to love and whom she does not."

Daario looked at him blank faced. "But some women need a little convincing."

Jorah's eyes shot to his, his face unreadable. "Such as swimming a mile offshore for a handful of flowers that will be dead by the time you return to the Queen?"

The Tyroshi's eyes widened, shocked that the Queen had revealed that incident to her advisor. Then again, she told Jorah everything, or at least she used too.

"Well, clearly your romantic side needs a little work…and the flowers survived the swim back, mind you."

"Aye, you truly are a hero."

"I'm not a hero. I'm spontaneous. I let my impulses lead me and I'm quite certain that one day, it will get me killed." Daario reached for a piece of wood, withdrew his dagger and began whittling away. "Now you, well, you're the hero type. It's why you've always come back to her. You want to be more than her hero."

"I've swore an oath and I only wish to uphold it."

The sellsword laughed. "Your honor is admirable, Jorah the Andal. But you and I both know why you really came back." Jorah's gaze hardened, a blatant warning for the Queen's lover to tread carefully. "You want something she will never give you – her heart."

Mormont sat up a little straighter, his eyes narrowing from the slight. "I suppose that is the one thing we have in common then."

Daario glared at the Knight, taking in the rebuttal and then solemnly acquiescing to its truth, returning his attention back to his whittling.

"At least I've had the best part of her."

"Aye, I'm sure the Queen would be quite pleased with a man that lays with her one night and crawls into the bed of a whore the next." Daario's eyes shot to his immediately, clearly taken back by the revelation. "You would be amazed at how freely the slavers speak in front of their property. Apparently, secrets do not exist in the fighting pits, when death is merely one swing of a blade away."

Jorah held the sellsword's eyes, daring him to deny the claim.

"Forever the faithful Knight, I see."

"And you are just like all the other men that have underestimated the woman she is because they were too focused on the Queen she has become. The woman is far more intriguing."

"Said like a true romantic. Tell me, Jorah the Andal, do you intend to take this information to the Queen?"

The Knight exhaled deeply, his eyes returning to the fire as he roughly rubbed the side of his face, carefully contemplating his answer.

"I don't know." He answered honestly.

"Well, if I was you, I would."

"But you are not me." Jorah curtly reminded.

"And thank the gods for it too."

Mormont ignored the comment, as he pulled the pearl ring from the hem of his kilt.

"It's late and we have a long journey to Vaes Dothrak tomorrow."

Daario looked up, noting the Queen's ring in his hand. "Are you certain that's where they even took her? For all we know, they could be anywhere by now."

Jorah securely placed the ring back and laid down upon his mat, leaving the sellsword to wonder if he even heard the inquiry at all.

"I'm certain." He finally answered.

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